Read Online My Carrier War by Norman E. Berg - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Norman E. Berg
Tags: History, World War II, Military, Biographies & Memoirs, Leaders & Notable People, Professionals & Academics, Military & Spies
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thinking, “Boy, I hope I get a chance to attack the enemy.”
My first few indoctrination flights in the SBC-4 went very well, probably because the training program had gradually taught me to fly different aircraft: first the N2S and then bigger and heavier aircraft, such as the SNV, the OS-2U, and then the SNC. These flight experiences made the transition to the SBC-4 quite easy. The remaining training experiences in the aircraft were not so easy.
An SBC-4 dive-bomber (note the gunsight).
Two days later, on March 12, I flew my first gunnery flight. This was getting real now. I was going to fire my plane’s machine gun with live ammunition against a moving target. There were four of us scheduled each in our own plane. Flying with me in the rear seat of my plane was our gunnery instructor. He was with us only as an observer, but I knew he would critique our flight after we returned to the base. Our mission was to join another plane out over the Gulf of Mexico in the designated gunnery area. This plane was towing a target banner. The target banner was made of heavy canvas and was about five feet wide and, as I remember, about twenty feet long. It was designed to be towed into the air behind an aircraft. Once it was off the ground, it turned to a horizontal position behind the tow plane. We had to fly our plane to a position relative to the target so the bullets from our gun would strike the target. We were firing live ammunition from a gun that was mounted on our plane in front of the pilot’s cockpit.
I was leading the flight, and after about a 20-minute flight, my wingman called that he had spotted the tow plane in the assigned area. We were flying at our assigned altitude of 6,000 feet and the tow plane was below us at 5,000 feet. The tow target was visible about 500 feet behind the tow plane.
I recall thinking, “Boy, this is easy. I’m going to fill that target with bullet holes.”
I was in position for my attack on the target, slightly ahead and above the tow plane. My plane was at least 500 yards on the right of the target when I rolled into a diving left turn and began my approach to the target. Sighting through the telescope gun sight mounted in front of the cockpit the tow target was suddenly visible. Rolling the plane to my right, my plane was level with the target as I squeezed the gun trigger on the plane’s control stick. Now my plane was moving to a position behind the tow sleeve. Releasing the gun trigger, the firing stopped. I was in danger of hitting the tow plane. Damn, I didn’t lead the target enough. Flying under the target and climbing back to 6,000 feet, I rejoined the rest of the flight.
The four of us continued to make runs on the target. Then, after each of us indicated by radio to our instructor that all ammunition had been fired, we returned to base at Corpus. We all shut down our aircraft and gathered at the operations office and waited for the tow plane to return.
There was a good deal of excitement with all of us talking and using our hands to illustrate for each other what we felt were our outstanding gunnery runs. We were all sure that we had shredded that target. Our instructor sobered the room and began to speak. I realized that these were his first words since the takeoff.
“Listen up. I’ll buy the beer if any of you got more than five hits on the target.” Then he said, “You’ll each buy me a beer if you got less than five hits— agreed?” We all agreed, feeling we were the winners. I just knew I was. I couldn’t have missed that target. We saw the tow plane make a low pass over the grassy part of the field and drop the target. We all made a mad dash for the target and quickly spread it out flat on the grass. Our instructor joined us, “OK, who had which color?”
Each plane’s guns had the nose of the bullets painted with a different color. The paint was applied just before the flight so it was wet. The result, a bullet hitting the canvas target would leave a
My first few indoctrination flights in the SBC-4 went very well, probably because the training program had gradually taught me to fly different aircraft: first the N2S and then bigger and heavier aircraft, such as the SNV, the OS-2U, and then the SNC. These flight experiences made the transition to the SBC-4 quite easy. The remaining training experiences in the aircraft were not so easy.
An SBC-4 dive-bomber (note the gunsight).
Two days later, on March 12, I flew my first gunnery flight. This was getting real now. I was going to fire my plane’s machine gun with live ammunition against a moving target. There were four of us scheduled each in our own plane. Flying with me in the rear seat of my plane was our gunnery instructor. He was with us only as an observer, but I knew he would critique our flight after we returned to the base. Our mission was to join another plane out over the Gulf of Mexico in the designated gunnery area. This plane was towing a target banner. The target banner was made of heavy canvas and was about five feet wide and, as I remember, about twenty feet long. It was designed to be towed into the air behind an aircraft. Once it was off the ground, it turned to a horizontal position behind the tow plane. We had to fly our plane to a position relative to the target so the bullets from our gun would strike the target. We were firing live ammunition from a gun that was mounted on our plane in front of the pilot’s cockpit.
I was leading the flight, and after about a 20-minute flight, my wingman called that he had spotted the tow plane in the assigned area. We were flying at our assigned altitude of 6,000 feet and the tow plane was below us at 5,000 feet. The tow target was visible about 500 feet behind the tow plane.
I recall thinking, “Boy, this is easy. I’m going to fill that target with bullet holes.”
I was in position for my attack on the target, slightly ahead and above the tow plane. My plane was at least 500 yards on the right of the target when I rolled into a diving left turn and began my approach to the target. Sighting through the telescope gun sight mounted in front of the cockpit the tow target was suddenly visible. Rolling the plane to my right, my plane was level with the target as I squeezed the gun trigger on the plane’s control stick. Now my plane was moving to a position behind the tow sleeve. Releasing the gun trigger, the firing stopped. I was in danger of hitting the tow plane. Damn, I didn’t lead the target enough. Flying under the target and climbing back to 6,000 feet, I rejoined the rest of the flight.
The four of us continued to make runs on the target. Then, after each of us indicated by radio to our instructor that all ammunition had been fired, we returned to base at Corpus. We all shut down our aircraft and gathered at the operations office and waited for the tow plane to return.
There was a good deal of excitement with all of us talking and using our hands to illustrate for each other what we felt were our outstanding gunnery runs. We were all sure that we had shredded that target. Our instructor sobered the room and began to speak. I realized that these were his first words since the takeoff.
“Listen up. I’ll buy the beer if any of you got more than five hits on the target.” Then he said, “You’ll each buy me a beer if you got less than five hits— agreed?” We all agreed, feeling we were the winners. I just knew I was. I couldn’t have missed that target. We saw the tow plane make a low pass over the grassy part of the field and drop the target. We all made a mad dash for the target and quickly spread it out flat on the grass. Our instructor joined us, “OK, who had which color?”
Each plane’s guns had the nose of the bullets painted with a different color. The paint was applied just before the flight so it was wet. The result, a bullet hitting the canvas target would leave a
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