Launching a seaplane was the easy part - it still had to be recovered. For that operation, "Portland" would steam 30 to 60 degrees off the wind line at 12 knots, raising the "CAST" flag (now called "CHARLIE") halfway up the halyard. The CAST flag informed the seaplane pilot that the ship was about to commence a turn through the wind line for the purpose of recovery.
The pilot then flew the airplane at 500 feet altitude abeam of the ship, that is to say, at a 90 degree angle from the ship's heading, either port or starboard. At that point the flag was "two-blocked", or raised to the top of the halyard, and the ship commenced its turn across the wind line to create a relatively smooth landing "slick" on the surface of the water for either a port or a starboard recovery.
The pilot would synchronize his final approach with this maneuver; making a wide left turn; gradually letting down with full flaps; and setting his plane down in the slick as close as possible to the ship. He would then taxi the plane forward until a hook on the underside of his main float snagged the webbing of the "sled", which resembled a cargo net, being trailed from a boom on the ship.
The pilot would then turn off the ignition and stop the engine as the crane operator on the ship lowered a hook. At this point, the radioman/gunner would climb forward from the after cockpit and stand upright over the pilot in order to grasp the crane's hook. The pilot would hold on to the radioman/gunner's ankles to prevent him from falling off the aircraft which would now be swaying back and forth in the wind. After the radioman/gunner slipped a steel loop from the upper wing of the aircraft over a hook lowered by the ship's aircraft-handling crane, the seaplane was hoisted aboard ship and secured to the catapult amidship.
The
radioman/gunner (shown crouched on top of the upper wings of an SOC) has slipped
a steel
loop from the upper wing of the seaplane over a hook lowered by the ship's aircraft-handling
crane,
and the seaplane is being hoisted aboard ship.
Although both port and starboard recoveries were similar, as far as the ship was concerned, the starboard "CAST" recovery was more difficult for the pilot. This was so, because, as the throttle was advanced for taxiing up the starboard side of the ship, in order for the seaplane to hook on to the sled, the torque of the plane's propeller would continue to pull the nose of the plane to the left and into the side of the ship. This could be countered, to some extent, by a small water rudder on the rear of the plane's main float but it was usually not adequate to overcome the torque of the propeller.
On a plane being tossed about by wind and seas, especially in choppy weather, recovery could be a very touchy operation! Added to that, was the ship's vulnerability to attack while thus engaged, especially in a forward area during wartime. The entire procedure was not unlike a ballet, requiring precise, synchronized actions by many people throughout the ship; many without visual contact, and with the potential for disastrous results if mistakes were made.
After recovery from the sea, a Curtiss SOC seaplane is now being lowered on to its catapult aboard a cruiser.
Prior to World War II, during both the launch and recovery operations, one of the ship's motor whaleboats would be manned and standing by on the well deck to be available in the event of a mishap. The whaleboat was staffed by the Junior medical officer, a pilot, a designated swimmer and the coxswain. This safety measure, deemed necessary in peacetime, was discontinued after the war started!
A disastrous Landing
Most seaplane recovery accidents fell into two categories:
1. The seaplane rolled over and sank due to the loss of a wing-tip float that had been severed by a cross swell when landing; or
2. The left wing of the seaplane needed to be replaced after the plane had run into the side of the ship due to engine torque on a starboard CAST recovery. For this reason, when the wind was high and the sea very rough, most ship's captains elected to recover their seaplanes by the port CAST recovery method.
On June 13, 1942, with the Battle of Midway behind us, the heavy cruiser USS Portland arrived in Pearl Harbor for thirty-three days.
On July 9, I had a little bad luck on my landing and a large cross swell knocked off my right wing tip float. The sea was very rough and although my radioman, Fred Dyer, who weighed over 200 pounds, immediately went out on the port wing to hold the right wing from dipping in the water, the seaplane soon rolled over. Dyer and I were left sitting on the bottom of the main float with the plane upside down below us! Portland sent us a message by blinker that they would return for us within one hour!
Later the ship returned and sent a motor whale boat to pick us up. I was wearing a new Bulova watch which I put in my mouth to keep dry when I swam the short distance from the seaplane to the boat. The ship attempted to salvage the seaplane, but without success. So the boatswain sank SOC-2, # 0406 by chopping holes in the main float. The cruiser San Francisco also lost a plane at the same time, so that made me feel a little better!
Night Landings
One particular flight that I vividly recall was on the night of 15 January 1941. We had earlier undertaken several night flights, both from the ship and from the Naval Air Station on Ford Island to prepare us for this particular night. Our mission was to be catapulted and recovered at sea without any lights on the aircraft or on the ship!
It was a dark night. One of those nights that remind one of the inside of a cow. There was a high overcast, absolutely no moonlight, and no visible horizon. There was nothing to be done about it, but of course catapulting in that sort of night condition without being able to see the horizon and when you're so close to the water made it a really interesting maneuver!
All four planes were catapulted and I just went by feel in getting up and flew out the beam, that is to say, at a ninety degree angle to the ship's heading, by instruments. We all rendezvoused at 2,000 feet altitude with no running lights. Only the aircraft engine exhausts, which gave off a flame, allowed us to fly formation on each other. The ship below us was completely darkened. At the established time, float lights were thrown off the stern of the ship. All four aircraft then let down to 500 feet and we made left hand turns around the ship in a right echelon formation. We alternated making port and starboard recoveries using the float lights as a reference point.
I was last to land, making a starboard CAST recovery. We all landed safely and were recovered without incident. I remember my friend Tom Keegan telling me later that I had made the best landing and recovery. Being the junior pilot, this made me feel good. I guess we proved that it could be done if and when such tactics were required and necessary.