The ship departed from San Diego for Pearl Harbor, the first leg of our long journey across the Pacific. The local band was playing "Aloha", as we tied up at Pier Fox 10. The trip had been uneventful, and it was good to get ashore for a few drinks at the Tennis Club.

The stay at Pearl Harbor lasted through the month of May, although the ship made three short trips out for rehearsal of flight operations. Few bothered to venture into overcrowded Honolulu. The Tennis Club courts, swimming pool and bar were too convenient. All during the time we were in Hawaii, however, there was a feeling of restlessness throughout the ship. Something big was obviously impending, and we were all anxious to get in on it.

At last the day came when we departed from Pearl Harbor. The trip started out as serenely as the days we had passed en route from San Diego to Pearl Harbor. With the thermometer rising by the hour, our forecastle became more and more popular. It was still difficult to realize that we were at war.

On the fourth day out, our first operational casualty occurred. Taking off in an FM-2 from a run on the flight deck, Ensign Clyde F. Reams went into a sharp right turn and crashed in the water just off the starboard bow. He was not observed leaving the aircraft, which sank within two minutes. A thorough but futile search was conducted by accompanying destroyers.

Our carrier crossed the 180th meridian, officially entering the Orient, and we gained a full day in time. As a matter of fact, we went over the international date line three times that day.

We passed within 300 miles of a Japanese held island, but there were no signs of the enemy in evidence. The following day we went by Majuro, the great anchorage acquired for the fleet during the spring, and later we saw Kwajalein, another American base in the Marshalls recently wrested from the Japs.

A few days later the carrier was underway again, and the crew was informed that we were headed northwest to support the Marine occupation of Saipan. The following day contact with an enemy submarine was reported, and we realized that from then on, the game was for keeps.

Our first contact with a Jap aircraft came on June 13th, when Lieutenant James A. Huser, USNR., flying a TBM, sighted a Jap Betty. The enemy saw Lieutenant Huser at approximately the same instant, put his nose down and soon disappeared.

The next day an accompanying destroyer sank a Japanese submarine, reportedly picking up a survivor.

We arrived on station well in advance of the first wave of Marines, which started toward the beach at 0800. VC-4 and our carrier were very much in evidence from the outset. Support missions for troop landings got off to an early start, and continued throughout the day. Late in the evening members of our combat air patrol each bagged a Japanese Jill out 30 miles ahead of the ship. Another Jill broke through, and Lieutenant Henry C. Palmer one of several fighters who scrambled off our flight deck to support Lieutenant Kurz's division had barely become airborne when he noticed this Jill attacking a sister carrier. He immediately engaged the enemy with a flat rear approach at 100 feet altitude, firing at 1000 feet. He hit the Jill's fuselage and starboard wing root, but only one of his four guns was firing. He drew to the right, recharged his guns, and closed with all four blazing. At this point, four FM-2 aircraft from VC-68 made an attack above, and the Jap was subjected to a heavy barrage of anti-aircraft from one of our destroyers. The enemy burst into flames and crashed in full view off the port bow of our carrier. Lieutenant Palmer credited the kill to either the destroyer or the FM-2 group overhead.

In landing upon his return to the carrier, Lieutenant (jg) S. N. Bales crashed into the sea over the port side, but was recovered uninjured by one of our destroyer escorts.

The crew had had a busy time. The Japs who had broken through closed just above the water, presenting a difficult target in the gathering dusk. They were repulsed without damage to our vessels, while at several points the enemy airplanes were hit and ignited by anti-aircraft fire.

On the following day, support missions and observation operations continued, with every available airplane in use. The Japanese anti-aircraft fire over the island was intense, and proved a severe menace, particularly to our observation missions, which had to fly low and at slow speeds to complete their assignment effectively. Lieutenant Colonel Duchein, USMC., stationed on this ship for the operation, was high in his praise of VC-4 pilots:

Lieutenant Eugene Straughn developed a bad oil leak in his FM-2, and was forced to land in the water. The aircraft sank within a minute, but Lieutenant Straughn was able to extricate himself, and was picked up uninjured by a destroyer.

The next day passed in the routine manner. Lieutenant C. H. McLean, USNR., was forced to land his TBM on the air strip at Charan Kanoa when it was damaged by anti-aircraft fire and his radioman, Melvin L. Tigner, ARM l/c, USNR., suffered a severe wound in his arm. This was the first American aircraft to land on Saipan.

