Franklin (CV 13) - Naval Cruise Book

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deiiii ly of the clays to come as she |)lowcd northward, de- termined and forbidding. Just one day out of San Diego, on May 16th, ready rooms were alerted. Tlu; Army Air Foree, charged with protecting San Diego ' s vulnerable warplants, had been informed that a giant ' enemy carrier with escorting warships, was slipping northward to throw a suicidal blow at these precious in- stallations. Mitchell bomiiers, I ' lying Forts, long range reconnais- sance Liberators, were searching through the fog off the California coast for a carrier with the number Thirteen in huge figures on her flight deck. They were still search- ing the next day. with Big Ben only 100 miles off San Fernando Island, tilouds, rain squalls, favored the raid- ers; Big Ben lurked in the middle of the blackest squall. Then a lucky Mitchell, speeding through the overcast, had a contact on his radar screen. Like a pencil line, his course Even a routine patrol can have a lively ending. This Hell- diver is headed for trouble. A wing is smashed, as he crash- es into after gun mount. I ' ilot and gunner are shaken hut not badly hurt. Fire didn ' t start, this time. But hoses are ready as flight deck creivs suxirni about plane. grand foray into souvenir-land, with unbelievable nylons. Chanel Number Five from France, alligator skin bags. Swiss wrist watches, all manner of impressive gifts for that girl back home — and all the other loot a sailor loves. The little task group stood north on May 16th. with the command in Big Ben. Daily flight operations, daily pound- ing away at target balloons, daily drills by every depart- ment and division — and an omiiunis lack of details each day in Hadio Press News about the actual operations in the Pacific, where Task Force Fifty-eight was poised some- where, ready for battle. There had been no major operation since March. The Marshalls were secure; bloody Tarawa and Eniwetok were history. MacArthurs men continued their relentless mo|)ping-up in New Georgia. New Guinea, the Solomons. Somewhere there was a still-powertul Japanese Navy. hen would it come out and fight? Could we get there to meet the thrust? The men of Big; Ben talked won-

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Chief Boatswains Mate Bog Gregg (center) with two of his assistant policemen , . . Gregg iised to walk 15 miles a day on Big Ben, in his Chief Master at Arms post liberty in more than a month. Not even wartime censorship can defeat the intuition of a Navy wife or sweetheart; there were many happy reunions on shore that evening which might mystify Naval Intelligence. Monday, April 19th, Big Ben moved to the huge drydock at Portsmouth. Urgent voyage repairs must be made; acres of bottom must be scraped clean of barnacles, even on so young a ship. Final supplies were taken aboard — for the next destination was no doubt the Pacific Ocean and Admiral W. F. Bull Halsey ' s Third Fleet. Every man would have four days ' leave before sailing; those not on leave must work double time. For three days and nights the duty sections labored heroically to clean and paint the bottom. After two days ' barter with the sup- ply department extra rations were promised for the men on the third night. There was many a sardonic jest when this extra ration turned out to be a solitary candy bar per man. But in high spirits, though weary, the herculean task was finished in record time and the drydock flooded. By May 4th all yard work was done — but those words are woefully inadequate to describe what went on aboard and ashore before the last leave party returned and the last freight car on the dock had been relieved of its burden. Aboard, f or just one example, the catapult had been re- moved from the hangar deck to the flight deck, a colossal task in itself; ashore, one lad was stretching his four-day leave into thirty because he had met a young lady school teacher and had been in constant attendance in the First Grade of a Norfolk public school. A sense of finality hung over these last days. The spring weather made even the drab streets of Portsmouth attractive. In the warm evening air the lads went ashore in gay little groups, to lose themselves in heedless crowds. The war was real, grim, and near; men thought of the distant Pacific and wondered when, if ever, they would see another State-side spring. The warrant officers honored Captain Shoemaker at a party which was to bid farewell to the States . . . and to Norfolk, which has been described by an Army wag as the perfect Port of Embarkation — no matter what the destina- tion, it is a pleasure to go, if Norfolk can be left behind. New faces were aboard Big Ben before she departed. Tall Lt. Walter Kreamer became Communications Officer, reliev- ing Lt. Comdr. Mather. Ens. Stanley S. Graham, possessor and uninhibited user of a foghorn voice which earned him the name of Steamship, leaped the rail in these final moments. Much to the sincere regret of all hands of the Engineering Department, as well as a host of others, Comdr. Agens turned his Chief Engineers post over to his aide, Lt. Comdr. Greene, bid everyone a perfunctory good-bye, and disappeared over the side before anyone could see the tears in his eyes. Chief Boatswain ' s Mate Anthony Wayne was called to shore duty and Chief Bob Gregg became head Master-at-Arms. Gregg, jovial but efficient, was known in a week as the only friendly Master-at-Arms in the United States Navy, a man with only one vice — Copenhagen Snuff. Big Ben, fueled to capacity, stood out through the channel on the morning of May 5th, to be joined by three new destroyers, the Tiviggs, Leary, and Cashing. A year later, locked in mortal combat with suicidal Jap planes off Oki- nawa, the Twiggs would go down in glory, guns blazing. Off Cape Henry, Franklin and her escorts turned into the wind. Air Group Thirteen landed aboard, to take up per- manent residence, or as permanent as such hazardous resi- dence can be in time of war. With all watches set, air pa- trols in the sky. Task Group 12.1 steamed southward through the mists toward Panama. May 11th, 100 miles from the approaches to the Panama Canal, the Thirteenth Air Group, in all its roaring, low- flying splendor, hurled itself in mock assault on the great waterway to test the Army ' s defensive strength, and as a spectacular announcement that Big Ben was on her way to the war. Half the crew went on shore leave in Cristobal, then by evening of the next day she had squeezed through the westernmost lock and was berthed in Balboa. One day here, with liberty in Panama City, was one . . Comdr. Ttwnuis ]. Greene, USN, Engineering Officer, Mar. 1944 hi July l ' )45. Acting Executive Officer to May, 1946.

