. . . a two-ocean war for the Navy.
Samuel Eliot Morison
The F6F was built with the specific purpose of meeting the challenge of the Pacific war. Its range, endurance, and performance were intended to defeat the Japanese in an arena which covered nearly one quarter of the earth’s surface.
Though the distances and logistics of the Pacific war dwarfed those of the Atlantic war, the European theater also saw Hellcats engaged in combat against the Axis. The requirements for fighting Germany, however, were often quite different from those of fighting Japan. Hellcats operating in the North Sea and the Mediterranean never had to establish aerial supremacy or defend a task force from air attack, and F6Fs supported only one major amphibious operation in European waters. The irony of the situation is that F6Fs might never have flown in Europe had it not been for the prewar short-sightedness of the British military aviation establishment.
Between the wars, the Royal Navy’s Fleet Air Arm was largely dependent upon the Royal Air Force for aircraft and flight crews. Many British carrier planes were merely RAF types modified for naval use. Because of administrative and financial restrictions, the Fleet Air Arm failed to gain anything like the semiautonomy which American and Japanese carrier airmen enjoyed. As a result, observed one British pilot, “Between the first day of war and the last, the Fleet Air Arm received not one single British aircraft which wasn’t either inherently unsuited for carrier work or was obsolete before it came into service.”1
Nowhere was this more obvious than in fighters. The FAA concept of the carrier fighter’s mission was one of implied rather than actual threat to enemy aircraft. If an interception resulted in destruction of a hostile plane, well and good. But the mere presence of a carrier-based fighter was deemed sufficient to ward off snoopers or occasional bombers, for carriers were not supposed to operate within range of land-based strike aircraft.
Operational experience had shown the weakness of such a philosophy. Carriers not only could operate under land-based air; they were frequently required to do so. Therefore, the FAA ideal of a two-seat fighter—pilot and navigator-radioman—underwent radical revision. Two-seaters such as the Blackburn Roc and Skua or Fairey Fulmar were simply not competitive against enemy fighters. Modified RAF types such as the biplane Sea Gladiator and more modern Sea Hurricane and Seafire filled the gap for a time, but they were inherently ill-suited for the strains of carrier operations. The Seafire in particular, though possessed of excellent low-level performance, was too delicate for rough deck landings.
Thus did the Royal Navy turn to Uncle Sam—and Leroy Grumman.
The F4F Wildcat, originally called Martlet by the Fleet Air Arm, was the first U.S. carrier aircraft used by the Royal Navy. Its rugged structure and reliable nature endeared it to the British, who by 1945 had purchased nearly 1,100 F4Fs and FM Wildcats.
A map of the European-Mediterranean-North African area superimposed on a map of the Pacific Ocean. With Moscow resting on Hawaii, note that the entire landmass is swallowed in mid-Pacific.
When more modern fighters became available, naturally the British were interested. During the summer of 1943 the Fleet Air Arm received its first F4Us and F6Fs. In all, some 2,000 Corsairs served in the Royal Navy, more than any other U.S. aircraft type. The first British F4U squadron was formed at Quonset Point, Rhode Island, in early June.
The Hellcat entered British service a month later when Number 800 Squadron, Fleet Air Arm, exchanged its Hawker Sea Hurricanes for F6Fs. Under the British designation system of the time, the F6F-3s were named Gannet Is, after the large white sea birds which nest among the rocks of northern waters. But in January 1944 all U.S. aircraft in the Royal Navy adopted the American names. Gannets reverted to Hellcats, Martlets became Wildcats, and TBM Tarpons became Avengers. The Corsair had always been known by its original name, so no change was necessary.
Number 800 Squadron’s F6F-3s were the first of 252 received by the FAA, but 930 -5s were later obtained as Hellcat IIs. The Gannet’s first combat occurred in December 1943, when 800 Squadron flew from the escort carrier HMS Emperor in antishipping strikes off the Norwegian coast. It was the first in a long line of missions against Norwegian targets—a series of strikes which would form the bulk of British F6F operations in European waters.