Early that evening the ship was called to general quarters, with a large number of enemy aircraft reported approaching. Although darkness was gathering, all available fighters were launched immediately. The first fighter was sent off at 1808. Four single engine enemy bombers were observed approaching on the starboard beam, at 3000 foot altitude. The aircraft were already under fire from other ships, about 16,000 yards to the south. Two of the enemy peeled off and started a dive in our direction. All guns commenced firing, and the ship took violent evasive action. The enemy pulled out of their dives, and passed overhead 2000 feet to starboard. Two bombs fell in the water at least 1500 yards away.

During the attack on us, a hit had been observed on another carrier in our unit. We learned later that this had rendered her incapable of landing aircraft, and several of her squadron came aboard our carrier. Two fires were also seen: one apparently a ship on the southern horizon, and another, about 7000 yards to the southeast, lasted less than two minutes and was obviously an airplane in the water. Visibility was becoming quite poor on account of darkness.

The second attack followed the first by six minutes. Our fighters were not able to engage this group. One single-engined bomber, thought to be a Kate, approached our starboard bow at 100 foot altitude and when 2000 yards away was fired upon by all guns on that side. As it reached the starboard quarter it gradually began to lose altitude, and a trail of black smoke increased in intensity until the enemy struck the water approximately 10,000 yards astern.

During a lull in the firing, our 5-inch crew spotted an airplane at 8000 yards, elevation, 15 degrees. After three shots had been fired, the enemy entered a light cloud and disappeared. It was not seen again, although the light, small cloud could not have furnished cover for more than a few seconds. Several bursts were observed, one of which could have been the enemy aircraft exploding.

The third attack was 22 minutes after the second. It was then quite dark, and our fighters found it impossible to make visual contact. An airplane was sighted heading for the ship 70 feet above the water. All starboard guns opened fire. Tracer ammunition blinded all witnesses temporarily, but after "cease fire" a column of black smoke was seen rising from the water 1500 yards from the ship. The aircraft had vanished.

Some minutes after the last attack, our aircraft began landing, including three from the damaged carrier. Despite lack of experience at night carrier landings, all were brought aboard safely except one. Ensign Edward Id. Billinghurst was fired upon by our own surface units as he returned to the ship, and as a result his vacuum tank was punctured and his air-speed indicator rendered useless. In landing aboard, Ensign Billinghurst, unable to use wing flaps, went over the first two barriers, hooked the third, and crashed into aircraft spotted forward. Fire broke out immediately, but was soon extinguished. As a result of this landing accident, Roger R. Albright, AMM 3/c, USN., was fatally burned and James M. Lancaster, AMM 3/c, was lost over the side. Five others, including Ensign Billinghurst, received minor injuries.

Lieutenant Commander R. C. Evins, the squadron commander, had called the ship to report that his vision was completely obscured by oil covering his windshield. Shortly after this, he reported that he thought he could land aboard by putting his head out of the cockpit. This was the last transmission received from Lieutenant Commander Evins. As the days passed and investigation revealed no trace of the Squadron Commander, hope was abandoned. This tragedy saddened the entire ship, for Lieutenant Commander Evins was extremely popular. In the meantime, Lieutenant E. R. Fickenscher, USN., assumed command of VC-4, and Lieutenant W. E. Flateboe, USNR., was designated Executive Officer.

The next day was comparatively quiet, however fighting over the island continued. Our destroyers had accumulated a number of survivors from sunken enemy submarines. Operations continued as scheduled until four days later when we were refuelled from a tanker at sea.

Shortly after this Lieutenant Fickenscher was sent out to destroy a Japanese AK in Apro harbor, Rota Island. With a torpedo launched at about 1000 yards, the enemy vessel was struck squarely amidships and sank by the head in two minutes.

The following day a small amount of mail was flown aboard. This, needless to say, was genuinely welcome.

Not many days later we were called to general quarters.  A small number of Japanese aircraft were out in our vicinity.  The night was cloudy, and quite dark as the group of CVE's steamed quietly along, the only noise apparent being the slapping of small waves against the bow. Suddenly from astern rose the rasping whirr of a Japanese Betty. On it came along our starboard side, almost close enough, it seemed, to touch our island super-structure. He went on ahead, giving no indication of having seen us. We had been instructed not to reveal our position with gunfire.

