Jesse
JESSE’s TURN
As in most stories in the Chronicles, Jesse’s Turn is not necessarily in chronological order. He sent the typist a bunch of information, then the typist, being more commonly known as “Curious,” asked some questions, the answers to which resulted in even more questions and more answers. Some of that has been edited into the story, much of it is left as it happened.
With italicized comments by the typist!
Jesse said,
I hope these pages do not sound like I was so important in the growth of Grace College. After all, I believe that some of the other 11,999,999 in uniform during World War II were helpful in defeating Germany and Japan.
I was not involved so much in Dorm life, athletics, or the other 5 divisions of the College — although I was on Academic Committee all those years.
And then he wrote… … … …
So you do not think that I am a generalist. Here is your (the typist) sentence (in a letter to Jesse) : “I never thought that a teacher who taught more or less the same subjects for all those years, would be considered a generalist! It always seemed to me that would be as near to being a Specialist as you can get.” OK, I agree. So I will try to show you that I do not fit in that category.
(The typist’s comment may not have been completely correct, but it did “pressure” Jesse to prepare the rest of his story, just to prove that comment was not correct,)
HIGH SCHOOL AT MARTINSBURG
When I entered high school, Martinsburg had only four rooms and four teachers. After my first year, they added some rooms to Benson elementary school (where the typist attended first grade ), and put in some Industrial Arts, Business (typing), and Physical Education. Typing was a very valuable course, and over the years I typed my own Master’s Thesis, Seminary Critical Monograph, and Ph.D. Dissertation. (With everyone jumping on the computer bandwagon, typing is even more important these days. ) And there were no computers or copying machines in those days — just paper, carbon paper, and multiple copies. In high school I had four years of English, four of science, and four of mathematics. I had two years of Latin, two of French, and some Social Studies, and mechanical drawing.
I still think my typing class was one of the most valuable I had in High School. When we went back to Martinsburg in 1989 for the 50th high school reunion, E. Grant Herr, our principal remembered me primarily because of the speed with which I typed. Another boy and a girl and I got up to 60 or more words a minute. We really challenged each other, and I graded typing papers to earn $6 a month so I could attend Martinsburg rather than Cove High — I had to pay tuition, — I typed all my theses. It would cost $1.50 a page for my 319 page dissertation to have it farmed out for typing. I used to get my notes ready and sit down and type out a paper of 10 or 20 pages and turn in my first draft.
I purchased a Royal typewriter in 1945 for $50, when my school in Ohio was getting new ones. In 1964 when I was typing my dissertation, I took it in to a repair man and asked to trade it in for a later model. He told me it was the best one around (weighs a lot) and the light plastic models weren’t as good. So I had him fix it up, and it typed my master thesis, doctor dissertation, seminary master thesis, and Laura’s master thesis in seminary. For the dissertation I had to have five copies with four carbons. So I had 319 “sandwiches” to type with no corrections or erasures allowed. That was some fun.
Now, I get upset because one can use a computer with Word Perfect, and shift paragraphs, correct spelling, maneuver footnotes, etc., and then make duplicate copies. It is just not fair. I should have come along 30 years earlier or later!
GOING TO BRYAN
Papa didn’t believe much in college other than Moody Bible Institute. Somehow I managed to get hold of a little catalog of Bryan University, and persuaded him that it would be all right. Bryan had begun in 1931 and had fewer than 100 students. The total cost of a year’s schooling was about $300.00. Tuition was $25 a quarter or $75 for a year. Board and room was $5.00 a week so about $200.00 for the school year. They offered me a two-year tuition scholarship for being Valedictorian, and that helped.
September 1939 Hitler invaded Poland. September 25 I caught a train out of Altoona, Penna to go to Bryan University in Dayton, Tennessee. I had about $90 and used $16 for a one-way railroad ticket. (On part of the trip, train fare was 1 and 1/2 ¢ per mile.) At Covington, KY, a girl got on the train and sat by me. Now 59 years later we are still together. (Now, if that isn’t a story for Dear Abby or Ann Landers, what is!)
I was interested in Mathematics, but after taking an entrance test, they wouldn’t let me in the College Algebra class. After Christmas I was able to take Analytic Geometry with one other student. Bryan gave a mathematics test with 80 problems. If you got 50 of them correct they said you were in the 99th percentile. I had 76 correct, and they decided that I would ruin the class. So I missed College Algebra and other basic college mathematics. In the Sophomore year, I was the only Calculus student. In the Junior year, no one could teach any advanced mathematics, so I got none. Later I taught College Algebra and Trigonometry at Wittenberg College, and took a Trig test to have the credit put on my transcript then.
I had to take Spanish, Greek, Physics, etc., to fill up my class load. Also, at Bryan I was not permitted to attend Spanish class except one day a week when it was to be conversational. The other days I had to show up in the next classroom and complete all the exercises in first and second year Spanish. I got credit for one year, and they said I would get the credit for second year if I returned my senior year and attended class one day a week. With several years of French under my belt, I guess I ruined the first year Spanish class. I had a year of Chemistry earlier.
September 20, 1941 I returned to Bryan for my Junior year. On December 7, 1941 I listened to some music and then went to the bathroom to clean up before going to the Octagon to take a walk with Laura, on a nice Sunday afternoon. (The Octagon was the women’s dorm at Bryan. Laura was in 7-Up, if that piece of trivia is remembered correctly. That was room “seven” on the second floor.) A Professor came into the bathroom and said the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor, and probably we would be at war by the next day. My question was “Where is Pearl Harbor. (The typist had the mumps, or something, and was upstairs in bed [on the farm outside Martinsburg] listening to the radio, when they made the announcement about Pearl Harbor.)
In February 1942 I registered for the draft. Laura and I expected to be married and attend Grace Seminary. We had been accepted and had letters from the President and Dean of Grace Seminary, giving our expectations. However, the draft board insisted that since I hadn’t been in summer school I was vulnerable. We changed the date for the wedding for the second time, and agreed that if there were another change we would wait to be married.
The dates on our rings and announcements were not the correct ones, but we were married on Saturday afternoon, August 29, 1942. We took buses to Columbus OH and on to Pittsburgh, PA, where we were not able to get on a crowded bus. They decided not to provide a second bus for several hours, so we arrived on the farm in Martinsburg, PA late Sunday afternoon. Laura stayed for several days with James, Johnny, Esther and Martha (and the folks) before returning to Ohio.
THE NAVY GOT ME
The next morning at 6:30 I caught a bus for Altoona planning to join the Navy. But I almost didn’t make it. Back on August 1, I got a card directing me to take a physical exam for the Army Draft. On the 8th of August I got a card saying I was 1-A, and on August 15, I got a card directing me to report to the Army on September 1. (For historical purposes, draft classification 1-A meant you were ready and able to be drafted, and for example, 4-F meant you were in bad physical shape, and would not be drafted. There were many other classifications, not mentioned here.)
