Hornet (CVA 12) - Naval Cruise Book

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.. fs 4- ., ,., ,,,.,.,... , ,., ,,,,..,,- -...- .,-,.x..- a---1. ff- 'sr' P' ing trumpet. We submit! 'Hold your fire! Do you strike your colors? the captain called back to the Englishman. Th-e answer and a volley of musketry sounded at the same time. Yes, God rot you! Biddle dropped to the deck. A hot musket ball had ripped open his chin and passed along his neck, tearing through his cravat and waistcoat collar. Reprisal came swiftly with a double burst from the Hornefs long 12 swivel guns. The length of the Englishman's decks was raked with hot grapeshot that scythed a swath of destruction from stem to stern. The Horniefs foresail bellied out with wind and the American brig tore free of her enemy, ripping out the British brig's bowsprit as she surged ahead. The brig's foremast was gone and she lay dead in the water. The Hornet wore ship to give her a fresh broadside, but the British ensign slow- ly fluttered down from the spanker gaff. Her colors were struck and the fight was over, exactly 22 minutes from the time the first shot was fired. The ship's surgeon and two crewmen tried to carry the wounded Captain Biddle below. He r-efused to go. They stripped off his shirt and tied it around his throat in an improvised bandage. He 'wouudn't permit them to dress his wounds until the Hornefs seamen were attended to. The butcher bill was one man killed and ten wounded. Not a single round shot had pierced the hull of the Hornet, but her sides were scarred with grape and her rigging and sails were cut to ribbons. 'That evening, the American sloop of war Peacock, and the storeship Tom Bowline sailed over the northern rim of the horizon. The storeship was conv-erted into a cartel to carry the British prisoners to San Salva- dor, and on the 12th of April the Hornet and the Peacock set sail and headed east to round the Cape of Good Hope and begin the long voyage home. It xl in These days, they fold wings aboard the Hornet instead of bending sail, and when Pri Fly asks for a ready deck, no drum corps rolls the beat to quarters. In accord- ance with the strident march of time, the enemy is scouted in the crystal ball of the radar screen instead of from the crow's nest on a swaying mast. But the courage of the men is the same as it always was, and no braver ship than the Hornet ever faced a foe. At the time of her death, Hornet number seven wrote a flaming testament to the line's proud' heritage of valiant service. October 25, 1942. Buildup elements, sneaked ashore during night runs by the Tokyo Express, had reinforced enemy con- centrations along the Matkinau River in Guadalcanal. A heavy Jap attack, launched with tanks and artillery, imperiled Marine and American Division positions on the is- land. A torrential rain which started in the early morning had softened the airstrip at Henderson Field, and with air operations curtailed, the U. S. perimeter was in grave danger. This was the prelude to the great naval -battle off the Santa Cruz Islands. Two gargantuan Japanese flotillas had been assembled for the knockout blow. One was composed of elements scattered around Buka, Bougainville and Rabul. The other, containing the aircraft carriers Syokaku and Zuikaku was steaming south from the man- dated islands of Truk and Ponape. The Jap mission was a powerful carrier drive to knock out the planes grounded at Hender- son Field-then a clean sweep of American vessels in the Esperance narrows and naval bombardment from battleships and heavy cruisers to smash ground resistance once and for all. Another Nipponese victory seemed to be in the cards. But there was a joker in ,this stacked deck. An American Flying Fortress piloted by Lieutenant Mario Sesso spotted the main Japanese naval force north of the Solomons. Gaggles of zeros rose to intercept him, but Sesso streaked for home base with a fix on the Jap position. East of the Solomons, in the gray mist of morning, the Hornet and her destroyer es- cort cut feathery chevrons in the blue-black sea. Admiral Tom Kinkaid's task force, flexing its muscles after a successful peck at the fortihed Jap islands near Buin-Faisi, was patroling the salt floats along the right-of-way of the invincible Tokyo Ex- press. Aboard The Fighting Lady, the butcher bill for Midway was still a throat- catching memory. All planes lost, and only one pilot, Ensign G. H. Gay, of 'Torpedo Eight, limped- home to roost on that black morning of June 4, 1942. There were new faces in the squadron mess and recon- stituted