YORKTOWN IN THE SOUTH PACIFIC
Yorktown sails for the Pacific
Around the 12th of December, the aircraft were hoisted aboard the Yorktown, and on the night of the 16th, we got under way about 2230 (10:30 pm). Just before pulling out, we had an air raid scare, and all of the ordnancemen were up on the flight deck trying to get our F4Fs loaded with 50-caliber ammunition. The ship was quite crowded, as we had taken aboard three or four hundred recruits who were to be assigned to duty at the Panama Canal Zone.
We transited the canal on Sunday December 20th. A Iarge wooden platform was erected on the flight deck for the canal pilot so that he could call directions for the steering of the ship. Reaching Balboa on the western side of the canal, we
offloaded the recruits and docked for the night. Everyone had been instructed not to mention the name of the ship in hopes of confusing any Japanese spies that might be present. But as Captain Buckmaster was leaving the ship to make an official call on the port authority, the ship's public address system announced: "Yorktown Departing". I felt very bad about this, as there were several hundred people on the docks. As the damage had been done, the Captain authorised liberty for one section. We went ashore with two other squadrons of ordnancemen, ending up in a section of Panama City known as Coconut Grove.
The evening was spent sitting on a curb, drinking champagne, and thinking of the irony of having such fine fare in such a lowly place.
Early Monday morning, as we were pulling out of Balboa, we had quite a sub scare! All available crew members were topside looking for periscopes. However, none were seen and we continued onward, bound for San Diego. On Christmas Day, the squadron had a Christmas Party. One of our pilots came up the forward elevator to the flight deck dressed as Santa Claus, with a sack of presents for a few of us. It was funny, and brought a bit of Christmas spirit to the day.
On the 29th of December, the ship pulled into San Diego and tied up to the pier at North Island Naval Air Station. Our fighter aircraft were put ashore to help with the defence of the local area if needed. However, the crew stayed aboard the ship. While in San Diego, our squadron took up a collection and bought a radio-phonograph. It was to give many hours of pleasure during the coming months. After reloading our aircraft on board, we departed San Diego on January 6th, 1942, bound for Samoa and accompanied by a group of transports loaded with the 2nd Marine Brigade.
Bound on a mission of war, we crossed the equator on the 14th of January. As we were very near the war zone, the traditional ceremony conducted when crossing the line had to be cut short. Nevertheless, pilots were dressed in diving gear, and some crew dressed in their full dress uniforms complete with frock coats and fore and aft hats. The old "shell backs" wielded shillelaghs (Ed: an Irishman's club) as we all looked for the equator. Several pilots scrutinised the horizon looking for "the line" using Coca Cola bottles instead of binoculars. Although all could not participate, we had a lot of fun passing from a "pollywag" to a "shellback". On the troop ships we escorted, it was a different story, and all crew members got the full treatment while crossing the equator.
During this voyage, one of out pilots, Ensign Johnnie Adams, experienced an engine failure on take-off due to a faulty self-sealing fuel tank liner, and was fished out of the water by one of the escort ships. This was to be the first of several planes lost because of self-sealing tank failure. Arriving in Samoa, we remained in the area until the marines disembarked at Pago Pago and set up their defensive positions.
The Marshall-Gilbert Raid, February 1, 1942
We departed on the 24th of January for the Marshall and Gilbert Islands for what was to be the United State Navy's first offensive action. The morning of the raid dawned rainy and cloudy. Two of our torpedo planes collided shortly after take-off. Three of the Gilbert Islands, Jaluit, Makin and Mille were the first to be hit In raids by the Yorktown as the aircraft carrier Enterprise attacked islands in the Marshalls.
We lost several planes due to the foul weather over the targets, but destroyed several large Japanese seaplanes and small ships. Late in the afternoon, we learned that our cruiser, the Chester, had been hit by a bomb, killing six men, and that the Enterprise had been attacked, but escaped damage. Two of our VF-42 pilots, Scott McCusky and Johnnie Adams, shot down a large four-engine seaplane very near our ship. I could see the smoke trail and explosion on impact with the water. Scott McCusky sent back the message "I shot his ass off". We left the area that afternoon after recovering all our aircraft.
