Deployment

By Wilfred Zinavage

The Navy would not allow this book to be printed unless certain changes were made and I had to call it a work of fiction. The time is 1960; the setting; the Mediterranean Sea, a hotbed of the so called Cold War. that was getting even worst in its intensity. It follows the adventures of a crew that flew on board the Navy's first nuclear bomber th

• Language: English
• Publisher: LitPrime Solutions
• Release date: Mar 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887031897

Wilfred Zinavage

Raised on a farm in Baltic, Connecticut, (near New London, "the submarine capital of the world"), Wilfred Zinavage joined the U.S. Navy at eighteen. Trained as an Aviation Electronics Technician, he became an air crew member and flew on the Navy's first nuclear bomber (the P2V-7 Neptune bomber). Hand-picked along with seventeen other specialists, he later became one of the Navy's first in-flight technicians on the world record-holding P3C aircraft. At the peak of his career, he was involved in several secret projects. He still suffers nightmares from his military experiences. After his twenty-year military career, Zinavage retired back to his home with his young family. As a civilian and until he retired once again, he held many titles. He was a first aid instructor, actor, songwriter, biomedical technician, and armed nuclear security officer, Town Selectman and even a write-in candidate for Lieutenant Governor. He earned a college degree from Eastern Connecticut State University in general studies and lacked nine credits from becoming an electronic engineer. In his spare time, he became a TV show co-host on public cable access television and stays active with the Vietnam Veterans of America and the American Legion. He has authored books entitled, The Zinavage Legacy and Challenges.

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© 2023 Wilfred Zinavage. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by LitPrime Solutions 03/08/2023

ISBN: 979-8-88703-188-0(sc)

ISBN: 979-8-88703-189-7(e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023903553

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Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

To the men and women of our society who do the mundane, tedious tasks of keeping it together without reward or recognition, especially to the men and women of the US Navy Patrol Squadrons (VPs) and their families, and to my own family in the hope of better understanding of what it was really like to fly during the years of the Cold War. To Lois Bailey for her editing expertise, encouragement, and infinite patience. Without all the above support, living and writing this story would not have been possible.

Introduction

In 1958, the Russians astounded the world with the successful launch of the first satellite into space called Sputnik. The event caused the United States to take a hard look at its own space capability for accomplishing the same. Later on, the Russians again launched another satellite, this time with a live animal on board. These spectacular space achievements created the beginning of the so-called Space Race with the US initially trying to catch up.

In the meantime, the US military became extremely concerned and wondered how these developments might be used as weapons of war. The awesome capability of the Russians using intercontinental ballistic missiles and their ability to deploy them became a stark and frightening reality. Consequently, the need to gather further intelligence became of vital importance. The president reluctantly ordered an ambitious program of photo and electronic intelligence gathering. This was carried out covertly by the use of volunteer civilian pilots hired to fly the supersecret U-2 aircraft. Since the installations were located inside Russia, this meant that they must fly over them in violation of certain international treaties.

The Russians soon realized that they were being spied upon and, as expected, strongly protested before the United Nations. They blamed the United States, and the United States naturally denied it, asking for some sort of actual proof. The Russians, in turn, became angry and frustrated, unable, in spite of their achievements, to shoot down these mysterious aircrafts.

In May of 1960, seemingly by chance, they finally shot down a U-2. The pilot survived and was captured, paraded gleefully before the world, tried as a spy, and sentenced to ten years in a Soviet prison. The United States, naturally embarrassed, tried to explain its actions but to no avail. A scheduled peace conference at the United Nations was disrupted, and the United States vowed that the flights would discontinue. The Soviets were pleased with the result yet remained angry at the aggressively persistent spying. They consequently increased their military alertness to other acts of aggression.

In July of the same year, they shot down another US aircraft. This time an Air Force RB-47 reconnaissance bomber, supposedly having penetrated Soviet airspace over the Barents Sea, was lost at sea with no survivors. Premier Khrushchev warned of war. Later on, in October, at a meeting in the United Nations, he stated angrily, If you want war, keep provoking it and you will get it!

Dubbed the Cold War, the muted conflict started to heat up. The United States, with its desperate need to know, and the Russians, angry at constantly being provoked and spied upon, faced each other like angry cats. All it would take was another incident to cause the missiles to fly.

The United States, like a small child caught at the cookie jar, still stayed on the aggressive side of intelligence gathering. She now used her military more openly. The Navy was called upon to carry out the daily tedious tasks of photo and electronic intelligence gathering as near to Soviet coastal missile installations as possible. She was also ordered to keep track of Soviet submarine and shipping activity.

The time was early June of 1960. This is the story of a Naval patrol squadron on deployment and, in particular, of one patrol bomber and its crew. As they met the challenges required of them, little did they understand the full significance of their findings and even of their own decisions. The events depicted, although not in order, are real and did occur. The characters are composites of the men whom the author flew with. Perhaps herein they will come to understand the significance of what really happened or, for that matter, what could have happened if they hadn’t kept their silence.