I was upset and decided to avoid the Army. The Navy said to give them 24 hours and I could do just that. I reported to Altoona on August 31, and they sent me on to Pittsburgh. They checked me out and wrote “TR” (temporarily rejected) behind my name. My teeth were not good enough, and they didn’t want someone with a toothache trying to help fight a battle on a ship.
I ran downtown in Pittsburgh and found a dentist. He insisted the tooth should come out, but then the Navy wouldn’t take me. He said he would fill it, and then the Navy could worry about it. (A marginal note says: 5-1-98 Tooth pulled and another added to lower partial. Still have 3 of my teeth.) (By this time, that may be a record in this family! I had all mine pulled a month or two after we got married! Poor Emmy!)
It was August 31, and the Navy enlistment office in Pittsburgh was trying to set a record for monthly enlistment’s, so they kept the line open late. I ran back just as they were closing and the “TR” was changed to “accepted.” I was sworn in at 9:30 and was on my way on a train to Great Lakes, Illinois. The Army did telephone for me the farm at Martinsburg, and James told them what I had done.
Later in the war the Army insisted that the Navy take draftees instead of being able to be so choosy. (Paul, Harold, Gus, Johnny and the typist all thought the Army was the choosy one. At least the Army choose all of us. Perhaps it was the Navy who took just anyone!)
At Great Lakes, nearly all of the new sailors were sent to new partly finished barracks out in a muddy field. Eight companies were grouped together in a large building. I was fortunate that a couple of weeks before, one of the eight companies in a group had dissolved early because one of the men had developed a contagious disease. So about 150 of us were sent to that old established area of the base. In one week, the other seven companies graduated from Boot Camp, and we entertained seven new companies. Of course by then we were veterans and knew how to lash hammocks, prepare for inspections, and in general show those civilians how the Navy worked. As a result, we won the inspection every week, and I was selected to carry the banner with a red rooster on it, at the head of all our parades.
We had shots and tests all the time. One day I was really upset. On the drill field, I had lost my wedding ring. I spent hours trying to find it, but no luck. Laura was able to have a jeweler make a plain band for me to wear. On our 35th anniversary we bought new rings, and she had the two earlier ones made into a pin that she likes to wear.
Boot camp lasted about five weeks. Laura came to Chicago, and we took a trip to Pennsylvania and then to Ohio. At Great Lakes I survived many shots, a stiff new canvas hammock and sea bag, and the usual orientation into Navy Life.
In boot camp I had 99% on so many of my tests, I became Honor Man of my company. At the end of boot camp I was told I could select a school. The recommended ones were Fighter Director, and Quartermaster. But FD schools were not available right away, so I chose Quartermaster school, since a quartermaster in the Navy is the enlisted assistant to the Officer of the Deck. After 7 days of boot-leave, I returned to Great Lakes, and then was sent on a troop train to Newport, Rhode Island.
This school was in Newport, RI, and after about 12 weeks I was promoted to QM 3/c. (3/c = Third Class)
(Paul was in the quartermasters [they assigned him to bakers school] in the US Army, but that was completely different. Dictionary says: US Army — responsible for the food, clothing, and equipment of troops. US Navy — responsible for the navigation of a ship. )
LAURA’S EXPERIENCE AT NEWPORT, RHODE ISLAND
When Laura came to Newport to be with me, she had a difficult time finding a suitable place to live. One place available would require her to go through a bathroom and lock the door to be safe in her room. We passed that up. She then stayed with a Navy family with the woman who had a small boy. There wasn’t much room, and Laura had a twin bed, very little food, and no pay.
One Sunday she saw an advertisement in the paper as she was on her way to church, and after she checked it out. On that Sunday afternoon, I had to attend a “happy hour” boxing match in a large gym with hundreds of others. Suddenly over the loudspeaker came the message, “Seaman Second Class Humberd report to the Commandant’s Office immediately.” When I got there I was instructed to put on my dress uniform and report at once to the home of
Commander Kincaid, the head of all of the navy schools on the base.
He lived on the Island on the base and when I got there, I found Laura visiting with them. Their daughter Virginia Earle was coming home from Wellesley Academy for Christmas vacation, and they were looking for someone to be a companion and to accompany her for security reasons during that time.
Of course, a young lady who neither drank or smoked, and had had three years of college filled the bill just right. Laura got $75 a month and a three room apartment right in the Commander’s home. The Kincaids had been in China for 17 years, and Mrs. Kincaid even taught Mandarin Classes. (Dictionary: The official spoken language of China, which is based on the principal dialect spoken in and around Beijing. )
CHRISTMAS WITH THE KINCAIDS
While in the commander’s home, it was indeed Christmas, and everyone who lived within 75 miles of Newport got a 3-day pass. Since the commander’s home was my home address, I got the pass, and spent it there. On Christmas morning we had Christmas with them in pajamas. Mrs. Kincaid liked to dress in Chinese dresses, and she trusted Laura with her clothes and jewelry.
While she was there, Mrs. Kincaid’s mother came. She was a Morris of the Morris Plan Bank family. Also, while Laura was there, Madame Chiang Kai Chek was to come to visit. Unfortunately, she became ill and was taken to Boston for an appendectomy. But her ship did come in and her leading Army and Navy officials came to visit and Laura met them. Madam Chiang did not like to fly.
Virginia Earle enjoyed having Laura there. When she went to a movie or program with her folks, she had to sit in overstuffed chairs — when she went with Laura she could sit on folding chairs — and she particularly like it when Laura and I both went with her and she got to sit among hundreds of enlisted men.
Laura got her first taste of venison when an Army General found out she had never eaten any. Also, the Dean of Women of Wellesley came to visit. So it was quite an experience.
LAURA DECIDES TO RETURN TO OHIO
In fact, a couple weeks before my school was over, and Commander Kincaid was promoted and shipped out to Newfoundland, both Mrs. Kincaid and her mother tried to persuade Laura to stay with them. Mrs. Morris wanted her to go to new York in a penthouse and be responsible for guests in the home. Later she would take her to their estate in the South for part of the year. Mrs. Kincaid wanted her to accompany her to Boston and stay with her. Laura was the one who actually received Commander Kincaid’s orders when they arrived. She always called him Admiral Kincaid and that did not seem to bother him at all.
But Laura returned to her folk’s farm in Ohio. Life was so uncertain, and no one knew how long or how fast things could change. While we were in Newport, we of course got to know about air-raid alarms, and other ways the war affected people on the coast. The upper half of headlights were painted black, store windows were completely dark, and one had to identify himself everywhere he went. When Laura was with Caid, the Kincaid’s dog, everyone recognized the dog and she didn’t need to show her I. D.
NAVY SCHOOL AT NEWPORT, RI
Only 32 of the 135 sailors in the Company were rated, and the others went to sea as Seaman 2/c. I was second in the class. One of the fellows had been in the Seascouts for many years, and knew the ropes. He already knew the Rules of the Road, the meaning of flags, and how to signal with Morse Code and Semaphore. I had all that to learn. Our class of 150 or so was divided into two sections, and he led the one and I the other, but in the final analysis I came in second. One section attended school in the morning and drilled in the afternoon, and the other drilled in the morning and attended school in the afternoon. We alternated week by week.