tails warmed the theater seats in the ready room. t Up on the bridge, Rear Admiral Charles Perry Mason already had the word that the Japs were striking for Henderson Field. The word from the flagship was Get 'those Jap carriers. The attack launch was set for 0830-bombers, torpedo bombers, and hghters. Scouting Eight would have to sup- ply some of the bombers for the run. Lieutenant Commander VVilliam J Gus lflfidhelm walked down the ready room aisle, and the briefing began. There would be interference from a heavy Jap umbrella, since the enemy was wise to the game. There would be every shape and form of flak in the books, because the big guns of murderers' row were.out there, waiting to bark their bid for the vital field on Guadal- canal. The Hornet headed into the wind. The Air Boss in Pri Fly hauled in the red flag. The airdales set the chocks and slung the cats. Admiral Mason watched the clock, the sea, the course and the men, and the Hor- net was less a lean, striped ship on a distant sea than a bastion of hope in the heart of home. 0813. Pilots, man your planes. Check prop clearance, winglines, wheel chocks, fire bottles, flight deck uniform, and loose gear about the deck. 0814. Stand by to launch. Stand clear of propellers. Start engines. 4 Ther-e was a long blast on the warning yodel. The green flag went out, a white flag in front of it. Heads up on the flight deck. The white flag is out. 0830. Launch onel' Hurling ber planes aloft, the Horn-et held course and waited. The high angle turret guns guarded the leaden sky. Pom-poms bristled beneath the bridge. 'The AA gun- layers were on station at the deck edge along the beam and forward of the LSO platform. The wait wasn't long. At 0950, the call came in. Cootie to Daisy. This is Cootie four. You got troubles, kid. Visiting attack force dead ahead. We'll ask for their tickets, but some of them are going to crash your party. At 0959, 40 miles from the carrier, Fighter Eight engaged seven Japanese bombers and shot down three. Four got away. But there were more, lots more. A flight was coming in at 18,000 feet, and torpedo planes-escorted by Messerschmitt l09's-were spilling out of the clouds nine miles away. The Hornet steamed a steady course, northeast at 20 knots. The cans and escort cruisers laid down a screen of smoke and the carrier settled into it like a striped Easter egg in cotton wool. The thunder- claps of the first shots boomed out over the sea as the cans began to fire. l009 hours. A flight of enemy dive- bombers, cut ragged by fighter interference, wove through the black lace of anti-air- craft fire. They came' in shock waves, and l5 of them managed to punch through the screen. 'The Hornetfr five-inchers spit blood- colored flame, and over their jolting WHAM-WHAM the one-point-one inchers barked and the smaller weapons stuttered. A slim, silver monoplane reeled crazily just above the island and disintegrated in midair. Another streaked through the tracers to lay an egg on the fantail. It was a near miss, and the Jap dive-bomber spun into the sea. Two more started their runs, overshot, and got clear. ln the puff-dotted sky, one more dive- bomber circled the target, then darted across the tracer lines at 2,000 feet. His engine spouted a beard of orange flame as the AA flre found the range. He was falling fast, and in a straight line-way past his red-line limit. This was a Kamikaze plunge, the aerial equivalent of a Banzai charge. The Jap pilot was out to deliver his bomb load in person! The plane screamed toward the deck, and the sound was even louder than the devil- belching of the guns. Up on the bridge, Ad- miral Mason and the watch officers gasped for air in the partial vacuum created by the gun blasts. Wreatlied in a rising sun of'flame, the Jap hit. He glanced off the funnel and knifed across the signal bridge. Shorn of its wings, the heavy fuselage crashed into the flight deck 60 feet below. It hammered a hole through the deck and rammed into the hangar beneath, blazing like a bonnre among the parked planes around the aft elevator. The Japs' 1,500-pound, armor-piercing block-buster ripped loose from its housing outside the ordnance room! It didn't ex- plode, and was'actually disarmed by the heroic ordnance chief who removed the bomb's warhead in the dark. The two smaller bombs with which the Jap was loaded caused serious fires-one topside, the other in the hangar deck machine. shop. 