The Start to A Naval Career 1955 - 1973.

March 12, 2003

It all seems so long ago. July 1955, 550 Broadway, New York City. I was inducted into the United States Navy and boarded a buss, for the seeming endless ride to boot camp, at the Naval Training Center Bainbridge, MD. Upon completion I was sent to AN "P" School in Norman, OK.

I had decided to get PH "A" School after graduation, but alas, it was not to be. I missed the cut by twelve hundredths of a point, and having very little interest in another "A" schools and decided to take Future Fleet Assignment, which turned out to be a pretty good deal. I was sent to VC-33, NAS Atlantic City, NJ where I spent the next 26 months.

It was during this time I made a cruise to the Western Pacific aboard the USS Bennington CVA 20 from 5 Oct. 1956 to 23 May 1957. I deployed as a Plane Captain / Aircrewman on AD5N aircraft. I was kept pretty busy; I was one of only a few non rated, "qualified" Combat Aircrewman. Those Aircrew wings looked great and I though I was the cats meow.

My dream world was shattered about 5 days out. We were scheduled for our first Flight Operations of the cruise. I was strapped in to the plane and everything around me, on the flightdeck, was moving at a very rapid pace. Aircraft were taxing everywhere and the noise was unbelievable. Then all of a sudden it was time to 'launch aircraft.'

The first plane off the deck got, I was later told was, a cold cat and done a slow roll off the starboard bow and crashed into the sea. The ship immediately changed heading to port, in an obvious attempt at avoiding the F3J Fury, and just as smartly came back to starboard and continued to launching aircraft. I thought we would cancel Air Ops for the day but, no such luck. We secured from Flight Quarters about 14 hours later that day. We never did recover the body of the F3J pilot, or anything else for than matter. It was indeed, a sad day aboard the USS Bennington, and it made a very lasting impression on this sailor.

That day was followed by many similar days of long hours at Flight Quarters punctuated by very brief periods in port. One day the Personnel Officer let in be known, that he intended to return to the states with a brand new crop of Petty Officers and designated strikers. The non designated airmen had to select a rating to strike for and the necessary correspondence courses would be ordered. It sounded like he was more interested in looking good as a "Personnel Officer" than in having a new bunch of promotions in the crew.

This posed no particular problems for the crew, except in my case. I had completed my correspondence courses for promotion but, I did not have my "Practical Factors" signed off. The only way to get this accomplished was to spend time at the Photo Lab under the watchful eye of a Photographer. Once I made the Personnel Officer aware of this he said he would get back to me. I figured that would be the end of it.

About a week later the Personnel Officer called me in to let me know what he had worked out. I would continue to fly with the Detachment but, I was released from duty as a Plane Captain and would report to the Photo Lab for a few weeks. I would sweep-up and make coffee, as well as get my practical factors signed off. Oh! yeah, if I failed the test he would pull the practical factors out of my record. I never did understand this part; it was just part of the deal, but I jumped on it like gang busters.

For the next few weeks I'd muster every morning with the Detachment, got my flight schedule, which was usually a night hop, and report to the photo lab where I got a little practice, in a lot of jobs. I had quite a bit of photo experience as a hobbyist, but working in a Naval Photo Lab was a real thrill for me. They had a great crew there and I seemed to fit right in.

Everything was going great, then all of sudden the photo lab started to loose guys left and right. Two guys were transferred back to the states, another one had to serve as Pri Fly PO, and one more went some where else. At any rate, I was soon looked upon as an asset - not a coffee maker. I was told not to muster with the Detachment but to check in with Al Sayer, the first class petty officer in the lab. I still had an occasional night flight with the detachment, but the flights were cut way back. Everyone was happy except the Personnel Officer, I guess he felt betrayed by the Photo Lab.