While there, we had 20 inches of snow a couple of times. I lived in a plain barracks with a pipe six feet off the floor on each side of the barracks. We swung our hammocks up there after 1600 (That’s 4:00 PM, for the rest of us.) Put a pillow at one end, a blanket at the other, put the other blanket over you, and you slept high off the ground like a banana. (If you really slept like a banana, your feet would have been sticking up, and your head down. There are bananas growing on our neighbor’s tree.) All during boot camp and quartermaster school I slept in hammocks and had my clothes in sea-bags. Later they got to use bunks and lockers, but I guess it was worth being in the “real” Navy.
AT NORFOLK, VIRGINIA
In the middle of February, I was sent to Norfolk to await assignment. While at Norfolk, Laura had come down to stay for a couple weeks. We took the train to visit Paul in the Army one day. (From Paul’s story: “ … while I was at Camp Pickett, Va. Jesse was in the Navy at New Port News or Norfolk, VA. He was married and Laura was with him, so I went to visit them one week-end.” Either they visited each other, or someone is confused, and it really doesn’t matter which!)
At another time, Laura and I were strolling along one of the streets in Norfolk when a small boy came running up to Laura and said in a serious tone, “Lady, you shouldn’t be out with that GOB.” (slang for sailor) Remember, in this town some stores had signs restricting dogs and sailors from entering. Laura thinks of that episode, along with another that took place in Newport earlier. She was on a crowded bus, perhaps the only female among 40 sailors and after some roughhouse and other noise, one fellow bellowed, “Watch it sailors, there’s a lady aboard.”
The other special situation occurred in Chicago just after I became an officer. As we walked down the street in Chicago, dozens of sailors coming towards us had to salute, and anyone coming from behind us would have to say, “By your leave, sir,” before passing us. It reminds me of the officer who always returned salutes with the expression, “The same to you!” When asked why he did that, he replied that he had been an enlisted man once, and knew what they were thinking.
A DEGREE FROM BRYAN, WITHOUT A GRADUATION
At Bryan University I had 180 quarter hours of credit in 3 years. Graduation required 186 quarter hours. We (Laura and I) had gone to Bryan in 1939 and while we were Juniors, heard President Roosevelt declare war. While I was in Quartermaster School in Newport I got a letter from President Rudd (president of Bryan) asking what I intended to do about my degree. The faculty had voted that if I got 6 hours of correspondence work they would grant a degree.
I took the letter to my commanding officer, who just happened to be a Professor from the University of Chicago, on leave in the Navy. He wrote a letter to Bryan and suggested that they gave me 6 hours of advanced mathematics credit on the basis of my Navy record. Then the faculty voted to grant me the degree with the class in 1943. Laura went to Tennessee and got the diploma, since by then I was in Trinidad. But in 1993, we returned to Bryan and I was given a farmed “Golden Anniversary Diploma” at Commencement. I was also on the platform and took part in the graduation program.
STILL AT NORFOLK, VIRGINIA
While in Norfolk, at the commissary, the officer in charge would have kept me in groceries for the duration of the war if I hadn’t already had that one stripe on my sleeve. (We will assume that means Jesse was so good at what he was doing, they wanted to keep him working there, and not that the officer would supply Jesse with stuff to eat for the duration.)
After a month working in the Commissary, I went aboard the USS Pastores, getting my first quartermastering duties on a fruit ship that had been taken over by the Navy.
We left Norfolk and sailed to New York City, where I had liberty. (The Navy’s name for what the Army called “leave,” and what we normal people might call “vacation.”) I spent about 4 weeks on that ship. At first I joined some seamen with bricks and sand (the Navy’s version of sandpaper) and worked on the wooden deck. But since I had gotten a single rating in QM school, I was soon assigned to stand deck watches on the USS Pastores.
ON THE USS ALTAIR, IN TRINIDAD
We stopped in Kingston, Jamaica, and were supposed to stop in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, but someone was quarantined so we passed by, and on to Trinidad where I spent about a week on shore before they noticed my single stripe and sent me to the USS Altair, a Destroyer Tender, a repair ship, in Trinidad, just off the northeast coast of Venezuela. I stood quarter-deck watches for the next several months.
Our job was to repair Destroyers. This was early in 1943 when the Germans were shooting up merchant ships and destroyers rather freely.
While I stood deck watches, I kept taking course work for promotion. One of the jobs of the Quartermaster concerned the ship’s garbage. All the garbage was put in a large box hung over the side of the ship. About 1/2 hour after high tide early in the morning, the Quartermaster would pull a rope and dump the garbage in the harbor and let the moon be our garbage scow, taking it out to sea. After six months the joke was we might not be able to get unstuck from the coffee-grounds.
The ship had 1800 men assigned, but 1200 lived on shore and came aboard to repair destroyers that had been hit by German submarines. When we left Trinidad in July 1943, we plotted 12 German Submarine sightings between Trinidad and Norfolk in recent days. Needless to say, I slept topside with my clothes on the whole trip.
APPLYING FOR MIDSHIPMEN’S SCHOOL
A Yeoman (A Yeoman performs chiefly clerical duties) asked why I didn’t apply for Officer’s Training. I was on the Altair only a few months, but while there I applied and made the very last V-7 group, for Officer’s Training. The Division Officer who signed my request had gone through Midshipman’s school at Northwestern University in an earlier class (stay tuned for a story about this). After the V-7 program, came the V-12 program where the Navy sent people from high school to college, and then to Midshipman’s School.
Now I realize requirements for that V-7 program required; (1) a degree from an accredited college; (2) you had to be unmarried; and (3) you had to have a credit of Trigonometry on your college transcript. Of those three requirements, I seemed to meet all but three of them. However, three years of college, a year in the Navy, and a degree, (Bryan was far from accredited) together with my boot camp and QM school records, somehow put me in the running. I was accepted in the very last V-7 program at Northwestern University in Chicago.
I arrived in Chicago (Northwestern University) exactly one year to the day after I had been an Apprentice Seaman in Great Lakes, IL. I was back in Chicago again as an Apprentice Seaman, losing my single QM stripe. Of the 1400 college graduates assembled from 800 colleges and universities, fewer then 200 were “Mustangs” so that was rather special, coming out of the fleet to Officer’s school. (A Mustang was an officer who had previously been an enlisted man.)
Of course, I wasn’t sure how Bryan would stack up with the other colleges such as Yale, Harvard, Princeton, and 797 others. (But the important thing was, Jesse stacked up with the graduates from those other places.)