Unlike the Seafire or Sea Hurricane, the Hellcat had considerable potential as a long-range strike fighter. And owing to minimal Luftwaffe opposition over Scandinavia, that is largely how the British Hellcats were employed: flak suppression and bombing.
The 42,000-ton battleship Tirpitz was a constant source of concern to the British Navy. Holed up in the Kaafjord of Norway’s rugged coast, the ill-fated Bismarck’s sister represented a considerable danger to Allied shipping even as she swung around her anchor. By simply existing, she posed a threat which could not be ignored.
That is why in April of 1944, four British carriers were dispatched to the North Sea in hopes of destroying her. Again 800 Squadron’s Hellcats were involved, as the Emperor was one of two escort carriers assigned to the mission, while Fairey Barracuda dive bombers—the ungainly, unlikely-looking strike aircraft—were poised aboard the HMS Victorious and Furious for the main blow.
The British Fleet Air Arm originally called the F6F the Gannet, but adopted the name Hellcat in January 1944.
Two strikes were planned, approximately equal in composition, with 21 Barracudas escorted by 20 Hellcats and 20 Wildcats. The first strike launched at 0415 on 3 April, 120 miles west of Kaafjord. The British pilots flew as low as 50 feet most of the way to the target, successfully evading radar detection as they approached the rugged coastline. There were snowcaps on many of the peaks dimly visible in the early northern light—surely a new sight for Hellcat pilots.
Tirpitz was sighted resting at anchor at 0527, an hour and a quarter after launch. And though the carrier planes were seen from the ground at the same time, it was much too late for the defenders. The Germans started their smoke generators in a vain effort to obscure the battleship, and AA guns began a heavy though inaccurate fire. Only 90 seconds after sighting the target, the Hellcats and Wildcats dropped into steep dives, firing their .50 calibers as they pressed their strafing runs to minimum range. They were more successful than anyone had hoped. In the one minute required for the Barracudas to attack, only one fell to some of the most concentrated flak in Scandinavia. Tirpitz was rocked by nine direct hits and five near-misses.
The second wave, which went in at 0640, did nearly as well. Five more direct hits were obtained by the awkward Barracudas as the Grumman fighters kept the AA gunners’ heads down. One Barracuda and a Hellcat were lost over the target, but Tirpitz would be out of commission for the next four months.
Seven more Tirpitz attacks were attempted in August, but achieved considerably less success due to wretched weather. Two were canceled outright and two more were aborted en route. The next-to-last, on 24 August, was covered in part by the Hellcat Is of No. 1840 Squadron from the Furious, and light damage was inflicted.
Two antishipping sweeps during May of 1944 brought the only aerial victories won by British Hellcats in Europe. Again, No. 800 Squadron was involved, still flying off the Emperor, in company with the Furious and Searcher. An 800 Squadron formation was escorting a Barracuda strike when it was bounced by a mixed formation of Luftwaffe fighters—Messerschmitt 109s and Focke-Wulf 190s.
They were formidable adversaries. Both were faster than the Hellcat—the 109 by 30 mph—and both could stay with an F6F through most of a long dive. The Grumman’s great advantage was a tighter turning radius, and the Emperor’s pilots used it as best they could. Though one Hellcat went down immediately, and another shortly after, three German fighters were destroyed. The lone FW-190 claimed fell to Lieutenant B. Ritchie, an experienced fighter pilot who already had 3½ victories to his credit flying Sea Hurricanes.
Six days later, 14 May, the Emperor Hellcats found German aircraft again but had a much easier time. Ritchie pounced upon a twin-engine Heinkel 115 floatplane and shot it down. Then he joined Lieutenant Commander S. G. Orr, commanding the sister 804 Squadron on the Emperor, and helped send another HE-115 into the cold North Sea.
The Hellcat’s next and last European appearance would occur 1,500 miles to the south, in the warm waters of the Mediterranean.
