Hornet (CVA 12) - Naval Cruise Book

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He jumped into the phone pit and started throwing smoke-bombs overside with the grim-faced crew. Ernie and I stared anx- iously at the destroyers training the Hor- net's wake. Freddy Foxton was watching the blackness to starboard for another sig- nal light. The destroyer searchlights began to sweep the sea from where the first light had come. The Hornet's light knifed through the murk in a tortuous, slow arc. Just before the three beams met in the water, another red flare rocketed into the night. For 20 minutes of mounting tension the shortening beams of the destroyers closed in on the patch of sea where the plane had gone in. Finally the Hornefs bull horn bel- lowed the good news which we were pray- ing to hear. The destroyer Boderlon has just picked up Lieutenant Arthur, who crash-landed in the sea. The pilot is in good condition after 22 minutes in the water. Johnny NVright called Pri Fly on the phone. What's the score? he wanted to know. How about the rest of the boys up- stairs? VX'e're sending them in to the beach, Air Boss, Commander Phillips, told him. Knock oil for tonight. You can wave them aboard in the morning. There 'was another flight of planes which Hornet number seven, the predecessor of the present Hornet, once sent to the beach. But it was an alien beach in the heartland of the foepand they were Army planes-huge, lumbering B-25's, their bellies freighted with bombs. lt was the gale-ridden morning of April 18, 1942, and Jimmy Doolittle was leading his .squadron on the impossible Tokyo raid. When Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, not all of our screaming was wordless. The great hue and cry went up from all ov-er the land- Bomb Tokyo! It was a brave pair of syllables, and it sounded fine. Any barroom commando could tell you that the majority of Japanese houses were built out of rice paper and matchsticks. All you had to do was drop a handful of incendiaries from a fast plane and Tokyo would disap- pear from the face of the earth. Even if these two conceptions were tru-e -and they weren't-the idea of getting a flight of bombers over the Japanes-e capital in that time of trouble was something rip- ped out of the most lurid science-fiction. The vaunted Flying Fortress, the best plane we could put into the air, couldn't make the round trip to Japan with a full bomb load from any base which was at our dis- posal. The Russians weren't going to let us use Siberian bases. Hawaii and Alaska were too far away. Free China had no airfields adapted to four-engined bomber operation. But the American public wasn't interested in the facts, W-e needed a shot in the arm. Defeat after defeat had left the gritty taste of ashes in our mouths. We badly needed a victory. Something had to be done at once. President Roosevelt called a conference of his top military advisers. Jimmy Doo- little then a Lt. Colonel, and Admiral Bull Halsey were present at the meeting. The strategy which finally evolved from that conference was the fruit of over two months of top-level, top-secret planning. The Hornet, CV-8, seventh of her name, had just finished shaking down in February of 1942. Captain Marc Mitscher was in command. Just before March, two Army Mitchell bombers-B-25's-were lifted to her flight deck with a crane. Their wing- spread was a shoehorn fit between the deck edge and the island. No catapult in this world had kick enough to sling them off. And they were strictly land ships which needed nearly 2,000 feet of runway, wh-ereas the Hornet's flight deck was only 809 feet, 2M inches long. Captain Mitscher took the Hornet to s-ea and a precedent-shattering experiment was just about to take place, when the carrier's sonar apparatus contacted a submarine. The pig-boat had to be knocked on the head. VVith a great deal of careful juggling, the Hornet was able to cat off a trio of scout bombers after worming them out of the hangar deck. They dropped a number of depth charges where the sub was supposed to be and then returned to circle the ship. VVith careful juggling again, they were tail-hooked home and stowed below. The stage was set again. With Navy pilots at the controls, the two Army craft were warmed up on the runway. Th-ey took off at top speed, their starboard wings nearly brushing the island. The Hornet was forg- ing into the wind as fast as her new boilers could move her. The wind was gusty and strong. The B-25's lifted in faltering, heart- wrenching climbs and circled the ship be- fore disappearing in the west. There was no leeway of any kind. It had to be right on the button or the deal was kaput. But it could be done! Medium land-based bombers could be flown of the deck of oi carrier! The Hornet was fueled and provisioned at Norfolk. Then one night she slipped into the channel, blinked a fond farewell to buoy two-charley-baker, and steamed out to sea. She whipped south, ducked through the Canal, headed north with a troop convoy, and finally moored across the bay at San Francisco. In Florida, at Elgin Airfield, Lt. Colonel Doolittle was training Air Force crews for an unnam-ed mission. 