Bringing Firepower to the Pacific: The Day USS Hornet’s Bofors Guns Roared Under Remote Control

On February 16, 1945, a scene unfolded on the deck of USS Hornet (CVS-12) that spoke volumes about innovation, urgency, and the relentless push for survival in the Pacific War. There, among the tangle of antennae and spidery catwalks that marked the home of a mighty Essex-class carrier, one of Hornet’s formidable quadruple 40 mm Bofors mounts erupted with synchronized fury. This was no ordinary gunnery exercise—these guns, famed for their rhythm and reliability, were firing under remote control, a glimpse of a future where human skill and machine precision would merge in defense of a hard-fought fleet.

Let’s set the stage for that moment in February 1945. The Allies were on the offensive across the Pacific, with Task Force 58—anchored by carriers like Hornet—striking at Japanese targets with growing ferocity. While the clouds of Corsairs, Hellcats, and Avengers dominated the headlines, it was the antiaircraft (AA) gunners aboard ships like Hornet who stood between the fleet and destruction from above. Kamikaze attacks had become a grim new feature of the war, and every square foot of deck bristled with guns ready to hurl a curtain of steel into the path of enemy planes.

The Bofors: Backbone of Antiaircraft Defense

The quadruple Bofors 40 mm mount was the product of wartime necessity meeting engineering brilliance. Originally a Swedish design, the 40 mm Bofors gun became a staple of Allied warships, prized for its high rate of fire, accuracy, and reliability. Each quad mount paired four of these autocannons together, and, when operated at maximum speed, could release a blizzard of shells capable of shredding any aircraft daring to come close.

For sailors on the Hornet, these guns were not only a shield—they were also a badge of pride and a comfort in the midst of uncertainty. Surrounded by the vast Pacific, where the horizon could bring either friendly planes or death-diving attackers, the Bofors gunners trained relentlessly to ensure every second counted.

Into the Age of Remote Control

Manual control of AA guns demanded lightning-fast reflexes and nerves of steel. As kamikaze threats soared and speeds increased, the U.S. Navy sought ways to boost reaction times and accuracy even further. Enter remote control fire: using radar guidance and centralized fire control systems, gunners could aim and fire their weapons from protected positions below decks. Not only did this protect valuable crew from shrapnel and strafing, but computers and directors like the Mark 51 offered improved accuracy, especially against rapid or evasive targets.

On February 16, 1945, Hornet’s Bofors guns were put through their paces under this new system. It must have seemed almost science fiction: sailors monitoring radars, spinning dials, issuing firing orders not with muscle but with technology. As the quadruple Bofors mount blazed away, its barrels spewing out fire, the moment marked the intersection of old-school gunnery and modern electronic warfare—a step towards the guided missile age.

Fury at Sea: Life at a Quad Mount

For the men assigned to a quad 40 mm Bofors station, the work was exhausting, ear-splitting, and imperative. Even in training or demonstrations like that February firing, every round that clattered out the barrels represented a test—a chance to refine teamwork and coordination under pressure.

Each quad mount typically required a highly-trained gun crew: pointers and trainers, loaders ready to slam four-round clips into the hungry auto-loaders, “hot shell” men to keep rounds moving, talkers relaying fire control instructions, and, in the case of remote fire, operators linking the mount’s movements to the distant directions of the Mark 51 director or the central gunnery fire control room. On such a vast ship, every station was part of an intricate ballet intended to keep the Hornet afloat and fighting.

With gun barrels glowing and hundreds of spent casings rolling at their feet, Bofors gunners experienced firsthand the relentless tempo of carrier warfare. Their skill was proven not just on the firing range, but every time the alarm howled, “General Quarters!” and the enemy appeared, intent on breaking through the barrage.

Technology Meets Tradition

The adoption of remote control reflected the Navy’s embrace of technology, but tradition died hard. Many seasoned gunners still trusted what they could see and touch, preferring the feel of swinging the mount, tracking a target with their own eyes. But war waits for no one. The need for faster, more accurate AA fire, and ever-tighter protection of vital carriers like Hornet, meant innovation would win out.

The trust gunners placed in their machines was not misplaced. Remote directors could process target data from radar or optical sights, instantly calculating solutions that human operators might take precious seconds to arrive at. In a kamikaze attack, those seconds could mean the difference between safety and fiery destruction.

Legacy of Firepower

That single day on Hornet in February 1945, with a quad 40 mm Bofors mount firing under remote guidance, stands testament to a broader narrative—of adaptation, of courage, and of relentless ingenuity. By war’s end, fully-remote gunnery, radar integration, and centralized fire control had helped the U.S. Navy survive punishing waves of Japanese air attacks, ultimately bringing home many a carrier that might have otherwise been lost.

Hornet herself continued to serve with distinction, her gunners manning their posts through the final battles of the Pacific and beyond, always at the forefront of technical and tactical evolution.

Today, the thunder of quadruple Bofors mounts has faded from the world’s oceans, replaced by missiles, CIWS, and drone-directed defense. Yet the spirit of those gunners—working within sight of a distant, enemy-infested sky—lives on. Their story reminds us that every technological leap is powered not just by machines, but by the determination and adaptability of the men and women who wield them, standing watch at the intersection of vulnerability and defiance.

So, the next time you see a photo of a Navy Bofors battery letting loose on a sun-drenched deck, remember February 16, 1945—a day Hornet’s guns spoke with the voice of both tradition and tomorrow, and the Pacific shook with the combined might of human courage and technological progress.