Joe Z Guadalcanal WW2 to Boeing 737 pilot
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Joe Z Guadalcanal WW2 to Boeing 737 pilot
Going through old files in my shed, I discovered this letter from my former Boeing 737 flight instructor written in 1992. I felt it was of such of rare aviation historical value that I would like to share with Pprune readers.
Centaurus
From Captain Joe Ziskovsky in 1992. Ex US Navy, FAA, Boeing, and Air Nauru 737 pilot
."Dear John- Firstly I want to thank you for all the issues of Nauru Island News, and your articles. I enjoyed reading them, and now I know why you were such a hard nose questioneer as a pilot - I didn't know that you were a flying sergeant. I also was a flying chief petty officer in the US Navy - was an aviation Ordnanceman before I went to Flight school. I applied to go to Flight school when I was stationed at Dahlgren Naval ordnance test station in Virginia where we overhauled the old mark 12 Norden bombsights. We had to prove them by bombing with the repaired sight. At the time we had two old World War 1, torpedo bombers there, which had three open cockpits with the machine guns, and a deep belly for the bombardier where we crawled up to the bomb sight fitted in the nose.While they used to advertise you could hit a pickle barrel with them, they were not that good by any shake of a stick. However we could lay a pretty good string of bombs on an old ship that was sunk in Chesapeak Bay near the base.
Of course we couldn't get much over 5000 feet, and speed if I remember was something in the vicinity of 65-70 knots, except in a glide when I think it would shake, rattle, and the wing wires would sing a song - like slow down - slow down. Anyway, the pilots would let me handle the controls as there was a set in each cockpit. That's how I got the flying bug! Needless to say, I applied every time the Navy put out a quota for flight training for enlisted pilots. At that time there was still a law in the US that required 20% of the pilot intake in all the services had to be enlisted pilot trainees. It made no difference be you a seaman or private, as long as you could pass the physical and had the so called general knowledge test scores high enough to meet the requirements.
I was at Dahlgren for almost two years and when the war started I got sent to an outfit that was going to be the biggest naval aviation overhaul and repair unit in the Pacific. The Navy sent us down to Esperito Santo island in the South Pacific in about March 1942, and we used to get shelled regularly by the Japs. The Navy base was situated on the south side of the island if I recall correctly, as we had what was called "Fighter One" airstrip not too far from our camp. Just down to the west was Manakula bay where the Navy had a submarine base and ship repair unit.Luckily I had some friends in the supply department who shipped out our bombsight repair gear and spares for an overhaul unit, and in those days we used 190 proof alcohol to clean the lenses and cork clutches in the bombsight.
Our standard quota of that liquid was taken over for safe keeping by our 90 day wonder ensign, which pissed me off because the consignment was in my name. On the next supply ship which came in, was a crate marked Top Secret, also in my name. Fortunately I was alone in the repair shop when I received the message about the crate, so I got my top technician and borrowed a truck to deliver some machine gun barrels to the submarine base. Lo and behold, my top secret box was 55 gallons of USP-190 proof- sent by my buddy in supply, back in the States. Needless to say we tore up all the paperwork and buried it under a banyun tree
.About three weeks after that, the aircraft carrier Lexington was sunk, and at the same time, the First Division marines took Henderson airstrip at Guadacanal in the Solomons. In a typical military fashion the Executive Officer came over to the ordnance shop and said "You, you and you, etc." There was eight of us to go and support the twelve fighters that made it to Henderson field. We were told to take rations for a week, and that we would be back in Santo. Ha!- famous last words. They put us on a destroyer and when we got to Guadacanal, the captain made a quick run in to the beach, and did a 180 degree turn throwing us off the stern of the ship about fifty yards offshore with a life raft.Well, we were on Guadacanal for six weeks and not to say scared ****less at nights when the Japs came to shell us.
We finally got picked up, like I said six weeks after we got there. The day I got back to Esperito Santo, I was met by a yeoman who handed me my orders to Flight School. I was never a happier man. I gave my alcohol to my No 1 technician, and caught a flight back to Honolulu. From there I was shipped back to the States. I made up my mind that it would take the devil and Jesus to bust me out of flight school. It was quite a sweat with all the navigation, aerology etc. and it seemed that during flight training everybody was just looking for an excuse to bust you out. However I made it OK and ended up flying PBY Catalina's. I thought that was great until I got to a squadron and all I did was to navigate, although after a while I was allowed to sit and not touch in the co-pilots seat.