'The men were all volunteers. They were told, very frankly, that the job they were slated for had importance equalled only by the extra- ordinary hazards involved. Training for the mission included a meticulous study of detailed maps and pho- tographs of the Tokyo area. It also included taking off from the field in progr-essively shorter runs, each marked with white lines at the start and point of total lift. In a surprisingly short time, the big B-25's were able to hop into the air after an ev-en more surprisingly short run. One more development took place at this time. Captain C. R. Greening monkeyed around with a pair of pliers and a coupl-e of wire coat-hangers and worked out a bomb sight which cost slightly under 20 cents. This gadget was installed in the training squadron's planes, replacing the top-secret Norden bomb sight which could not be permitted to fall into Jap hands. After concentrated training with the new sight, the period of preparation was over. In the middle of March, 95 Army fliers were put aboard the Hornet in San Fran- cisco harbor. Sixteen B-25's were secured to the flight deck. Under cover of darkness, the Hornet slipped out to sea in the com- pany of the Nashville, the Vincennes and a division of destroyers. The Fighting Lady was on her way to launch a reprisal raid against supreme Imperial Headquarters, Tokyo itself! - Bull Halsey, in a task force centered about the carrier Enterprise, headed west- northwest to rendezvous with the Hornet. With the 16 B-25's on her flight deck, the Hornefs own plan-es were, for all practical purposes, locked in the cellar. Without her protective umbrella, she was a sitting duck for enemy surface, sub-surface, or aerial attack. The Enterprise was given the job of flying cover for the combined task force. Every officer and white-hat was told the score. In its conception the plan was so simple and daring that it defied all but the most active imaginations. The deal was to sneak in to about 400 miles off the coast of Japan, launch the bombers in the direction of Tokyo, and then run like hell. The planes would come in at low level, lay their eggs on predetermined targets, and streak for bases in Free China. With luck, the Japs-and the whole world, for that matter -were in the for the surprise of the century. Radio Tokyo, on Friday night, April 17, pulled what Garry Moore would call a boo- boo. A Jap with a sing-song voice hissed a beautiful spiel about how Tokyo could never bg bombed. He picked a good night to pop o . A 60-mile gale was blowing when the sun came up the next morning. The Hornet and company were within 800 miles of Tokyo. A day's run would cut the distance in half, and then the next night would make for a quick bombing run, target illumination by flares, and retreat to China in the darkness -all with gas to spare. It was a happy prospect until an enemy patrol boat cut over the horizon from the east. The situation had suddenly and dra- matically changed. It was a time for de- cision. The Jap ship had to be sunk before she could radio the alert to Imperial Fleet Headquarters. And there wasn't any mar- gin for error. She had to be sunk in record time. The Nashville was ordered in to blow up the Jap patrol boat with her six-inch guns. Maybe the target was small. Maybe the gun-layers were jittery. Anyway, it took the Nashville 10 minutes to score a hit, and they did it, according to fleet scuttlebutt, without using any more ammo than they'd need to sink a first-line battleship. What to do- If the Jap patrol craft had radioed trouble before she went to the bottom, the Tokyo raid was as good as over and done with-even before it began. Bull Halsey, Jimmy Doolittle and Marc Mitscher put their heads together and decided on an imm-ediate strike. The Hornet turned her nose into the gale and headed toward Japan. With 16 bombers lined up on the flight deck, Lt. Colonel Doolittle, first away, had only half the run of the last plane in which to take off. The pitching of the carrier had to be taken into consideration to keep the heavy planes from spinning