Arriving at Pearl Harbor, February 6, 1942
We arrived in Pearl Harbor early on the morning of February 6th. The scene that met our eyes was one of utter devastation. The battleship Nevada was beached near the entrance of the harbor. The Okalala, California, West Virginia, and the Arizona had been sunk, and the Utah and Oklahoma were capsized. I think this was when most of us realised how tough an adversary we faced.
We remained in Pearl Harbor for about ten days, during which time the squadron operated from Ford Island and the Ewa Marine Airfield. I lived at Ewa for most of the time we were in port, enjoying the food while working hard belting and loading 50-caliber ammunitions and cleaning guns.
Leaving Pearl Harbor on February 17th, we had no idea of where we were heading or for how long we would be at sea. Our mail was routinely censored. All outgoing mail had to be turned in to the ship's library, where it was censored by the ship's officers. Later In the day, when the library was open, you could see the little cut-out scraps of paper on the deck. It was always interesting to guess what the letter writer had been trying to get across to the reader, but usually only single words were censored.
The Lae-Salamaua Raid, March 10, 1942
Sailing South, we rendezvoused in the Coral Sea with the aircraft carrier Lexington on the 6th of March. We then sailed into Torres Strait, between Australia and New Guinea, sending our aircraft over the Owen Stanley mountain range to strike Salamaua and Lae, towns on the north-east coast of New Guinea that recently had been captured by the Japs. Our TBD-1 torpedo planes were supposed to have a speed of 100 knots, but could only manage 90 knots en route to the targets due to the height of the mountains. The water In the torpedos froze, making duds out of most of the "fish". Several Japanese transports and support vessels were sunk, and several planes shot down. We didn't lose any of our aircraft in this raid, but the Lexington lost one fighter pilot.
After loading our aircraft for the raid, we pitched in to help load bombs on the dive-bombers and torpedos on the torpedo planes. Another daily routine for the VF-42 ordnancemen was the drawing of five boxes of 50-caliber ammunition each morning during pre-dawn general quarters. Five of the VF-42 ordnancemen would go up to the ammo elevator, located In the admiral's quarters on the gallery deck just below the flight deck and pick up the ammunition. We would than belt this before breakfast. A daily routine that we grew to hate with a passion.
Yorktown patrols the Coral Sea
The Lexington left us after the New Guinea raid, and returned to Pearl Harbor for repairs and to have her 8-inch guns removed. Before she left, she transferred some of her F4F-3 fighter planes to our ship. Several of our pilots were flown over to ferry them back. One of the planes to be transferred to us was the plane that "Butch" O'Hare had flown when he shot down five Japanese "Betty" bombers in the space of a few minutes. The pilot assigned to fly this plane back to the Yorktown was Walt Haas. Just before he took off, Lieutenant O'Hare climbed up on the wing and told Walt to take good care of his plane. With that, Walt applied power, rolled down the deck and into the water. He was recovered, but that was the end of "Butch" O'Hare's plane.
We continued to patrol for several weeks in the area of the Coral Sea that became known as "Yorktown Junction", despite having exhausted nearly all supplies. We cleaned machine-guns with "bright work" polish and sandpaper. You had to take your screwdriver to bed with you to keep from losing it. At this time, we were authorised to grow beards, and what a sight we were! Two of the most fearsome beards, one black and one flaming red, belonged to men from my squadron. The highlight of our day was the distribution of the two page "Yorktown Crier", also known as the "dope sheet.", which was usually passed out each morning during general quarters. As food began to give out, we ate mostly rice and spaghetti for a period of several weeks. There were meals of spaghetti with pickles, rice with a few raisins for breakfast, and rice with dried milk.
After weeks of going round and round in the Coral Sea, we finally got word that we were to proceed to Tongatapu, an island in the Friendly Islands group. What a relief! We went ashore on the "Royal Tongan Navy", which consisted of Queen Salote's yacht. The natives were very friendly, and before long, there were sailors riding horses all over the island and hiking inland. The queen played it wisely however, sending all the island women into the bush for the duration of our stay. When we departed five days later, the ship was a veritable floating fruit stand, with every possible space jammed with bananas, tangerines and green coconuts.
