25 APR 44
Operation RECKLESS had thus far been relatively benign, which allowed Princeton along with elements of Task Groups 58.1, 58.2 and 50.17 (TG 50.17 was the "Fueling and Aircraft Replacement" group and consisted of six fleet oilers and five escorts) to leave the immediate area north of Hollandia in order to take on much needed fuel. Recall that due to the mostly calm seas, in order to get enough wind over the deck to safely launch aircraft, Princeton had been forced to make her own wind, in the process using up much more fuel than normal.
A tow line secured to USS Caliente at 0802, for almost two hours Princeton would stay engaged, ultimately taking 40,000 gallons of aviation gasoline and 285,927 gallons of fuel oil.
One interesting War Diary entry noted that "At 0927, while still engaging in fueling from tanker, commenced catapulting aircraft, completing catapulting of 7 VT for ASP at 0938. At 0955, after having increased speed to 11 knots, completed catapulting 8 VF for CAP."
Conducting carrier aircraft launch operations, which demand perfection, while simultaneously conducting an underway replenishment, is something deserving of genuine appreciation. The fact that Princeton was doing this very thing in 1944 was, quite honestly, a surprise to me.
One glorious night in the late summer of 1999, I was airborne in the Indian Ocean, en route to the Persian Gulf to fill our role in OPERATION SOUTHERN WATCH. Calm seas, a sky saturated with brilliant, winking stars and a moon with just enough illumination to provide a horizon line — ask any carrier Aviator if, when attempting to land on the ship at night, a visible line between sea and sky is not the most important thing in the entire world — it was as perfect a night for flying as a night for flying could be.
But something wasn't right.
As I leveled off 1200 feet above the ocean and took a peek out at USS Constellation (CV-64) in the distance — I had done this perhaps 250 times at this point in my career — the pattern of lights on the carrier I was used to seeing seemed...not normal. My previous experience had gotten me used to snatching brief looks ahead during night approaches, if only to reassure myself that the boat where my friends, the food, and my rack were located, was out there where she was supposed to be. Not overly concerned, my eyes returned to my instruments, relaying to my brain every little adjustment my hands needed to make to ensure that my altitude, airspeed and heading would deliver me to the sweet spot at 3/4 of a mile behind the ship, where I would transition from inside the cockpit to completely outside for the last 15 seconds or so before landing. Every occasional glance, as the distance to my attempt to land grew inevitably nearer, only reinforced my initial perception that something just didn't look right.
I have mentioned "SA" before. Assuming decent hand-eye coordination as a given, having a solid comprehension of what is going on around you, "Situational Awareness," is pretty much the holy grail when it comes to pilot skills. Consistently good pilots have consistently good SA. I know very few, probably zero, good pilots that have poor SA. That said, on the approach to the carrier at night, one's SA by design reverts from the ideally broad and global to the normally undesirable and fixated local. All those peeks at the weird and unusual light picture from 10 miles in become fewer and fewer until the focus becomes intensely and deliberately on meatball, lineup and angle of attack.
After landing, unless it's pitch black as in the video above, your aperture can open a bit and one's SA can begin to slowly transition back towards the global ideal.
As I taxied out of the landing area, I realized why the sight picture I was used to seeing was out of the ordinary. We were in the midst of an underway replenishment! While landing jets! At night! It was a first for me and so awesome to see a huge oiler paralleling the carrier 50 or so yards away, both churning in perfect formation through the sea.
But wait! Having witnessed many dozens of unreps during my career, this one didn't look quite right either. What were those out of sequence lights dancing in and amongst the lights of the oiler? What the...? Not only was the oiler refueling the carrier to its port, but it had hoses attached to one of the Battle Group's cruisers to starboard. After parking and shutting down engines, it's regrettable that my huge grin went unseen in the dark.
I recall thinking to myself at the time that — and I remain unashamed to say this — America was truly the most powerful nation on earth. This night trap endures as one of my most memorable.
USNS Supply (T-AO-6) conducts a dual UNREP with the USS George H.W. Bush (CVN-77) and USS Hue City (CG-66) as the trio sails towards storm clouds over the Atlantic.
MEDITERRANEAN SEA (Feb. 4, 2011) – The aircraft carrier USS Enterprise (CVN 65) performs an underway replenishment with the fast combat support ship USNS Arctic (T-AOE 8). Enterprise is deployed as part of Enterprise Carrier Strike Group (CSG) in support of Maritime Security Operations and Theater Security Cooperation efforts in the U.S. 5th and 6th Fleet areas of responsibility. Enterprise CSG includes Enterprise, CSG 12, Destroyer Squadron 2, the guided-missile cruiser USS Leyte Gulf (CG 55), the guided-missile destroyers USS Barry (DDG 52), USS Bulkeley (DDG 84), and USS Mason (DDG 87) and the eight squadrons of Carrier Air Wing (CVW) 1. (U.S. Navy Photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Alex R. Forster/
We have previously mentioned Admiral Nimitz's comment that the Navy's ability to refuel at sea was a "secret weapon of World War II." I wonder if he knew that at least some of his carriers were refueling and flying airplanes at the same time. I hope and assume that he did.
And it makes me happy that Dad's carrier was one of them.
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