My Carrier War (10 page)

I didn’t get a lot of sleep that night, but the entire effort, all the training, all the worry was over. I had made it.

I got off the train in Seattle, and there was Jean in a fur coat with a little fur hat and high-heeled shoes that complemented her lovely legs—my bride. I was home.

I was back in my hometown of Bremerton, Washington, as an ensign and aviator in the Navy. I’d succeeded—I’d made it. I had orders to N.A.S. Floyd Bennett Field in New York; and Jean and I were to be married April 12, 1942, and we’d leave after the wedding for New York.

As I rode through the downtown area of Bremerton with Jean and my parents, Jean seemed so excited about the future. I somehow couldn’t match her enthusiasm. Our country had been badly surprised by the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. We were at war. My thoughts kept distracting me.

Why do I feel so apprehensive? I’m finally somebody in this little old town. I’m in love with a wonderful girl who I’m going to marry. I’m a Navy pilot. I’m a little scared—right? Maybe I shouldn’t get married with the war on. Better to wait until the war is over? Am I being fair with Jean? What if I get killed? Don’t even think about it! Be positive! What will it be like in New York? Where will we live? What about the new assignment?

My thoughts were interrupted by my mother saying, “You’re home, Norman.” We pulled up at my parents’ house. Nothing had changed, including my grandmother who stood on the porch waiting to greet me. We all got out of the car and I stood there, holding Jean’s hand. It was good to be home with my parents again, and especially with Jean.

The next ten days were busy. My folks invited all their friends for a welcome home party for me. They were very proud of me, a naval officer and pilot. There was no bachelor party. I guess the few high school friends I had were busy with their own lives, and it was wartime. My dad did take me to the Elks Club for a drink where we met with some of his cronies. I heard a lot of stories about his war—the “Big War.”

Funny, did I think it would be different coming home? I should have expected that there would be no bachelor party. Hell, I didn’t have any male friends in high school. Jean, of course, is wonderful. I’m emotionally attached to her even in the midst of all the parties, the wedding plans, and the people who want to see me. Last night’s love making was so gentle, so sweet. Go ahead with the marriage. My fears are gone. I love her so much. It’s going to work out. We’ll be together.

On April 12, 1942, Jean and I were married at a ceremony in the church in Bremerton where Jean had been baptized. Jean was 20, and I was 22. My younger brother, Paul, was my best man. Two of Jean’s girlfriends were maids of honor. We were now Ensign and Mrs. Norman Berg. We left the next day for New York. I had managed to get tickets from Seattle to New York on Eastern Airlines for the two of us. Eighteen hours—with stops at Spokane, Washington; Billings, Montana; Minneapolis, Minnesota; and Chicago, Illinois. Jean had instructions to call her mother at every stop.

Presenting Ensign and Mrs. Norman Berg.

New York Days
We landed at LaGuardia Airport two days after our wedding. I’d made reservations at the Pennsylvania Hotel across from Penn Station in New York City. We checked in, showered, took a nap after that long flight, and took a tour of the city. I had six days before checking in at Floyd Bennett Field. Our life together had started.

Before we left Bremerton, a family friend had given me the name of a real estate agent in Rockaway Beach on Long Island. I was told it was an area close to Floyd Bennett Field. After two days in the Pennsylvania Hotel, we decided to find a cheaper hotel nearer to Floyd Bennett Field. We found a hotel room in Rockaway Beach. We contacted the real estate agent whose name I had and began looking for an apartment. The real estate agent told us that apartments were scarce, but he would continue to keep us in mind. On April 20, I reported to Floyd Bennett Field for duty. We continued to live in one room in the hotel. I knew Jean was a little unhappy living as we were, but it didn’t take her long to make some friends.

The hotel was operated by the Shore family, and the family soon adopted Jean and me. Their friendship was important to Jean and certainly gave me a sense of relief. Jean had someone to turn to for help. One of the family members was a daughter, Joan, who was about 30. She and Jean struck up a friendship. I was glad that Jean had met someone who was a New Yorker. We really needed all the help we could get learning about New York. We selected the Shore’s Hotel because a bus stopped on the block and I could take that bus directly to the Naval Air Station. Jean continued our search for an apartment as I reported to the Aircraft Delivery Command, commonly known as the ferry command, at Floyd Bennett Field. About 30 pilots were assigned to the ferry command on the day I reported. Our mission: delivering new aircraft to fleet bases at Norfolk, Virginia, and San Diego, California.
Delivering F4F Wildcats
I started flying again on the 23rd in the old familiar OS-2U that I flew at Corpus. Three days later, I had my first flight in a modern fighter, the F4F Wildcat. The first F4Fs had been delivered to the Navy in February 1940. They were low-winged, single-seat fighter planes designed for operations off carriers. They were interesting airplanes to fly, but nothing like the sweet little SNC I flew at Corpus. The F4F was a heavy aircraft for the horsepower of the engine. It had armor plating in the pilot’s cockpit that provided the pilot protection from enemy fighters. It was very rugged; a tough little fighter, but it wasn’t very maneuverable. Not a great plane for aerobatics. It had a top speed of 318 miles per hour at 19,400 feet. The armament was six forward firing .50-caliber machine guns that added even more to the weight of the plane. The F4F’s landing gear was designed for carrier operations and not for operation off concrete runways. The landing gear was housed in the sides of the fuselage.