Seven British escort carriers were assigned to support the invasion of southern France in August 1944. One was the well-traveled Emperor, with Lieutenant Commander G. R. Henderson’s veteran 800 Squadron embarked with two dozen Hellcat Is. Two carriers flew Wildcats while the other four operated Seafires.
Deployed in two task groups, the British carriers were reinforced by a pair of American CVEs. These were the Tulagi and Kasaan Bay, each with a 24-plane squadron of F6F-5s. The Tulagi embarked the unique Observation-Fighter Squadron One of Lieutenant Commander William F. Bringle, a 30-year-old from Tennessee. Originally equipped with F4U-ls on commissioning in December of 1943, VOF-1 acquired Hellcats in March and was carrier qualified in April.
Bringle’s pilots were to direct the shipboard gunfire of the invasion fleet, and had received an intensive week’s training from the U.S. Army Artillery School at Fort Sill, Oklahoma. There the carrier pilots learned spotting technique, use of maps and grids, and photo interpretation. The logic behind this seeming contradiction was that it was easier to teach a fighter pilot how to direct naval gunfire than to indoctrinate a spotter pilot in fighter aircraft and tactics.
The Kasaan Bay operated VF-74 under Lieutenant Commander Harry B. Bass. It was intended to work as a conventional fighter squadron, but in this combat these pilots would almost exclusively fly strike-recon missions, a function for which they were poorly equipped. They were not trained for tactical reconnaissance or artillery spotting, and had fired only three or four rockets apiece before embarking at the end of June. Nevertheless, they would run up bombing and rocket scores of nearly 35 percent in combat.
In all, the nine Allied CVEs had 220 fighters: 97 Seafires, 71 Hellcats, and 52 Wildcats. The F6Fs, with longer range and provisions for rockets, would prove the most valuable carrier planes available. They could fly to Toulouse in the west, to Mâcon 200 miles up the Rhone River, and over to Cannes and Nice near the Italian border. Additionally, a seven-plane night-fighter detachment of VF-74 would be ashore at Ajaccio, on Corsica’s west coast. These F6F-3Ns were intended to provide protection over ships retiring from the beachhead at night.
D-Day for Operation Anvil-Dragoon was 15 August. It was a misty morning and it began with a strike by both U.S. Navy squadrons against four coastal defense guns at Isle de Perquelles. Low-lying clouds prevented any definite observation of the results. Nevertheless, the Hellcats kept up the pace with armed recons throughout the landing area, employing bombs, rockets, and even impact-fused 350-pound depth bombs.
One problem which became immediately obvious was the intrinsic difference between soldier and airman. Supporting the U.S. Twelfth Army, the observation pilots received numerous requests for “pinpoint attacks against enemy strongpoints.”2 Frequently no more details were provided, an exasperatingly indefinite description even with grid references. From the air, it was nearly impossible to discern exactly which obstruction was the most troublesome to advancing infantry. Description by a flier was needed to pick out the target to be attacked.
Other missions, such as a “rail out” between Arles and Mirenas, proved easier to accomplish. Communications cuts were a major factor in supporting the invasion, as the Germans rushed all available troops and vehicles to the area. Hellcat pilots found many roads leading to the invasion beaches clogged with advancing Germans. To Lieutenant Fred Schauffler, one two-lane road looked “like five o’clock traffic back in Boston.”3
In all, the Tulagi and Kasaan Bay fighters recorded 100 sorties on D-Day, with VF-74 contributing 60. The only casualty of note was a Fighting 74 aircraft which was shot up by light AA in the afternoon and could not extend its tail hook. It was diverted to St. Catherine Field on Corsica for repairs.
Two Kasaan Bay planes and pilots were lost on the 17th seeking targets of opportunity in the valley country far inland. Flying in low visibility that afternoon with electric storms in the vicinity, a division leader and his wingman got separated from the other six Hellcats and never turned up.