Even when I got qualified left seat, I was always listed as co-pilot with the officer getting all the briefings. It was only after we got airborne did I find out where we were going etc. It was really silly as hell, because when I was working on bomb sights, I had the highest top secret security clearance. Even though I had the clearance in my records, the commanding officer would never let me attend any of the briefings because I was a non- commissioned Petty Officer.After the war I was assigned to a Naval air transport squadron at Patuxant River for a short time, and then to what is now Cape Canaveral. It used to be Banana River Naval air station, which was an assembly base for all the war surplus aircraft in the south east USA, for the Navy. When I arrived, nearly all the people originally stationed there were getting discharged on points for length of service etc.
After being there for only two weeks (there were no tower operators and only one lieutenant and five enlisted pilots), we asked if we could check out in any or all of the planes that were there, and were being brought there. The lieutenant didn't give a damn as he was also awaiting discharge, and so all of us enlisted men would get a handbook and sit in the cockpit for a while, figure out how to start the plane, get the emergency procedures put on a clipboard with the power settings and speeds, and when we got enough guts, would go out and take off.There were a few hairy moments, especially on landings, as the runway was only 4000 feet long, and on the first flight we wanted to carry a bit more speed on the approach. The worst scare I think I had, was when I decided to check out in what the Navy called the JM-1, which was the Navy version of the Martin Marauder.
The Navy used it for towing targets for gunnery practice. Its biggest problem was that all the handbooks were for the Air Force versions, and most of the switches and other stuff like fuel tank valves etc were in a different place. Anyway, the day I got the guts to go, and not knowing that the Marauder had piss poor expander brakes, I took off solo. The damned aeroplane literally ran away with me. It was not a joke. After levelling out at 10,000 feet, I did a couple of approach to stalls, plus some feathering, steep turns, and finally returned for landing. I spent a long time trying to get the beast on the ground. I had read in the flight manual not to get too slow in the final turn with or without flaps, and not to let the engines load up at idle power.I am sure I made five or six approaches before I got it on the ground the first time, although it was way down the runway. I decided to make it a touch and go as I was too far down to pull up. After a few more attempts to land I finally got it on the ground pretty fast, and with a bit of luck I managed to run out of runway and out of brakes at the same time! I nursed it back to the ramp and parked it.
There was only one mechanic left on the base, so the next guy took one of the other three remaining Marauders that were parked on the field. Meanwhile I managed to get checked out (sort of), in all twelve different types of aircraft on the base, plus the Martin Mariner PBM seaplane. While you sat up a hell of a lot higher than the Catalina's, it didn't fly or land much differently.I then got transferred from there to San Diego to a ferry squadron moving airplanes all over the USA to maintenance and overhaul shops, and getting last planes off the assembly lines at the end of the war that had been sitting for a long time. My favourite was the Grumman Tigercat. It was a really easy plane to fly and land, but had a lousy hydraulic system and brakes. It had an emergency air bottle to stop the plane if you lost the hydraulic system. The only problem was that even though you could hand pump the gear and flaps down, when you pulled the air bottle to stop, you could only watch as the wheels locked, the tyres would burst and you just hung on. Other than that it was a real goer, with two Pratt and Whitney R2800 engines and only weighing about 7000lbs in ferry configuration. You could move it out to 400 knots for a thrill, but it would really chew the gas.
In 1947, I got a three year tour at the Naval ordnance test station. I was involved in a lot of rocket ballistic tests known as toss bombing. I made plane commander on the R4D/R5D (navy versions of DC3/DC4). In 1951 I went to Kodiak as personal pilot to Admiral Perry. He figured an airplane was a taxi cab. Day or night he would want to go, and to hell with the weather. He would sit in the radio man's seat during all the approaches and never say a word.I remember one night we had to get into Anchorage, Alaska, and they had ice fog. The Air Force radar ground controlled approach at that time were giving one degree corrections which is damn near impossible to do. Anyway we missed on the first approach due bad visibility, and ATC wanted us to divert back to Kodiak. So I said no, as we had the Commander Alaskan Sea Command on board and he wanted to go to Anchorage! I will admit that there wasn't really much visibility on the roll out, only three runway lights spaced only 100 feet apart at most Alaskan bases. When we got to the ramp, the duty operations officer stormed on board and said - "Where is the pilot - I'm going to court martial him." Before anybody could speak, old Admiral Perry in his gruff voice said - "I am, and you can take me to the meeting with General Mark Clark." The Admiral was an excellent boss to work for.
