- Contributed by
- Robin Marie
- People in story:
- Graham Oakes Evans
- Location of story:
- Various
- Background to story:
- Royal Navy
- Article ID:
- A9031493
- Contributed on:
- 31 January 2006
Eastern Fleet - Task Force 63 Middle to late October '44
[Operation Millet, combined air attacks and bombardment of airfields and shipping around Nancowry and the Nicobars].
Attempting to land-on after the second Nancowry Harbour strike (where the Hellcats had attacked at wave-top height to see under the target's camouflage nets), a Hellcat [Pilot Jock McKenzie] bounced on the Indom's round-down and hopped over the arrester wires. It came to rest only partially on the flight deck, teetering on the edge at a precarious angle with only the right undercarriage leg partially on the deck. Crash crews rushed over to attempt to secure the aircraft with a line, but before they could the Hellcat fell over the side. It completely barrel rolled during the fall, landing the right way up into the sea. The Hellcat bobbed on the surface, seemingly undamaged. The rescue party and ship's company on the port side were clearly able to see the pilot struggling to open the canopy hood, but we were powerless to render any assistance. As the Hellcat passed astern, the tail tipped skyward and the fighter slide beneath the waves with the pilot still struggling in vain with the jammed hood. We had to turn away, back to our duties, as other aircraft needed to get aboard or be marshalled. This particular incident stuck in my mind more so than any other combat loss, the feeling of inadequacy of being so near to be able to see a friend in need, and yet sufficiently separated to deny him all help.
The returning aircraft attracted onlookers who are not otherwise engaged to the limited vantage-points and most gather on the island's gallery deck known as "Goofers Gallery." As the recovery is the most dangerous part of naval aviation the almost ceremonial gathering could appear somewhat morbid, like vultures. Despite this, the desire to know how their colleagues faired and like everyone else see for themselves who got home, drove even off-duty airmen to become "Goofers."
Each aircraft had just one attempt to come aboard once committed. The aircraft would be given permission to land-on by signal or radio, the final approach would be directed by hand signals from the Batsman, or "Fred's looker" as they were known. They would stand on the port quarter indicating the aircraft's attitude in relation to the ship. There were just half a dozen wires to engage with the hook or you would hit the barrier of steel cables raised half way a long the deck to protect the deck park. The deck park was the forward deck area where those aircraft that had already succeeded to land-on would be tightly marshalled, if possible with wings folded. The barrier was not foolproof as aircraft did, on occasion, "bounce" over the barrier and into the park with dire consequences.
One spectacular land-on was presented by a Hellcat returning after combat seemingly unscathed, but later found to have a hook problem that had lead to its failure to engage. The Hellcat touched down, but bounded on across the deck drifting to starboard unchecked. It slammed into the starboard aft pom-pom gun emplacement on the edge of the flight deck. The impact shattered the starboard wingtip and broke the fuselage clean in two behind the cockpit rear bulkhead. The tail was flung across the deck and came to rest further aft on the portside near the ship's arrester gear. The nose, cockpit and wings were sent spinning, on partially collapsed landing gear and bent propeller blades, into the base of the island. As the rescue crews rushed across to the shattered remains, the pilot amazingly eased back the canopy hood and climbed out onto the wing root. The pilot was even in quite a jolly mood as he assured the assembled party that he was alright despite his spectacular arrival, and required no further assistance. With that, he accidentally trod onto a wing flap, which dropped away sharply, dumping the poor soul without ceremony onto the armoured flight deck. The "Goofers" found this very comical conclusion to the heart-stopping escapade. Unfortunately the pilot, Sub Lt Farquhar [1844 Squadron] broke his arm on impact with the deck from his fall, and had to take a spell in the ship's hospital before he could return to flying duties. (Sadly, Sub Lt Farquhar was later lost in combat).
[date between June - December '44]
As was the usual practice, the aircraftsmen and armourers were allowed ten minutes to strip all valuables from the remains of the aircraft before the unwanted pieces were pushed overboard. Valuables would include the gunsight, (bombsight from strike aircraft), guns, ammunition, radio and any useful airframe parts that could be removed in the remaining time available. Of course, just as had it been stopped by the barrier, the engine and propeller were just rubbish.
*****
British Pacific Fleet (BPF) designation alternated every three months between TF37 and TF57
The awaited replacement of Indomitable's Barracuda strike force with American [lend-lease] Grumman Avengers took place at Trincomalee in December '44. The torpedo or bomb loads were carried in an internal bomb bay. It was bigger, faster, stronger, and more potent than the Barracuda, also we now only had to store the American .50 calibre machine guns and ammunition for the whole air group. Indomitable's 11th Air Group now consisted of thirty Hellcat fighters, (1839 and 1844 Squadrons), and twenty of the new Avenger torpedo-bombers (857 Squadron). The Avenger could take a lot of punishment. I recall at least a couple of Avenger making landings on one undercarriage leg. One ending over the side, and I have a series of photographs recording Pilot McRea's one legged landing onto the deck damaged by the intense flak on the first day of strikes at Pacific island airfields in the Sakishima group, (to the south-west of Okinawa), 26th March 1945, "bloody well done." There were occasions when the aircraft we too badly damaged to even attempt to land-on, and would therefore ditch alongside. Avenger crews would normally clamber onto their aircraft to await to be picked up by the guard destroyer.
Fuelling at sea was a new skill for the Royal Navy. Our early efforts were completed with some difficulty. Armament stores were also taken-on at sea. The 500-lb. bombs were transferred to the carrier by the hoist, protected by two wooden packing rings around each. Care had to be taken not only during the transfer, particularly the fuses, but also the discarding of the wooden packaging, which if simply thrown overboard would leave a floating trail for the enemy to find the fleet and know what it had been up to.