Chapter 1

The sun was setting. Its last long rays of light blended and shifted together, fanlike, in a panorama of glorious golden to deep reddish hues. A backdrop of clouds, fading from brilliant white to a deep storm-like gray, acted like a screen reflecting the dying light. The blue-black Mediterranean Sea below poorly mirrored the imagery of the sky. Huge undulating waves driven by a stiff unseen wind shredded its reflection, carrying it off in flecks of white spray. Against this background of magnificent beauty there appeared a small dot.

As it grew in size, closer inspection revealed it to be an aircraft. Its military markings classified it as a United States Navy P2V-7 (SP2H) Neptune Patrol bomber. An odd assortment of bristling antennae, a distended dome-belly located just forward of the bomb bay doors housing a long-range search radar antenna, and a stinger-like tail created the illusion of a large weird-looking bumblebee. Its ugly man-made contours contrasted sharply with Nature’s soft and wondrous beauty.

The P2V-7 was the seventh version of the original P2V-1 model built by Lockheed. The multitude of transformations were the result of the Navy’s need to carry more and more electronic equipment needed for ship surveillance, submarine detection and tracking, the destruction of both types of craft, if necessary, and also, supposedly, to save money. (It had been cheaper to modify rather than build a new generation of aircraft.) The original P2V-1 had had its twin 50 cal. gun nose, dorsal and tail turrets removed and replaced with a nose observer, skylight, observation window for navigation, and a stinger-like tail to contain the MAD (Magnetic Anomaly Detection) equipment. To complement the two huge reciprocating engines and their propellers, two jet engine pods had been added on each wing, providing a lot of additional power to carry the extra weight. Since they required more of the 115/145 high octane gas, wingtip fuel tanks had been added along with the two bladder-type fuel cells in the bomb bay. The aircraft could now carry approximately 4,400 gallons of gasoline and carry a nuclear bomb.

The triumph of efficiency had been dramatic. The max fuel load gave the P2V-7 an increased range of approximately 4,350 miles while cruising at a speed of 188 mph. When the P2V-7 was stripped for action, it could actually achieve a speed of 380 mph, though at that speed it felt as if it would vibrate apart in the air. The additional horsepower had raised its service ceiling to 22,400 feet, optimally to 28,000 feet, and added an extra 4,000 pounds of weapons load capacity for a maximum of 12,000 pounds. The craft now carried a normal crew complement of ten men to the P2V-1’s eight—a real boost in fighting capacity.

Still the dot grew. Inside the nose, made of an ovoid bubble of clear Plexiglas, Roy Meade lay sprawled out on a metal-frame chair. On his head was a tattered blue Navy baseball cap pushed carelessly back. Its small attached metal insignia, an eagle with wings outstretched over three silver chevrons, showed he was a first class naval petty officer. He was also an aviation electronics technician (dubbed first tech) in charge of two other technicians. His features were youthful and handsome. Only the gray-speckled crew cut hair sticking out from beneath his cap and the crowfoot-like wrinkles around his eyes gave him away as near thirty. His brown eyes, now bloodshot, were half-closed. He was dreamily staring out at the sunset and thinking at random.

Our first patrol—and we even tracked a Russian sub! God, what a beautiful sunset. I sure am lucky to be here—sort of like being in a box seat at a movie show. I bet very few other people have witnessed something as gorgeous as this sunset. Maybe if they had, our world wouldn’t be in such a lousy shape with its wars, poverty, and disease. He let his mind go blank.

Nature’s performance was now accentuated with even more colorful changing hues of the autumnal brilliance of leaves, silhouetted against blue-black, shingle-like clouds. Stars, beginning to appear in the darkish part of the sky, twinkled with diamond-like brilliance, adding to the sheer majesty of her beauty.

Roy’s thoughts meandered. It was sad how there seemed to be a strange barrier of indifference between most aircrewmen. Even though they flew together, sharing the dangers and sometimes even their women, they really weren’t close in a deep way. Yet the irony was that their lives really depended on each other’s in flight, and they shared a camaraderie seldom experienced by others except perhaps those in combat. Maybe, on the other hand, they were too close to one another, smelling each other’s bad breath, farts, and sweaty body odors. Perhaps it was a show of machismo, a false front they all put up just to get along and do the best they could in such a close space together inside the aircraft. Who knows? Hell, he couldn’t even remember half the guys he’d flown with years ago. Korea was the past, and the present was all too important. Perhaps it was because the only real thing that mattered was getting the job done and enjoying life to the fullest. Life was much too short. Hell, even the Russians were pissed off at them for spying and shooting down that U-2!

Roy gave a start. He had almost gone asleep.

Now what the hell made me think of that? Oh well, he muttered. I must have been dreaming. It’s much too hard to think about stuff like that. They’ve got their own problems. Besides, it’s really beautiful up here, and I enjoy it. Fuck ’em!

He wondered who the aircrew chief had in mind as replacement for Pat, the radar operator.

I just hope it isn’t some raw boot who thinks he knows it all, fresh out of radar operator’s school. Christ! I’ll have to retrain him if he is, he muttered out loud. Yeah, I’m going to miss that tall, lanky son of a bitch. And his sick jokes as well.

He remembered the time they’d had a new officer on crew who was such a fool and poor excuse for a leader that Pat had served him up baby food in flight.

Poor bastard never did catch on as to why, thought Roy. All he’d done was politely refuse the food. Pat had then made a big show of very sloppily eating it up