Things went along fine for about two months, then one day the Personnel Officer told me I would have to off load with the Detachment and travel to NAS Atsugi. The ship would be in port and the lab wouldn’t need me. He, on the other hand, had a full flight schedule, four aircraft to get into corrosion control, plus some heavy maintenance to perform. When I told the Photo Lab they said I would have to check out of the ship and back into the Detachment. I had only a couple of hours before the buss would leave for Atsugi. I had to pack my seabag and check out. I didn't think I had enough time.

As it turned out, I did not have enough time to finish the checkout procedure. I was having a difficult time finding the various locations, after all I had never checked in. About three quarters of the way through the procedure, I was told to get on the buss, it was leaving. Before I knew what happened, I found myself on the way to NAS Atsugi.

The following two weeks were a delight; to me, it seemed like a vacation. We worked a full day from 0730 until 1630. Then we went to the EM Club where we relaxed and just enjoyed ourselves. No military duties at all, no shore patrol, no fire watches, no post watches, no mess duty, no compartment cleaning. We just worked the aircraft during the day and took each night off. Boy what a life, seldom did I have it that good.

But, all good things must come to an end and so did our trip to NAS Atsugi . After the planes took off we packed up our gear and got ready to depart. It was over, but we did have one more night at the EM Club. It was a night to remember, or so I was told.

It was a day or two before I stopped in at the Photo Lab to say hello. In the course of conversation I mentioned that I didn’t even get enough time to check out. With that, the Photo Officer asked me asked me to elaborate.
I told him that the buss was leaving and I had to get on it or I'd miss it. He smiled and left the lab. When I was finished visiting the guy's, I left with an open invitation to return at any time for a cup of coffee. I felt pretty good that night as I walked back to my compartment, at frame B 303 L.

The next day the Personnel Officer told me to report to the Photo Lab. He made it clear, that he was not pleased but, it came from the Commander, Air Group (CAG). I think he was a bit teed off because I was not supposed to be in the Photo Lab in the first place.
At any rate I reported to the Photo Lab that day and remained there for the rest of the cruise, of coarse, I was still flying one or two nights a week with the Detachment.

It was May 22nd. 1957 when we returned to NAS San Diego, California, I had rejoined the Detachment for our flight back to NAS Atlantic City, New Jersey. I remember thinking it would be great to get back to the east coast and home. It seemed we were gone a long time. I was ready.

The trip cross country was uneventful and before long we all on leave. With our departure, Det. 30 was dissolved until the USS Bennington started shake downs for the next West Pac. There were no permanent members of the detachments. Returning personnel were absorbed into the shops, to form a pool of talent from which the squadron could call upon as needed. The non rated plane captains were assigned to the shop of their choice, if they wanted it, and most of them did. I, on the other hand, was an exception.

I got a chance to visit my parents, in New York, and a few old friends that I had not seen since high school. But they were busy through the week, they all had jobs. I felt that I had been gone just a little too long. Everything in New York looked much as it did when I left the year before, it was time to go back to Atlantic City. I was eager to get back to work, and just as eager to see what kind of job they were going to give me.

Night check was the place I wound up. It was explained to me that the squadron did not have a billet for a photographers therefore, they had no justification to send me to the Photo Lab. Night check turned out to be pretty good duty. Although the hours seemed rather strange, it was kind of easy, working for the night check Chief. Many Friday nights we were off by 1900, giving us plenty of time to go ashore. And what a delight, you could just walk to the EM Club, any time you felt like it. I guess being aboard ship, at sea, gave one a true appreciation of shore duty and all the benefits it offered.

About a month or so after returning, I went up to the Mess Hall to take the exam for third class photographer. I remember the test was quite difficult, they had a bunch of questions on aerial photography which, was not my strong suite. I left the test feeling that the next time; I'd nail it. I quickly put the test out of my mind till the next time.

Several months went by and one day the results of the exams came back; I had made PHG3, much to my surprise; at first I didn't believe it. I had actually made third class. I guess the Q&A sessions aboard ship gave me more of an insight to the exam that I thought. I new my Plane Captain days were over, billet or no billet.