AN OFFICER AND A GENTLEMEN
We were right downtown next to the Water Tower. In fact, the building in which I lived was the Water Tower Building. Laura came to Chicago and took an apartment on Huron Street. That space is now a parking garage. This fall, we expect to attend a Reunion of Midshipman’s school and will be staying in a hotel on Huron Street. Laura got a job at Montgomery Ward, and walked many blocks to work (too dangerous today on those streets). She was responsible to work up truck orders for suburban M-Ward stores. That was the Christmas they printed thousands of booklets with the new story of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”
We were able to get a few ration points to help in groceries (24 points for canned foods, and 24 meat points for November). That may be hard to explain to some people. I couldn’t eat all my meals with Laura. I had three classes, five hours of study and two hours of drill each day. I was supposedly free from 5:00 to 7:30 each day, but had to report at 6:22 to answer roll call for the evening meal. So I would run to the apartment at 5:00, back to Tower Hall at 6:22, and back to the apartment at 6:30. Fortunately the apartment was within the permissible blocks for us Midshipmen. We were restricted to just a few blocks without liberty passes.
I thought I would get Laura a radio, and when I found one, the man asked, “Do you have AC or DC?” We had light bulbs and an iron, so I said I assumed we had AC. The first time we plugged the radio in, it burnt out, as we were in that part of the building with DC electricity. Chicago was changing over, and buildings and even apartments next to each other did not have the same current. We were in Chicago on October 17, the day the first Subway opened, and we rode on it.
We received $150 for uniforms, and had to buy a dress white uniform. I had my picture taken in a similar one is a studio, but never got to wear my own. At Columbia University the honor students received a sword as a sort of reward. Our Captain at Northwestern, in true Navy tradition said, “The satisfaction of a job well done,” is the highest reward one can get. So, no sword. After the initial uniform allowance, officers were expected to buy their own clothes, although enlisted men had an uniform allowance.
I graduated 4th in the class at Midshipman’s school at Northwestern University and was commissioned an Officer and a Gentleman in December 1943. (We’ll have to ask Laura about that Gentleman part.) It takes four years to become an Ensign at Annapolis, but I was a midshipman for only 3 months. Well, I guess 3 years of college and a year as an enlisted man would make 4 years preparation.
MIDSHIPMAN’S REUNION, YEARS LATER
In 1994, when Laura and I attended a Reunion of the Northwestern University Midshipman’s school, we were at a table on a Sunday morning and I overheard a man on the other side of Laura mention a Tender. I asked what Tender he had been on, and he said “The Altair.” When I saw his name tag, I recognized him as the one who had signed my request 50 years before. We were both excited, and even had our picture taken and it was published in the Reunion paper as quite an event. I have a picture of the Altair, and for a few years have enjoyed the Altair’s Reunion News, but have never gone to a Reunion for that ship.
Thanks again, for the clipping April 23, 1988 about “90-day Wonders to Hold Reunion.” (Several years ago, the typist sent Jesse a newspaper clipping that told about the Midshipmen’s reunion. Don’t know how much credit he can take for this, maybe Jesse already knew about it.) That has given us some very enjoyable experiences in Chicago, San Antonio, and Norfolk. We will be in Chicago again over our Anniversary. Those men went on to records in the Navy, or became Doctors, Professors, and successful business men. They come from all over the country.
About 20,000 Midshipmen went through the School at Northwestern in 26 classes from 1940 to 1945, but only a little over 100 showed up for the Reunion in 1994. They only have about 700 names. I was in class #16. An Admiral (from Class #1) spoke one night. He was the first skipper of the first Nuclear Submarine, the Nautilus. Another Admiral (from class #4) spoke one night. He was head of the group that broke the Japanese code that helped win the Battle of Midway.
Of course all 100 of us geezers were about same age and full of stories. A young Lieutenant was there from Northwestern University Reserve Officers Training Corp, to present the colors. He has been in submarines for 12 years. He really thought he had ended up in a nostalgic group.
Another year we spent 3 days at Norfolk at a Navy Reunion. We have now enjoyed reunions in Chicago, San Antonio, and Norfolk. Next one, Chicago again.
At Norfolk I got to visit an Atomic Submarine (being de-commissioned). Then a trip through the newest ship — Missile Destroyer commissioned June 25. WOW! I fought WW II in a rowboat in comparison. CIC (Combat Information Center) is 10 times as big as mine, and full of electronics, lights and screens. We had plastic screen and grease pencils.
(In the mid 1950’s, the typist worked with the Air Defense System (training, etc.), and even though we used computers, we also used plastic screens and grease pencils. That’s the way your country was protected from atomic bomb attack — men standing behind two-story plastic screens, writing backwards with greese pencils.)
SCHOOL IN SAN DIEGO, THEN TO THE USS ROE
On December 10, 1943 I had orders to go to San Diego for ten weeks in Torpedo School. After graduation on Navy Pier on December 22, I had “leave” until I had to report on January 15 in San Diego. So I was on the farm in Pennsylvania the last day of 1943 when we found that the farm had been sold and the folks had to move. I never did get in on either the place in Altoona or Akron.
(Papa’s diary entry for December 31, 1943: “Jesse went to Springfield, O in evening. … … Skyles told Marie that Elvin Shriver bought this farm.” The folks bought a house on 23rd street in Altoona in Feb ‘44, and on Hillside Terrace in Akron in June ‘44, and the house near Flora in Jan ‘45. A rather traumatic year. for many people. )
The typist was the hired hand, and lived on the farm where Shrivers lived before they moved to our place. Years later when we visited Martinsburg, we found they had replaced the old pump on our farm drinking water well, with an electric one. That original pump is now on our patio.)
On January 11 I caught the train to California. I would not come back until July of the following year. On the way to California I got to talking to a salesman who was introducing a new mosquito insecticide to California. He had a double room at the Biltmore (cost $8 to $10) so said he would share it with me. (Typist just called the Biltmore at 800-245-8673 and found the cost for that room in 1998 is $225.) He bought me dinner at Jerry’s Joynt (very expensive, must of cost $1.50) and Clifton’s Restaurant (quite a place) and I went on to San Diego. (Clifton’s was the cafeteria where the folks always ate when they were in Los Angeles in the ‘50’s and ‘60’s, where the typist ate in 1946 while in the Merchant Marine, and then after we moved to Calif. in 1955. And it was indeed, “Quite a place.” With the emphasis on “was.”)
The torpedoes we worked on were 20 some feet long, and had a nose that would normally be filled with TNT, etc. We practiced with ones filled with water, so at the end of the run, the water would be expelled and the torpedo could be reused. After all, they cost about $12,000 apiece. They had in them a gyroscope that cost $800, that could be reused. General Electric came up with a cheap one for just a few dollars, but it couldn’t be reused, so we didn’t use it. The torpedo had many parts, and is still the only really complicated thing I have ever completely torn apart and reassembled. Our teacher made us officers remove insignia so no one could tell us from enlisted men in the class. One time we went out on a Destroyer and experimented to see how slow we could go and how close we could drop a depth charge without destroying our own Destroyer. I was in school from 8:00 to 5:00 and two nights a week from 6:00 to 9:30. At other times, I did get around a little and spent most Sundays at Al Flory’s church.
