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5. Galvanic and Kourbash
- The University of Alabama Press
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speci¤cations, she was supposed to be capable of making 20.5 knots under full speed. Captain Wiltsie and his chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Richard W. MacAdams, E-V(G), USNR, had discovered, however , that the carrier was cursed with inadequate blowers attached to its exhaust system.11 Any speed over 19 knots caused disturbing amounts of black smoke to billow from her stacks. Obviously, such telltale smoke— which would have been visible to an enemy aviator or submariner from miles away—was unacceptable. Consequently, Wiltsie kept his ship below 19 knots. In the often windless conditions of the Paci¤c, this made takeoffs for the ship’s pilots particularly challenging if not outright dangerous . One aviator recalled that the fully loaded Avengers could not “be®own away safely with less than 30 knots of wind over the deck and should not be landed with less than 26 knots.” Nevertheless, “it was necessary for the squadron to land part of the time with less than 20 knots.”12 This meant that the Avengers would arrive back on deck with a much higher relative speed than desired. Faced with the speeding Avengers, the ship’s arresting gear of¤cer ordered that the cross-deck pendants be tightened in order to stretch the arresting gear cable more tautly across the deck. This was a controversial decision, and the wardroom banter among the pilots generally sided in favor of looser pendants. Their planes might get more banged up on a typical landing, but a too-tight arresting gear cable could trigger a catastrophic landing if the plane was traveling too fast. Nevertheless, the arresting gear of¤cer kept the pendants tight, and the pilots continued to land with extra beads of sweat dotting their foreheads. In addition to the regular launches and landings of the combat air patrol, Liscome Bay settled into a daily routine. Sailors stood their assigned watches, then caught whatever naps they could between the gunnery and ¤re-¤ghting drills. At least once a day they assembled for their “clean sweep down fore and aft” to ensure that the ship was free of debris that could damage a plane’s propeller or serve as fuel for a ¤re at sea. Meanwhile, Blakley and his aerography staff kept a careful eye on the weather, Daily tended to his paymaster paperwork, and Dorie Miller and his fellow cooks kept the crew supplied with hot biscuits of such quality and quantity that the ship’s veterans remembered them fondly years later. In the air plot, the staff planned the carrier’s daily missions as Into the Breach / 63 Mullinnix, Crommelin, and his staff kept their eyes on Liscome Bay and her sister ships. During those days, Aviation Metalsmith Third Class Laurent S. Aden found a few spare moments to pen a quick letter to his parents back in Cincinnati. He knew that navy censors would cut out any references to his ship or his voyage, so he kept his letter short and general. “You may not hear from me for a long time,” he concluded.13 On the second day at sea, Beebe led VC-39 aloft for a tactical exercise . Joining with the Wildcats and Avengers ®ying from Corregidor and Coral Sea, the aviators simulated an air attack on their task force. The exercise revealed a troubling de¤ciency among the aviators of Carrier Division 24—there had been little time to train together as a group. Owing to their unfamiliarity with each other’s ®ying habits and skills and their dispersal on three different ships, most of their operational coordination had to take place by radio once they were in the air. In combat, radio discipline and, at times, radio silence would be critical. Of¤cers like Mullinnix and Beebe likely wondered if their aviators would have enough time in the next few days to come together as an effective tactical team. In fact, Beebe began to doubt whether all of his pilots were quali-¤ed for the dif¤cult task of ®ying from the short escort carrier. Ensign Frederic C. Fairman, A-V(N), USNR, a young naval reserve of¤cer from Rhode Island, had arrived as a replacement to ¤ll an empty slot in VC-39’s ranks just before Liscome Bay had left San Diego. Watching Fairman handle his Wildcat, Beebe wondered who had decided the young ensign was ready for combat operations. Pulling Fairman aside one day, Beebe learned that the ensign had only eight carrier landings...