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Barbers Point, Hawaii
Ever since my short stopover in Hawaii on my way to Japan in 1952, I wanted to return there for
permanent duty. There was something about the place that was addictive. The weather was perfect, the people were friendly, and the country was beautiful. That was in 1955. My wife and I passed through there in 1971,
again on the way to Japan but this time as a civilians. It wasn't the same. The weather was still perfect but Honolulu was hotel city. Hotels as far as the eye could see.
You notice I said we were
civilians. My wife was an ex-Marine, female type, I met and married in Hawaii. But that story comes later.
I reported in to VP6 at NAS Barbers Point and was immediately assigned to a flight crew.
Here I was in sunny Hawaii, a member of the Blue Shark squadron, assigned to a P2V-5F flight crew and soon to be the proud owner of a 1951 Pontiac. What more was there to wish for.
Let me tell you
about the P2V Neptune. I started out with the P2V-1 in Alaska in 1951. Compared to the P2V-5F we were using, the P2V-1 was a fighter plane. The 5F had electronic equipment stuffed into every nick and cranny, leaving
very little room available for crew members. To help carry the extra weight, a Westinghouse gasoline burning jet engine was tucked under each wing. To give us extra range, a large fuel cell was stuffed into one of
the bomb bays, plus a tip tank at the end of each wing. The starboard tip tank had an APS-31 radar and a million plus candlepower search light. The port tip tank housed an ECM antenna. On the underside of the
fuselage was a six foot wide APS-20 radar antenna enclosed in a huge radome. As if that wasn't enough, about half our airplanes were fitted with Magnetic Anomaly Detection (MAD) stingers sticking out of the tail.
Those with stingers had a Plexiglas nose. The planes without stingers had a tail gun and a nose turret. Both models had a top deck turret aft of the wing.
The three gun version with large tip tanks
and an oversize radome underneath gave it the look of a huge clumsy ox. It wasn't. Each of the two radial engines had multiple banks of cylinders, one behind the other like a stack of silver dollars. In addition,
there were two Westinghouse jet engines. We often surprised people at civilian airports with our obstacle take off. We’d roll down the runway with all four engines at max, then suddenly leap into the air at a 45
degree angle and climb to ten thousand feet. This unorthodox takeoff was usually the result of a rash of sarcastic comments about our lumbering beast. It's common these days to see a sleek four engine 747 do this,
but in the 1950s, a two engine propeller driven aircraft just didn't do such things.
The P2V was also a lively aircraft. This was partly due to the "Spoilers" in the wings. Spoilers are
basically flaps on the top of the wing that, when raised, spoil the airflow over the upper surface of the wing causing it to lose lift. The amount of lift lost depends on how much the flap is raised. If the spoiler
on one wing is raised, that wing loses lift and the aircraft banks sharply.
Another aid to aircraft control was the Varicam. The horizontal stabilizer was not fixed as in most aircraft of the 50's.
The pilot could toggle a button on his steering wheel and rotate the horizontal stabilizer slightly. This helped trim the aircraft in flight. It could also be a killer if it got out of control. To anyone familiar
with modern aircraft, this is old hat, but remember, the P2V was designed in the 1940s.
Navy patrol bombers were expected to do a variety of jobs. The basic idea was to patrol the seas for
enemy ships or submarines, bomb them, strafe them, torpedo them or disable them with five-inch rockets. This was all to take place during the light of day, the dark of night, or in dense fog, rain, sleet or snow.
The P2V was quite capable of doing all of these things, but it required a well trained crew. This is why we spent a full year in Hawaii; training for a half-year of operation somewhere in the Pacific.
I reported for duty on a Friday, the day before the squadron picnic. Good timing, the picnic was a chance for me to get acquainted with the members of my new squadron and at the same time, according to
form, get off to a bad start.
One of the Navy's favorite sports was volleyball. I was pretty good at it and took the game seriously. We had a net strung up on the beach where the picnic was being
held, and I was pounding setups across the net in my best fashion winning the respect of all my teammates. One of the opposing players had a habit of reaching over the net to knock down the setups, a serious breach
of the rules of volley ball. Each time this happened, I made an unfriendly comment to the offender. After each comment, my new friend Jim Summers nudged me in the ribs several times with his elbow. Of course I
didn't take the hint. Finally, after I’d had enough, I really got angry. My opponent laughed it off and said, "Hey man don't take it so seriously, we're playing jungle rules." My reply was, "What
jungle did you come out of, Tarzan?" I’d just met Cdr. Schoonover, our Executive Officer. How did I know? They all looked the same in swim trunks. Fortunately, the Exec was a good guy and I survived the
incident, but he never forgot my face.
On Monday I was assigned to crew 12. The Squadron was well into qualifications for "E" awards. Each crew performed a series of exercises before an
observer who decided whether or not you qualified for an "E" for Efficiency in that particular exercise. When all exercises were completed, your crew was allowed to paint a big "E" followed by a
series of small letters identifying the exercises your crew was efficient in. It was like a Boy Scout displaying his merit badges. It told the world how good you were. It also told the world how bad you were if
there were only a few letters following the big "E". It was a game, but a very beneficial one. The "E" awards came near the end of a long period of training. It was a way of determining how well
you’d trained. Since your score was to be displayed on the side of the aircraft for at least a year, every crew put out a lot of effort during the training phase.
Crew 12 was without a regular radar
operator during most of the exercises so they weren't doing too well. They assigned me to the crew. My first flight was a mine laying exercise. Probably the most difficult to perform and one I’d never done before.
In a mine laying operation the radar operator was in complete control. The pilot was just the driver. If the mission failed, it was the radar operator’s fault. The object was to drop a mine into a
harbor at a specific location with zero visibility. The radar operator plotted a course across the harbor parallel to the shore then called for a drop when the aircraft reached the proper location. There was no
actual target to home in on, just a spot on a chart in open water a certain distance and direction from a known point of land. All the radar operator had as a reference was the contour of the shoreline and objects
which would give a good radar return, such as a group of buildings or a water tower. Each situation was different so it had to be well planned in advance. Flying down an imaginary line was hard enough, but the wind,
which usually blew toward the shore, made it almost impossible. You didn't know what the velocity and direction of the wind was going to be, so it had to be calculated on the spot by measuring drift during the first
part of the run. A run seldom lasted more than a few minutes. Once the drift had been estimated, the operator gave the pilot a heading which would allow the aircraft to crab down the imaginary line across the drop
point. It took experience; and I had none. I did reasonably well considering my lack of experience; I managed to drop the mine somewhere in the harbor. We didn't get an "E" for that exercise, but neither
did many of the other crews.
For me, it was good. I felt I had to make up for my bad showing so I worked twice as hard to become a better radar operator. With all the radar training I’d had at North
Island, I figured I should have done a lot better. That's why the Navy had "E" awards every year. It was just a childish game, but when we left for our six month cruise, all 12 crews were ready. The
"E" awards showed us our weak points and gave us a chance to work on them.
Next: Crew 12
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