My Carrier War (37 page)

The order, “general quarters,” was one drill everyone on the ship, including the pilots, was required to respond to. It was an order immediately requiring mobilization of the ship’s personnel to protect the ship in an emergency due to enemy attack or, in this case, a raging typhoon in the South Pacific. Every individual on the ship was assigned a function and a location aboard the ship. For the pilots, we were assigned to our ready room. We had no assigned function, except to stay out of the way of the ship’s crew and officers.

If there was an immediate danger to the safety of the ship, such an emergency would be dealt with by the ship’s damage control teams. These were selected ship’s officers, and men trained to contain damage to the ship caused by explosions, fires or flooding due to enemy action, or in our case, the typhoon. When we heard, “Fire on the hangar deck,” we all knew that he had a serious emergency, but we also knew that the ship’s damage control team was trained to deal with it.

The intercom squawked, “Ready room! Hangar deck fire is threatening ammunition storage on port side. Request personnel to remove the ammunition and jettison it over the side of the ship. Acknowledge.” One of the pilots responded as a group of us headed for the catwalk outside the ready room just below the flight deck. Two enlisted men from the ship’s company were already at the ammunition locker and had it open. We quickly formed a line and began passing the 40-millimeter shells over the side of the ship. The waves seemed almost ready to break over the ship as we braced ourselves against the wind and got those shells into the ocean.

A messenger met me as I returned to the ready room.

“Mr. Berg, the ship’s executive officer, Commander Allen, requests that you assist in the evacuation of personnel from below decks to the flight deck. Please follow me to your station.”

The young man led me to a passageway in the forward part of the ship. It was just below the flight deck with an exit to the flight deck. He stationed me at a point in the passageway where there was a sharp turn before leading to the flight deck. We were both aware of the smoke in the passageway from the hangar deck fire.

“Sir, the men will come up from below decks to this passageway, move past you and onto the flight deck. I will report your compliance to Commander Allen’s request.”

I remember standing there waiting. Then, through the smoke, came the first of the sailors moving through the passageway to the fresh air of the flight deck. Some had wet clothes over their mouths and noses. Then the line stopped. The smoke seemed to get thicker and warmer. I could hear a murmur of voices. Suddenly, a young sailor standing in front of me began yelling, “Get me out! I’m choking!” He began pushing the man ahead of him. I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder.

“Son. Take it easy.” He turned, looking at me. “You know me, son. You pulled the chocks on my plane.”

He stuttered, “Yes Sir, you’re Mr. Berg—a pilot.” He paused, “Sir, are we going to be all right?”

I patted his shoulder, “Sure, son, the ship’s captain knows what he’s doing. We’ll be OK.”

As the line began to move again, he quieted down. Within ten minutes, the evacuation was complete. By mid-afternoon, the fire was out and the ship was underway, still fighting the remainder of the typhoon. The wind had diminished in force, but the ship was still rolling as she plowed through the steep waves.

Monterey
lost eight men that day with over thirty others injured fighting the fire. The injured were being cared for in the ship’s sick bay. A memorial service was held for those men who died in the fire. The eight men who died were buried at sea. The ship’s company and the squadron were all in formation on the flight deck as an honor guard of their shipmates consigned their remains to the sea. It was a very moving ceremony.

We rejoined the task force the next day and received orders to proceed to Ulithi. As we departed for Ulithi, Captain Ingersall, the commanding officer of
Monterey
, announced over the P.A. system that we had received a “well done” from the task force admiral for saving our ship. The admiral also expressed his personal condolences on the loss of our shipmates.

Two days after our arrival at Ulithi, a team of inspectors boarded our ship to assess the damage done by the fire. Rumors were flying that they were going to recommend that the ship return to the States for repair. There was a feeling of tenseness, of anticipation throughout the ship. Everywhere, groups of men were talking—hoping. We were just as anxious.

Then on Thanksgiving Day, November 24, 1944, just before dinner was to be served throughout the ship, the ship’s P.A. system came on. “Attention.” Then, “This is the captain speaking. You have all been aware that an inspection team has evaluated the damage done to your ship during the typhoon. The inspection has been completed. The recommendation, as a result of the inspection, is that on December 1,
Monterey
will depart Ulithi and proceed to the naval shipyard in Bremerton, Washington, for repairs. Happy Thanksgiving from your captain!”