into the drink. At the trough of each sea, a bomber thun- dered forward up th-e deck. At the crest of the wave, the heavy plane hopped from the lead edge of the runway and faltered into a climb. All 16 bombers got off and streaked east. The Hornet and her escorts wheeled out of the wind and began a headlong rush to the south where the water was only warm instead of hot. The rest is history. President Roosevelt borrowed the never-n-ever land which is the locale of author James Hilton's Lost Hori- zon and told the country that Jimmy Doo- little had taken off from Shangri-La. The Japs and Nazis took him seriously. Doo- little carried out his air attack from the air base Shangri-La, which was not otherwise described by Roosevelt. Thanks to the valiant Hornet, America had a brief and welcome vision of ultimate victory to light the way through the cruel years ahead. The Tokyo raid of the Horn-et is perhaps the peak in the unfolding of a proud tradi- ' - ' A ..s-- -. -. X.: 2, L-:--.- ' ' x i.:' .NJ 1- -2 ' .S' .Sus '-Y. y. -11... -Ava -.- 1 -az-:- :-z:-gg - .-.. F.- an

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'ir' V- - ' -i ' ' - - ,-,-,f ,-,, , Y ' ,.-.. s- - -rt . ,I-1 - N l I I - - .- fi -li , ,, -F tel- J.: il -il.- L. in L.. .-. .,.n, ,t, . . ,Lv ft-. I,--Sf 'if .1 -eJv:1t Q1 -17 -1 -4-1' -1 -'f ff- , -ng , ,- PM .. Reprinted, courtesy of SAGA magazine The fabulous Hornet, which took part in the tense rescue of passengers of the British airliner shot down by the Reds in the China Sea last summer, was taken out of mothballs some time ago and refitted. During her final maneu'vers before joining the Pacific Fleet, Seymour Ettman- spent a week aboard her, getting material for the story of her achievements and those of the seven fighting predecessors to bear her famous name. N a warm Sunday afternoon in May, I climbed up the port gangway to the quarter-deck of the aircraft carrier Horn-et, the eighth ship of that name in the tubulent history of the United States Navy. I was promptly guided to the Wardroom mess, where Lt. Commander Dan johns took me in tow. Commander johns, Hornet weather man and public information officer, is a mustang- an officer who came upfrom the ranks. The servic-e is his pride and the Hornet is his joy. His enthusiasm for The Fighting Lady and for the Navy in general is infectious, I'm convinced that if he ever cuts himself shaving, he'll bleed Navy blue. The Hornet, a fast task-force carrier of the Essex class, was due to get under way in the morning. There was nothing for me to do that night but pay my resp-ects to the bridge and work out a kind of road map which would take me through the labyrin- thian passages between deck frames. Top- side and below, I felt I could figure outfor myself. Before I turned in, I walked along the huge hangar deck and gawked at the planes-Panthers, Banshees, Cougars, and AD's. They roosted like falcons with folded wings, sleek and trim and deadly. They sure look mighty fast, I said to Dan. . Fast? he echoed. These jets .go through the sound barrier within l5 min- utes of the time we cat them off! Routinely?,' I asked. Q Routinely as beans, he said. And if the wind was right, the Cougars could prob- ably do it in ten. . It was hard to believe that on this same hangar deck-just ten short years before- jet was only the color of coal, and the only sound barrier anybody knew was the boom- ing of the big guns of the Imperial Fleet in Saipan Channel. In those days, the hot planes were Avengers and Hell-divers, and it was the flak that gave the boys the most trouble. Admiral Marc Mitscher, who once had commanded Hornet number seven hims self, was heading up Task Force 58 when the japdieet, after a year and a half of hiding, showed up in the Marianas to chal- lenge American supremacy in the waters of the Western Pacific. I . That afternoon of june 20, 1944, WHS 3 field day for the Hornet. Her combat .air patrol flushed the first Nips in the strike. Since the days of the American Revolution she's sailed the seas in many guises. But cutter, sloop or aircraft carrier, shefs a ship of destiny. By VVhile,the fighters scratched meatballs right and left-402 planes were destroyed by the task force in that single- day-the H0rnet's bombers bagged a first-line carrier of the king-size SHOKAKU class, and the tor- pedo squadron knocked out a nice medium CHOKAI class cruiser. The fighters went a little out of their line and dropped a 500-pounder on a carrier of the I-IITAKA class. It started a lovely fire. And all this at the cost of one bomber crew which never mad-e it back to be tail-hooked home. Not every day aboard the Hornet is as memorable as that afternoon of the First Battle of the Philippine Sea, but few duty days are dull. When the smoking lamp goes out and the bull horn squawks and the ship heads into the wind for a launch, there's always action enough and to spare. On my first night out, while- we were off the Carolina coast, there was. a qualifying launch. The Hornet was traveling with three West Coast squadrons, and the pilots were new to the ship. Group tactics and recovery were on the air operations schedule for the night. I was down in the ready room while the pilots waited for the 20-minute call. 