NEWPORT -- Yesterday, the four retired Navy men could freely talk about their pioneering flights off Rhode Island's coast during World War II, how they took off into darkened skies aboard their F6F Hellcats and learned to attack enemy aircraft at night.
But in 1943, when they were summoned from across the country to work at a secret Navy installation on Jamestown, they had to keep their lips sealed. They weren't even supposed to utter the name of the technology they were developing: radar.
It was a mission that would help turn the tide against Japan in the Pacific -- and later lead to advancements in civilian aviation -- but it was also both intimidating and dangerous.
"He disappeared one night," said Archie Stockebrand, recalling what happened to one pilot during training exercises beyond Block Island.
"It was a cold December night. We flew all night with flares looking for him," Fred Dungan remembered. "And all the next day."
This week, the surviving members of USN Night Fighter Squadron 76, who have gathered together every other year since 1983, are celebrating the 60th anniversary of the formation of their unit. Only four of the original squadron members -- all in their 80s -- are attending. Many have died or are not well enough to travel.
"We may have to go to annual reunions because we're quickly thinning out," said Stockebrand, who came from his home in Badger, Calif.
It is the first time the squadron has come together to visit the very places where its members learned to fight and navigate at night -- Quonset Point, the Charlestown Auxiliary Air Station and a secret base on Beavertail code-named Mickey.
The Beavertail buildings were made to look like a New England farmhouse to shroud their real purpose. It wasn't until after the war that military officials invited the national media to Quonset to disclose the secret operation and to demonstrate the wonder that was radar.
During their training in 1943, the members of Night Fighter Squadron 76 would wait until after dark before taking off into the skies above Rhode Island. They would head out over the Atlantic, at speeds between 130 mph to 180 mph, to practice locating mock enemy fighters. They used radio communications from radar operators at Mickey, and their own on-board radar, to detect the enemy planes and sneak up behind them.
Despite the aid of radar, said Dungan, the pilots still had to rely on their eyes to find the aircraft, looking for such clues as stars suddenly being blocked from view. The risk of mid-air collisions, even in training, was always a possibility.
Dungan was a member of a crew that made the first landing at Quonset relying completely on radar. They blocked the aircrafts' windows with newspaper and brought the plane down by following the directions of a land-based radar team. They came to a stop uncomfortably close to a snowplow.
"The frightened plow operator dove head first into a snow bank," said W. Slater Allen, whose father was an original member of the squadron and who helped organize this week's reunion. Allen, who lives in Wakefield, is considered an expert on the squadron's history and has written an article about it for a naval publication.
WHILE THE NAVY was developing radar in Rhode Island, Japanese fighters were exploiting the relative helplessness of aircraft carrier groups in the Pacific at nighttime. Night Fighter Squadron 76 was the first unit deployed to provide air defense for these carrier groups.
The Japanese quickly learned that the Navy could now intercept their nighttime assaults and became discouraged from attempting them. Squadron members John Gilman and Paul Kepple, both pilots, found there wasn't much night fighting for them to do.
Nevertheless, said Allen, one of the squadron's finest accomplishments was that "they let people sleep at night. It was never nice to be kept awake all night waiting to be attacked."
Gilman, of Rochester, N.Y., did, however, narrowly escape death. After flying for most of the night off the island of Peleliu, he was returning to the Lexington at daybreak when an American fighter mistook him for the enemy. The pilot fired at him and disabled his aircraft. Gilman made it the 60 miles back to his carrier when he lost speed and his plane began a downward spiral. He was just 100 feet from the Lexington.
"I crashed into the water," he said.
The plane immediately began to sink. To Kepple, flying overhead, it seemed like an eternity before Gilman popped to the surface unhurt.
"It was a long way to the surface," said Gilman. By the time he opened the life raft that had been around his waist, "the plane was at the bottom."
Dungan, of Pasadena, Calif., didn't escape injury when a bullet from a Japanese fighter penetrated his cockpit and hit him in the shoulder. He too just managed to put the plane back down onto his carrier. But Dungan and another pilot got the best of the Japanese during that daytime dogfight: They shot down seven planes between them. In all, Dungan says he took 10 enemy aircraft out of action during the war (although only seven were officially confirmed, he said).
YESTERDAY , the squadron veterans attended a luncheon at the officer's mess at Naval Station Newport, hosted by the Newport Commandery of the Naval Order of the United States. The century-old organization seeks to preserve naval history.
"Your contribution will never be forgotten," said retired Rear Adm. Glenn E. Whisler Jr., of the Newport Commandery. "It's a fascinating story that makes me want to salute you."
The guest speaker was Capt. Jody Richardson, a professor at the Naval War College with extensive experience as a naval aviator. Richardson talked about the technological advancements that have been made since the squadron was formed 60 years ago. But many of the fundamentals of radar and interception remain the same.
"It never occurred to me that someone had to build it and test it. We just take it for granted," he said. "I always get a little bit in awe of people like you."
Richardson said the tradition of naval aviation is passed down from one generation to the next, sometimes within families.
"The legacy that you passed down is alive," he said.
Reporter Richard Salit can be reached at 253-1200 or by e-mail at rsalitATprojo.com.