While at the Torpedo School I had to find some way to spent my evenings, so I took a night course in “Maneuvering Board.” This was a circular form with a compass at the center where you imagined your ship to be. Then you could locate other ships and things relative to you. For example, we might be on station 35° off the port bow of the Admiral, or lead ship, at a distance of 2000 yards. We were expected to be always at that relative position regardless of whether we were going on a straight course, or as usual, on one of the zig-zag courses where we changed direction at intervals of 5-7-10-8 minutes or so, to avoid submarines.
This involved constant changes in steering, and sometimes changes in speed. Suppose the ships were on a course of due north, or zero degrees, and at 0915 the admiral was going to turn to a new course of 045°. Suppose the convoy was traveling at 12 knots. Now figure when you needed to change course, and in what direction and at what speed you needed to go, so that just as the Admiral turned his ship 45° starboard and looked over at you, you were in position 35° off his port at 2000 yards. Some fun! One night while in class, I could hear loud laughter as Bob Hope entertained a group nearby.
USS GEORGE SQUIRE
On March 25, I received orders to the USS Roe (DD 418). On the 2nd of April I went to San Francisco. I was then assigned to travel on a troop ship, USS George O. Squire. I attended a meeting in which nearly every young naval officer was assigned about 100 enlisted men he was to round up and have at the ship at a certain time. My name was not on the list for some reason, and I had been in the Navy long enough to know not to volunteer, so I caught the bus or something and went to Palo Alto and spent the night with Earl Flora (Papa’s cousin) so I would not be found. The next morning I reported along with about 4,000 men, 200 nurses and 300 officers. So the 7th of April was the last contact I had with Laura for a couple of months, and she was expecting Lenora.
Laura had asked what she should do if something happened to me during the war. I told her, “Don’t worry, I’ll be down in Davy Jones’ locker and you won’t have any thing to handle.” Remember in the Navy you are never more than five miles from land. (But sometimes the closest land is straight down!)
FINDING THE USS ROE
Then I left the West Coast on a 9 week hunt for my Destroyer, DD 418, USS Roe. (The ship’s number, and name.) I left the USA on April 5, 1944, finally arriving aboard the USS Roe on May 27. I had left Laura in Ohio the first of January, and was not to see her again for about 21 months, I was on the USS George Squire for 19 days without sight of land before pulling into New Caledonia. We had about 4,000 sailors, 300 officers, and 200 nurses on board, to replenish the Pacific Fleet.
You can tell how thoroughly the Japanese still had control, in the Pacific, when you look on a map and see how we traveled. We went 19 days, and sailed between Samoa and the Fiji Islands before getting to New Caledonia. Here they said we could send a Cable home, and I paid for one, but of course it was never sent.
Then we sailed south along Australia, coming up to finally hit the SE tip of New Guinea at Milne Bay on May 1. I was on the beach until the 6th of May. It was muddy and mosquito infested. We ate in a Quonset hut with Celotex, moldy and hanging and smelly. On every table was a bottle of Atabrine (artificial Quinine). Everyone was expected to take one at each meal and turn yellow. (Supposed to stop Malaria) Fortunately, mosquitoes do not fly a mile, so after I got abroad a ship we never worried about that. On the 6th of May I got aboard the US Tryon, and on the 9th transferred to USS LST 68 until the 24th. Then I got on the USS Coronado, and on the 27th left that ship and arrived on the USS Roe (where I was for the next year and more), two days before Lenora was born. Of course it was three weeks more before the letter from Laura and the Red Cross telegram reached our ship. We had been way up along the coast of new Guinea for those days.
I think I got aboard the Roe at Buna and we immediately headed West along the north coast of New Guinea. On the 29th I was sitting at the evening meal in the Officers Wardroom when General Quarters sounded. I did not have an assignment yet, so I rushed out on the deck when a piece of canvas hit me. Our men had fired the guns before having time to remove the canvas that covered the opening.
A REAL SHIP, NOT AN AMPHIBIAN
Almost all members of the Midshipmen’s classes after mine were assigned to Amphibious ships. The Amphibious included landing craft such as LST’s (Landing Ship Tank) and LCI (Landing Craft Infantry) as well as the smaller ships and boats. I can remember while at Trinidad, when Army units came aboard the Altair, and had to go over the side and go down rope ladders to practice some of the landings that were planned for Africa. I felt so sorry for some of the older men as they had to climb down to the little boats and head away toward shore. The Altair was a big ship high out of the water, and was perfect for that practice. (Paul says that upon arrival at Normandy Beach, “…I climbed down a rope ladder and drove my truck to the beach.”)
I guess I was lucky to get a Destroyer a “regular” Navy ship, even though it wasn’t one of the very newest or largest Destroyer.. Usually they were staffed by Academy or Reserve graduates. (In other words, professional Navy people.) The ship I was assigned to, USS Roe, was of the Sims Class Destroyers. There were about ten of them built in the late 1930’s for speed and show. Then as Radar and other things had to be added, it was hard to avoid being top-heavy. Once I did tip the Roe over 38 degrees and cleaned off all the dishes and food on the Officer’s wardroom table (more about this later.)
(Something like that happened in the dining room while the typist was in the Merchant Marine. The floor was solid steel, so after the ship rolled this way and that for awhile, a shovel was used to throw all the broken dishes out the porthole.)
BOARDING THE USS ROE
We reached the South East tip of New Guinea at Milne Bay, and after a day or two on the beach I was shifted to a series of different ships — an LST, a hospital ship, an Aluminum Company ship (with air-conditioned officers’ dining room), to a couple of Coast Guard ships. Finally the USS Roe and I arrived in Buna the same day, and I was passed over the side into the whaleboat from the USS Roe, where I lived until August 1945 (except for the six weeks, from mid July to September 1, in Pearl Harbor). I served all along New Guinea, and spent a lot of time between Iwo Jima and Japan.
The only time I got on shore was to pick up new signal books and messages, to take groups of men for beer parties in Majuro (Marshall Islands) and Saipan (Marianas), and on Iwo Jima to get a radio tube. (The typist, and helper, visited Majuro, Saipan, and Guam in 1980. There was a Bank of America on Majuro, an Intercontinental Hotel on Saipan, and McDonald’s, Burger King and Sizzler on Guam. A little different in those days.)
One time on Guam, when I was examined for promotion to Lieutenant JG (Junior Grade), I was told to have my eyes checked. I went ashore and traveled quite a distance to the hospital where the doctor dilated my eyes, then mistakenly put the wrong thing in them to bring them back to normal. I couldn’t see very well, but hitched a ride on a jeep to the harbor and got back aboard the Roe. For about a week I couldn’t really stand a good watch as I couldn’t focus. When my glasses arrived, they were metal frames for about a 5th grade child, and I never could use them. I didn’t get glasses until I had finished my Ph.D. in 1964.
While I was along the north shore of New Guinea, I learned that Laura’s brother was on a small island nearby. I went to visit him, and met his officers, but he was a that time in refrigeration school in Melbourne, Australia, so I missed him.
