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On Patrol
Iwakuni had only one runway and a short one at that. At one end was a Japanese factory with two very tall smoke stacks. At
the other end was a sea wall. Between the factory and seawall was usually a lot of fog. At the time we started our patrols, there was always fog. To help us find our way to the other end of the runway we had a white
line painted down the middle. It looked like a wide two lane highway. We were always heavy with fuel on takeoff. The wing tanks, tip tanks, and bomb-bay tanks were all full and I think the Plane Captain kept a spare
five gallon can of gas in the trunk just in case we ran out on the way home.
Takeoff was probably the most exciting part of the trip. We'd start at the very tip end of the runway to get all the
running room we could, fire up the jets, add water injection to the engines, and hurdle down the white line like an athlete going for a broad jump. Most of the time we weren't very high over the seawall when we
became airborne. If we lost an engine on takeoff there was no coming back; we'd never be able to find the runway in the fog. Even if we could, we'd need to burn off some fuel before we touched down. The P2V wings
are designed to be very flexible. In rough weather they flap up and down like a duck's wings. Add a few hundred pounds of fuel to the tip tanks and a hard landing would probably cause them to fold down like a hen
covering her chicks.
Once we cleared the fog, if everything seemed normal, we'd set a course toward the Sea of Japan, our patrol area. On one side of the sea was the Japanese coast and on the other
side was the Russian coast. This is where we’d be spending the next ten hours. Sometimes we'd go north up the Japanese coast the point where Japan and Russia almost touched then return down the Russian coast. At
other times we'd reverse the route. Each mission was flown at a different altitude than the one before it.
One of our duties was to find Russian radars with our ECM equipment. We always (almost
always) stayed a safe distance off the Russian coast. Our ECM would pick up the Russian radar signals and analyzed them. Over a period of months, our intelligence people had a good picture of the Russian radar
defenses based on the data we collected. We could determine the direction the signal was coming from, the signal strength, pulse width, pulse repetition frequency, and many other things. A good ECM operator could
tell you the type of radar and where it was located after a few missions. Occasionally a new one would pop up somewhere or an old one would move to a different location.
The ECM operator had a lot
of equipment to work with. There were several ECM displays to watch, a 35mm camera, a wire recorder and on top of that, he had to watch the MAD display and press the Retro Launcher button. The 35mm camera was
attached to one of the ECM displays. When a radar pulse was received, the camera took a picture of a five trace CRT display. One picture told the intelligence people all about the target radar. The trick was to
press the button the instant the pulse was displayed on the scope. It was only displayed for a second so the operator had to be ready. The idea was to record the time between pulses with a stop watch then hit the
button when the next one was supposed to appear. If the target radar operator was good, he’d make two or three sweeps then shut down the radar.
If the ECM operator could get at least one good
picture, get the sound of the radar on the wire recorder, the direction the signal was coming from, and the location of his own aircraft (from the navigator) at the time of the interception, he had a lot of
information for intelligence to mull over. The ECM operator had to be good at his job and it took a lot of practice to get good. Lesh was one of the best.
Submarines are not easy to catch. Once they
see you coming they duck under the water and lose themselves. Our electronic equipment is supposed to find them but they still have the advantage. On one of our ten hour patrols we had an American submarine
commander accompany us. He wanted to see how we went about hunting submarines so he could devise ways of eluding us. Since he was in the same Navy we were we didn’t mind showing him the tricks of our trade.
It was obvious from the start that he didn’t think much of Airdales (People in Naval Aviation are known as Airdales by those unfortunate enough to be in lesser branches of the Navy). Since I was the
electronics specialist they put him with me. Most patrols are long and boring. This one was not. Just about everything happened on this one.
When we were halfway through our takeoff run the water
injection acted up and the engines started missing. We aborted just before we hit the sea wall. We taxied back, shut off the water injection, and tried again. Without the water injection we had less takeoff power.
This time we made it but only cleared the seawall by inches.
About three hours into the patrol we got a coded message telling us to go up to the narrow strait that separates Northern Japan an
Russia an check out some Russian mine sweepers working in that area in dense fog. We had no data on them so we were to go in at an altitude of 20 feet and fly around in the fog getting close enough to take pictures.
It was my job to direct the pilot through this foggy maze by radar. We were actually looking up at the masts of the ships as we passed them. Years later it dawned on me that the crew, including the pilot, was flying
blind during all this. I was seeing it all on radar so I wasn’t too concerned. I can imagine the rest of the crew thinking, as we plowed through the dense fog, 20 feet off the water, I sure hope that guy knows what
the hell he’s doing
While we were tooling along in the fog the Russians decided to send over a MIG to tell us to go home. At the same time The Americans sent over a Saber to tell the MIG to go home.
