My Carrier War (23 page)

The next ten days were devoted to getting ready to make the flight to Henderson Field on Guadalcanal. By March 4, I had flown my four glide-bombing flights and the one gunnery flight. Our sojourn on the lovely little island was about over, but at least we had some time off. Just a few days after our arrival at Efate, the mail finally caught up with us. I spent a good deal of time re-reading the stack of letters I received from Jean and the two from my parents.

For me, the best news was that Jean was expecting our baby in June. She said that there was no problem checking in at the naval hospital at the naval shipyard in Bremerton. Her doctor was a civilian who had recently left his practice and volunteered to serve with the Navy. He had specialized in obstetrics. I felt relieved that Jean was getting good care while I was gone. I didn’t know, though, what my life would be like with a baby in the family. I was sure that Jean and I would work it out.

We had some opportunities to do some sightseeing on the island. We visited a small village within walking distance of the airstrip. George Hartman and I wandered in one afternoon and found a little bar run by a French couple, Mr. and Mrs. La Pierie. Between George’s fractured French and the owner’s little English, we found ourselves being invited to stay as their guests and enjoy some local cheese and their own wine. They closed the bar every afternoon. Local custom, we guessed. The couple lived upstairs over the bar, and the two of them seemed genuinely pleased that we had agreed to stay. We kept hearing how glad they were to have the
amis
(friends) there.

Their apartment was quite small with a tiny kitchen, and a combined living and dining room. I noticed two closed doors off the livingroom. Bedrooms, I guessed. The apartment was beautifully furnished with what appeared to be antique pieces and everything was sparkling clean. An oriental rug covered the floor. Mr. La Pierie offered us a chair at the dining table as his wife rustled around in the kitchen. Then he moved to one of the closed doors and knocked. The door opened, and I could see the figure of a person. He motioned with his arm as he said, “
Amis
, my daughter.” George and I both jumped to our feet. She appeared to be about twelve, dark hair hanging loosely around her cameo-shaped face. She was dressed in a dark skirt and a white blouse. And then, in an accented English, she said, “Speaking for my Papa, we welcome you.”

The afternoon moved quickly. Our host’s wife brought out a plate with a chunk of cheese and a knife. There was a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine. With some ceremony, our host opened the wine, as his daughter explained that he had made the wine. George and I and the La Pieries sat around that old table, a thousand miles from home. Those strangers welcomed us as family. Their daughter was our translator. We talked about America and Efate. I sat silently as I listened to George tell about his family in California.

God! On the 10th, we’ll fly off the Guadalcanal into...I just don’t know. Bombs dropping; the enemy trying to kill me. I feel so lonely and homesick. Missing Jean so much. Glad she’s home and doing so well. Her letters are so positive. Now I know when our baby is due. Jean said June. Feels so safe here, cheese and wine...friendly people.

Gradually, we emptied the wine bottle. George and I were saying our good-byes and our thanks. My last memory of that day is the vision of a lovely, young girl with long dark hair waving good-bye to George and me.
Flying to Henderson Field
On March 10, 1943, our air group left for Henderson Field and Guadalcanal. The fighter squadron left first with the dive-bombers leaving next and then the torpedo plane pilots. Our route took us from “Roses” (the code name for Efate) to “Button” (the radio code name for Espiritu Santo). Espiritu Santo was an island about 160 miles north of Efate. An airfield had been built there in support of the invasion of Guadalcanal. As we landed at the airstrip, we caught sight of the carrier Enterprise anchored in the harbor. She had been damaged while supporting the landings at the Canal earlier in the year and was being repaired at Espiritu Santo.

USS
Enterprise
(CV-6) underway in the Pacific, 1941. (
Courtesy of the U.S. Navy
)

Our aircraft were quickly refueled as we pilots completed our flight planning for the flight to the island of Guadalcanal. It was almost a 600-mile flight, all over open ocean. It was there that Henderson Field airstrip was located. The radio code name for Guadalcanal was “Cactus.” My log book shows a flight of 4.5 hours. Our nine TBFs flew in a loose formation, staying in visual contact with each other. More than once on that flight, I mentally thanked Pratt and Whitney, the company that had built the engine for my TBF. I sure didn’t want any engine problems on that flight!

About 30 minutes from our estimated time of arrival at Guadalcanal, I began looking for the island. This was every pilot’s instinct—where the hell was a place to land this plane? I was tired. I noticed a dark kind of blur on the horizon. Then as we continued flying, the blur began to take shape. There was Guadalcanal, rising out of the ocean. It looked lush and green.