TO THE WAR ON THE ROE
There were a couple of Japanese planes trying to hit the Destroyers that were bombarding the shore. So on my second day aboard, I felt I had really entered the war. That was the day Lenora was born, although it was on June 19/20 when I got the word, both by an airmail from Laura, and from a telegram from the Red Cross. We got back to Hollandia on that date and collected our mail.
In the meantime, on the 12th of June we had been bombarding the shore when some Japanese planes came over and hit a Destroyer that was further out on anti-sub patrol. The bombs hit the torpedo tubes and killed 16 men, wounded about 20 more, and 51 were missing. That plane was only a few miles from us, and I imagine we were really the target as we were bombarding the beach, but the Japanese pilot took the target of opportunity when he had the chance.
On June 30, we were back bombarding the beach again. We tried to soften up the Japanese and keep them awake all night so Marines could land early in the morning, and get a foothold farther along the coast. One July 2 we had quite a sight as paratroopers were landed at Noemfoor. (A small island NW of New Guinea) It was a real landing, but really a practice exercise for later as well.
On the 4th of July the Roe, and an LCI with 20 Marines, completed an invasion of little Manim Island. It was off the coast where the Marines would be the next day, and we were to neutralize that little offshore island. We landed 20 Marines after we had bombarded one end of the island for quite a while. The Marines walked across the Island and found 15-20 Japanese soldiers, some dressed in United States uniforms. They were laughing that we had bombed the wrong end of the island. The Marines soon wiped them out, and returned to their LCI. A couple of them came abroad the Roe for help in our Sick Bay, as they had been wounded in the action.
Right after the 4th of July, we zigzagged along the Equator (I must have crossed it 50 times), and went to the Marshall Islands to assist in picking up pilots who might need rescuing after bombing Jaluit, Maloelap, or Wotje, I think the names were. (Thirty-six years later the typist and ‘ol-what’s-her-name visited the Marshall Islands.) On the way, we bombed the beach at Wewak, where we understood 30,000 Japanese soldiers were to be bottled up for the duration of the war under the kind administration of some Marines.
Here I had an experience that comes back to me nearly every time I hear the Star Spangled Banner. We were on the bow of the ship in chairs watching a movie. Suddenly the sky was full of rockets and shells and everyone quickly left the assemblage and reported to General Quarters. So “The Rockets Red Glare, the Bombs bursting in air” always takes me back to Wewak on about July 4th, 1944. After a few days at our new assignment, we had some interesting experiences.
THE DESTROYER USS ROE
I’ll stop here and describe the Destroyer Roe (418). The keel was laid 23 April 1938, it was launched 21 June 1939 and commissioned 5 January 1940. It was decommissioned 30 October 1945 and removed from the Navy list 16 November 1945. So, my story here goes from September 1, 1939 to November 15, 1945, and the USS Roe’s story went from January 1940 to the 16th of November 1945. Quite a parallel.
The Roe was one of about a dozen Sims class single stack destroyers completed just as the war broke out. They were built for speed and displaced only 1620 tons. As the war drew on, we had to add radar and radios and other new things, so it became somewhat top-heavy. It was 348 feet long and 36 feet 1 inch wide. Think of the distance between goal posts on a football field as 120 yards or 360 feet. If you wish to see how skinny the ship was, take a book match out of a folder. It is just about 10 times as long as it is broad. The mean draft of the ship was only 11 feet 5 inches, so the Japanese who sent a torpedo directly at us sent it too deep to cause any damage.
The Roe spent time in both the Atlantic and Pacific early on, and in the Spring of 1941 returned to the Atlantic and patrolled the East Coast. It participated in the invasion of Sicily and got mixed up with another Destroyer. The Luftwaffe tried to sink her but she got away and was repaired in September 1943. After two more trips to Africa, she passed through the Panama Canal on January 26, 1944, just as I was getting in my classes in San Diego.
TO SCHOOL IN PEARL HARBOR
I was sent back to Pearl Harbor for six weeks, as every Destroyer had to have an officer qualified for Fighter Director. A fighter Director was one who talked to our planes and told them where the enemy was and how many there were. For example, “3 bogies, 10 O’clock, angels 15” would mean 3 enemy planes off the Port bow of our ship at a altitude of 15,000 feet.
(To understand that clock stuff, imagine looking down on a ship from an airplane. Now imagine a clock with 12:00 at the front [bow] of the ship; straight to the left [Port] is 9:00; off to the right [Starboard] is 3:00; to the back [stern] is 6:00. And 10:00 o’clock is off to the left [Port}, towards the front. Angels means “up” in the sky. Wow, aren’t you glad you have a veteran [three months] Merchant Marine sailor to explain all this technical stuff! )
Our Radar was the oldest in the entire fleet, and we were not able to determine the altitude of enemy planes as the later Radar’s could do. I’m sure a lot of that Fighter Director world was valuable for those at Okinawa.
While attending school in Pearl Harbor, my weekends were free. I went to Missionary Baptist church with another Ensign, and some others sang Stamp-Baxter southern songs over the radio every Sunday. I think I should have done more sightseeing, but it never entered my mind to do so. I did take one trip to the Pali and saw pineapple fields and canneries, and some sights. I was close enough to Pearl to walk from my barracks, right past the Navy’s coffee building. If you walked past that you got the equivalent of several cups of coffee from the smell as they ground the coffee.
I know I was close to Honolulu because that fact was censored out of my mail to Laura. The Sears store and Woolworth were open, but 3/4 of the store was blocked off because there was no merchandise to fill the shelves.
When I finished the classes, my orders were to return to the Roe, using air travel if available. Some fellows took that to mean they could find their ships by way of San Francisco and home, but it never entered my mind to try that. The only tourist hotel was the pink Royal Hawaiian on the beach. I can hardly imagine what Waikiki Beach must look like now. A few years ago we sent Lee and Dan, and Meg and Steve to Hawaii for a week.
After that school I chased the USS Roe until I found it at Guam. I got there before the Island was secure, and there was only one Quonset hut on the island. The only airfield was too small for the plane from Pearl Harbor, so we stopped at Saipan and Tinian before changing to a smaller plane to fly to Guam.
(That’s funny, when the Typist and Emmy were on Guam, the 747 to Hawaii was able to take off from that airport just fine. Saipan was also interesting, and the only Japanese we saw on the beach were honeymooners by the hundreds. Maybe that’s because it was 36 years after you were there.)
During the six weeks I went back to Pearl Harbor for Fighter Director School, the Roe stayed around Wotje, Jaluit and Maloilap, and then in September arrived in the Marianas the very day I got there from Hawaii.
