My Carrier War (34 page)

Between May 23 and 31, I flew two torpedo training flights and two glide-bombing flights.

Damn! Practice torpedo runs. Didn’t Torpedo Eight teach us anything? Bombing is safer, and we’d do more damage. Do they think the Jap Fleet will challenge us? God! I hope not. Why don’t they listen to us? Torpedo attacks are suicide. I’ll talk to Rip. I really thought this cruise would be different. All this power. All these carriers. Torpedo attacks. Stupid.

The Philippines.

I flew three antisub patrols as Monterey approached the rendezvous area with Navy Task Force 58. We joined the fleet on the morning of June 12. The task force was divided into four attack groups spread out over a 50-mile area. Our group, 58.2, was assigned an operating area off the island of Tinian. When I launched that morning on an antisub patrol flight, I could see the entire task force as I proceeded to my assigned search area—16 carriers with their destroyer escorts, plus cruisers and battleships. We had an overwhelming force.

The following day, I flew my first mission against Japanese targets on the island of Tinian. I was leading three other planes, and our target was a railroad bridge. I quickly discovered that all that carrier power didn’t have any effect on the Jap gunners protecting that bridge. I rolled into my dive at 8,000 feet, bomb bay doors open, ready with four 500-pound bombs. Halfway down in my dive, the black, greasy-looking blotches of heavy AA fire appeared.

I felt my plane jerk as the concussion from the explosions of the AA fire affected my dive. I was having trouble keeping my plane lined up on the target. I could see holes suddenly appearing in the wing of my plane. I dropped the four bombs and pulled out of my dive. I heard my gunner yell, “Right on the bridge!” Then I heard my wingman over the radio. “Pull out! Pull out! Oh shit! Number four plane has crashed! He never pulled out of the dive.” It was a quiet trip back to the carrier.

Jesus. Who was it? Number four man...Joe. I hardly knew him. He
joined us just before we left Hawaii. He was one of our replacement
pilots, and he was lost on my flight. What the hell happened? I gave
him a careful briefing; the air intelligence officer said this was lightly
defended. Bullshit! God, that AA fire was heavy! How many more
times? A goddamn bridge! Probably wasn’t even used by the Japs. A
life lost, and for what?

LT Norman "Doc" Berg abouard the USS
Monterey
, June 1944, beside a TBM-1 in which he flew combat missions. The patch on the tail, a repaired bullet hole.

After our debriefing, I sat down with the skipper in our room. We’d received four replacement pilots just before we left Hawaii for the Marianas operation. This was standard procedure. These pilots had finished operational training in TBM aircraft back in the States. They were well-trained on tactics, bombing, and navigation. They were assigned to squadrons as extra pilots to help carry the load of combat missions. We didn’t like to use the term, “replacement pilots”—much too ne-gative—replacement for whom? These pilots had not trained with the rest of us. There was not the trust level among the squadron as to their ability as pilots since they were so new to the squadron. Consequently, Rip and I had restricted them to antisub patrols and to attack missions against lightly defended targets. Unfortunately, the intelligence on the anti-aircraft defenses at the railroad bridge had been incorrect. Joe was one of those pilots. We not only lost a pilot, but we also lost two crew members, the turret gunner and the radio operator. It was a sad day.

Since I was the lead pilot when we lost Joe, I told Rip I would write the ensign’s parents and arrange for a shipboard memorial service. I wondered if maybe I should not have scheduled him for the mission. I thought it would be an easy flight for him. He wanted to fly it. He came to me asking to be on the flight.

What to say? Sorry about your son? He was a fine pilot; well thought of by all of us? He will be missed? Goddammit! I hardly knew him. He was just another ensign, a new kid in the squadron. He wanted to serve his country...did I fail him? I had talked to him about the mission; it was his first combat; his first time facing the enemy. Luck? God’s will? Chance? Jesus! It could have been me. Write the letter. Get on with the damn war.

Between June 14 and 19, 1944, I flew two bombing missions against the Japanese airfield on the island of Guam. Our mission: place our bombs on the runway to prevent the Japanese from using the airfield. Again, we attacked against heavy AA fire, but all planes made it back to the carrier. Although, my plane and one other had a few holes from the AA fire. During this time, I was also assigned to antisub missions protecting the task force from enemy submarine attack. We wondered if the Japanese knew about our invasion of the Marianas by that time.

One evening, we had an all pilots’ meeting in the ready room. Our AIO, Joe Anson, was ready with a briefing on the current situation.

“Fellas, the admiral’s staff has passed the following info on our current situation.” Joe opened his briefing book and proceeded. “Ships of the Japanese Fleet have left their bases in Japan and are proceeding to the Marianas area. Our staff has no doubt that they will attack our invasion force. The estimate is that they will deploy at least six carriers, plus support ships. We know that the Japanese communication capability has been severely damaged by our attacks on their command facilities. As a consequence, our staff thinks that the Japanese admiral knows of our invasion, but may be unaware that the airfields on Guam, Tinian, and Saipan are under attack by our aircraft.”

Joe stopped, “Guys, the Japanese commander knows that we outnumber his carrier force by three to one. He won’t risk getting his carriers in range of our carrier aircraft. Our staff believes he will launch his carrier aircraft, attack us, and then proceed to land his aircraft on the airfields here in the Marianas.”

Joe turned his attention to the pilots of our fighter squadron. “You fighter pilots may just have a damn busy day if our staff is correct in its analysis. The sky may well be filled with Jap planes. That’s it, guys. We’ll just wait to see what develops. One thing we do know, the Japanese will attack.”

