Carrier landings

Wings of Gold, Spring 2001 by Polino, Dan

Landing the F4U Corsair aboard an unlit escort carrier (CVE) at night under wartime conditions is exciting. Early in 1945, on a CVE in the North Atlantic, I was the only aviator on board who hadn't gone through carrier qualifications. We were supposed to "qual" on the Wolverine, the makeshift training carrier on Lake Michigan. Bad weather precluded this. I ultimately ended up in VBF-152 on an escort carrier in the North Atlantic. Since the German submarines were out in force, we operated at night with a minimum of lights.

My daylight landings were OK until one day when the LSO got nervous. Four of us were practicing landings when, for some unforseen reason, two F4Us in a row, after hooking onto the arresting cable, angled off to one side and clipped the metal edge of the deck with their propellers, nearly going over the side. The LSO had apparently "cut" them while they were at a slight angle to the centerline of the deck.

When it was my turn to land, the LSO had become pretty nervous. As I turned into the groove, he signaled "roger," meaning I was on glideslope and aligned properly. I did not get the cut signal when I thought I would. Instead, I was passing the LSO and had eased back on the power when out of the corner of my eye I observed him giving me a wave off signal.

Fortunately, an instructor had taught me to trim my aircraft for the takeoff configuration while in the landing pattern so that in case of a sudden application of power while in a stall position, such as when waving off, the aircraft wouldn't flip over due to the tremendous torque. This saved me from a sure crash. I was able to skim over the cables, hanging by the prop, but heading straight for the island.

I'll never forget the image of a Navy photographer leaning over the rail along vulture's row as I was aimed directly at him. He was ready to snap my "crash" picture.

Luckily, I was able to fly around the island. After finally landing, the LSO apologized for the late waveoff, explaining that, considering the two previous "mishaps," he wasn't sure of my alignment with the deck. His indecision nearly got me killed.

Next day during landing practice, I made an approach which was was too close for the LSO's comfort and he dove into the safety net alongside his platform.

It wasn't on purpose, of course, but you could call it poetic justice.