We were in the middle and the submarine Captain was watching it all on radar. He thought we should get out of there and we thought we should get some more pictures. On one pass we clipped the top of an antenna off
one of the mine sweepers with our APS 20 radome. We flew around like this until the MIG was almost on us then we fired up our jets and zoomed out of there as fast as we could go. While all this was going on I was
thinking about what Chief Collins back in radar flight training had said to me when his monkey was jumping all over my back. He said, “Forget the monkey and concentrate on your radar. Your life may depend on it
someday.”
When we got back to Iwakuni Our submarine Captain had a whole new attitude. He shook hands with everyone in the crew and commented on our efficiently and coolness under fire. We weren’t
cool. We were just well trained.
Stewart was the 2nd Plane Captain and Nose Gunner. If we were flying a MAD aircraft there was no nose turret so his duty station was between the pilot and copilot. In
a non-MAD aircraft we carried a second plane captain so both positions could be covered. Stuart was plane caption on one mission I'll never forget. I should say, one Stuart will never let me forget. Operating the
radar was more than just watching a scope. One of our most important targets was a Submarine snorkel, which was hard to spot under the best conditions. Every time we changed altitude I had to readjust my radar. For
one thing the proper tilt of the antenna made the difference in finding and not finding a target. The amount of tilt was different for each altitude. The condition of the sea also made a difference. A rough sea
produced a strong sea return on the scope which would cover up small targets. There were all types of a anti-clutter controls on our radar but there was no by-the-book settings. You learned from experience how to
adjust your radar for different conditions. How good an operator you were depended on how much you learned from experience. I was good at it and proud of it.
On one mission I picked up a very small
target at 45 miles and gave the pilot a heading in that direction. We started a gradual descent and by the time we reached the target we were about 50 feet above the surface, but there was no target. I brought them
around three times and still there was nothing to be seen. The fourth time, when we were within a quarter mile of it, I got up in the cockpit to see for myself. I picked it up immediately. It was an apple crate.
From that day on, every time we were in the NCO club, Stewart told the story of how I sent us into the middle of the Sea of Japan to sink an apple crate. It finally ended when he left for OCS to become a Naval
Officer.
We usually ate while we were patrolling the Japanese side. This was also the time when we swapped positions to give each other a break. The Boats, Aviation Boatswain's Mate Third Class, was
the tail gunner. We always called him Boats. He turned out to be a pretty good radar operator so at least once on every flight I'd switch with him. The tail gun was not a turret like the one in the nose. It was a
double barreled fixed gun mounted in the rear of the aircraft. It wasn't as uncomfortable as the nose turret, but it was still pretty close back there. The flying was always pretty rough but it wasn't too
noticeable up front. In tail of the aircraft, it was much more apparent because it would whip from side to side like a fisherman's fly rod. But the view was terrific. On one occasion we were skimming the top of a
blanket of flat white clouds. We were so close to the clouds our prop wash was churning up a wake behind us. As far back as you could see, it looked like a snow plow had been running for miles across a flat
carpet of snow. I was so entranced by the sight I let the Boats stay on the radar another half hour.
The Boats almost got me in trouble one night. We weren't supposed to take a drink for 24
hours before a flight. This was no problem for me because I didn't drink much anyway. Boats and I were over at the club the night before a flight. I was having a Coke and Boats was having a huge bottle of pink
Champaign. He talked me into having a sip. Then another sip. When we left the club we’d consumed the contents of the huge bottle of pink Champaign. Just before we went to bed Boats said " Oh by the way, in the
morning you're going to be real thirsty. Don't drink any water or you'll get high again for a short time." The next day, boy was I thirsty. I held off until just before I headed for the plane and at the last
moment I drank a gallon or so of water. I don't know if it was psychological or real but by the time I got my equipment checked out I was high as a kite. Before we taxied out to the runway the pilot asks each person
if his equipment is ready to go. My answer was "Hell yes, lets get this M-F- in the air." Novetzke looked back at me and just shook his head. Within a half hour I was back to normal again.
Our patrols took us up the Japanese side of the sea of Japan and then back down the Russian side. When we were on the Russian side, everyone manned his own position. On one flight Bare was out with the flu so we got
a substitute navigator, fresh out of training and wanting to show his stuff. He did. He got us deep into Russia. I tried to point this out to him but he let me know that he was the navigator and knew what he was
doing. Finally I told Novetzke we were in Russia. Much to the exasperation of the navigator, Novetzke told me to give him a new heading. We turned on the jets and moved out. About five minutes later we saw land
through a break in the clouds. We were indeed inside Russia. The reason Novetzke trusted my ability to navigate was because of an incidence a few months earlier. We’d finished a patrol and were on the way back
to Iwakuni. Between the Japanese coast and Iwakuni was a range of mountains that caused our ADF signals to bounce all over the place and come back from different directions. As usual it was socked in. I knew there
was usually a problem in this area so I kept track of where we were on the radar. I set the tilt high so I could only see the tops of the three tallest mountains then compared the screen display with the chart. By
using by APS 20 B cursor I could set it on a mountain blip and calculate the distance and direction from the mountain to us, Novetzke asked if I knew where we were. I said "Sure we should be right over Niho Air
Force Base." About two minutes later there was a break in the clouds and all you could see below were runways. Talk about timing. Another time when we’d just landed after a long tiring patrol we
were told to take a shower, climb into our dress blues, and fly the same plane we’d just arrived in up to Itami for an air show. Itami was an Air Force base and we were to be the only Navy crew there. We were tired.