After the bombardment at Wewak, we thought we had orders to take the ship back to Hawaii for an overhaul. But the orders changed, and I was the only one to go to Hawaii until a year later. However, since we were heading back(?) we did some very foolish things. We traded good radar tubes for worn-out ones, and traded some good 40 mm barrels for some that were worn out. We were stuck with these for the whole next year — Iwo Jima and all. In fact, it was a real problem. We had an air search radar that was designated SC. Just plain SC, no modifications or new model. It was probably the oldest one in the entire Navy. It could pick up airplanes only 20 miles away sometimes. I had the last 27 transmitter tubes, each of which had been used more than their declared useful lifetime.
I had scoured every base in the Pacific for some good ones. Our wave guide, that went up the mast, was a rectangular piece of aluminum. It developed holes and my radarman put a piece of wood on it, hoping that the salt water would soak the wood and transmit the signal. Finally, it got so bad that one time when we were off Iwo Jima about 300 miles toward Japan, it was decided to lower the “Bedspring” size radar screen and repair it at sea.
We hooked a lifeboat davit to the top of the mast and lowered the screen to the deck. About 3:00 the Captain called me and asked when it could be put back up. I checked and reported to him that the radarmen had assumed it would be on the deck for awhile and had given the entire thing a coat of gray paint, and it was too wet to handle. He said I had one hour to get it ready to go up. Most of the men would not try it, but fortunately we had a Warrant Boatswain on board for a few days, and he volunteered to fasten it up there. We raised it at sea, sailing into the wind for awhile. It was bolted to the mast, and when we sailed into the harbor at Iwo Jima the next day, it looked like we had a radar. The Captain had not reported it out of use, and we had been sent on a closer errand toward Japan, and he was not about to come into the harbor with a radar screen missing.
We went on down to Guam the next day, and I went ashore and was able to get a brand new SC-6 radar. The technicians had never installed such a thing that far out in the Pacific, so they were glad to have a try. Our old SC radar did not even have a PPI (Plan-position Indicator) scope. That is, the round one that you see on a weather report with the hand going around giving pictures of objects. Up the that time our air search radar had only an A-scope. That was a rectangle about 4 by 6 inches with green lines on showing blips that you could estimate distances by cranking out a marker.
We tried to get everyone acquainted with the new radar, but wouldn’t you know that one fellow was peeling potatoes and didn’t get the introduction. And he happened to be the one on the radar as we returned to Iwo Jima, and the Captain decided to visit the CIC (Combat Information Center) to see how we were coming with our new toy. After about 2 or 3 weeks at Iwo Jima with the new radar, we got orders to return to the USA for an overhaul. We arrived in San Francisco the end of July, the war was over in August, and I had to move that new radar off the ship and out into the open air in a field. Talk about ironic situations.
One time we rescued seven airmen who had spent a week on three little life rafts. At least one of them was accused of picking plums out of the air while waiting to be picked up. At another time, a B-29 had crashed at sea and was still floating. We were sent to fire 5 inch shells at the fuselage and sink it. So I guess we could say we shot down that airplane.
THE HEART OF THE SHIP
CIC means Combat Information Center, and was immediately below the bridge. It contained surface and air radar’s, plotting tables, etc. I spent a lot of time there during General Quarters with 3/4 inch of Aluminum between me and the outside. So I was glad the Japanese pilot was too busy to continue to fire as he passed over the Roe.
When I stood Deck Watches, besides my Quartermaster and signal man, I had six others who rotated each half hour on the Radar’s, Sound equipment, lookout, and helm. In Norfolk, in 1997, when I visited the Navy’s latest ship, a Missile Destroyer, I found the CIC to be ten times the size, and equipped with dozens of electronic devices, computers, screens, etc. I don’t know how we ever were able to do much with the primitive equipment during WW II. (That’s because, at that time, the other guys equipment was at least as primitive as yours. )
IWO JIMA
We visited Iwo Jima the 7/8 of December 1944, and then at Christmas, and then the first of the year. (Paul was fighting and surviving the “Battle of the Budge” at the same time.) When Iwo Jima was to be invaded in February, we were excused because of our small size, and sent to do escort duty and submarine patrol off Guam.
Iwo Jima is of special interest to me. I was there on December 8 (Dec 7 in the States), and again two times at Christmas time 1944. The actual invasion of Iwo Jima was not until February 1945 and my last time there before that was about January 4-6 when another Destroyer was damaged by a mine. We were left as a decoy for the Japanese planes to find, while another Destroyer that was low on ammunition, escorted the David Taylor back to Saipan at a speed of 4 or 5 knots.
Worse yet, on December 24, 1944 we went in less than a miles from the beach and sank a ship. Later we learned they had guns that would shoot about five times that far. And then we chased a Japanese destroyer transport straight north at 34.8 knots for several hours and sank it. Usually our group included three Cruisers and five Destroyers. Each of us would be assigned a piece of the checkerboard and carpet bomb the island.
I actually didn’t get ashore on Iwo Jima until sometime in March when I had to walk across the Island to get a spare radio tube (remember them?) from the Army. I got my shoe full of sand, still have some. That is one of the few souvenirs I have of WW 2, since we never were to keep diaries or have cameras. In the years since, I have shown the sand to several people and to classes at times. I think most of it has leaked out over the years. Walking on Iwo was about like walking in a bin of wheat. The grainy material was loose and flowed. It must of been both easy and difficult to dig a fox-hole there.
I have a book IWO JIMA, special 50th anniversary edition, first printed in 1965 and containing diary records of Japanese and American people who were in the battle. Some of the entries give the expectations of the Japanese when they left home for the last time. Let me quote a little:
“In the big raid of December 8, the alarm system on the island failed. … The raid was a “Pearl Harbor” day present for the Iwo garrison. Twenty-eight P-38’s came over first, bombing and strafing, and were followed by 62 B-29’s and 102 B-24’s, dropping over 800 tons of bombs. Cruiser Division 5 finished up in the afternoon with seventy minutes of shelling. Private Sonoyama was not impressed. He noted in his diary only that ‘Today was the third anniversary of the war. We had ceremony of bowing to the Emperor.’ “
“In December, the Navy made two more raids on Iwo Jima. On Christmas Eve, Admiral Smith signaled the ships of Cruiser Division 5, ‘Under way to deliver our Christmas presents.’ and shelled the island with 1,500 rounds of 5-inch shells. Two small ships were sunk, one in the East Boat Basin. Christmas night the Japanese retaliated. They sent in planes down from Iwo Jima and destroyed 4 B-29’s and damaged 11 more. Cruiser Division 5 returned to Iwo Jima December 27, and sank two more ships. No more raids came from Iwo Jima.”
I was in the Communication Division aboard the ship, and got to see the Top-Secret Battle plan a few weeks before it happened. It was about like the Sears Catalog and was loaded with ships names and actions to be carried out at H-minus x hours and D-minus x days. We were in Guam when the mass of ships began to come in to re-fuel, re-provision, and some to take on fresh water.
At the same time Task Force 58 left Ulithi to attack the Japanese mainland. That force included 116 warships — 16 carriers, (1200 planes), 5 battleships, 15 cruisers and 77 destroyers. There were 100,000 men aboard. They went within 60 miles of Japan and bombed the Nakajima Aircraft Company plant. My destroyer was too small and had too small fuel-capacity to join either of the fleets. Admiral Turner had 485 ships in his command at Iwo Jima.