'The dive-bomber's engine tore loose and ripped through a steel bulk- head to land in one of the squadron ready rooms. On the signal bridge, twisted girders loomed through a geyser of Hafne as a second Japanese dive-bomber delivered its full load. Through the smoke-a picture etched into the minds and hearts of all who saw it-Old Glory still fluttered de- fiantly from, the halyards. What happened in the next 20 minutes aboard the Hornet was like the preview trailer of a visit to Hell. Two-more Jap bombers crash-dived on the ship and seven torpedo planes cut through the screen and leveled off to attack. Three were shot into the sea, but the other four settled down to their deadly business. Two torpedoes pooped along, trailing white streaks in the choppy sea. Both hit on the port side, amidships. On the ship, the main water lines and the primary electric cable were cut. The Horneltir engines stopped turning over and The Fighting Lady

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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

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--- -' -' - x in lf- drifted dead in the heaving sea, ln an amazingly short time, four scattered blazes were under control, but the most serious of the many fires had begun to gnaw away at the Hornet's vitals. A thousand men were organized into bucket brigades to fight the flames. From starboard, the Northampton came up with cables and took the wounded car- rier in tow. At 1100 hours, a new wave of Jap torpedo planes knifed through the screen. One of them muffed a sitting duck shot by a matter of yards. 'The other Dlanes, possibly because they believed the Hornet a gone gosling, headed out of the screen and made for the Enterprise, Admiral Kin- kaid's second carrier. Damage control aboard the Hornet be- came a matter of muscle and indomitable will. Executive Olfficer Captain Appolo Soucek worked with the crew to manhandle the anchor chain and cable. By 1400 hours, fire no longer menaced the ship. The wounded went over the high-line to a waiting destroyer. Repair parties had the generators turning over by 1530. One tur- bine was about to spin when the Japs came in for one last run with torpedo planes and dive-bombers. They were through in a hurry, and when they left there was nothing to do but abandon ship. Raked with bombs and listing,from at least one more torpedo hit, the Hornet was done for and the crew was ordered to hit the boats. By 1700 all but 129 men of the ship's complement of 2,900 were aboard other craft. After ten hours of constant attack, the valiant Hornet was a listing, burning hulk. But she was still afloat. Two U. S. des- troyers came in close to deliver the coiip de grace. They pumped 300 rounds and 12 tor- pedoes into The Fighting Lady's hull before she went down. At that, it was more than the Japs had been able to accomplish. Perhaps it was prophetic that as th-e Hornet slid beneath the surface and settled for her long, canting plunge to the bottom, the day faded and the Pacific sun went down. The passing of that Hornet, s-eventh of her line, was sad news mitigated by only one heartening fact. Squadron Commander Gus Widhelm, rescued from the drink after his bomber was shot down over target, sent the news by radio to Admiral Mason. Scratch two Jap flattops, Gus told his rescuers. You should have seen those Zeros hit the water when they came back home. Our boys worked hard. 'There weren't any H broodhens for the chicks to come back to. When the official score was tallied, the fight off the Santa Cruz Islands put two Jap carriers out of action, damaged two battleships and four cruisers, and sank two destroyers. The brave death of the Hornet had far-reaching consequences. On Guadal- canal, Henderson Field remained in Amer- 5 Q f.,i,l,-, yy. 5 .,A.ix V ,.-qv ,. --, -- - ,V-N 1 , . ican hands, and the Imperial Fleet retreated north, never again to risk its carriers in South Pacific battle. There was an eighth Hornet on the high seas within 10 months of the day number seven sank beneath the Southern Pacific swells. She took terrible and telling revenge on the enemy in the closing years of the war, proving herself to be a worthy heiress to a noble name. In the fall of 1944, the war was drawing to a close, but the Jap fleet was still to be routed and crushed. Admiral I-Ialsey had yet to carry through the great strikes on Leyte Gulf, Manila Bay and Luzon. What has been called The most decisive cam- paign in American naval history was not yet won. October 26, 1944, was heralded aboard the Hornet number eight by two provocative specimens of wartime literature. The first was the official plan of the day, duly entered into the log. The second was a piece of