It was back to the grind of reveille, pre-dawn general quarters, aircraft search operations, the daily routine, sunset general quarters, and Taps, The monotony was broken, as operations permitted, by movies, the ship's band, and occasional festivities. One in particular that I remember, was the celebration for the last steak on board. The day before the celebration, the steak was paraded on the flight deck with signs and marine guards. A picture taken that day was later printed in "Time" or "Newsweek". The following day, the number two elevator was converted to a stage for the event. There were several acts, but the highlight was a chief called "The Swami of Granby Street" who hypnotised about ten sailors, and had them performing outrageously. After the show, the names of everyone on ship were put in a box and five names drawn out. A mess table was set up; the steak was cut into five portions, and the entire ship company and air group watched those five sailors eat steak, french fries, and cake. The men were served by young sailors in dresses, with soup bowls for upper works, and long hemp braids for hair. One of the serving maids was our youngest VF-42 crewman "Chicken Underwood", aged fifteen.
The Battle of the Coral Sea
The Lexington rejoined us on May 1st, and we sailed together for several days before the Lexington departed to refuel. We proceeded to raid Tulagi Island in the Solomons, which had recently been occupied by the Japs. We launched three raids during the day, losing two of our VF-42 aircraft. Scott McCusky and Johnnie Adams stayed over the target area too long, and were forced to land on Guadalcanal, They were picked up by a destroyer after attempting to destroy the planes. The three raids however were deemed a success, and we were elated to have disrupted the timetable of the Japanese. But this was only to be the prelude!
The Battle of the Coral Sea was our first experience with death, so it probably leaves the most vivid impressions. On the first day of the battle, May 7th, 1942, our attacks went off as scheduled and we sank one small Japanese carrier, the Shoho. From the time the first bomb hit her until she went under the water was less than eleven minutes. Later that day, we received word that Japanese planes were approaching. By the time our fighters were in the air, Jap planes were in our vicinity and it was beginning to get dark. The Lexington started firing on our port beam, and then Yorktown gunners started firing 50-caliber machine guns and 1.1 cannons. I was on the flight deck when the firing started, and ran to the island and jumped through a hatch. As I stopped to look back, I was hit by the flight deck officer trying to get into the same shelter. The firing continued for several minutes, then the bull-horn sounded, "Cease fire, these are our aircraft!".
I came out of the shelter and was standing at the rear of the island when a plane approached the starboard side of the ship. Our guns started firing at it, and in the light, I could see it was one of our fighters. There was some talk that Japanese planes might also be in the landing circle. We finally started taking our planes aboard. One of our fighters caught a wire but pitched up on its nose. All the rest landed safely except for Leslie Knox who was never heard from again, and John Baker who could be heard calling that he was lost. Radio silence could not be broken, and therefore, no directions could be given to him. He finally ran out of gas and was not rescued. One of the luckiest pilots was "Daddy" Barnes, whose parachute was found with a bullet in it. A 50-caliber had penetrated the side of the plane, gone through the side of his seat, and come to rest in his chute. The first day we lost two pilots, as did the other squadrons who lost pilots and crewmen.
As we were very close to the Japanese task force, I felt that the next day would be worse. In fact, so close that when the enemy turned on their lights to help guide their planes home, we could see the reflection on the horizon. Our scout bombers were out searching long before dawn the next morning. After dawn general quarters, we sat around and waited. Finally, shortly after 0900 hours, our air group took off to attack the Japanese force which had been found. After the air group left, we still had a few fighters on deck and many of us sat under the aircraft waiting. One VF-42 Ordnanceman, Paul Meyers, was sitting with me and we talked of what we wanted to do when the war was over.
