We got tasked with SBDs and the long run to the farthest carrier group. As usual the guy in charge (tracerX) did a fine job of guiding us thru to the target unscathed (except of course when he doesn't but thats a different AAR). Due to the distance and inevitable ebb and flow we approached the target area with minimal 411 and had begun to disperse a bit to scout as we went. Just as we hit the spread the CV group was sighted. I had been in the far north but in re vectoring cut across the formation and ended up in trail to the south west.
The CV had already been hit by the 1st attackers on scene but all ships were up and an apparent furball was low over the task group. I came in at about 17k in one of those strange instances where your in the middle of everything but totally alone. The main group had already dropped and our "insurance" wing (Solar & bombsaway) {the guys who can actually hit something besides H20) were lagging me by 20 seconds or so. The reality is that I truly suck at bombing, I'm the guy who doesn't miss the VH....I miss the whole stinking V base
I'm in that split concentration zone where I "hear" the action but dont register anything. I know I can furball the SBD and help out but I don't know for sure if the guys behind are clear to target or how much damage has really been done. So I dirty up and roll in trying to remember the check list the guys gave me...manifold 0, air brakes out, 45 degree dive angle....line up on the nose....over I go....
and go............
and go.........
at what feels like 35 stinking miles an hour. The damm boat feels like its pulling ahead. I push the nose down and trundle even lower into the ack...realizing i'm gonna need to pitch the eggs a bit. The ack starts registering and I give it a second or two and pull the nose thru and let em go......
I know for a lot of you guys something like this is old hat and expected. For me it was truly a combination of luck and fortitude. In an odd way it sums up everything that makes FSO so special. Every once in awhile the weakest link in the chain manages to squeeze one across the goal line.
