Maritime

Maritime Tales of the Sea

again? Fortunately, a neighbor helped me get a job down in the Loop. This helped me
get used to being around people again. In the process of working at the American
Osteopathic Society headquarters, I became acquainted with a man who shared my
concerns about my future. He suggested I take aptitude and interest tests, to learn what
I liked to do for work, and what my skills were. He alerted me to the fact that I would
be able to do this as an alumni of the University of Chicago. This helped me focus on
the future. After taking the tests, the career counselor shared the results with me. I
learned I might be suited to be a social science teacher, a minister, or a YMCA director.
I realized I must return to college, which I did a few months later.

What did I Learn? I learned how to learn from others, in seaman's school and
on the ships, and from the less fortunate I met while sailing on the ships during the
much more dangerous times in the Atlantic and Pacific who risked so very much for us
all.

I learned to have greater concern for others, observing the generosities I cite
earlier in the paper, and in shipmates risking their lives for me; e.g. seeing officers jump
in the water with their dress uniforms on, to rescue a drunken shipmate, and having
someone hear my cry for help as I hung 40 feet above the ship's deck with my hand
caught under a cable in a pulley.

I learned more about religion and the need for depending on God. Because of
the concern of the Salvation Army bringing us kits just before we sailed and sharing
testaments with clear and helpful passages, I came to build on what my parents and
grandmother shared: God's presence and the need for devotions as a source for dealing
with life. We had no shipboard services; daily devotions came at this time in my life to
be a very important support which I still draw from.

I learned the value and need of ongoing study. A classmate of mine, Mario
Santelli, mentioned to me when we were awaiting assignment in downtown Manhattan
about the chance for only two dollars to take correspondence courses. I decided to
enroll, and was able to upgrade my knowledge of basic arithmetic, and foster my
curiosity in the relation of numbers and their application to navigation.

I learned to have a genuine sense of shock at injustice and crime because of
tour ship's nearly capsizing, due to neglect. I gained a sense of gratitude for the many
things others do for us. I look back on all the work men and women performed, so that
I, and so many servicemen, had decent places to go for a light meal, fellowship, talking,
music and dancing, invitations for dinner after worship services, what a great help this
was to me! And, a source of thought regarding what can be done for others.

Finally, I came to have more of a sense of mission and purpose. That I got to
come back when so many didn‘t -- but I did -- so, what are you as a person? I see
myself as a result of my experience, with less time left than one may realize, as a
servant. We're put on earth to give grace, to share God's love, to try to do His will - this
mission becomes more evident with the passing of time, but a sense of this began to
emerge partly as a result of my experience as a sailor.

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AL R. D’AGOSTINO
ARLINGTON, TEXAS 76013

You could call me a late-comer to the World War II Merchant Marines. My
eighteenth birthday was on June 7, 1945 and I headed for Sheepshead Bay from
Rochester, New York, the city of my birth.

I had been studying radio theory for the 2nd class FCC license. All I had to do
was get my code speed up to 60 wpm. When I got to Sheepshead Bay, I was told that it
would be twelve to sixteen weeks before I could start classes at Hoffman Island. I was
so caught up with the lifeboat drills and gunnery training that I wanted to go to sea! I
had one major problem, I WAS COLOR BLIND!!!!! Because of my handicap, working
with the black gang or the deck department was definitely OUT!!! So, I shipped out in
the Steward‘s Department.

After we finished our training, we were sent to Baltimore where the training
ship American Mariner was berthed. There were 500 graduates of Sheepshead Bay
(including me) aboard this ship. The purpose of the trip was two-fold. One, additional
training for us, and secondly getting us to the West Coast. My first shore leave as a
mariner in Bilbao, Panama, it was made very clear that we were not to come back to the
ship with ANYTHING that even resembled a tattoo because the bosun said ―tattoos
do not make a sailor!” And wouldn‘t you know that on their return to the ship, there
was no shortage of tattoos among the guys who went ashore! Just ask anyone who is
sporting a tattoo, how long ago it was when they got their first one!!! Some of the men
had the pleasant surprise of sporting a tattoo along with a helluva hangover!