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' M Every big jhil-top in the Navy made their last stop here at Ford Island, in Pearl Harbor, before steaming westward into battle veered for the little group of warships. There was tense action in CIC as Hellcats were ordered catapulted from the deck, and another pencil line moved across the plotting boards, to intercept the search plane. But it was too late. Radio on the Mitchell had warned the waiting airfields on the mainland. The Hellcats cut the Mitchell down 50 miles from Big Ben, but now an ominous warning of many swiftly approaching planes came from CIC. Into the wind came Task Group 12.1. Destroyers closed in a tight circle that their powerful AA batteries might better defend the carrier. Dozens of Hellcat fighters were racing off to battle the Army bombers. Dozens of carrier bombers roared into the sky and arrowed for the prime targets in the San Diego area. Soon came the swirl of mock battle as Grummans tore into Flying Forts. But some of the Mitchell ' s and Forts slipped through the fighter screen, twisting and turning to dodge imaginary AA, then levelling off for their bomb runs. Every gun in the task group had them covered — it had seemed very real. Quiet returned, however, and Big Ben finally rested at the San Diego Naval Air Station. Air Group Thirteen had already landed ashore; mechanics, ordnancemen, plane cap- tains, and others hurried to the planes to take up their un- ending tasks. Two days were consumed in urgent repairs after the 10,- 000-mile run from Norfolk. Fuel and supplies were re- plenished; half the crew were given shore leave, with pref- erence going to men whose homes were on the West Coast. Three days were needed for operations at sea, in which Rear Aclmiral Sherman, Commander of Fleet Aircraft, would pronounce upon the readiness of Big Ben and Air Group Thirteen for battle. After all tests Admiral Sherman was satisfied; back in San Diego things begun to hum again. Two thousand passengers, inevitable complement of a car- rier anywhere except in action, brought themselves and their baggage aboard. Tons of supplies were loaded. Days were busy but there was shore leave in the evenings. Franklins crew saw also another side of war prepara- tions. Each morning, long chains of landing craft, LCT, LCTs, LCM ' s, and others, loaded to the gunwales with troops, would pass down the channel for drills on the coast. Late in the day they would return, a tired, sweating bunch of soldiers — the men Big Ben would later cover and assist with fighters, dive-bombers and torpedo planes. Shore leave expired at midnight May 31st. At dawn next day, with the Twiggs, Leary, Cashing, and cruiser Denver, Big Ben edged into the channel and stood westward with her passengers, 500 tons of urgent cargo, her 90 airplanes, and a crew of nearly 3,000 men. She was headed for a fast voyage to Pearl Harbor, at 23 knots, without air patrols. She entered the winding channel to Ford Island on June 5th. Here, at Pearl Harbor, thirty months after their demol- ition, men saw the wrecks of what had once been the battle- ships Arizona and Oklahoma. They saw also the speedy repairs which had been made to the base since December 7th, 1941 ; they saw the formidable defenses which had been constructed. Army planes wheeled ceaselessly overhead; there were bristling rows of anti-aircraft batteries and radar stations which felt their way through the skies with magic rays from their weird antennas. This was a Pearl Harbor for men to remember, just as that other Pearl Harbor is one that the world will not forget. On December 7th, 1941, this had been the Navy ' s front- line post in the Pacific. Now Pearl Harbor was a staging base, 3,000 miles from the nearest Jap in arms. Big Ben and America had traveled a long way but the hardest journey still lay ahead. Here the passengers debarked to go their various ways, after a four-day trip which would have taken much longer by even the fastest transport then plowing the Pacific. The ])lanes of Air Group Thirteen had been flown to Puuneme, hut the next morning the Franklin and her destroyer escort put to sea to refresh the fliers in night landings, the most delicate operation which carrier personnel must mas- ter. Two tiny rows of light on her flight deck, visible only from astern, were there to guide in the planes; coordination