After that tour of duty, I got a stint as pilot for the Naval Attache in Bagdad. That left a hell of a lot to be desired, although I did get to fly around the Middle East. I then returned to the States to go to helicopter school, and to a utility squadron in San Diego on various and sundry duties. I flew off aircraft carriers for a while as an "Angel". We were always in the air either off the starboard bow or stern of the carrier for launches and or recoveries just in case someone went into the water.Later I was posted to the Artic "Dew Line" (Distant Early Warning), operating off ice breakers with the little bubble Bell helicopter. It had floats so that it could land on water or ice. It was tricky coming back aboard the ship as you had to be in a non moving hover when setting down. With big floats, any movement relative to the landing surface on touch down, could cause a roll over.After that tour and with 15 years in the Navy, I was forced to accept a commission, or quit flying and revert to a chief ordnanceman. So I ended up after 15 years as an Ensign. I had a tour in an administrative post on the Flag staff, then a final tour at the Naval gunnery range at Fallon, Nevada, just outside Reno. I was more or less a utility pilot in Base Operations, flying helicopters and the Navy versions of the DC3 and DC4. At the gunnery range, they trained the fleet pilots in what we called- "Goofy loops". They had to come into the target at low level and using toss bomb computers, the pilots would release on the pull-up and execute an Immelman turn. I once had to pick up the remains of two guys who never rolled out and pulled right through into the desert floor. It was very easy to get disoriented at night!
At the end of that tour I retired after 20 years and was unemployed for six months before getting a job as an air carrier inspector. That negative job lasted six years before I was hired by Boeing in 1965 when they started their big air safety training programme for customer crews. This training was primarily to cut down on the number of airplane losses that were occurring on the airlines customer delivery pilots - especially to the Third world countries that were affluent enough to buy a modern airplane.I advanced to chief Boeing 737 instructor, and managed to survive the big recession and the Boeing Company almost going broke in 1970-74. By that time most of the training was being done in full vision, all axis simulators, and really no flying to speak of.
Then in 1976 I took Air Nauru up on their offer to come fly with them on Nauru. I will have to say that after the flying experiences with the training of Boeing customer crews, that the living on Nauru island and flying for Air Nauru was a wonderful experience and I really enjoyed it. As you know, I retired at age 60 a few years later and my wife and I decided to live in Africa. I couldn't get the flying bug out of my system, and the local general aviation operator talked me into re-qualifying on the "fart carts". I found that quite a chore as I had to revert back to the old fashioned instruments, although I had few qualms about operating single engine over the trackless wastes around here.
Postscript
Joe Z died a sudden heart attack died age 65
Centaurus
From Captain Joe Ziskovsky in 1992. Ex US Navy, FAA, Boeing, and Air Nauru 737 pilot
."Dear John- Firstly I want to thank you for all the issues of Nauru Island News, and your articles. I enjoyed reading them, and now I know why you were such a hard nose questioneer as a pilot - I didn't know that you were a flying sergeant. I also was a flying chief petty officer in the US Navy - was an aviation Ordnanceman before I went to Flight school. I applied to go to Flight school when I was stationed at Dahlgren Naval ordnance test station in Virginia where we overhauled the old mark 12 Norden bombsights. We had to prove them by bombing with the repaired sight. At the time we had two old World War 1, torpedo bombers there, which had three open cockpits with the machine guns, and a deep belly for the bombardier where we crawled up to the bomb sight fitted in the nose.While they used to advertise you could hit a pickle barrel with them, they were not that good by any shake of a stick. However we could lay a pretty good string of bombs on an old ship that was sunk in Chesapeak Bay near the base.
Of course we couldn't get much over 5000 feet, and speed if I remember was something in the vicinity of 65-70 knots, except in a glide when I think it would shake, rattle, and the wing wires would sing a song - like slow down - slow down. Anyway, the pilots would let me handle the controls as there was a set in each cockpit. That's how I got the flying bug! Needless to say, I applied every time the Navy put out a quota for flight training for enlisted pilots. At that time there was still a law in the US that required 20% of the pilot intake in all the services had to be enlisted pilot trainees. It made no difference be you a seaman or private, as long as you could pass the physical and had the so called general knowledge test scores high enough to meet the requirements.
I was at Dahlgren for almost two years and when the war started I got sent to an outfit that was going to be the biggest naval aviation overhaul and repair unit in the Pacific. The Navy sent us down to Esperito Santo island in the South Pacific in about March 1942, and we used to get shelled regularly by the Japs. The Navy base was situated on the south side of the island if I recall correctly, as we had what was called "Fighter One" airstrip not too far from our camp. Just down to the west was Manakula bay where the Navy had a submarine base and ship repair unit.Luckily I had some friends in the supply department who shipped out our bombsight repair gear and spares for an overhaul unit, and in those days we used 190 proof alcohol to clean the lenses and cork clutches in the bombsight.
