My Carrier War by Norman E. Berg

the story about Gay. I was a Navy pilot. I’d fly the planes I was told to fly, and she knew too that I must accept any orders I might receive—even ones to a carrier squadron.
    God, how I love her—she understands—I know she loves me.
     
The TBF-1 by Grumman
    On June 18, I flew TBF bureau number 00480 for one hour. I flew one again the following day for 30 minutes, and the day after that, I left for San Diego in TBF bureau number 00481.
    The Grumman-built TBF-1 was the largest carrier-based plane flown in World War II. It was almost 18 feet from the top of the cockpit to the ground. The wingspan was 54 feet 2 inches and had a gross weight of 15,905 pounds. I can still recall my thoughts as I walked up to the TBF-1 for my first flight: This bird is too damn big to fly off a carrier. It turned out to be a wonderful airplane— very stable in flight, plenty of power with a 1,700 hp engine. It stalled at about 60 knots, with no tendency to fall off on one wing. When it stalled, the nose would just drop straight down and immediately pick up air speed again. It was really a joy to fly.
    A Grumman TBF-1 Avenger prepares for takeoff.
    Especially satisfying was the flight range of the TBF-1. My log book shows that I made the trip from Floyd Bennett to San Diego in just four days. One leg was 4.1 hours of flight time and another 5.7 hours. That was a lot different from flying the F4F with its short flying range. With an F4F, it usually took five or six days because of fuel stops.
    I returned to New York and had some time at home with Jean. I flew locally for the rest of June, picking up aircraft at the Grumman plant on Long Island and bringing them back to Floyd Bennett Field. I couldn’t help but notice how my flight time was building up. During the month of May, I flew 56.2 hours and in June, 40.3 hours. I was averaging more than an hour a day. I was getting valuable experience, not only in flight time but also in flying different types of aircraft. Most important, I was building my confidence as a pilot. I was getting the job done and I was doing it alone, just me and the airplane.
    Jean and I celebrated July 4 with a beach party by the ocean on Rockaway Beach. The next day, I left for San Diego with a TBF. I made the trip in five days, due to weather delays, and was looking forward to a quick trip home.
    Oh no! Not another old clunker to fly to some training base. BT-1. Jesus, flew one of these at Corpus. Deliver it to N.A.S. Miami. That’s going to take a week. Might as well get started. Let’s see how you start this old bird.
    Looking at my log book, it took me ten fuel stops and 11.4 hours of flight time for the trip. I returned to New York on the 14th. So much for Miami.
The TBD Torpedo Plane
    The scheduling office must have taken pity on me because I stayed in New York flying locally. My log book shows 18 flights between July 11 and 25. All of them were under one hour in duration. Then, on June 29, I headed out again for San Diego. I must have had good weather nationally, because instead of flying the southern route, I made the flight via Indianapolis, St. Louis, Dallas, and on to San Diego. The trip took just four days. Then it happened again—operations had a plane for me to deliver to N.A.S. Corpus Christi—a TBD torpedo plane.
    This was the type of aircraft that Torpedo Eight was flying at Midway. Everyone was killed except George Gay. Thirteen planes shot down. Those guys didn’t have a chance. Japanese fighters got them. That .30caliber machine gun in the rear cockpit of the TBD was no help. God, those guys had guts. I wonder if I could have faced it? Our dive-bombers got the enemy carriers though, while the Japanese were busy defending against the torpedo planes. If I do ever get orders to a carrier squadron that has torpedo planes, at least I’ll have a great airplane to fly...the TBF!
    The flight to Corpus was routine, but my arrival did cause some problems. I considered myself a hot ferry pilot, and I no