'The boys were all in their gear. The briefing was over and the jets were posi- tioned on the flight deck and on the ouija board in the control room. One of the pilots, Lieutenant J. K. Ar- thur, was checking his Very pistol. I watched him slip it back into his holster. Lieutenant johnny Wright was fitting me into a spare LSO suit, since I was going out to the Landing Signal Oflicer's platform to see the jets come in. Red Volz, com- mander of Fighter Squadron 91, poked his crew-cut head through the door to hunt for the CAG-Jim Hedrick, Commander of the Air Group. Then Lieutenant Freddy Foxton, the LSO from Squadron 94, dropped by to pick us up. It's about that time, Fred said. VVe'd better get on back there. We took the escalator up to the blacked- out flight deck and walked cautiously be- tween the parked planes. Lieutenant Ernie Hubbard, the third LSO, was on the plat- form waiting for us. Up forward, the cats began to howl as the jets leaped into the dark. The launch had begun. It was a peculiar kind of night. Around us, the sea sparkled with phosphorescence in a tight circle. Beyond was a perimeter of E -uf. - r 1- r 4 : - '- .,-if-...g :i'- - v.'1'?t it'4 , SEYMOUR ETTMAN fog. There were stars if you looked straight up and nowhere else. Kind of like w-e're in a milk bottle, Ernie Hubbard said. He was right. The Hornet seemed- to be in a shaft of clear weather which accom- panied her through the per-egrinations of her course. We stood around talking about flying and fishing and home. Beneath us the sea swirled past like the rush of time. In the distance the destroyers blinked dimly through the fog. Before long, the first fiight of'jets roared above us in tight formation, then climbed upstairs to begin their breakup and landings approach pattern. Johnny Wright took the paddles in his hands and stepped up front. Fred plugged in the light jack, and johnny, with rows of tiny lamps on the bands of his LSO suit, was immedi- ately lighted up like a Christmas tree. The Banshees circled the ship again. Ernie Hub- bard kept his eyes trained on their fire. Johnny, he said tensely, that last ban- jo peeled off to starboard flying low. johnny Wright tried to stare into the murky blackness that closed in from the right. How low? Too low. I didn't se-e him complete the turn. How was his fire? Freddy Foxton asked anxiously. Looked okay from here. But he was mighty low. How cold is that water. Did anybody take a look at the board? Fifty-four, Hfty-six. Somethinglike that. If he dunks, the cans might pick him out before he gets too cold. All of us turned to look at the destroyers, wheeling a parallel course into the wind. What happens now? I asked. How will we know? . If he hit, Ernie said, we should be seeing his tracers right about- 'He never finished the sentence. A red signal liare shot high into the murk from about two miles off the starboard beam, glowed for a brief instant and then faded away. He's down! johnny said. He dropped his paddles, yanked out the jack, and shout- ed to the white-hats in the phone well. Plane down! Throw over everything you've got! Flares, smokebombs, the works! I'm coming down to help! 173 y 3 ffl ' Le n' -, 'N' . Ili' I 3'- Efnz' , 'Ffh I I

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tion of naval service which spans nearly two centuries. There have been eight Hornets in all. Number one was a ten-ton sloop cutter- rigged which was commissioned by the Continental Marine Committee in 1775 and harassed th-e British off the Delaware Capes in 1777. The second of the line also mount- ing ten guns was purchased in Malta by U. S. agents who sent her into action with Commodore Rogers squadron at the siege an American peace to the Bashaw of Trip- oli. H ornet number three was the command of Commodore James. Lawrence who gave the Navy its stirring watchwords. Fight h-er till she sinks and dont give up the ship -the famous dying words he later uttered while in command of the Chesa- peake, i Hornet number four was