Our standard quota of that liquid was taken over for safe keeping by our 90 day wonder ensign, which pissed me off because the consignment was in my name. On the next supply ship which came in, was a crate marked Top Secret, also in my name. Fortunately I was alone in the repair shop when I received the message about the crate, so I got my top technician and borrowed a truck to deliver some machine gun barrels to the submarine base. Lo and behold, my top secret box was 55 gallons of USP-190 proof- sent by my buddy in supply, back in the States. Needless to say we tore up all the paperwork and buried it under a banyun tree
.About three weeks after that, the aircraft carrier Lexington was sunk, and at the same time, the First Division marines took Henderson airstrip at Guadacanal in the Solomons. In a typical military fashion the Executive Officer came over to the ordnance shop and said "You, you and you, etc." There was eight of us to go and support the twelve fighters that made it to Henderson field. We were told to take rations for a week, and that we would be back in Santo. Ha!- famous last words. They put us on a destroyer and when we got to Guadacanal, the captain made a quick run in to the beach, and did a 180 degree turn throwing us off the stern of the ship about fifty yards offshore with a life raft.Well, we were on Guadacanal for six weeks and not to say scared ****less at nights when the Japs came to shell us.
We finally got picked up, like I said six weeks after we got there. The day I got back to Esperito Santo, I was met by a yeoman who handed me my orders to Flight School. I was never a happier man. I gave my alcohol to my No 1 technician, and caught a flight back to Honolulu. From there I was shipped back to the States. I made up my mind that it would take the devil and Jesus to bust me out of flight school. It was quite a sweat with all the navigation, aerology etc. and it seemed that during flight training everybody was just looking for an excuse to bust you out. However I made it OK and ended up flying PBY Catalina's. I thought that was great until I got to a squadron and all I did was to navigate, although after a while I was allowed to sit and not touch in the co-pilots seat.
Even when I got qualified left seat, I was always listed as co-pilot with the officer getting all the briefings. It was only after we got airborne did I find out where we were going etc. It was really silly as hell, because when I was working on bomb sights, I had the highest top secret security clearance. Even though I had the clearance in my records, the commanding officer would never let me attend any of the briefings because I was a non- commissioned Petty Officer.After the war I was assigned to a Naval air transport squadron at Patuxant River for a short time, and then to what is now Cape Canaveral. It used to be Banana River Naval air station, which was an assembly base for all the war surplus aircraft in the south east USA, for the Navy. When I arrived, nearly all the people originally stationed there were getting discharged on points for length of service etc.
After being there for only two weeks (there were no tower operators and only one lieutenant and five enlisted pilots), we asked if we could check out in any or all of the planes that were there, and were being brought there. The lieutenant didn't give a damn as he was also awaiting discharge, and so all of us enlisted men would get a handbook and sit in the cockpit for a while, figure out how to start the plane, get the emergency procedures put on a clipboard with the power settings and speeds, and when we got enough guts, would go out and take off.There were a few hairy moments, especially on landings, as the runway was only 4000 feet long, and on the first flight we wanted to carry a bit more speed on the approach. The worst scare I think I had, was when I decided to check out in what the Navy called the JM-1, which was the Navy version of the Martin Marauder.
The Navy used it for towing targets for gunnery practice. Its biggest problem was that all the handbooks were for the Air Force versions, and most of the switches and other stuff like fuel tank valves etc were in a different place. Anyway, the day I got the guts to go, and not knowing that the Marauder had piss poor expander brakes, I took off solo. The damned aeroplane literally ran away with me. It was not a joke. After levelling out at 10,000 feet, I did a couple of approach to stalls, plus some feathering, steep turns, and finally returned for landing. I spent a long time trying to get the beast on the ground. I had read in the flight manual not to get too slow in the final turn with or without flaps, and not to let the engines load up at idle power.I am sure I made five or six approaches before I got it on the ground the first time, although it was way down the runway. I decided to make it a touch and go as I was too far down to pull up. After a few more attempts to land I finally got it on the ground pretty fast, and with a bit of luck I managed to run out of runway and out of brakes at the same time! I nursed it back to the ramp and parked it.