A few minutes later, he again approached from astern, this time off the port side, as he passed along, he seemed close enough to be hit with a rock. Suddenly he saw the ship, turned sharply to port, and disappeared. Everyone knew he had gone out to turn and make a run on us. Guns were readied for attack. All at once, bursts of fire streamed from two destroyers, one on our port quarter, and the other on our port bow. At the convergence of the two streaks of fire, there was a sudden blinding flash as the Jap exploded. It was a superb exhibition of directed gunnery, for it seemed that not more than 10 rounds had been fired before the hit was made. As we proceeded onward, we could see the blazing wreckage for several minutes, growing dimmer as we left it astern.

The half-hour before midnight was a popular one for the Japs to attack, for we were called to general quarters at this time regularly for the next four nights.

We were saddened at this time to learn that Captain George E. Hooper, USMCR., a Marine observer who had come out with us, had been killed over Saipan when his aircraft was exploded by Japanese gunfire.

Our carrier was still on the job when Independence Day rolled around. The following, published in our daily paper expressed the sentiments of practically everyone aboard:

"We spent the Fourth in '44
At dear old Saipan Isle
We hope to see it again some day,
But not for a hell of a while."

Early in July all enemy resistance on Saipan had ceased.  The Japs had made their last fanatical suicide charge, using bayonets and knives lashed to sticks in some Gases for want of arms. A large number of Japanese civilians had taken their children and waded out to their death off Marpi point, despite the plea of interpreters that they would not be harmed.  The action had proved longer and more costly than anyone had imagined, but this important island was now under American control. The Marine Observation Cubs came out and buzzed our ships in celebration.

Soon after Saipan was secured, we headed to a base for rest. For the next seven days, the Officers Club bar was well attended, and the excellent beach and almost unbelievably clear water provided much-needed relaxation.

During our stay at anchor, command of the ship changed hands, Commander D. J. Sullivan, USN., relieving Captain Oscar A. Weller, USN., who had been assigned as commanding officer of a CV. Commander Willie M. Dickey, USN., replaced Commander T. A. Ahroon, USN, as Executive Officer, and Lieutenant Keith Holcomb, USNR., assumed the duties as Air Officer.

Then, we started back westward to help cover the occupation of Tinian, which began July 24. Routine support missions were continued as well as the usual anti-submarine patrol.  On Saturday, July 29, activities were stopped for the day when we anchored to receive supplies. This provided a few the opportunity to go ashore and determine the damage done by shellfire and bombing prior to the occupation. The destruction was unbelievable; however, from the number of reinforced concrete dugouts it is equally astounding to realize that a landing had been made successfully. And it was at this point, facing the reefs, that the Japs least expected us, following the experience at Tarawa.

Early in August Lieutenant (jg) Harold H. Carson was shot down while flying an observation mission over Tinian.  Lieutenant (jg) Carson was hit by Japanese machine gun fire, according to Stephen R. Walley, ARM 2/c, USNR., the radioman and sole survivor of the crash. Swimmers dove in an attempt to recover Lieutenant (jg) Carson and Captain James Motley, the Marine observer, but were unsuccessful. Lieutenant (jg) Carson was very popular with the squadron as well as the ship's company.

Shortly thereafter, all enemy resistance ceased on Tinian, and the ship was underway to a port nearby. As usual scuttlebut was rife regarding our next assignment. At any rate, the next port meant mail, drinks, and relaxation, so the immediate plans were satisfactory. The stay of five days was fully enjoyed, and afforded everyone ample time for catching up on reading, drinking and sleeping.

There were no women on the island, although the Officers Club maintains a powder room--perhaps as a sort of shrine to the missing beauties.

The ship departed from this anchorage and headed for the South Seas, and immediately Shellbacks aboard began their evil preparations. For awhile they were forced to take more than they gave, "Sea-Dog" Mahlstedt, and Bosun Meske, two old-timers, getting their own heads shaved for their enthusiasm. "Deacon" Fickenscher and "Big Boss" Huser, two squadron Shellbacks, likewise suffered this indignity.

We crossed the equator around the middle of August, but due to wartime hazards, the Neptune ritual was deferred until the ship anchored in the New Hebrides three days later. There a long list of Pollywogs paid the penalty for their iniquities, standing trial before Neptune and his court, kissing the Royal Baby, plunging into Davy Jones' pool, and running the gantlet of several hundred enthusiastic Shellbacks. Following the initiation, the group rapidly became familiarized with various activities ashore.