There was an explosion of sound—cheers, yells of joy throughout the ship, and from some of us, silent prayers. I was going back to Bremerton—to Jean and my children. I was going home.

Back home in Bremerton, WA. The author, Jean Donnie, and baby Normajean, late January 1945.

To help you better understand the code letters of all the aircraft mentioned throughout My Carrier War, this appendix features a brief description of each. In general, the aircraft code letters can be read as follows:

The first letter represents the type of mission the airplanes were built for.

The second number or letter represents the model or particular use.

The third number or letter represents the company that built the aircraft.  

The specific codes vary in the amount of letters and numbers from aircraft type to aircraft type. These codes were important in communicating aircraft types, especially during battles and training, and as pilots, we had to memorize the codes and the manufacturers. To help us recognize aircraft and learn their codes, we had regular sessions on aircraft recognition. In these sessions, we used small aircraft models of Navy, Army, and Japanese planes. Upon sight, we had to be able to recognize the type of aircraft (fighter, bomber); its capability (how fast it could go and how high could it fly); and what kind of armament it had when we saw it attacking us. The aircraft manufacturer was really incidental, but usually, we knew what aircraft company built which aircraft.

BT-1
B is for bomber; T is for training; and 1 is for first version. Built by Northrop Aircraft Corp. in the early 1930s, the BT-1 was carrier-based.

F2A
F is for fighter; 2 is for second version; and A is for Brewster Aircraft Corp., who built the fighter in the early 1930s. This fighter plane was carrier-based.

F4F
(a.k.a. “Wildcat”) F is for fighter; 4 is for fourth version; and F is for Grumman Aircraft Corp., who built the plane in the early 1940s. The Wildcat was carrier-based and used in WWII until replaced by the F6F (a.k.a. “Hellcat”) in 1943–44.

N2S
N is the code for trainer; 2 is for second version; and S is for Stearman Aircraft Corp., who built the plane in the late 1930s (a.k.a. “Yellow Peril”).

OS-2U
O is for observation; S is for scouting; 2 is for second model; and U is for the U.S. Navy, who built the planes in the late 1930s. These planes were based on battleships and cruisers. They could land on the open sea and be recovered by the mother ship.  

PBY
P is for patrol; B is for bomber; and Y is for Consolidated Aircraft Corp., who built the planes in the early 1930s. These amphibious planes could land on the open sea as well as on airfields.  

SBC-4
S is for scouting; B is for bombing; C is for Curtis Aircraft Corp.; and 4 is for fourth version. These carrier-based planes (a.k.a. “Helldivers”) were built in the late 1930s and designed for dive-bombing.  

SBD
S is for scouting; B is for bombing; and D is for Douglas Aircraft Corp., which built the plane in the late 1930s. These planes were carrier-based and designed for dive-bombing. They were used in the Pacific Fleet until 1945.  

SNC
S is for scouting; N is for training; and C is for Curtis Aircraft Corp., who built the SNCs in the late 1930s.  

SNJ
S is for scouting; N is for training; and J is for North American Aircraft Corp., who built these planes in the late 1930s.  

SNV
S is for scouting; N is for training; and V is for Vultee Aircraft Corp., who built the planes in the late 1930s.  

TBD
T is for torpedo; B is for bomber; and D is for Douglas Aircraft Corp., who built the planes in the early 1930s. These carrier-based TBDs were used in the Battle of Midway in 1942.  

TBF
T is for torpedo; B is for bomber; and F is for Grumman Aircraft Corp., who built the planes in the early 1940s. These aircraft (a.k.a. “Avenger”) were carrier-based and used in the Pacific Fleet from late 1942 to the end of the war.  

TBM
T is for torpedo; B is for bomber; and M is for General Motors that built the planes. The TBM was basically the same aircraft as the TBF, but with some improvements. The TBMs replaced the TBFs in 1943.

MY CARRIER WAR ©2013 by Norman E. Berg
Published by Hellgate Press
(An imprint of L&R Publishing, LLC)
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ePub edition April 2013 ISBN: 978-1-55571-735-3
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Interior and cover design: L. Redding
All photos courtesy of the author, unless otherwise noted.