Once through the Canal, we put into Manzanillo Harbor, Mexico when a
strange thing happened to this guy who was destined for the Steward‘s Department.
While riding the hook in the harbor, I found myself over the side on staging painting
the hull of the ship a battle ship grey! We proceeded on to San Pedro where we
boarded the infamous Catalina Ferry for the St. Catherine Hotel. All this gave us the
impression that they were storing us until there were ships available to sail. Half of our
group went to the US Maritime Officer‘s School in Alameda, California, and then to the
grad school at 1000 Geary Street in San Francisco.

After a couple of weeks we were told to report to the SS Monterey – one of the
Matson Lines‘ peacetime luxury ships, the others being the SS Luraline, the SS Mariposa
and the SS Matsonia. Before World War II, these ships made regular trips to Honolulu,
Auckland and Sydney and were referred to ―down under‖ as the Yankee Mailboats.
These ships had an enviable record as troop transports in all parts of the world. I
signed on as a scullion (pot washer). The executive chef recognized my talents and
promoted me to 3rd butcher! With this promotion, my monthly pay skyrocketed to
$37.50! This was the beginning of the astronomical wages paid to merchant seamen.

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1945 Al in his 1949 Army
Merchant Marine

uniform at
Grandma’s house

The SS Monterey was configured as a troop ship carrying in excess of 5,000
troops to Manila, The Philippines. Many of these soldiers had fought in Africa, Italy
and France were given 60 days leave in the U.S. after spending almost two years in their
previous assignments. They were going to participate in the invasion of Japan.
Needless to say, they weren‘t the happiest G.I.‘s you‘ve ever seen. When they arrived in
Manila, the war in the pacific was over. Our return to San Francisco was much more
joyous because the 7,000 plus troops on board were a happy lot – the war was over,
and they were going home!

Manila was typical of the devastation that the seaports throughout the world
suffered. There were ships sunk all over, at all angles – there was no electricity and we
docked at what seemed to be the only operational dock in the harbor. On returning to
San Francisco, we made the mistake of stopping at Pier 15 on the Embarcadero on our
way to Camp Stoneman and approximately 7500 G.I.‘s went A.W.O.L. (slight
exaggeration).

The Monterey put in to Hunter‘s Point Ship Yard to be outfitted to
accommodate war brides who had married G.I.‘s in the pacific. Keep in mind that as a
troop carrier, G.I.‘s only received two meals a day, without the benefit of sitting down
at a table and slept in six-tiered bunks! Hardly a fitting accommodation for new war
brides coming to the U.S. to meet their new husbands, new in-laws and a new country
where the people talked ―funny.‖ While this retro-fitting was in progress, I had signed
off articles and my living accommodations and meals were all at my expense because
once off articles your pay ceased. In order to offset the expenses ashore, I signed on
the Matsonia for a quick trip to Honolulu – five days over and five days back with three
days in port.

Back on the Monterey, we set sail for Auckland, New Zealand with an
intermediate stop in Pago-Pago, American Samoa. The first war brides were from New
Zealand and then it was on to Sydney, Australia. Sydney was one of the best ports I
ever made shore leave especially King‘s Cross. The Aussie‘s returning from Indonesia
and Sumatra were exactly as you would imagine – deliriously happy and full of beer

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which was in short supply being available twice a day when the Pubs were open. Beer
was always available on the black market, ask any cab driver!

I really don‘t remember how many war brides there were, I would guess several
thousand with many squealing infants. My perspective was strictly from the butcher
shop where we made sure that we had baby spring lamb chops and legs of lamb! Little
did we know that the Australian and New Zealander at that time preferred mutton and
instead of being praised for the cuts of lamb like those served in the fine U.S.
restaurant, we heard a few complaints!

The first leg of the trip back was from Sydney to Suva Fiji then on to Honolulu
and then to San Francisco. Needless to say, the docks in San Francisco were extremely
crowded with people greeting the new brides and their babies.