While on a training flight from Luganville Field, about two hours after take-off time, an FM-2 airplane believed to be piloted by Ensign Lance C. Dyer, USNR., attached to our squadron, circled a rescue craft at low altitude and made a power landing in the water. The aircraft nosed down with tile cockpit under water, and sank just as the rescue craft arrived. The pilot was not seen to leave the aircraft, which sank in seventy fathoms of water.

Espiritu Santo met with unanimous approval. The climate was cool, the scenery attractive, and the Officers Club bar well stocked. Coconuts, papaya and bananas were growing ashore in abundance. It was with regret, therefore, when we left bound for the Solomon Islands.

No sooner had the ship reached Tulagi than we went out for exercises off Guadalcanal. These brief excursions soon were completed, and again the ship and squadron officers were able to give their attention to recreation. Two sites were provided at this location, one the Tulagi Officers Club, and the other the Iron Bottom Club. Both were freely patronized.

While at Tulagi, the ship entertained several officers from the New Zealand Royal Air Force.

Subsequent to this we headed for the Palau group of islands to cover the occupation of Peleliu and Anguar. The Marines attacked Peleliu at 0830, September 15, 1944, and established beachheads according to schedule. The defenders put up a desperate struggle, nevertheless, and the going was by no means easy. From the very outset, our squadron was busy with support missions, and the usual anti-submarine patrol. No enemy aircraft were encountered, but our group was able to render invaluable aid against troops, barracks, tanks and gun emplacements of the enemy.

The day following the securing of Anguar our carrier departed for Ulithi. This small island was found to be unde- fended, and required no more than patrol and observation missions. We left Ulithi, after occupation troops had been landed, on September 25th.

In October we headed for Leyte Island in the Central Philippines to support General Douglas MacArthur's "promised return". Immediately on arrival we began flight operations and anti-submarine patrol. Everyone realized that we had picked the middle of a hornet's nest.

Fighters from the ship took off and strafed runways on Tacloban and San Pablo airfields. No enemy aircraft were encountered. Later six fighters and two bombers were launched. Gun positions south of Tacloban airfield were bombed and strafed. Again the enemy did not venture into the air. Fighters also strafed Japanese sampans and torpedo boats hidden at Samar. The strike was highly successful, three vessels being left burning briskly.

Lieutenant C. D. McGaha, USNR., and Ensign W. G. Schaufler, USN., discovered Jap emplacements in caves dug into a hillside. Flying within 50 yards, they were able to fire directly into the mouths of the caves.

All day this continued with monotonous regularity, and the same type of action was repeated on the 19th.

On October 20, 1944, General MacArthur's troops began the invasion. Our aircraft were launched at 0745, fighters and torpedo bombers going aloft. Suspected mortar positions at Leyte were heavily strafed and bombed. In addition, rockets were fired. Another flight of fighters took off for strafing missions. No Japanese aircraft were encountered.

On the morning of October 21st, three Tonys were observed aloft, but disappeared before they could be engaged. Later, Lieutenant (jg) Frank Fox's TBM was struck by shrapnel, injuring his radioman, Robert W. Egan, ARM 2/c, USNR., necessitating a return to base. Strafing, bombing and rocket firing continued, being directed at enemy ammunition dumps, trucks and busses. The same routine was followed on October 22nd and 23rd.

October 24th held more in store for the squadron. Fighters took off at 0500. Ensign Stewart was one of this group, however, he did not join up with the group after leaving the ship, nor did he return to the carrier. Subsequent search revealed no trace of aircraft or pilot, and Ensign Stewart was listed as missing.

Following an attack by eight Zeke-52 aircraft, Lieutenant Berko was able to trick one into evasive tactics by firing a burst from out of range over the Jap's head. This permitted Lieutenant Ferko to close, and he opened fire at the fuselage and wing roots. The Jap made a flat skid to the left, and crashed full speed into the sea. The remaining seven Zekes had disappeared. Ensign L. R. Pool, USNR., who was accompanying Lieutenant Ferko when the attack began, was forced to land at Tacloban when his aircraft was damaged by gunfire. This was the first American landing on the Philippines since the Japanese occupation in 1942. 