Operation Meridian - "The Battle of Palembang,” January 1945, is famous in FAA history for not only the successful destruction of vital East Indies oil refineries (a main objective of the Imperial Japanese plan), but also it's meticulous planning that provided for a friendly submarine to collect downed aircrews. I believe that each airman carried a "blood-chit" bribe that promised fifty gold sovereigns to the persons who assisted them to safety if they were downed, printed in several languages. I think some coins were sewn into their flying gear. The BPF was now considered ready to tackle the Japanese around Okinawa.
We re-armed at sea, and suffered another unfortunate loss. When re-arming the bombs were loaded into trays for transfer to the magazine. The bomb lift shaft went halfway down to the magazine deck, across on a conveyor and down the second shaft to the magazine, well below. On this occasion a sailor noticed that the retaining clips on one of the trays were not done up, so he tried to flip them up as the bomb tray passed, but he overbalanced and fell down the lift shaft, where he died.
Pacific Ocean March 1945
Upon completion of the CAP, a Corsair that had been given landing clearance from it's own carrier, proceeded instead to land-on Indomitable's clear flight deck without a batsman. A welcoming committee quickly formed and repositioned the aircraft for takeoff. The Corsair pilot flew back home to a roasting from his CO.
I can’t recall when, but this event occurred before our refit in Australia. After returning to the holding pattern from a raid, an Avenger pilot had called the ship to advise that he had a bomb stuck in the bomb bay and that the bomb bay doors would not close. Standard procedure would normally have been to ditch the aircraft to avoid the risk of blowing up the ship, but somehow the Avenger had landed-on successfully. With the state of the bomb still in question, I was summoned before the Captain, who ordered me to carefully find out the answer. For its mission the Avenger had been armed with a load of 500-lb. MC bombs. Each had a nose fuse propeller, this spins in the slipstream of the falling bomb to wind out the detonator thus arming the weapon for explosion upon impact. With sufficient opening between the doors, any unreleased or trapped bomb may have been in such a slipstream. As I made my way out towards the abandoned aircraft "clear the flight deck" was piped, this obvious precaution seemed like an omen to me as I made the lonely walk to the deserted Avenger, and it did nothing for my nerves. The bomb bay doors were ajar sufficiently enough to insert my arm between them. The doors were being held open by a 500-lb. bomb, which now lay on the actual doors and not secured in the top of the bomb-bay, thus precluding opening the doors further. I carefully looked into and felt around inside the opening, to ensure there were no other surprises. There was only the one bomb, but that was enough. I felt tentatively around the bomb nose until my fingers finally touched the blades of the arming propeller. Finding it brought no relief, as I could also feel the screw threads, meaning the propeller had unscrewed by quite a bit, arming the detonator. If the bomb fell to the flight deck now, there would be a opening through to the hanger deck. Luck had most certainly been with us during the Avenger's landing, and I hoped that luck would hold. I was particularly hopeful of this, as the information regarding the direction of the fine detonator thread had been temporarily misplaced in my brain, which was desperately trying to engage survival mode. I began to coax the propeller round in the most favoured direction with two fingers, slowly completing a whole turn, then another, intermittently I would feel the threads for any discernible change. I became bolder with the revolutions as the propeller was obviously screwing the detonator back in. Finally I got the bomb's detonator in a relatively safe handling state. However, I still was not sure whether the bomb had received damage during it's loose journey back aboard from the target area. With some assistance the doors were slowly cranked open and the bomb was man-handled onto the deck. The aircraft, ship and I, all remained intact. I felt this surely warranted some high award, but none was received. (Looking back on the incident some fifty-five years later, he mused "It was very hard to get awards in the Navy, but I probably would have got one posthumously if that bomb had blown up!")
Kamikaze (Devine Wind) - suicide planes, off the Sakishima Gunto on the 4th May 1945
Indomitable performed evasion manoeuvres as the first "Kamikaze" [of only three from a formation of twenty] to break through the Cap closed in on the starboard side, and somehow evaded the ship's ferocious flak barrage. The "Kamikaze" struck Indomitable's flight-deck about ten yards astern of the island, sending personnel, diving for cover. The "Kamikaze" spewed burning petrol engulfing the flight deck in billowing thick acrid smoke, but surprisingly it did not explode as it bounced off the armoured flight deck and glided over the portside. It detonated upon impact with the ocean, throwing a huge sheet of water over the carrier, having caused "superficial damage." There was no respite though, as a second "Kamikaze" attacked. Miraculously our luck held, as I watched the suicide plane pass just above the flight-deck, over our heads. It too exploded harmlessly as it hit the ocean just alongside, punctuated by another shower of water over the deck. Within a couple of hours the petrol fires had been extinguished, the bits of wreckage swept over the side and we were operating again before the Japanese launched their second attack.
Formidable was not so fortunate, as the third "Kamikaze" had exploded upon impact, which put her out of action for rest of the day.
Our American liaison officer witnessed the carriers being hit by the Kamikazes and engulfed in smoke. He commented something like we better send the carriers home for repair. When told the carriers will be made operational shortly he threw his hat onto the bridge floor and stamped on it in disbelief. American wooden deck carriers would have been finished, you see.
Refit in Sydney, Australia June 1945
In June Indomitable was dry-docked in Sydney for repairs and refit. As before we were more or less home billeted, with Australians, it was a pleasant rest.
After refit it was arranged for Australian Air Force pilots being trained for conversion to the FAA to use Indomitable for an exercise in landing-on practice with their brand new Seafire III. Only part way through the exercise, it was hastily cancelled by the Captain as they broke so many planes. The Batsman reported his instructions were not being followed, culminating in a Seafire bouncing over the wires and barrier before pitching into the deck park. It's unhappy end was caught on camera, tail in the air and nose buried into other Seafire.
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