The squadron wasted no time getting me transferred (TAD) to the NAS Photo Lab. But, there was a catch. As a qualified aircrewman, they wanted me to fly, as an instructor, two or three times a month. I said that was fine, at least I'd still draw flight pay. As it turned out the Photo Lab found the fact that I was drawing flight pay a benefit, I could help on some of their aerial jobs. It worked out great for all concerned.

I worked in the Photo Lab and stayed with the squadron until in was relocated to NAS Quonset Point, RI on the 1st. March, 1958. I received orders on the 2nd. May '58 to report to ZP3 at NAS Lakehurst, NJ., an airship squadron. I was going to worked in the hanger where they once docked the German airship "Hindenburg", Boy! talk about being part of history. I enjoyed that tour of duty also, but that's another story.

I often think about the Personnel Officer on Det 30, LTjg Dan Rice, if he did not strive to return home with a group of newly advanced petty officers and designated strikers, my life would have been considerably different. As it was, I wound up staying in the U.S. Navy for the next 20 years. I got to visit Australia twice, and completed three combat tours in Vietnam, aboard the USS Coral Sea CVA 43. I retired on 11th Sept. 1973 as a Chief Photographer’s Mate and went back to school and finish an AS degree in Electronic Technology. The rest, as they say, is history.

NAS Quonset Point, RI: April 1958

The orders read: “Upon receipt of these orders you, James A. Bremner, PHG3, will report to the Commanding Officer, ZP-3, NAS Lakehurst, New Jersey, to commence a normal tour of shore duty.” With these orders in hand I left NAS Quonset Point, RI. and proceeded to Lakehurst, NJ. It was a bittersweet time for me I was leaving my first command, VA (AW)-33. I found myself not really wanting to go but more than ready to find out what lay ahead.

I was heading back to south Jersey, my old stomping grounds, only this time I would be closer to my home in New York. I did not know the Quonset Point area very well, as the squadron had just relocated there from NAS Pamona, just outside of Atlantic City, NJ. I was happy to be heading south again.

ZP-3 was an airship squadron flying the ZPG-2W Airship. It was all new to me and I was looking forward to learning a lot about the big bags and their mission. Little did I know then, how well I would learn. It was the 2nd of May 1958 when I checked in to the Personnel Office, they immediately gave me a check-in sheet and sent me off to complete the task of checking to the squadron. It took the biggest part of the day to complete the task. Now I was ready to check in to the Base Photo Lab, or so I thought.

“Now you are ready to check out of the squadron then check in to the Operations Department of the Air Station.” Said the Yeoman, with a rather sly grin. I was beginning to feel like I was getting the run around but, the second time took me a mere two hours, I knew where everything was now. It was almost quitting time on the 4th, before I arrived at the Photo Lab. I stood outside the door for a moment looking at the strange Red door. It looked like a fire door but the frosted grass threw me. I opened the door to find a toilet, a tile floor and all the trappings of a bathroom; “Welcome to NAS Lakehurst.”, I thought.

The lab consisted of 7 photographers: Chief Arthur Miller, PH1 P. Fereday, PH1 Lawson, PH3 Beers, PH3 Soriano, PHAN Lewis and PHAN Sam; sorry, his last name escapes me, he was known only as Sam. I was introduced around and welcomed aboard by all hands. It seemed like a good crew and I was eager to get back to work but first I’d have to get settled in the NAS barracks. So, off I went to get myself settled. Exiting the photo lab through the bathroom, felt just a strange. I made a mental note to ask someone about it when I returned for following day.

The Photo Lab was housed in the hanger, that once held the ridged airship Hindenburg, the German airship had crashed in a huge ball of flames just outside the hanger doors, in 1937. It made headlines around the world. It was still an active hanger, only now it held up to six ZPG-2W’s airships. The hanger was gigantic; so large that you had a difficult time judging size and scale. Just seeing a half dozen of these airships indoors was enough to warp your senses. Yes Sir, it was going to be an interesting tour of duty.