There was only one mechanic left on the base, so the next guy took one of the other three remaining Marauders that were parked on the field. Meanwhile I managed to get checked out (sort of), in all twelve different types of aircraft on the base, plus the Martin Mariner PBM seaplane. While you sat up a hell of a lot higher than the Catalina's, it didn't fly or land much differently.I then got transferred from there to San Diego to a ferry squadron moving airplanes all over the USA to maintenance and overhaul shops, and getting last planes off the assembly lines at the end of the war that had been sitting for a long time. My favourite was the Grumman Tigercat. It was a really easy plane to fly and land, but had a lousy hydraulic system and brakes. It had an emergency air bottle to stop the plane if you lost the hydraulic system. The only problem was that even though you could hand pump the gear and flaps down, when you pulled the air bottle to stop, you could only watch as the wheels locked, the tyres would burst and you just hung on. Other than that it was a real goer, with two Pratt and Whitney R2800 engines and only weighing about 7000lbs in ferry configuration. You could move it out to 400 knots for a thrill, but it would really chew the gas.
In 1947, I got a three year tour at the Naval ordnance test station. I was involved in a lot of rocket ballistic tests known as toss bombing. I made plane commander on the R4D/R5D (navy versions of DC3/DC4). In 1951 I went to Kodiak as personal pilot to Admiral Perry. He figured an airplane was a taxi cab. Day or night he would want to go, and to hell with the weather. He would sit in the radio man's seat during all the approaches and never say a word.I remember one night we had to get into Anchorage, Alaska, and they had ice fog. The Air Force radar ground controlled approach at that time were giving one degree corrections which is damn near impossible to do. Anyway we missed on the first approach due bad visibility, and ATC wanted us to divert back to Kodiak. So I said no, as we had the Commander Alaskan Sea Command on board and he wanted to go to Anchorage! I will admit that there wasn't really much visibility on the roll out, only three runway lights spaced only 100 feet apart at most Alaskan bases. When we got to the ramp, the duty operations officer stormed on board and said - "Where is the pilot - I'm going to court martial him." Before anybody could speak, old Admiral Perry in his gruff voice said - "I am, and you can take me to the meeting with General Mark Clark." The Admiral was an excellent boss to work for.
After that tour of duty, I got a stint as pilot for the Naval Attache in Bagdad. That left a hell of a lot to be desired, although I did get to fly around the Middle East. I then returned to the States to go to helicopter school, and to a utility squadron in San Diego on various and sundry duties. I flew off aircraft carriers for a while as an "Angel". We were always in the air either off the starboard bow or stern of the carrier for launches and or recoveries just in case someone went into the water.Later I was posted to the Artic "Dew Line" (Distant Early Warning), operating off ice breakers with the little bubble Bell helicopter. It had floats so that it could land on water or ice. It was tricky coming back aboard the ship as you had to be in a non moving hover when setting down. With big floats, any movement relative to the landing surface on touch down, could cause a roll over.After that tour and with 15 years in the Navy, I was forced to accept a commission, or quit flying and revert to a chief ordnanceman. So I ended up after 15 years as an Ensign. I had a tour in an administrative post on the Flag staff, then a final tour at the Naval gunnery range at Fallon, Nevada, just outside Reno. I was more or less a utility pilot in Base Operations, flying helicopters and the Navy versions of the DC3 and DC4. At the gunnery range, they trained the fleet pilots in what we called- "Goofy loops". They had to come into the target at low level and using toss bomb computers, the pilots would release on the pull-up and execute an Immelman turn. I once had to pick up the remains of two guys who never rolled out and pulled right through into the desert floor. It was very easy to get disoriented at night!
At the end of that tour I retired after 20 years and was unemployed for six months before getting a job as an air carrier inspector. That negative job lasted six years before I was hired by Boeing in 1965 when they started their big air safety training programme for customer crews. This training was primarily to cut down on the number of airplane losses that were occurring on the airlines customer delivery pilots - especially to the Third world countries that were affluent enough to buy a modern airplane.I advanced to chief Boeing 737 instructor, and managed to survive the big recession and the Boeing Company almost going broke in 1970-74. By that time most of the training was being done in full vision, all axis simulators, and really no flying to speak of.
Then in 1976 I took Air Nauru up on their offer to come fly with them on Nauru. I will have to say that after the flying experiences with the training of Boeing customer crews, that the living on Nauru island and flying for Air Nauru was a wonderful experience and I really enjoyed it. As you know, I retired at age 60 a few years later and my wife and I decided to live in Africa. I couldn't get the flying bug out of my system, and the local general aviation operator talked me into re-qualifying on the "fart carts". I found that quite a chore as I had to revert back to the old fashioned instruments, although I had few qualms about operating single engine over the trackless wastes around here.
Postscript
Joe Z died a sudden heart attack died age 65
Centaurus,
Thanks for taking the time to pos that amazing story.
Thanks for taking the time to pos that amazing story.