My next point of concentration was to get back to the East Coast and ship out
of East Coast ports. When I went down to the union hall to see the job listings I saw
that the Central Victory was going through the Canal to Brooklyn. I was advised by the
dispatcher that the only way I could get out was to do picket duty because there was a
strike in progress. I got my first taste of carrying a picket sign in downtown San
Francisco. The ship went into Bush Terminal in Brooklyn and lo and behold the East
Coast longshoremen were on strike and they were picketing the entrance to the dock
with deadly looking longshoremen hooks as well as picket signs. After much
negotiation, they allowed us to go ashore. There were no jobs because the strike shut
down all shipping and the unions had set up a soup kitchen over in Manhattan on
Bleeker Street. In order to eat, we took the subway from Brooklyn to Bleaker Street. I
never ate so much cottage cheese to survive!

Finally, through the union hall, I heard that the Marine Marlin – a C4 which was
under charter to the U.S. State Department was going to approximately 15 ports in
Mexico, South America and Europe to pick up German nationals who had infiltrated
these countries to return them to Germany as war criminals. When we finally reached
Bremerhaven (a 3+ month trip), we unloaded passengers to the authorities and
promptly began boarding war brides and holocaust survivors for the trip back to New
York.

Once back in New York as every merchant seaman knew and in order to not be
subject to the Selective Service Act of World War II, and get that very valuable piece of
paper, Certificate of Substantially Continuous Service in the United States
Merchant Marine, I had a minimum of three months sea time to get.

I signed on to the SS Charles H. Lanham which departed from Baltimore
bound for Rotterdam carrying bulk grain. The return was ‗lite‘ under ballast
encountering the stormiest seas I ever experienced. There was no hot food for several
days because we couldn‘t keep a pot on the stove! We returned to New York and
proceeded up the Hudson River to Albany where we loaded bulk grain for
Bremerhaven, Germany on to the stormy Atlantic once again. The ship returned to the
U.S. docking at Galveston, Texas and I paid off saying goodbye to the sea returning
home (Rochester, New York) by way of Washington, D.C. to personally pick up service
ribbons for the Pacific, Atlantic and the World War II Victory Medal together with that

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piece of paper from the War Shipping Administration – I was not yet 20 years old.
There was no such thing as ―52-20‖, and heaven forbid, no GI Bill! I went back to my
job as signalman with the New York Central Railroad.

Time marches on…… and in 1948, the US Congress passed a new Selective
Service Act which did not exempt merchant seamen! The Continuous Certificate that I
picked up in Washington was worthless! In January, 1949, I answered the call of my
local draft board and went into the US Army. In June of 1950 the Korean War broke
out and in January of 1951 I found myself in Korea. The Army recognized all my time
in the galley and put me in the Signal Corp as a radio relay operator! So what the
merchant marine didn‘t recognize of my talents, the Army did! As you will see later on,
my life career was in food service! Because of the wording of the Selective Service Act,
I could not be discharged and was separated into the 98th Division of the New York
Reserve where I served for two more years as a reservist……. Now I am 25 years old!

Most people would say that there was an easier way to take advantage of the GI
Bill; I took advantage of the education it allowed me to get. After one year at the
University of Rochester (I was still a reservist), I was accepted at Cornell University and
the School of Hotel Administration graduating in June, 1956. The experience in the
Steward‘s Department on the ships provided me with the basic skills to launch me into
my career in the food industry.

After graduating from Cornell University, I began my food service career in
restaurant management. The airline food service was growing rapidly with the many
airlines offering specialized food to its passengers. I began my airline food service
career working for TWA as director of dining and commissary service responsible for
the airline‘s worldwide food, beverage and cabin service. In 1970, I left TWA to work
with Sky Chefs then a subsidiary of American Airlines first as assistant vice president
for sales and service and then in 1971 as senior vice president of operations responsible
for all airport restaurants and flight kitchens.