All we wanted to do was go to bed. Our plane was tired too. We came through a bad hail storm. Most of the paint was chipped off the leading edge of the wings, oil was all over the sides of the engines, and the
ammunition was still in the guns. We looked a mess.
When we taxied into Itami all we could see was acres of beautiful shiny Air Force planes. We parked in our assigned location and put our little
sign in front of the nose wheel. Our plane looked like a Model T in the middle of a Rolls Royce showroom. Not only did we look filthy, we looked clumsy. We had the “all gun” model of the P2V-5F which had a tail gun,
nose turret, and a top deck turret. With the short, stubby nose and tail, the fat radome on the bottom, and the two huge tip tanks on the ends of the wings, we looked like we could hardly get off the
ground.
One of the crew was to stand out in front of the nose wheel and answer any questions people might have about the P2V. Most of the questions were "Can that thing fly?"
followed by roaring laughter. I got a little tired of hearing it so I asked the PPC, Lt. Claude, if we could do an obstacle takeoff as we were leaving. He was getting tired of the remarks as well so he quickly
agreed. For the rest of the time we were there I told everyone I talked to not to leave as soon as the show was over. Wait until we took off. They’d see something they’d remember the rest of their lives.
When it came time to take off there was quite a crowd still there to watch. We were right behind a Canberra which was also going to perform a spectacular take off. We were afraid it might take some of
the shine off of our performance but there was no need to worry. The Canberra crew forgot to take the pins out of the landing gear and they had to abort and taxi back in.
Although the P2V may
look clumsy, it's anything but. With those two big engines and two additional jets under the wings, a P2V can really move out.
We started rolling with two turning and two burning, as we say, and
held the nose down until it far exceeded takeoff speed. At the last minute the Claude pulled the yoke back into his lap and up we went at a 45 degree angle. When we disappeared into the clouds we were still climbing
at a 45 degree angle. It was a real sight to see. It also answered the question "Can that thing fly?"
We flew into Itami a few weeks later to wait out the Iwakuni weather and this time
nobody was laughing. There were dozens of people coming out to look us over and asking if this was the same type of plane that took off at the air show a few weeks earlier.
One of our communications
receivers covered the broadcast band. When we finished a mission and were on the way home we’d switch it to Armed Forces Radio and listen to music. One day there was a song about an Alabama boy who threw away some
beans that grew into a vine that was so tall it reached into the clouds. He clumb the vine and when he got to the top he found a sleeping giant clutching a magic golden guitar. He decided that if he could steal the
guitar he could become a famous country and western star. He slipped up on the giant and started slowly pulling the guitar out of his hands. He almost had it when the giant woke up and shouted "Get yor cotton
pickin hands ofen my magic golden git-tar." I was laughing so hard I never did find out how it ended. I’d never heard it before, I never heard it since, and I can't find anyone else who ever heard it. Those
were the days when they really made good music. Songs like Hari Kari's "Yokohama Mama" (Had heart as cold as well digger's knee) and "Hey mister Custer, I don't wanna go (Whooosh, that sure did
smart). In Kodiak back in 1951 they played “Teddy Bear’s picnic.” several times a day
We were coming in from a tiring mission one night and everyone was exhausted. The Copilot was flying in the left
seat and Novetzke was in the right. A short distance from the end of the runway in Iwakuni was a factory with two tall stacks. When the weather was bad we usually made an approach from the safe end, took a wave off,
made a short circle then landed while keeping the stacks in sight. That's what we did this time but we did it a little differently. After the wave off our pilot retracted the wheels and forgot to put them back down
again.
If there's anything to the guardian angle theory I met mine that day. As we were making the first approach something kept nagging me to take my parachute off the rack and place it over the
radar scope. At the last minute I gave in and did it. I was leaning over with my arms on the chute and my head in my arms when the sparks started flying. There's a second part to the story. You may believe the first
part but probably not the second part. After sliding down the runway lighting up the night like the fourth of July, we revved up the engines, took off, put down the wheels and made a safe but very shaky landing. The
only plane in the world that could have done that was a P2V. The P2V has a huge, very sturdy, honeycomb radome. We landed on the radome and while it was slowly collapsing the propellers were chewing off their tips
on the runway creating what one observer said was a "magnificent display of fireworks." Novetzke saw the problem seconds before we touched down and hit the throttles. Normally the engines would have
coughed. This time they didn't and we were soon back in the air again.
