Free My Carrier War by Norman E. Berg Page B

dive, a pilot had time to center the target in the telescope sight located just ahead of the pilot’s cockpit. By controlling the speed, the dive brakes also gave time to pull out of the dive at a controllable speed.
    Man, I’m really steep! Don’t let the plane skid. Fly it smooth and easy. There, the target is in my sight. Got it. What’s my air speed? Check the altimeter. Got to pull out by 1,500 feet. Damn, I’m sliding out to the right from the target. Get it back in the sight. Roll this bird back to the left. Two thousand feet. Drop the fucking bomb! Now pull back on that stick. Pull! Tighten your belly. Don’t black out. Where did my bomb hit? There’s my smoke. Right on the edge of the target. Close the dive brakes. Let’s get back up for another dive. I’ll lay it right in the middle of the target next time.
    Between March 15 and 26, I made 31 flights. The training program was really pushing us, most likely because of the war. The flights were either gunnery or dive-bombing. My log book shows the 17th, five flights; 18th, five flights; 19th, three flights; 22nd, five flights again. Finally, on March 26, just three flights, but they were my last ones. My training was completed.
    Graduation and New Orders
There were about ten of us. We all reported to the CO’s office of N.A.S. Corpus Christi, and Captain Bernard, the CO, pinned those Navy wings on our uniforms. I was designated a naval aviator and commissioned an ensign in the Navy with a date of rank of December 10, 1941. My graduation was on March 30, 1942. I had a total of 239.3 hours dual and 156.3 solo flight time.

    This was just the last part of the good news that I had shared with Jean. I had called in early March to tell her that we had received our orders. I had orders to the Naval Air Station, Floyd Bennett Field, New York City, New York. I suggested a date for our wedding between April 10 and 15. She set the date for April 12, 1942. Our honeymoon would be in New York City. I had it made. We would be together.
    I departed Corpus for Seattle by train April 1. I’d ordered tailor-made uniforms while at Corpus, and I was wearing my “aviation greens” on the train. This was a work uniform worn only by officers attached to aviation units. Dark green trousers with a khaki shirt and a dark-green jacket buttoned down the front. It was worn with brown shoes. The Navy’s non-aviation officers referred to us as the “brown shoe Navy.” We loved it; we were different. We had wings on our uniforms.
    When the train arrived in Portland, Oregon, I was about six hours by train from Seattle. I left the train and checked into a hotel room. I had my blue Navy uniform pressed, the one with the single gold ensign stripe and the gold Navy wings. I had my black shoes shined and got a haircut and a shave. I called Jean to tell her of my arrival time in Seattle. She and my folks would meet me.
    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.

Chapter 3
The Ferry Command in New York
 
    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?