So far the Luftwaffe had failed to put in an appearance. But the first indication that the swastika-marked aircraft were about came on the morning of the 19th. Eight VOF-1 Hellcats spotted three Heinkel Ills northwest of Tarascon, but owing to low fuel could not attack. As it was, two F6Fs landed aboard the HMS Emperor with near-dry tanks.
Late that evening another two Tulagi divisions had better luck. On a tactical recon of the Rhone River, the VOF-1 exec ran across two more Heinkels. Lieutenant Commander John H. Sandor’s division jumped the pair of low-flying bombers heading south near Vienne. The Heinkels split up and Lieutenant Rene E. Poucel with Ensign Alfred R. Wood flamed one from astern. It crashed in the same region Poucel’s parents had been born.
Ensign Alfred R. Wood and Lieutenant (jg) Edward W. Olszewski with the VOF-1 Hellcat in which they shot down four German aircraft over southern France. On 20 August 1944 Wood destroyed two HE-llls near Lyon. The next day Olszewski shot down a pair of JU-52s in the same F6F-5. Photo: Olszewski via R. S. Fletcher
Sandor and Ensign David Robinson closed in on the second Heinkel at 700 feet and hit it at full deflection from starboard. The stricken bomber crash-landed in a field, where the two Hellcats came down low to burn it. The surviving crew members were killed when they ran into Sandor and Robinson’s line of fire.
Continuing the reconnaissance, Ensign Wood spotted a third HE-111, still south of Vienne. He peeled off from 2,000 feet and closed in behind, setting both engines afire. The Heinkel exploded and crashed in some woods. Besides three German aircraft, Sandor’s two divisions also destroyed 21 trucks camouflaged with leaves and branches, wrecked a locomotive, and left ten freight cars burning.
Fighting 74 also scored on the 19th. The skipper, Lieutenant Commander Bass, led his division down on a Junkers 88 at 0805 near the Rhone River. It was more an execution than a fight. The Junkers attempted only the slightest evasive maneuvers and all four pilots shared in the victory. Nearly eight hours later, south of Lyons, six of eight Kasaan Bay Hellcats went after a lone Dornier 217. Most of the pilots fired too soon but Lieutenant (jg) E. W. Castanedo and Ensign C. W. Hullard waited until the range was correct and split the kill.
Next day, D-Plus Five, was the worst of the campaign for the American Hellcats. Fighting 74 lost three aircraft and two pilots, including Harry Bass. The CO’s F6F was hit by flak while strafing near Chamelet and went out of control.
Two VOF-1 planes were also shot down. Lieutenant David S. Crockett was spotting gunfire over Toulon Harbor when he was forced to bail out. He parachuted safely just north of the city to become one of the shortest-term POWs of the war. Held in a fort, he was released four days later when the garrison surrendered to Allied troops, and he was back aboard the Tulagi on the 26th. The other VOF-1 pilot, Lieutenant James Alston, was hit while strafing a column of motor and horse-drawn vehicles near Villefranche. He pulled up to 5,000 feet and jumped just as one wing broke off. A radio report monitored in the task force indicated Alston was safe, but an estimated 75 vehicles were destroyed or damaged.
Allied Hellcats. An F6F-5 of VOF-1 from the USS Tulagi departs the HMS Emperor during the invasion of southern France. Photo: C. F. Shores
The 21st saw more air combat and more losses. Lieutenant (jg) Edward W. Olsewski and Ensign Richard V. Yentzer found three Junkers 52 transports over the Rhone River. The tri-motored Junkers were apparently evacuating German VIPs from Marseille, and though both Hellcats were damaged from earlier combat, the Tulagi pilots gave chase. Olsewski attacked from starboard on the V-formation and dropped the number three man in two passes. With only one gun firing he then took out the other wingman. Yentzer got the lead Junkers by making three runs from 9 o’clock and sent it down burning.
