Lunga Point (CVE 94) - Naval Cruise Book

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torpedo attacks on windmills, swooping down over the rolling prairie, and sweated out nav- igation problems to Grand C oiilec and Spo- kane. .Spring verged on Summer when the Squad- ron began to pack away the endless gear and prepared to move again. On 30 May the ma- jority of officers and men piled aboard a train and settled themselves for the long ride south to the Naval Au.xiliary Air Station, Holt ille, Calif. Twenty-one of the pilots manned the planes and lifted away in the still morning air, Iea ing Pasco behind, a memory, pleasant and fresh. Through the Columbia Gorge; then south past the mountains and marshlands of Oregon into California. Down the flat valley past Sacramento they swept, dipped low like so many pigeons and alighted at Alameda, across the bay from San Francisco. The next morning they were off again. A gassing stop at .San Diego; then inland over the coastal mountains where Holt ille greeted them with a blast of heat. Elsewhere in the world night is meant for sleep. Not at Holtville. When dusk cast long shadows over the desert, men began to stir and engines roared. Night tactics, night bombing, night gunnery, until every pilot felt at home in the black loneliness that comes high above the earth after dark. They wore shorts and baseball caps and acquired deep tans from the burning sun. The torpedo pilots moved over to Salton Sea for five days and learned to hit with rockets while the fighters took a brief rest. The landing signal officers appeared and lost no time in making themselves known. Day after day they stood in the run- ways and moved the bright little paddles until their arms were leaden and their eyes ached. But the efforts told as approaches became surer and more precise. It was not in the .Squad- ron ' s blood to stay in one place too long, and itchy feet soon found solace when on 14 Julv Holt ' ille was evacuated and the trek made to Brown Field, perched high atop Otay Mesa overlooking .San Diego. Brown Field was regarded as a final buffing plant for Squadrons about to go aboard a carrier for combat duty, and excitement ran high, for few in ' C 85 had ever served aboard ship. Training was devoted to carrier tactics, breakups, and landings. Frequently ' C 85 teamed up with her sister squadrons in group gropes, and attacked coastal areas in sim- ulated beach assaults or flew out for the fre- quent invasions of San Clemcnte Island, sixty miles westward from North Island. The fighter pilots mo ed en masse to the craggy field on that island for a final week of gunnery drill; but, beset by a low and persistent blanket of fog, they had to conte nt themselves with lixely games of baseball on the taxi strip. Top: Flieht deck being res[X)tted with aid of tractors: ctnler: The Old Man briefs squadroti in ready room; bflow: Avenger engine being given check on flight deck. 145

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A BR I I.I ' SIOK ' OF ' C; «-, (By l.t. Willi.im II. K..irns. L ' S.NR. Sqiiaclron Air Coinbat Intclliuicncc Ollitcr.) Clold and gray, tiic dawn of 12 January i )44 fuiind a light rain shroudini; the buildings and runways of the Naval Air Station, Sj-attlc. NfitlitT iho chill nor the falling rain were un- usual; yet on that morning, a group of men arose who were to Ix- joined by a common cause into a common body and they alone, perhaps, felt the presence of the hour. Clad in blues, with gray glo es. they drifted to Hangar No. 32 in groups, talking of the future and of the sea. The commi.ssioning ceremony was brief. . bundled up Lieutenant Commander read the .Sciuadron orders. Xobody heard him, any- way; his voice was lost in the roar of a TBF turning up on the apron. It didn ' t matter. They were formed, united; they were now members of Composite .Squadron 85, instead of nameless souls lost in a flight pool. From that day on the work In-gan. .Seattle, with its luxurious C|uarters and easy life, served only to furnish the planes and ef|ui[)ment. Then, on f) January, it was left Ix-hind as the ' I ' BF ' s and F ' 4l ' s roared away in formation; destination Pasco. Washington. Barren, wind- swept Fasco could well h- regarded as the base that did the most for the .S(|uadron. As the days rumbled past. c(jordinati(jn matured with every Might; unity and precision came to be the rule instead of the exception. ' Fhe old F4F ' s took off day by day to practice gunnery. .At first, the slcc es came back with scarcely a bullet hole to indicate that they had been under tire. but. as the weeks lengthened into months, accuracy jumped and sleeves became riddled and torn to the delight of the fighter pilots. Meanwhile, the torpedo planes had not been idle. Methodically, they were loaded with water-tilled bombs and set out to practice glide bombing. The pilots made simulated i - r plane noses over in barrier crash; below: Landinsr circle stands by waiting for fouled deck to be cleared; taken from escort astern of us. a wave-off; bflou.: . iation mechs pull routin check on . venger on flight deck.

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August was barely a week old when the order came to embark on the U.S.S. Makassar Sirails (CV ' E 91) for carrier qualifications. With pounding hearts the officers and men thumped up the gangway and watched the planes hoisted aboard, one by one. This was it! For the next eight days the ship chased weather and qualifications were run off when the ceiling lifted. Learning the ways of a ship, the men began to talk like veterans and spoke casually of the beach, although that word had never before been associated with shore life. Once back at Brown Field they walked with a new lift a nd looked haughtily at green pilots who had yet to qualify. The Squadron then left Brown Field and settled at the Naval Air .Station, San Diego, on North Island. For nine days the pilots en- gaged in maneuvers and practiced bounce drill. On the tenth day they climbed into the planes and taxied in a long, winding queue to Pier Fo.x to join forces with the U..S.S. Lutiga Point (C ' E 94), their ship and their new home. It was an auspicious occasion that night when Captain Washburn strode into the ready room and welcomed them aboard. If there was ever a feeling of strangeness it was dissipated then. They belonged. That cruise lasted ten days. It was followed by two others as the ship and the Squadron practiced teamwork, strove for precision. Be- t een disembarking and embarking, the men made the most of their waning moments in the States. The Squadron received new planes, shiny with paint and throbbing with power. Good-byes were said and re-said until finally the word came to shove off for duty with the Pacific Fleet. 1 1 was a warm autumn afternoon when the sliips left San Diego. Th - .Scjuaflron gathered on the Might deck. s(|uinting into the sun a.s the little tugs backed the ship into the channel and she slipfK ' d into jjosilion astern of the Flag Ship. Officers and men stofxl there, silent, until the settling mist had (ut the Oalifornia ( oast line to a memory. ' I ' hen. as if jarred from their reveries by the same hand, the pilots clattc-rcd down to the ready room, laughing and oking with a sudden exhilaratifjn. The stern p(jintcd toward .San Diego, but the t)ovv was ( utting the water towards Pearl Hart)or. The training was over. They were out for blcKxl. Months later, combat wise and with a not unenviable reputation, they svere wont to ad- mit that the first six weeks afloat had been the Top: Spotting forward before recovering planes: center: Avenger airborne after being catapulted; below: Avenger being readied for catapulting. 146