During my working career I was past president of the Cornell Hotel
Association, past vice president and director of the Inflight Food Service Association,
member of the board of overseers of New York University and served on the board of
directors of the Hamilton-Madison Settlement House in New York City.

On June 23, 1956, I married Barbara, a native of Ithaca, New York. We have
just celebrated our 51st anniversary. We have four wonderful children – Andy, Tommy
who is deceased, Dee Dee and Frannie. Our six grandchildren are the joy of our lives
and our cat Sassy keeps us humble. We have resided in Arlington, Texas since 1979. In
our travels, the most memorable trip was attending the WWII Memorial dedication in
Washington, D.C. and standing proudly before the Flagpole that included the Merchant
Marines with the other armed services that helped bring peace to this country.

C.M. “BEECH” DALE
LINCOLN, NE 68506
The Merchant Marine of World War II – why did America’s young men join –

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My experience was pretty much similar to other mariners who served their
country during World War II. I was called to report to my draft board in Onawa, Iowa
in late March of 1943. The town‘s population was 3000 people – the only claim to fame
was a school teacher (Chris Nelson) who invested the Eskimo Pie and a measurement
that indicated the main street was the widest in the U.S. Being acquainted with the
Draft Board Head (Tyler Johnson) I felt comfortable making an appearance but was
disappointed when he informed me my desire to become a sailor in the Navy would be
denied as the induction was temporarily filled. He asked me what I knew about the
merchant marine and I informed him I knew nothing and he said he didn‘t either, but
had received information in his office indicating a need for merchant marine and if I
would go to Des Moines, where there was a Maritime Recruiting Station and if they
would accept me this would satisfy the Draft Board.

I was accepted and within three weeks left Omaha with 56 other young men
with the average ages of 18-19 to enter boot and basic training at Sheepshead Bay
Training Station in Brooklyn, N.Y. Training was similar to navy – (1) taught marching,
(2) gunnery, (3) lifeboat drill and (4) a duty to perform aboard ship. Upon graduation
(the average time was 13 weeks) I was sent to the graduate hotel (Chelsea) in New York
City to await orders. The larger percentage of graduates was sent directly to shipping
points on both coasts. I received my orders within 5 days and was sent to Boston to
board the army transport George W. Goethals as the 4th butcher (I had one year after high
school graduation of working as a meat cutter.) I learned there were 20,000 merchant
marine who manned the army transports during WWII.

Between early September of ‗43 and early September of ‗44, seven crossings of
the North Atlantic were made delivering an estimated 18,000 soldiers to the British
Isles. On each eve before departing I would entertain a feeling of despair when
considering the rough seas and German U-Boats that lay ahead; however, once we were
underway and performing my duty, this fear would leave me. The Goethals had a close
call on Christmas Eve of ‘43 when her rudder failed to function in 40-45 seas – this
caused the ship to list more than 40 degrees for which we were about to roll over.
Everything on the ship that wasn‘t ‗nailed down‘ went flying about – we were ordered
by the captain (Anderson) to don our rubber suits and to ‗stand by‘ to abandon ship.
We were on our way to Iceland to pick up troops of the 5th Division and deliver them
to Ireland and about 500 miles from Scotland we encountered this difficulty. We had a
cadet from the Merchant Marine Academy who figured a way to control the rudder and
we returned to Scotland. The 6th crossing by the General Goethals of the North Atlantic
was made in late May of ‘44 – we delivered our troops to Liverpool. From there we
traveled light to Swansea, Wales; this was June 1st or 2nd.

Much scuttlebutt was indicative the invasion of Europe‘s mainland was about to
begin – we were making bets and mine was far off as I figured it would be Norway. I
learned this was an attempt to mislead German spies. On June 4th we loaded troops of
the 2nd Division in Cardif, Wales, we were to be ‗under way‘ in the early hours of June
5th. We learned later the invasion had been scheduled for the 5th but due to bad weather
conditions it was changed to the 6th.