A Grumman F4F-4 Wildcat in early 1942, markings with rudder stripes and large fuselage stars. (
Courtesy of the U.S. Navy
)

When the wheels were extended, the distance between the wheels was no wider than the aircraft’s fuselage. Because of the narrow distance between the wheels, the plane had a tendency to swerve either right or left upon landing. As a result, the plane would “ground loop” by making a violent turn either right or left as the wing tip dragged on the runway. It wasn’t dangerous, but it was sure embarrassing.

I remember ground looping on one particular landing. I’d invited Jean to the base for lunch. The operations building had a patio overlooking the runway, and I knew she would be watching for me to land. I made a slick, smooth landing, saw Jean on the patio, and raised one hand to wave to her. Suddenly, the plane
swerved to the left, and around I went in a ground loop. Jean’s first words when I joined her for lunch were, “Some hot pilot.”

By May 1, I was qualified in the F4F with 27 landings over a five-day period. So I was considered qualified to fly cross-country in both the F4F and the OS-2U. I also received a call from the real estate agent. He had found us an apartment. With help from some of the other Navy wives, Jean moved into our new apartment.

Jean in front of the Berg's first home in 1942.

The next day, I delivered my first F4F, bureau number 02009, from Floyd Bennett Field to N.A.S., Norfolk, Virginia. The bureau number indicated that this plane was the 2,009th F4F built by the Grumman Aircraft Company. After delivering the aircraft, I would wait at the operations office until a plane from Floyd Bennett picked me up. I was carrying out the ferry command’s mission—delivering aircraft to the fleet.

This isn’t so tough. Nice weather and a short flight. I’ll be landing at Norfolk in another 30 minutes. There’s Chesapeake Bay below, I’m right on course. Wonder what it’s going to be like flying all the way to San Diego. Wonder how many stops for fuel. What if the weather turns bad? The rules demand no flying on instrument. Got to fly under visual flight rules. Wonder about getting back to New York. Probably either by commercial airline or military transport. You’ll be OK. Some ground school is scheduled this next week. There will be some answers. Better call the control tower at Norfolk. There’s the field. After landing comes the wait for the plane from Floyd Bennett. Got to get home.
More Training!
The next few days at Floyd Bennett were filled with ground school classes and navigational (nav) training flights. The ground school phase refreshed our memory on how to read weather maps; how to file flight plans with the military authorities so as to clear us to operate on the airways; and how to plan our flights. Planning a flight involved estimating our flight time between check points, and writing the compass headings to be flown from check point to check point. In addition, I was issued a complete set of aeronautical charts for the continental United States. These charts indicated all the airways across America. The airways were designated, ten-mile-wide areas that connected airports across the country. I took the charts, drew in lines and wrote down on the map the compass headings between each airport I would be using between New York and San Diego. All ferry flights would use the southern airways through Greensboro, Atlanta, Dallas, and on to San Diego.

After the ground school phase of training came actual navigational flights. Along with two other pilots and an instructor, I was assigned to fly a navigational training flight in a GB-1. This was a single engine bi-plane Navy aircraft that carried the four of us. My log book shows the flight on May 4. The remarks read, “Floyd Bennett to Middletown, New York; Middletown to Scranton, Pennsylvania; Scranton to Floyd Bennett.” Each of us would move into the cockpit with the instructor and, using our navigational charts, fly one leg of the flight. My turn came to fly the final leg from Scranton to Floyd Bennett.

After we landed at Floyd Bennett Field, we three pilots were debriefed by our instructor. Each of us had flown our leg of the flight without drifting off course and had reached our check points on time. We were told that, as of 4 May 1942, all of us were qualified for cross-country flying as ferry pilots.

Another hurdle passed. I’ll soon be on the schedule to fly a plane out to San Diego, probably an F4F. Wonder how long it will take? Sure do hope for good weather. Make it a fast trip. Get back to Jean. Hope she won’t be afraid about being alone. It will be the first time we will be separated since we were married—maybe she can stay with one of the other pilots’ wives while I’m gone. At least she knows I’ll be back in a few days. It’s not like being out in the Pacific on a carrier. Think about those three days off when I get back. Take Jean to a Broadway show.
The Coral Sea Battle
The eighth of May was a busy flying day for me. But it was more than just flying. I had made two trips in the GB-1 to the airfield at the Grumman aviation plant with another pilot flying. The GB-1 was the plane I flew in for my navigational training flights. On each trip, I flew an F4F back to Floyd Bennett Field. When I landed at Floyd Bennett after the last flight, I headed for the locker room to change from my flight gear into my uniform. Just as I entered the locker room, I saw a group of pilots standing around reading an article from a New York newspaper. I remember joining them and, for the first time, I heard about a carrier battle between U.S. and Japanese carriers. It was the Battle of the Coral Sea, which had taken place on that very day—May 8, 1942. The newspaper article said that we might have lost a carrier in the battle. There was a lot of talk as the news of the battle sunk into our consciousness in that locker room. We were all flying carrier aircraft, the F4F. All of us had been trained as pilots in either fighters or dive-bombers. As I left the base and caught the bus that would take me home to Jean, my thoughts were about Jean and our marriage.