NAS Lakehurst in laid out in an east-west configuration. On the east side you have the airship landing area with hanger facilities on opposite ends of the field. This was done by design, I’m sure. The old Hindenburg hanger was on one side, right next to a second hanger that contained civilian workers. They done much of the experimental work that was going on. The hangers on the western side of the landing area housed the operational squadrons of the Navy. Further west, was referred to as West Field. Here, they maintained the fixed wing aircraft used to support the other facilities on the air station, namely Parachute Rigger’s School and Aerographers Mate School. They were located to the North of the airship landing area as were the rest of the air station facilities.

Every month the photo lab had to provide a photographer to cover live jumps made by the rigger’s school. One of the steps of a Navy Parachute Rigger is you must be willing to jump out of an airplane with a chute you packed yourself; a requirement for graduation. I covered them a time or two myself. I was always impressed by the fact that I could hear the riggers talk to each another while they floated to ground. The other school, we referred to as weather guesser’s, had no such ritual. We hardly knew they were on base.

One thing that hadn’t changed was the auto accidents. Every so often a sailor would try to straighten out one of New Jersey’s famous traffic circles; in a three year period they have killed or injured seven or eight sailors. I’m sure the carnage will continue until to cows come home, or the traffic circles are removed.

While on duty one night I got a call from a squadron duty officer. He wanted me to photograph a damaged airship; the duty driver was on his way. I grabbed the ready camera and met the driver. We arrived just in time to witness a strange event. There was a faint glow of a blue bubble forming at the nose of the airship. It grew very slowly at first then it got louder. It seemed to dance around the mast head, where it was attached to the nose. It finally broke loose and ran the length of the airship and punching a hole in the vertical stabilizer with a loud bang. Upon closer examination you could see three holes in the stabilizer, the last one still smoking.

I had never seen anything like it, it was scary as hell, and I had no intentions of climbing up there to photograph it. I told the Duty Officer, I would get a couple of shots of the blue ball as is built up on the nose, and tomorrow, when the conditions change, I’ll get the rest. He agreed, thank God.

It was called Saint Elmos Fire. I guess the conditions in the hanger were just right. I was hoisted up to the vertical stabilizer, in a boatswain’s chair, the next morning and photographed the damage. The static charge really done a job on the control surface, putting the ship out of commission, until repairs were completed. The airship didn’t return to full service, for almost a week.

Another incident I recall was the radar ‘picket hop’ that I made, inadvertently. Being non-aircrew, but flying on the ZPG-2W frequently, we were constantly warned about the dangers of takeoffs and landings. One day I was aboard to shoot an air to air fuel transfer, using a specially designed fuel cell. It was a mock test to see if the idea was at all practical. We were to drop the fuel cell and recover same, the fuel cell was full of water for the test. It hung at the rear of the gondola with its floatable line neatly wrapped around it, and a float was attached to the end of the line. The float would pull the floatable line down current, stretching it out in a straight line. It worked surprisingly well. When the fuel cell was dropped, the float pulled the line down current until it was straight and floated on the surface of the water.

We then switched rolls to become the pickup aircraft; by attaching the pickup gear at the rear of the gondola. The pickup rig consisted of a hook, designed with rather large flutes that would bite into the water, and hold the hook in the proper position to snag the floating line. It worked flawlessly to this point, the fuel cell drop, the float with the floatation line, and the trolling hook; it bit into the water and sliced through the waves in magnificent fashion.

Then came the touchy part of the operation, the actual snag. Everything was going along perfect until the hook actually snagged the floating line. It acted like it was supposed to, the float being much lighter than the fuel cell, was the first item to come out of the water, it ran up to the hook and locked in. The trouble was about to begin, as the slack was removed from the floatation line, the fuel cell did not come out of the water. The airship was put into a 45 degree climb with full power. We were suspended in the air not making any headway at all.