a five-gun schooner and saw service in Southern rivers and bays as a dispatch packet between 1813 and 1820. The fifth Hornet was an iron side-wheel paddle steamer used for river patrol during the Civil War. Hornet six, a converted yacht, was intended for use as a dispatch vessel in the Spanish-American War. She cut the Havana Cable in Man- zanillo Harbor and fought a number of skirmishes out of her weight and class to uphold the honor of the name. ' It was the third Hornet that established th-e line's peculiar knack for turning up to do battle in unlikely segments of the globe. Below Capricorn at 37 3' south latitude and 12 9' west longitude-and for no ap- parent reason-rises a saddle of rock sur- rounded by thousands of miles of sea. On the South Atlantic chart, it is listed as again. This time he made no pretense at scouting the island. The Hornet was Biddles first command. She had b-een James Lawrences ship Cbe- fore he was promoted to captain and given command of the Chesapeakej and had scourged the British since the third day after the declaration of war. Chafing for action Biddle had been blockaded in New London along with the frigates United States and Macedonian. Before that he had dreary months a prisoner of the -Bashaw of Tripoli. Now a captain under Commo- dore Decatur he was spoiling for a fight 'Two months out of sight of land out of contact with the squadron had only honed his mettle to a keener edge. Up on the masthead, the lookout cupped his hand to his mouth 'and sang out. 'Ahoy the deck! Sail on the lee bow! Biddle strained his eyes in that direction but saw nothing. He strode to the lee main- shrouds and fought a losing battle with what he termed his professional dignity. He was too new a captain and too lately a lieutenant to keep his hands off the ratlines. H-e swung himself up, braced against the plunging motion of the ship, and trained his glass forward. There was a sail all right, southward and to the east, steering to westward under a spanking south-southwest wind. Two masts -that would make her a brigantine-with bare poles down to the fore and main up- pertops'ls. 'Mr. Conner! Biddle hailed. The first lieutenant came on the run. She's a brig, the captain said. Perhaps the Peacock, but more likely a lobsterback. down. She was larger than the Peacock higher out of the water than the Hornet. Biddle watched her shorten sail slowly with a clumsiness which seemed almost by design. She came down stem on and the first lieutenant .couldnt understand the rea- son why. What do you make of it sir? he asked the captain anxiously. Biddle had seen a lot of tactics while in the service aboard the Constellation with She wont show us what she mounts on her broadside he said. Perhaps she thinks well run. Run from a tight? Conner looked in- credulous. She misjudges the Hornet, sir. Biddle smiled grimly. Lawrence wouldnt have run. Evans wouldn't have run. They had commanded Hornets before him. Praise God the Hornet would never turn tail not whil-e there was powder and shot flesh and steel, and the stars and stripes of the new Republic. 'Lay her two points off the wind, Mr. Conner, he said. 'Two can play this game. lf she aims to pass under our stern and en- gage us to leeward she'll have to outsail us first!! I don't think she can do it, Mr. Con- ner. The Hornet wore ship three tim-es before the stranger came within musket range without firing a shot. At 1:40 P.M., 'f there was still a doubt that she was a British sloop of war, she haul-ed her wind on the starboard tack, hoisted the English Jack and fired a shot with her chase gun. The Hornet immediately luffed to, ran up her ensign, and raked the now declared enemy with a withering broadside. of Derne- She helped General Eaton dictate languished in an African dungeon for 19 'Truxton and the Philadelphia under Preble. li , ll H C ' r I 1 O C Tristan da Cunha, one of three volcanic upthrusts aptly known as the Inaccessible Islands. To find it on the map, you need plenty of patience and a strong magnifying glass. To locate it at sea, you need a master mariner and a good compass equipped with iron navigator's balls. On the morning of March 23, 1815, Mas- ter Commandant james Biddle stood by the taffrail of the brig-rigged sloop-of-war Hor- net, Price built in Baltimore, of French de- sign, and mounted with a battery of 20 guns. The captain held a brass sight-tube to his eye and surveyed the conical peak of 'Tris- tan da Cunha, rising sharply above the gray South Atlantic swells. Then he swept th-e sea, searching for signs of Commodore Decatur's squadron-the frigate President, the war-sloop Peacock, and the stor-eship Toni Bowline. They were nowhere on the bowl of the horizon. Evidently the Hornet had beaten them to the rendezvous at the northwest point of the island, the only feasible anchorage according to John Pet- ton, an American whaling master who had wintered there in 1791. The wind's dropped a little, Mr. Con- ner. the comniandant said to his first lieu- tenant. We should haul down in about an hour. Put a good leadsman in the chains. This water might suddenly shoal. Yes, sir, Conner said. His eyes were troubled. 