doggerel composed by some anony- mous poet in the Chief Petty Officer's Mess. Today will be a field day, the official log reads. Air department, dust off all overheads, removing any snoopers which may be adrift, and sweeping all corners of the Philippines, sending incineration or throwing over the side Cfirst punching holes in bottomj any Nip cans, AP's or AK's still on topside. Gunnery department will assist as necessary. Engineering, continue to pour on the coal. Medical, stand by with heat-rash lotion. Damage Control, observe holiday routine. , 'The verse is in- like character: Fill the bomb-bays. Ta-ke on ammo. H ornet-men, these are oiir plans- We will steam to Jacko-Jima' Where Jap maidens ply their fans. First we'll pulverize their cruisers, Then we'll perforate their cans. ' Morale ran high aboard the Hornet on that last day of the Second Battle of the Philippine Sea. The Fighting Lady had raced 605.2 miles in 24 hours in order to reach her station offrthe southeast coast .of Samar. She was there when a steel-shod prong of the triple-headed Imperial Fleet tried to sneak through the slot on its way to Leyte Gulf. The Nips had tasted blood. Seven U. S. ships of a small carrier force built around the Princeton had been put out of action on the punch to Leyte. Only the Hornet stood in the way of a drive to relieve the besieged Jap garrison ashore. The ensuing battle was one of the most furious in the history of the Hornet. While the heavy Jap guns hurled box- cars of explosives to bracket the Hornet, the carrier's I-Ielldivers leveled off and streaked over the flotilla in the Slot, wreck- ing terrible havoc among the desperately maneuvering surface craft. A Kaga class . , ,, - . -, . 1 .., ,, ,,r, ,-- .1 -.r--44 ' -f '- -.4-.LT f. -- '- - ' i- ' -i-Inav' 'o'l ' e ll -P 5 n qt -, 6,7 Y-,,. . ,.,,,,,si- 4, Axel. carrier launched a swarm of Kamileaees which fell before the H0rnet's guns like swatted Hies. A dauntless dive-bomber plunged through a screen of flak to drop its full load on the Nips carrier's flight deck. The Kaya blossomed like a fiame-colored Chrysanthe- mum and began to settle in a steep list to port. A heavy Jap cruiser rushed in to stand alongside of the crippled carrier, but the H0rnet's skip-bombers sent her reeling away with a shattered stern. Overhead, Jap planes which had escaped the Hornefs fighters circled in a vain attempt to land on the smashed carrier. They made precarious passes, wheeled and returned. Then, like weary birds,,they began to drop into the sea. Aboard the Hornet, the gun crews work- ed like goaded toilers in King Solomon's Mines. They poured on the heat and estab- lished a ship's record for rounds fired in a single six-hour period. The Hornet maneuvered out of the way of suicidal Japanese attacks like a whirling ballet dan- cer. She seemed to be wearing a screen of invincibility which l-eft her unscathed while her adversaries plowed curved wakes and foundered into watery graves. Despite strike after strike, until the end of the war the Hornet number eight wore her aura of invincibility like a jaunty cloak. After serving as a troop transport in the great Homeward Bound operation of 1946, the famous Fighting Lady was consigned to mothballs. But the oldgirl wasn't des- tined to remain in storage overly long. Recently converted in an up-to-date fashion that made her a bit too broad in the beam to be accommodated by the Panama Canal, she was recommissioned in September, 1953, and ordered to report back to duty with the Pacific Fleet. Before setting out on a world cruise that would take her to her new duty station, she went through the previously mentioned maneuvers off the Atlantic Coast. The revamped Hornet has a new deck- edge elevator and a buttressed flight deck measuring-151 feet by 880. Generating 150,- 000 horsepower, she is in the over-30-knot class, and with a full load displaces 32,000 tons with a 29-foot draft. She stands a towering 190 feet above the waterline. Her normal complement is 2,700 men, 210 officers, and 80 planes. She is armed with eight single five-thirty-eights and 28 rapid- fire three-fifties. 'There are a few other weapons, besides, but we can't talk about them here. Right now, the Hornet is Hying jets- F9F5 Panthers, F9F6 Cougars, and F2H3 Banshees. She also carries a normal con- tingent of prop-powered AD's. But most of all she carries a good American crew, a fiaming pride rooted in a great tradition, and a name that will live as long as there is a United States Navy. 11- '-4 b'J't' ' v-' ! 1 '- lf' i ! -i 'l'TT:- -IV ll HT i 'if'llTHw