Returning from his engagement with the Zeke, Lieutenant Ferko added another Jap to his bag. Sighting an Oscar enemy fighter below him, Lieutenant Ferko did a wing-over, made an overhead approach, leveled off, and opened fire at 1000 feet. The Jap fighter burst into flames, exploded, and the remains fell into the sea. No parachute was seen.

Lieutenant Ferko, running short on gasoline, landed safely aboard the Kadashan Bay (CVE-76). Two days later, Lieutenant Ferko, on combat air patrol with VC-30, surprised a, group of 10 to 12 Oscars and shot two of them down from close range before the Japs could recover. One enemy plane exploded in mid-air and the other, with cockpit cover and large pieces of fuselage and starboard wing flying off, crashed in an uncontrolled spin. This put four Jap flags on the fuselage of "Lucky Pierre", Lieutenant Ferko's aircraft.

Torpedo bombers were launched early the next morning following the fighters. These were directed to do strafing, bombing, and rocket-firing at enemy trenches, tank traps and pill boxes.

Returning from the engagement with the two Zekes, Lieutenant Bear and Ensign Billinghurst sighted two Vals dead ahead. Lieutenant Bear got a long burst into the Jap's starboard wing root and the wing flew off just as the airplane exploded. Lieutenant (jg) Wood picked up the second Val despite the damage which had been done his aircraft by Zero fire. A long burst by Lieutenant (jg) Wood, and the Val was observed to catch fire; however, it rolled over and Lieutenant (jg) Wood had to pull up and to the left to avoid a collision.  At this point, Lieutenant Kurz followed very close for three or four seconds, pouring fire into the smoking Val. The Jap did a snap roll, the starboard wing buckled, and the enemy spun into the sea. Lieutenant Kurz was credited with the kill with the very capable assistance of Lieutenant (jg) Wood.

Fighters were launched at dawn on October 25th. This group proceeded south to Leyte for combat air patrol. Had they gone north, they would have seen something to freeze them in their seats. Just over the horizon, headed for Leyte Gulf, was a Japanese task force of four battleships, eight armed cruisers, and thirteen destroyers. Lying directly in their path was our group of six CVE's with its screen of three destroyers and four destroyer escorts.

Still unaware of the proximity of the Japanese surface force, torpedo bombers were launched. This group, scheduled for a support mission, was diverted to attack a Jap battleship in Surigao Straits, and later on was able to hit the group which had stumbled upon our carrier and her division.

Lieutenant Commander Fickenscher was able to plant six bombs right in the keel line of a Jap battleship of the Nagato class. His wingman, Ensign J. R. Conners, USNR., and his crew of Karl M. Wood, ARM 3/c, USN., and Clifford C. Richardson, AOM 3/c, USNR., were killed when their TBM exploded in mid-air over the Jap battleship. "He was following me down", commented Lieutenant Comdr. Fickenscher after the battle, "And he seemed to catch everything that went by me. That was plenty, too." 

Lieutenant W. E. Flateboe scored two direct hits with bombs on the starboard side aft of the stack on a Japanese battleship of the Nagato class. Unfortunately, his portside bombs failed to release. Lieutenant (jg) J. H. Osborne scored three direct hits with 500-pound and 250-pound bombs on the leading battleship (Nagato class). Flame and smoke were billowing up just forward of the bridge when the vessel was last seen. Lieutenant (jg) C. M. Shields scored two near misses off the stern that heeled the Nagato battleship to port.  It is believed that these two near misses materially assisted in reducing the enemy's speed, as the vessel had dropped back to lose its place in the formation when last observed.

After arriving on station, Lieutenant Srsen sighted a Jap Francis, the port engine showing a light trail of smoke. With his wingman, Ensign Robinson, Lieutenant Srsen made a rear approach, opened fire at 1200 feet, and closed fast. The Jap made an evasive turn which exposed the port engine. Another burst, and the Francis was enveloped in flame, crashing to the ground immediately.

Shortly after this, Lieutenant Srsen added a Sally to his bag. The group dived on the Jap from a 200-foot altitude advantage over Leyte Valley. Lieutenant Srsen openedfire at 1200-feet. The Sally pulled up to the right, and Lieutenant Mudgett and Ensign Stamatis fired into the Jap's starboard wing root and fuselage. The Sally continued to pull up to the right, did a high wing-over, burst into flames, and crashed to the ground.