As if to offset this success, the only Hellcat loss on D-Plus Six was also from VOF-1. Lieutenant (jg) J. H. Coyne’s plane seemed to disintegrate in a dive on a truck convoy near St. Anastasie. His parachute opened just before he hit the ground. It was the ninth U.S. Hellcat lost in the operation.
That evening the U.S. CVEs withdrew for two days to resupply and returned on the 24th. In their absence, the Emperor lost three Hellcats on the 22nd, probably all shot down by flak.
The last six days of Anvil-Dragoon were notably safer than the first seven. Only two F6Fs were lost from the 24th to 29th, both Tulagi planes which made water landings. One was flown by Lieutenant Commander Bringle, who caught a load of flak over Marseilles and couldn’t stretch his fuel back to base. Both splashed pilots were rescued and safely returned.
Operating for 13 days, the Tulagi and Kasaan Bay lost 11 Hellcats, nearly one-quarter of their number. In exchange, they were credited with destroying 825 trucks and vehicles, damaging 334 more, and wrecking or immobilizing 84 locomotives. They also shot down eight Luftwaffe aircraft, and the number of rail and other communications cuts numbered in the scores.
Rear Admiral T. H. Troubridge, RN, commanding the escort force, had high praise for the fighters’ strike capabilities. But he singled out the F6Fs in his action report, saying in part, “The U.S. aircraft, especially the Hellcats, proved their superiority.”4
Hellcat Squadrons in Combat: Europe, December 1943 to August 1944
Hellcat’s Day
Battle history accounts permit but limited reference to the essential between-engagements routine upon which combat itself depends. For the Hellcat, and indeed, for all its counterpart carrier aircraft, that routine was inherent to shipboard flight operations. All carrier-based F6s—wherever their ship, whichever their squadron, or whatever their side-number—shared the same turbulent environment of sound and motion.
The following sequence of photographs offers a composite view, not of a single Hellcat, but of any Hellcat, on any carrier, on any ocean during W.W. II. The unusual series of photographs, of many different F6s, on many ships, over a time span of several years, depicts a truly homogeneous Hellcat.
As such, the scenes perhaps may recall other Hellcats for those who built them, for those who serviced them, for those who were pridefully fortunate to have flown them, and for those who have since come to know the legend of this remarkable airplane.
The day begins with “Pilots man your planes!” And pilots scramble to the flight deck where . . .
. . . plane captains and flight deck crewmen have already manned stations for preflight preparations.
The bullhorn bellows its admonition to “Check all chocks and tiedowns; check all loose gear about the deck; stand by to start aircraft; stand clear of propellers; start aircraft.” The carrier turns into the wind, and the first plane moves out of the pack to spread its wings and move to Fly One, where . . .
. . . the Flight Deck Officer will signal his two-finger turn-up to the pilot . . .
. . . and launch him . . .
. . . down the deck and off the bow for a clearing turn, join-up, and climb-out into the not-always-blue, where for the next two or three hours or more, the Hellcat occupies itself with such routine matters as . . .
. . . Combat Air Patrol and fighter cover (and getting shot at) . . .
. . . strafing enemy air fields (and getting shot at) . . .
. . . bombing ships and shore installations (and getting shot at) until . . .
. . . the return to the carrier, for the welcome: “Your signal, Charlie,” and . . .
. . . for the carrier pilot, the most demandingly satisfying part of his routine as, “Gear down, hook down, flaps down,” he follows the LSO’s signals . . .
. . . to the “cut” and . . .
. . . hopefully, to engage the Number 3 wire . . .
. . . be disengaged by the incredibly fearless hookmen . . .
. . . and taxi forward to join the pack and secure.
But even as the pilots jubilantly recount their exploits . . .
. . . the Hellcat’s day isn’t over, for on the flight deck there’s respot, refuel, and rearm, and . . .
. . . on the hanger deck the work also goes on . . .
. . . until preparations are completed for tomorrow . . .
. . . or sooner. And the Hellcat’s day ends as it began: Ready for launch.