That evening, in the ward room and the ready room, all the talk was about the Japanese attack. We were convinced that the Japanese would fight. The guys were one bunch of excited fighter pilots. Each pilot seemed to want the chance to dog fight against a Japanese fighter pilot. We torpedo pilots were relieved. The Japanese Fleet would not get within range of our torpedo planes.

On June 19, I flew a four-hour search flight northwest of the part of Task Force 58 that was still operating in the area of the Marianas. Admiral Mitchner, Task Force 58’s commander, wanted information on the location of the Japanese force. My search, however, over 150 miles out from our task force, didn’t yield a visual contact with the Japanese Fleet.

The next morning, I was launched on an antisub patrol. Upon my return to the task force, I was ordered by Monterey to orbit well clear of the carrier. The ship informed me that the task force was under attack by Japanese aircraft. After a delay of about 30 minutes, I was cleared to land aboard. After landing, I went to the ready room and learned some of the details of the Japanese attack on our fleet. The attacks had started about 10 o’clock in the morning. It was now nearly two o’clock in the afternoon. So far, there were no reports of any damage to our ships, and there was information that our fighter pilots had successfully fought off the attacks by the Japanese. One of our fighter pilots, Lieutenant “Buck” Baily, had returned from his flight and was in the ready room. He had shot down six enemy planes that morning. He’d already seen his gun camera film confirming his kills. When he saw me, he grabbed me, and said, “Goddammit, Doc, I’m an ace!”

The ship’s combat information center (CIC) was piping aircraft radio transmissions to the ready room, as we tried to follow the action of the air battle. Most of the action seemed to be around the Japanese airfields where their planes were trying to land.

The ward room sent sandwiches and coffee to the ready room. We were helping ourselves to the food when the skipper came into the room. I called, “Attention,” as Rip said, “OK, guys. We’ve been assigned a mission. The Japanese Fleet has been located.” He stopped, looking at a deadly quiet ready room. “The Japanese carrier group has been located about 300 miles to the northeast of our position. We will launch four TBMs armed with four 500-pound bombs. Our launch time will be 1630.” Rip paused, looking at us. He knew we were mentally calculating the total flight time. We all realized that it would be dark when we returned. Rip confirmed our fears. “Guys, it will be dark when we return. I know none of us has ever landed aboard at night. The weather is predicted to be clear, and there is a moon. And, guys, there’s always a first time for everything. We can do it.” He looked at me. “Norm, you will remain aboard. As the XO, I want you here since I will be leading the flight. Now I want volunteers. I need three pilots to join me.” Everyone raised their hand except me. I had been ordered to stay on the ship. I wasn’t going.

The skipper, with three of our mates and their crews, launched at 1630, heading off to the northwest. They weren’t alone. I could see each carrier in our task group was launching both torpedo planes and dive-bombers, all heading for the Japanese Fleet. We remaining pilots stood on the flight deck until the last planes disappeared over the horizon. I remained alone on the flight deck as the rest of the pilots went back to the ready room.

I wish I was on that flight. Bombing those carriers; doing the job I was
trained for. Sure hope the guys make it back. The TBM has enough fuel
to make the flight. I made those long flights out of Henderson Field.
Rip’s a great leader. He’ll get them home. God, Rip’s got to make it
back. I want to stay his XO. He’s the skipper. I don’t want it like it was
with Art McHolland back at Barking Sands. I know they’ll all make it.

It was about 2000 hours when the ship’s CIC began feeding aircraft radio transmissions into the ready room. We could hear pilots reporting fuel shortages or requesting radar headings to their carriers. I went up on the flight deck, hoping to see our planes. Suddenly, I saw all the ships within my sight turn on their searchlights.

Hot damn! The admiral must have ordered the lights turned on. Now
the guys will make it back—they’ll see the search lights.

Within the next 30 minutes, three carriers in our task force began to take aircraft aboard. When I heard “Flight Quarters” sound over
Monterey
’s P.A. system, I headed for the signal bridge above the flight deck where I could observe the planes as they landed. I heard the sound of planes over our carrier. I could see their dark outline, the red navigation lights on the wings of three aircraft now on the downwind leg of their approach, getting ready to land aboard. I waited until three planes were aboard before I headed for the ready room.

Damn! Just three planes. Did we lose one?

Rip was already there. I grabbed him by the arms.

“Is everyone back, Rip? I only saw three land aboard. How was it?”

Rip grinned at me. “We got a carrier, Doc. I saw at least four hits. I know three of us got aboard. I think that Smiley, the number four guy, landed alongside a destroyer. I saw him and his crew get out of this plane. We all made it, Doc!”

What a relief! Everyone made it back! Smiley and his crew was picked up by a destroyer. God, Rip was lucky. Still wish it had been me. Admit it, I’m a little jealous. Bet all of them get decorated. Forget it. You’re still here. Still alive...just be glad the guys made it back.

A few days later, we learned that we lost over 200 planes on that mission. The pilots either ran out of fuel, got lost trying to return to the task force, or were lost during the attack on the Japanese Fleet. I flew a search mission the next day and spotted two life rafts with pilots and crewmen. I radioed the nearest destroyer that was also searching for downed pilots. The crews I spotted were picked up. Between searches with both aircraft and destroyers, we were able to recover almost 80 percent of the downed pilots and crewmen over the next three days. Sadly, the remaining pilots and crewmen were listed as missing in action. It was a high price to pay to damage the enemy.