1 wonder if the squadron- Biddle cut him short. He wondered too. It had been two months since he had seen the commodore's pennant through the fiying scud of a Hatteras gale. VVe can't beat back and forth on the lee of a rock pile forever. he said. 1 daresay the squadron will arrive when it does and not a moment before. Conner went to join the master's mate and the midshipman of the watch at the chain plate. Biddle looked through the glass We'll run out and see. Put the helm up and we'll bear down on her, Mr. Conner, if you please. With a creaking of blocks, the little Hor- net danced into the new tack under jib, stay- sails, and the boom mainsail. Sailing a close course on the wind, she handled like a fore-and-aft rigged sloop. She made good time, shouldering the oncoming seas and nosing through the needle spray that drove along her flush decks to where Biddle wrap- ped himself in his heavy blue coat, and hitched up his sword, a present from his friends and neighbors in Philadelphia. Mains'l sheets! Conner bellowed, and to the helmsman, Steady as she goes. He turned to the captain. Orders, sir? Biddle had his eyes on the strange sail. She couldn't be the Peacock, unless the gales drove her off course to east. 1'd guess she's an Englishman on the west run in from Africa. We'd best be ready, Mr. Con- ner. Pd suggest we clear for action and run out the carronades. Call all hands! Conner roared at the midshipman. Beat to quarters! The roll of drums throbbed through the ship and the hands raced to their stations. Even though the strange brig was still a long way off, the 18 carronades were run out on their trucks and the gun-layers stood by th-e breeches with smouldering pots and linstocks. Biddle looked at the men, proud of their eagerness, a little awed by their spirit. If there was a fight, there would be a butcher bill to pay, but no one thought of it now. There was only a contagious fever of excitement, keyed by the wild wind thrumming in the lines, by the jaunty cant of a wooden deck, by a strange sail on a distant sea and the glory of a proud ship from a young land. The Hornet bent on sail and tacked to port, waiting for the strange brig to come Bright yellow flashes blossomed from the English brig's side. A ball tore through the rigging over Biddl-e's head. There was a ragged crash below as a load of grape struck home. All about him was the clatter of falling blocks and lines. Biddle braced as the Ho1'net's decks shook under the re- coil of repeated broadsides. Each time the acrid smoke cleared away, he strain-ed his eyes to survey the enemy's damage. Her deck was a shambles and h-er sails were rags. The foremast was splintered from truck to futtock shrouds, yet the lobster- back backed her braces to bear up on the Hornet and run her on board. Mr, Conner! Biddle shouted hoarsely. 'They'll try to board us on the quarter- deck. Have the gunners load with grape and set your pikemen on the rail ! The two vessels, like ponderous levia- thans, came together in a shattering crash. The Hornefs pikemen crowded the rail, rushing to board the enemy only to have their officers call them back. The bowsprit of the English brig had come in between the main and mizzen-rigging like the formidable snout of an enraged swordfish. Heeling hard to port, the Hornet rose with a heavy swell that lifted her ahead while the enemy's bowsprit sheared away the mizzen- shrouds, stern davits and spankerboom. But the brigs weren't clear. The Hornet shuddered forward with the Englishman hung up on her larboard quarter. Biddle, smoke-blackened, bleeding from a bad splinter cut on the head and almost blinded by the flashing of the carronades, called for the master to go forward and set the foresail. The gun trucks rumbled like thunder as the pieces were run out again. On the Englishman, a lieutenant rushed to the rail, tore off his white stock and waved it frantically. :'Brig ahoy! he hailed through :a speak- a . -'i - 1' 1' . ' e-f-Asif:-' f'1!'--'-I' Q 1-'ka-Lithia:- u. .1 21:1 - !1i - U -s'-2-H ' il. in wifi' USR ilkx 20-Eng Qeitans-SES. 1 ll M 1