In the meantime, the Jap Fleet had opened fire on our division of six CVE's and their escort. A near miss with 14 or 16 inch shells at the outset had thrown our carrier up in the water, damaging the aft engine. All lights had failed when agenerator circuit-breaker had been jarred open by the concussion. Everyone thought the ship had been hit. But she was able to continue, running through a fusillade of Japanese shellfire.

At the opening of the surface battle, fighters were scrambled, followed by torpedo bombers.  All these aircraft were launched just as they were, loaded for various support missions over Leyte later in the day, and for anti-submarine patrol.

After attacking an armored cruiser of the Tone class, Lieutenant (jg) Owens and Lieutenant (jg) Hearn landed safely aboard the Saint Lo (CVE-63) previously known as the Midway and survived the subsequent sinking of that vessel.

Ensign Butcher definitely slowed the speed of a Tone class cruiser by straddling the stern with depth charges. Ensign Byrd scored three direct hits with 100-pound bombs on the bow of the leading enemy cruiser. After his rockets failed to fire, Ensign Byrd conducted an individual strafing attack at the bridge of this Tone class cruiser.

The surface engagement continued for two hours and 40 minutes. From the very outset, the vulnerable CVE's were considered a doomed lot, being no match for the faster and much more powerful enemy task force. Soon the Gambier Bay (CVE-73) was disabled, and, losing speed, was slaughtered by the Japs.

A heavy rain squall provided a short reprieve; then the destroyer screen was sent in on a torpedo attack. Only four of the seven returned, and one of these was badly damaged. The continued air attack then diverted the Japanese, and after a "school of fish" fired by the enemy cruisers had missed, the Japs turned back. Evidently their plan to enter Leyte Gulf and destroy our anchored transports had been frustrated. As they retired to the north, they were continuously hounded by aircraft from the CVE's.

The groups launched earlier had landed on the beach, and were informed by other pilots who had flown over the surface engagement that there was no hope for any of the CVE's.  Nevertheless, they loaded up with all they could find on the beach and set out to do what they could.

Lieutenant (jg) X. N. Bales and Ensign W. G. Schaufler started off by strafing the bridge on a Jap Battleship of the Fuse Class. After the run, Lieutenant (jg) Bales returned for an individual strafing run on the bridge, while Ensign Schaufler strafed a Jap battleship of the Kongo Class and an armored cruiser of the Mogami Class. Lieutenant (jg) Bales commented upon his return to the ship:''I couldn't find anything else to do, so I made some strafing runs on a Jap battleship."

After the Japs had broken off the surface engagement, we fired a parting salve by launching two torpedo bombers, loaded with torpedoes. These were flown by Lieutenant J. A. Huser, USNR., and Ensign J. R. Dennis, USNR. This pair joined up with other TBM's from sister ships, and started a run on one of the Jap heavy cruisers of the Tone class. The other TBM's were not satisfied with their positions, however, and turned away. Coming down through a cloud at full speed, our two representatives leveled off, launched their torpedoes, and turned away through a hail of anti-aircraft fire. Looking back, they saw one of their torpedoes explode squarely beneath the cruiser's bridge.   Subsequent observers, coming over directly afterward, reported the cruiser lying dead in the water, and she was sunk by this squadron, (VC-75).

Following this comparative quiet prevailed. We were able to land our returning aircraft and resume patrols. During the night, however, with our screen away picking up survivors of the battle, we were followed by an enemy submarine. As we increased speed, he held his margin.  Shortly after we had made this discovery destroyers loaned to us by another group reported, and were sent back to investigate. The sound of depth charges far astern informed us of the Jap's fate.

Not long after this, the ship was called to general quarters with Japanese aircraft approaching from astern. As they passed over our destroyers, which had gone back to deal with the submarine, one was brought down in flames by anti-aircraft fire. The other of the pair turned back. We returned to our sacks, not sure that we soon wouldn't be called out again.

The following morning, it was announced that the group was on its way to a base for repairs. When we reached our destination the relaxation, mail and beer were all most welcome.

Soon it was rumored that the ship would require Navy Yard facilities for repairs needed. This meant Pearl Harbor at least: perhaps the West Coast of the United States. The rumor turned into fact and it was not long before we started the long trip back.

Enroute to Pearl Harbor, the days began to drag. We conducted a routine Combat Air Patrol, and on November 9th, Ensign W. G. Schaufler, USN., made the 3000th landing on our carrier.