I mentioned that earlier in the flight I’d been driven by some unknown source to put my parachute over my radar console so, in
case of a sudden stop, my face wouldn't be damaged by the numerous protruding knobs and switches on the APS29 A radar console. It seems I wasn't the only one on that flight to have a strange experience but I didn’t
find out about it until 40 years later.
In 1996 I decided to try to find some of my old friends from Crew 12. The first contact I made was Dick Novetzke. We talked on the phone for over an hour
about our flying adventures and one of the things we talked about was our slide down the runway that night. When I told him about the parachute incident he said he had a little more to add to that story. Here, in
his own words, is what he told me.
"After I jammed up the power and we labored back into the air, I sat there for a moment stunned at what had just happened and no yet spooled up to what
was about to happen. The plane was totally silent (except for the engine noise) and a voice came to me with one word, AIRSPEED. To this day I don't know if it was my own voice, an intercom voice, or a shout from
within the airplane, but I looked at the airspeed indicator and saw 80 or so knots which prompted me to ease over the nose to regain some speed. At our weight our plane should have stalled at about 90 knots. I
questioned everyone in the crew as to who said the word AIRSPEED at the critical moment. No one claimed to have said it. Was it divine intervention or perhaps the ghost of some long departed airdale who made a
wheels up landing and was sentenced to roam the earth til the end of time,,, his mission... to save guys like us from making the same mistake."
Personally, I think someone up
there was watching over Crew 12 very closely that day.
Although the crew survived without a scratch the aircraft wasn't quite as fortunate. Except for a few scrapes it didn't look to
bad. The props were an inch or so shorter than they should have been and the radome was badly scarred. It had collapsed from the weight of the aircraft then popped back out again. What we found inside the radome was
another story. All we found there was twisted metal. We got a nice write-up in the Naval Aviation Safety magazine.
We weren't the only crew to do something stupid. The original P2V-1 could do a slow
role. The P2V-5F with tons of added equipment could not. We had a pilot who looked like Dennis O'keefe, an actor from the 1940s who played Navy pilots and such in movies. He thought he might be able to slow role a
P2V-5F He ended up in a screaming dive that took the top deck gun turret off and almost made him part of the landscape. The crew did a lot of underwear changing after that flight.
Not all the
stories had happy endings. One crew on a night searchlight run flew into the water. Searchlight runs were, to put it mildly, dangerous. Flying close to the water in daylight is risky but at night it's ten times
worse. A small break in concentration and it's all over.
On a previous deployment to Kodiak a crew plowed into a mountain killing everyone aboard.
Soon after my wife and I were
married she decided I was in a profession that was too dangerous for husbands to be in. Especially her's. To hear her tell it, we lost about two P2Vs a week.
After six months our tour was over
and we were all ready to get back to Hawaii. It was good to get back to Barbers Point. The first week or two we didn't have to do much. Sort of a reward for doing a good job. I went out on liberty every night and
that's how I met my wife. There was a Pizza place on the way back to Barbers Point where I always stopped for my last cup of coffee. It was located very close to Camp Smith, a Marine base, where my wife-to-be was
stationed. She was having a cup of coffee with some friends one night when I stopped by. She was tall and slim and wearing a white polka dot dress that really set off her figure. I decided right then that I was
going to marry her. The funny thing about the whole deal was that a friend of mine from VP6 was dating a friend of her's and they’d both been trying for weeks to match us up. We kept turning them down then finally
met on our own by chance.
One Sunday I was to meet her and take her to the beach. It was my second or third date and she made it known that she wouldn’t wait around if I was late. On weekends I
often slept in my car on the beach rather than use up precious gasoline driving to Barbers Point and back. The weather was always warm and it was pleasant sleeping to the sound of the rolling sea. This particular
morning I got caught in a tidal wave. By the time I got the seaweed out of the engine drove back to town I was two hours late for my date. You can imagine what she thought when I told her I was late because I got
caught in a tidal wave. She finally believed me when she heard it on the radio. About three months later we got married and moved into a small but expensive apartment near Waikiki beach. My wife was allowed to leave
the Marine Corps after she was married.
It wasn't long until I was to be discharged. I had to make a decision; either get out of the Navy and go to work or reenlist and stay for 20 and retire. I
didn't think Navy life and married life mixed so I decided to leave the Navy. Probably a good idea. After 48 years we’re still married.
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