At about 1045 hours, the general quarters alarm sounded. The bull-horn blared that at least eight groups, each consisting of ten or more enemy planes, were headed in our direction; the nearest group being about 76 miles away. The horn kept announcing the distance of the nearest group from us. When the nearest plane was only ten miles away, the horn blared "Air Department take cover! Gunnery take over!" I later heard that Captain Buckmaster asked the admiral which did he want to evade, torpedos or bombs? I took shelter on the gallery deck just below the island, and stayed there during the time of the attack. The 5-inch guns started firing first, then the 1.1 mounts, and finally, the 50-caliber mounts on the flight deck catwalks. The attack lasted about ten minutes, and as the Jap planes were winging away, we were called on deck to re-arm fighter planes that had landed.
I could see the last of the enemy planes departing the area. Off to the starboard side, the Lexington was listing a few degrees. There was some smoke over her and she was down by the bow from two torpedo hits. We had taken one bomb hit just aft of the island and inboard about ten feet. The bomb left a hole about eighteen inches in diameter in the flight deck. It went through the VS Ready Room, again leaving an eighteen inch hole as it passed between six men who had taken shelter there, and continued on through the Hangar Deck, Marine Compartment, and Ship's Store spaces before coming to rest on the armored deck. Repair Party Five, who were in the Ship's Store spaces, had gone near the hole the bomb had made before it exploded, killing most of them and demolishing that space. The Marine Compartment above was badly damaged and the hangar deck plates in the area were warped. A man on the hangar deck walked over to the hole the bomb had made, and was peering down the hole when the bomb exploded. It blew his head off. The bomb was a 12-inch naval shell with fins attached that had been captured by the Japs from the British.
During the attack, a bomb passed through two marines manning 50-caliber machine-guns on the starboard catwalk forward of the island. The bomb barely bent the catwalk, but exploded when it hit the water and sprayed the side of the ship with shrapnel. A group of sailors had taken shelter in the wire net under the deck edge. Of this group of four VF-42 men, one was not hit at all, one was scratched on the arm, a third received a cut across his back, and my friend Paul Meyers was hit in the groin by a large fragment. He died later that day. I remember going down to the after mess deck later that day, and attempting to eat, but with the mess deck covered with bodies, I could not stay.
The rest of the day was spent preparing for another attack. The uncertainty was nerve racking as we waited and prayed for night fall. We expected more attacks to follow that day. We were losing oil from a near miss, and there was an oil streak for many miles behind us. Later during the day, the Lexington blew up and was abandoned. We lost quite a few planes that day but none of our fighters. Our attack against the Japs resulted in heavy damage to the carrier Shokaku, and the loss of so many enemy planes that neither the Shokaku nor her sister ship the Zuikaku would be ready in time to participate in the Battle of Midway,
The most graphic memory I have of that day was a hand with a navy ring on it, sticking out from under a piece of canvas. All of our dead were buried at sea without ceremony the night after the attack. I know this was the best course as many of us had just about gone the limit.
Return to Pearl Harbor
About three days after the attack, one of our scout planes reported a large Japanese task force headed In our direction. There was frantic activity to ready our aircraft for an attack. The Air Officer told the pilots: "Get the Jap carriers or we will get a second attack!" All I could think of was: he is talking about a second attack when the first hasn't even hit us yet. What a relief it was when we learned that what the pilots had thought was an aircraft carrier was in fact only a small atoll.
After several more days, we were anchored once again in Tonga. There was no liberty this time as we all worked around the clock repairing the ship and aircraft. After two days we got under way, and headed for Pearl Harbor at the best speed possible. Five days out of Pearl Harbor, a supply ship came alongside and transferred enough food to us for one or two good meals. Our 100th day dinner even had Pineapple upside-down cake. What a change from rice and spaghetti!
Before docking at Pearl Harbor, the air group was flown off and the ship went into dry dock. We worked like beavers resupplying the ship. There were bombs and ammunition to be loaded, food of all sorts, and tons of supplies were brought aboard until the hangar deck was piled high. We all were granted one liberty, and then continued working around the clock. One single liberty after one hundred and four days at sea! The ship backed out of dry dock seventy-two hours after we had arrived, and we headed to sea once more.