After a moment or two the airship got a little forward momentum and the fuel cell showed motion thru the water. It got to the point of skipping across the surface and finally broke free of the water and swung like a huge pendulum below the airship. Our air speed was affected dramatically. When it swung forward the air speed increased and when it swung aft it dropped our air speed almost 30 knots. Eventually, it slowed down and we were able to wind it into the aft section of the gondola. We proved we could do the operation but the safety aspects of it were questionable.

With the mission over we returned to base. As I mentioned earlier, we were drilled about landing and takeoff safety so I made it a habit to waited for the mooring mast to be positioned before attempting to disembark. The airship landed and I noticed some of the civilians scurrying off. I sat there waiting for the mast attachment. Before the mast was positioned the ground handling lines were let go and the airship took off again. I was not concerned because this was standard operating procedure, whenever we got a surface wind, we just went around again.

After twenty-five minutes in the air, I asked when we were going try landing again. I was told we were just starting out on a radar picket flight and we would not be landing until Thursday evening. I logged three and a half hours for the fuel cell drop, and another seventy three point four hours on picket duty. I logged seventy nine point one hours that month. That is more time than I flew in the last year, I usually get about sixty to seventy hours an any one year.

I spent eleven months at Lakehurst. The Navy came out with a 6 month early out program effective April 1st 1959. I had less than 6 months to go so I was processed in the first batch of those early outs. I sold my car, moved all my stuff up to my mothers house in New York City and finished checking out of NAS and the squadron—all I had to do was turn in my mattress cover and check out with the barrack master-at-arms then get paid off at Dispersing. So, there I was, sitting in the Dispersing Office waiting to drawn my final paycheck from the United States Government then catch the 1:30 bus to New York. I expected to eat dinner with my family…a free man, at last.

At 0915 the dispersing clerk asked, “Who here is waiting for the Early Out Program?” About fifteen of us responded. The clerk told us to report back to the Personnel Office of our respective commands. We asked what was going on and he said, with the biggest grin he could muster, “The Early Out Program is not going to happen.” With that, we all filed out of there and headed back to our units in disbelieve. By the time the dust settled about thirty percent of the ‘early out’ people were released from active duty, they were mostly married people. It would have been to much of a hardship on them because they already packed up their furniture and shipped it. So they were allowed to proceed. As for the rest of us, we got the short end of the stick once again.

When I got back to the squadron the yeoman gave me another check in slip and instructed me to check into and out of the squadron, them check in to NAS. I had enough of that mickey mouse bullshit and I told him as much. If he wanted me, I’d be at the Photo Lab. I left the squadron area and went over to the lab. I told the Chief the sad story of the early out program, the fact that all my gear was up in New York and that I had nothing military except the clothes on my back. He told me to take a couple of days to get my gear together and he’d see me when I got squared away. I made the 1:30 bus to New York after all.

I was back at work by 07:30 Thursday morning and found my check-in slip in the guard-mail, signed by the Personnel Officer. It seems that the Chief of the lab called the squadron and got the check-in situation taken care of. Things were back to where they were before this whole ‘early out’ fiasco took place.

Sometime during the next two weeks, or so, I decided to reenlist. That touched off a battle between me and the personnel office. They were convinced that I had no intention of reenlisting, that I would just thumb my nose at them, when it came to signing the papers. I assured them they were wrong. Finally, the Personnel Officer got involved he asked me if indeed, wanted to ship over. I assured him that I did. He said, “Then you have to sign post dated, blank documents. That is the only way we will consider you for reenlistment.” I agreed, and signed a post dated reenlistment contract. On April 20th. 1959, I was sworn in for six more years, by the Commanding Officer of ZP3. I had to sign the enlistment papers, they were not the blank set I had signed and post dated. That was almost 50 years ago, and I remember it like at was yesterday.