My radio crackled. It was Bill Shyrock, the flight leader. “TBF flight, close on me. We’ll make a low pass over the airstrip. Make the usual carrier break to landing. All pilots meet at the operations building after landing for a briefing. Out.”

We all heard the control tower give us landing permission. As I circled the landing strip waiting for my turn to land, I looked down at the landing strip. So this was Henderson Field. It looked to be about 4,000 feet long. It had been built by cutting a swath in a grove of coconut trees wide and long enough to accommodate the strip. The strip was covered, side to side, with steel planks about 12 inches wide and 20 feet long. All the planks had two-inch diameter holes in them. The planks were fastened tightly together by steel cables and covered the landing strip from beginning to end. These planks, called Marstin Matting, stabilized the soft sandy soil and were used throughout the Pacific Theater to construct airstrips. (The Pacific Theater applied to the ocean areas west of Hawaii to Japan, including the Philippines and Australia.)

USS
Santee
(ACV-29), one of four Sangamon-class carriers that were converted from Esso tankers in 1942. She flew Grumman F4F-4 Wildcats and TBF-1 Avengers as well as Douglas SBD-3 Dauntlessses. (
Courtesy of the U.S. Navy
)

Our entire air group arrived safely at Henderson Field. Traditionally, our Navy squadrons could now be identified as part of the “Cactus Air Force.” We became part of that very proud name. It was first used by Marine fighter and dive-bombing squadrons defending the landing of the First Marine Division in August 1942 on Guadalcanal. That bunch of courageous pilots called themselves the Cactus Air Force. The next group who earned the name were pilots from the carrier Enterprise while relieving the Marines. Now, it was our turn, the Torpedo Squadron 28. Joining us were squadrons from two sister ships of Chenango class carriers: Sangamon and Santee, both operating in the South Pacific. Air groups from those two carriers had also flown into Guadalcanal. This would be the first time we had all operated together. Our three carriers had never worked together. Now, at least, the carrier squadrons would fight the enemy together. This gave the Cactus Air Force over 36 fresh fighter pilots with their Grumman F4F fighters, 17 SBD dive-bombers, and 27 TBFs, all with freshly rested pilots.

We landed in quick order and were directed to an aircraft parking area just off the airstrip. The aircraft parking area was also covered with the steel planks. There was only one building visible near the airstrip. We learned later that it was called the “Pagoda” and had been built by the Japanese when they occupied the area. Our forces were using it as an operations office and a pilot briefing area. Two trucks pulled up to our aircraft parking area. Each had benches in the back for us and we all boarded with our parachute bags. Since our parachutes remained on our planes, the parachute bags were used to carry our personal gear. The trucks moved off the matting and onto the sandy road as we headed for the Pagoda for our briefing.

The Pagoda, built by the Japanese, was the operations center.

My first impression of Guadalcanal was the sickening sweet-sour smell of rotting coconuts. The entire area had been a large coconut plantation. Since the Japanese invasion, and now with our forces present, there had been no harvest of the coconuts. Thousands of them were rotting on the ground, and the odor was overwhelming.

As we drove down the dirt road, we could see tents on both sides of the road. We could see groups of men lounging around. A few of them called out, “You’ll be sorry!” I heard the driver holler back to us. “Those were Army guys waiting to ship out. This is how we all live—tents with no floors, drinking water from the Tenaru River. A lot of Japs died trying to cross that river. See those canvas bags hanging between those two palm trees? That’s so-called drinking water. It has so much chlorine in it for purification, that all you can do is hold your nose when you try to drink it! See there,” he pointed with one arm. “That’s the mess tent. Only go there when you’re so hungry you can’t stand it. Powdered milk and eggs. Terrible pancakes. Spam three times a day, instant potatoes and soups, rice, and coffee that smells like chlorine. At least the stuff is hot. Sirs, you’re going to be sorry leaving that nice, clean ship.”

The trucks pulled up in front of the Pagoda. We jumped out and found the pilots’ briefing room. The dive-bombing pilots were waiting for us along with our skipper, Commander Butts.

As we listened to an Army sergeant brief us, we soon learned what our living area would be: four-person tents with canvas floors. There was a four-hole latrine in our area, but no showers. The bathing and clothes-washing area was the Tenaru River. Cots, with mosquito netting and one blanket, were placed in each tent. The mess tent was a short walk down the road from our area. The squadron was assigned one truck and a jeep. We were to supply our own driver for the truck.

Operations office and briefing room, the Pagoda.