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.