Read Online My Carrier War by Norman E. Berg - Free Book Online
Authors: Norman E. Berg
Tags: History, World War II, Military, Biographies & Memoirs, Leaders & Notable People, Professionals & Academics, Military & Spies
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previous nav flights were from point to point over land. This flight would be over water—take off from Corpus and fly out over the Gulf of Mexico. There were six of us in the briefing room. Believe me, we were concerned about going out over water in a single engine aircraft. The instructor entered the room. We jumped to attention.
“At ease, Cadets. Take your seats.” We all settled down, waiting. The instructor looked us over. “All right, listen up. This is an over-water nav flight. Do you all have your navigation plotting boards?” We all nodded our affirmative. Then he continued, “You all know from your ground school that this type of navigation is called dead reckoning navigation, DR for short. Want to know how it got its name?” We all waited for the answer. “Well, guys, if you don’t ‘reckon right’ out there over the water, you’re going to be ‘dead.’” He just looked at all of us. I wondered if he was trying to be funny. He continued, “OK, let’s get busy with our plotting boards and this dead reckoning nav problem.”
My plotting board had a 15 by 15 inch metal frame. It was designed to fit under the instrument panel in the cockpit of the aircraft. In flight, I could pull it out to check my navigation. The plotting board looked like a commercial aircraft meal tray, only you pulled it out from under the instrument panel.
The instructor turned to the blackboard and addressed us, “Here are your latitude and longitude numbers, starting here at Corpus. Please plot them on your navigation boards.”
I looked at the nav board and began plotting the numbers on the plexiglas covering the plotting board. I could see black lines through the plexiglas that represented the lines of latitude and longitude for the Corpus Christi area. When the last cadet finished plotting the numbers, the instructor continued the briefing.
“OK, now plot your compass headings and miles to each of the latitude and longitude points.” He also gave us weather conditions and wind direction and velocity for the Gulf area.
It didn’t take me long to determine that I was going to fly from the airfield at Corpus, out over the Gulf for 75 miles on a compass heading of 140 degrees. I would then make a turn to port (left) to a heading of 030 degrees for 30 miles. I would turn again to port to a heading of 320 degrees for 80 miles. This heading, hopefully would take me back to Corpus. As I plotted my compass headings, I considered the wind direction and velocity. I knew the wind would affect my actual flight path over the water, and I computed my flight time for each leg based on my air speed over the water and miles to be flown. Again I had to consider the wind direction because wind direction and velocity affects actual speed over the water.
“Everyone done plotting?” the instructor asked. He waited a few minutes and then continued telling us that we would be flying in two-plane formations. He wanted us to take off 15 minutes apart and told us that there would be an air/sea rescue aircraft tracking our flight. He told us to maintain radio contact with the rescue aircraft. I still remember his closing remarks.
“Just two things—you’re going to be carrier pilots. Get used to navigating over water. There are no railroad tracks to follow out there. No towns with airports. Your only landing field is that carrier. And finally, watch that wind direction and velocity. You’re at the mercy of the wind, guys. Keep track of it. OK, Cadets. Man your aircraft.”
My wingman and I manned our airplane and were first to take off. We took off in formation. I turned to the outbound heading of 140 degrees and leveled off at 1,000 feet altitude. After about ten minutes, I looked back behind us. There was no land in sight. Suddenly, the sound of the airplane’s engine and the movement of the instruments, all seemed different.
Was the fuel pressure gauge moving? It should be steady. Is the engine missing? Sounds different. Engine
“At ease, Cadets. Take your seats.” We all settled down, waiting. The instructor looked us over. “All right, listen up. This is an over-water nav flight. Do you all have your navigation plotting boards?” We all nodded our affirmative. Then he continued, “You all know from your ground school that this type of navigation is called dead reckoning navigation, DR for short. Want to know how it got its name?” We all waited for the answer. “Well, guys, if you don’t ‘reckon right’ out there over the water, you’re going to be ‘dead.’” He just looked at all of us. I wondered if he was trying to be funny. He continued, “OK, let’s get busy with our plotting boards and this dead reckoning nav problem.”
My plotting board had a 15 by 15 inch metal frame. It was designed to fit under the instrument panel in the cockpit of the aircraft. In flight, I could pull it out to check my navigation. The plotting board looked like a commercial aircraft meal tray, only you pulled it out from under the instrument panel.
The instructor turned to the blackboard and addressed us, “Here are your latitude and longitude numbers, starting here at Corpus. Please plot them on your navigation boards.”
I looked at the nav board and began plotting the numbers on the plexiglas covering the plotting board. I could see black lines through the plexiglas that represented the lines of latitude and longitude for the Corpus Christi area. When the last cadet finished plotting the numbers, the instructor continued the briefing.
“OK, now plot your compass headings and miles to each of the latitude and longitude points.” He also gave us weather conditions and wind direction and velocity for the Gulf area.
It didn’t take me long to determine that I was going to fly from the airfield at Corpus, out over the Gulf for 75 miles on a compass heading of 140 degrees. I would then make a turn to port (left) to a heading of 030 degrees for 30 miles. I would turn again to port to a heading of 320 degrees for 80 miles. This heading, hopefully would take me back to Corpus. As I plotted my compass headings, I considered the wind direction and velocity. I knew the wind would affect my actual flight path over the water, and I computed my flight time for each leg based on my air speed over the water and miles to be flown. Again I had to consider the wind direction because wind direction and velocity affects actual speed over the water.
“Everyone done plotting?” the instructor asked. He waited a few minutes and then continued telling us that we would be flying in two-plane formations. He wanted us to take off 15 minutes apart and told us that there would be an air/sea rescue aircraft tracking our flight. He told us to maintain radio contact with the rescue aircraft. I still remember his closing remarks.
“Just two things—you’re going to be carrier pilots. Get used to navigating over water. There are no railroad tracks to follow out there. No towns with airports. Your only landing field is that carrier. And finally, watch that wind direction and velocity. You’re at the mercy of the wind, guys. Keep track of it. OK, Cadets. Man your aircraft.”
My wingman and I manned our airplane and were first to take off. We took off in formation. I turned to the outbound heading of 140 degrees and leveled off at 1,000 feet altitude. After about ten minutes, I looked back behind us. There was no land in sight. Suddenly, the sound of the airplane’s engine and the movement of the instruments, all seemed different.
Was the fuel pressure gauge moving? It should be steady. Is the engine missing? Sounds different. Engine
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