One time we picked up 20 tons of propaganda leaflets and sailed to Palau (between Guam and the Phillippine) to deliver them to one of the aircraft carriers. When we got there, the carrier wouldn’t let us tie up alongside because of the rough sea and then thought we might damage something. Harold Stassen (former governor of Minnesota, and Presidential candidate at least seven times.) was on the staff of the Admiral and he got on the horn and told them we were to come alongside and deliver the leaflets. The only other celebrity I remember meeting was one time when I went to a ship or shore to pick up a message, and got it directly from Henry Fonda. While we were at Palau a 2-man Jap sub came in the harbor and hit a ship.
A large ship sits in a harbor for days and the fellows get bored. On a Destroyer, you are on the move nearly all the time. When you come into port, you go first to re-fuel and take on provisions before you rest. As you head toward port, you empty out the fuel tanks of the salt water that has been added to stabilize the ship, so you are empty when you get there, and go alongside the tanker.
Of course several times we refueled at sea. That was a dangerous procedure, steaming at 15 knots with the hoses between the ships, and on a steady course, ready the cut the hoses if an enemy appeared.
WE WON THE WAR, EVEN WITH MY HELP
One time we had emptied all the tanks, and we had used quite a bit of our ammunition, so the ship was light and top-heavy. I was the officer of the deck and as we hit the ground swells off Guam, I tipped the ship over 38 degrees and cleaned the wardroom table of the officers meals and dishes. The next morning when I got up from breakfast to go on watch, the Captain said, “Mr. Humberd, would you wait until we have finished breakfast.”
During bad weather we had two inch edgings put on the table and cross pieces in such a way that each person had a small space so his dishes would stay close to you. Also, there were pipes anchored to the overhead and the deck by your chair, so you could wrap your arms around that as you ate. On a Destroyer, you don’t sit in the harbor and be bored. In May 1945 we were underway the equivalent of 26 complete 24 hour days, so we covered some ground. (The ground he “covered” was way down below, at the bottom of the sea!)
In one bad storm, I had the watch from midnight to 4:00 AM, and just as I was about to be relieved, we got a blip on the radar. We were pretty sure it had to be one of our ships, since we were close to Guam. But the Captain was taking no chances and we got closer and closer to the ship. We couldn’t get any response from them, and tried to use the emergency light signals on the mast, but still no response.
When you are the Officer of the Deck, you are responsible for anything until your relief says, “I relieve you.” My relief wouldn’t do that, so I stayed on the bridge for a couple more hours. Of course, usually the Captain will take the Conn (control of the ship) temporarily and hand it back when he wants to. I think we got within 30 yards of the small ship before we recognized it as a PC ship and of course one of ours. That was dangerous in the dark, and in a storm, and I think that was about the scariest time we had.
HOT SHOWERS SAVE A BUNCH OF AIRPLANES
I’ll have to tell about one other interesting time. You know, Guam is about 1500 miles from Japan, and the B-29’s could make a round trip. However, fighter planes had to join them off Iwo Jima which was about 750 miles from Japan. The fighters could accompany the B-29’s to Japan, drop their wing tanks, fight a few minutes, and then return to Iwo. We were of course excited when the first B-29’s came to Guam. You saw 10 of them, then 20, then 40, and then 100, etc. I can’t imagine how they were able to build them, train the crews and get them out that far so fast.
But on this particular day, two B-29’s went to Japan, acting as navigators for some 90 fighters that were picked up at Iwo Jima. After their work was done, they learned that Iwo Jima was “socked in” by heavy fog, and there was not way they could return there. So they were ordered to go to Okinawa. One B-29 and half of the fighters went that way. But the Captain of the other B-29 refused because he said there were no hot showers on Okinawa.
The Roe happened to be about two-thirds of the way from Iwo to Japan, and we were to make smoke and show the fighters how to crash so we could pick them up before they were out of fuel. They refused to crash and continued on the way to Iwo, passing over another Destroyer 200 miles closer to Iwo Jima. They were told to crash one at a time to be picked up before they were out of fuel. Again they refused and went on toward Iwo. Every ship and small craft at Iwo steamed up and set out to sea to pick up pilots when the final crash came. As they neared Iwo, the fog lifted for about 20 minutes or so, and every plane landed safely. So, I assume the pilot got his hot shower. I don’t know if that was all he got.
SOME INTERESTING DUTIES
Aboard each ship there was an officer in charge of Secret and Top-secret materials. There was also a lot of Confidential and Restricted material. Usually a person spent 8-10 weeks at Harvard University learning how to handle such materials. But the Captain got upset at the “Secrets” officer on the Roe, transferred him off, and dumped the job on me. I didn’t really know what it entailed. There were constant changes, and I had to make corrections to the material on board.
Each month I had to take the expired materials and burn them in a fifty gallon barrel on the fantail of the ship in the presence of two officers, and have them sign that each numbered piece had been destroyed. Then the Captain had to sign that paper, and send it on. When we got far north the changes were fast and furious, and a new booklet might be used at any time. We had to have several issues (booklets) ahead of time, because each time an airplane crashed we changed booklets in case the Japanese had picked them up.
Late in the war we received some new Infra-red equipment. With this, you could call another ship and say “Nancy Hanks.” Then you could signal with a special cover over the light, and the other ship could read the signal by wearing special glasses. Of course this was hush-hush, but when we got to San Francisco, I saw a newspaper with a picture and article about the German’s use of infra-red equipment.
On the 24th of December we chased a Japanese Destroyer transport a couple of hundred miles north of Iwo. We went 34.8 knots, or about 40 miles an hour, and no one else could keep up with us. We hit the after-guns at a distance of several miles and closed in to finish the job. Another Destroyer (USS Case) had tried to keep up with us, and later claimed some of the credit. Our Captain was very mad at them, and you didn’t dare to mention the name of that ship in his presence.
One time a few weeks later we were patrolling off Guam, and the Captain told me he was going to take a nap. He noticed some smoke on the horizon and asked me who that was. I didn’t know, but after he went to his cabin, I had my signal man ask the ship patrolling farther out. they reported that it was some ships passing on their South, I forget where they were going. The ship I asked was the USS Case, and when the Captain came out from his nap, I reported to him who the ships were. He asked how I knew that, and I said I had asked the Case. Wow! That was not the best thing to say, and I got chewed out for sending “unauthorized messages.”
Standing top deck watches underway is rather thrilling. you have the ship in your charge, with the dolphins and phosphorus to enjoy. The worst thing was the sonar constantly exploring to see if enemy subs were around. Usually, one stood Junior watches with another officer and then would get to take over. I was on such a watch with another officer in formation on a zig-zag plan, when he looked at his watch and told me we would need to change course in 40 second
Tidbit by Jim and Emmy HumberdSimilar tidbits in: Humberd Chronicles, Travel Tidbits
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