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Four large troop transports with an estimated 8000 troops left Cardif with the
Navy Transport Susan B. Anthony leading the way – the Goethals was second in line
followed by the Thomas Berry (U.S.A.T.) and can‘t recall the name of the 4th transport.
Lt. E.P. Neff, U.S. Naval Armed Guard Gunnery Officer, asked for volunteers of the
crew to help man the guns – since I had received training on a 3‖X50‖ cannon I was to
spend the better part of 72 hours as a shellman. I was given a Certificate of
Appreciation from the United States Navy for this service.

Mine sweepers had gone ahead to clear a path as we were crossing the English
Channel – the Anthony left the line momentarily due to strong winds and when she
attempted to cross our bow and get back in line she struck mines. I was in the ship‘s
pantry preparing a cup of hot chocolate and looking out a port hole at the time. I saw
her blown almost out of the water – Higgins Boats arrived on the scene and started
picking soldiers from the water. I learned years later from John Maddox of Lincoln,
Nebraska who was a soldier aboard the Anthony that there was little loss of life. The
Higgins Boats delivered them to Utah Beach where they looked for dead and wounded
to gather guns, etc. and start their march to Germany.

I don‘t know the distance we were from shore but found it was too close to
German guns and we backed away to a seemingly short distance where the men
climbed down the side of the ship using cargo nets – Higgins Boats swept them away to
the landing site. The Goethals left the area and traveled to Belfast, Ireland where men of
the 5th division were picked up and delivered to Utah Beach. We returned to Boston in
Late June (44) with 120 Navy men aboard who had survived the sinking of their
destroyer.

Ralph Belleville, from Woonsocket, RI, was also a butcher aboard ship and we
became good friends – he served with me on the 3‖X50‖ cannon during the Normandy
Invasion. I recall an incident where a Heinkle 177 (German) plane coming so low over
the Goethals that Ralph said if he returns ―I‘ll knock him down with a broom handle.‖
Ralph and I decided we wanted to transfer to the Pacific Theater and see what the Japs
had to offer. This was about the middle of July (44) but we learned the Goethals next
trip would be to deliver troops to Marseille, France – Ralph could speak French fluently
and we decided we would make this last trip with the Goethals. When we were half way
across the Atlantic our orders were changed to delivering the troops to England as the
invasion of Southern France had gone well and the soldiers were well on their way into
France.

Upon the return trip to Boston, we signed transfer papers and started our
journey to San Francisco – mid-September (44) – while enroute we stopped in my
hometown of Onawa. Ralph and I tried a little hunting of ducks for which most of the
equipment was borrowed – this was no problem as the people treated us well. We
didn‘t do well on the duck hunting – the worst part being I ripped a hold in the
borrowed waders and there would be no replacement due to war time shortages. I was
pleased to find seven servicemen were home on leave that I played high school football
with; after a warm discussion we visited the high school football coach and wondered if
he would consider scheduling a game with us under the lights. He was very receptive to

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the idea and provided us with two of his varsity players to make up our eleven man

team; this was a most memorable event. We had a great crowd and we servicemen won

by two touchdowns – Ralph played well at half back – wish we could‘ve had him on

our high school team.

We arrived in San Francisco the latter of the month and within a few days we

were transferred to the Army‘s Seattle Port of Embarkation where we were placed

aboard the ship Sierra this is a training ship and we were to await the arrival of the Army

Transport Otsego. Within a few days we went aboard the Otsego where I was to serve as

chief butcher and Ralph would be the second butcher. Several trips were made

to the Aleutian Islands and Alaska moving troops – half the time we would go via the

Bering Sea, which is extremely rough, particularly in the fall and winter months – the

other times we would travel the Inside Passage which is always calm with beautiful

surroundings. I was awakened on one trip by the mooing of a cow (I thought I was

back in Iowa) I went out on deck noticing a Russian ship passing on our port side. I

learned this ship lacked refrigeration and carried its meat supply live and butchered

them as needed. The Otsego was a German Raider during World War I and the U.S. had

captured her – she was converted to a troop ship to accommodate 600-700 troops.

Within two weeks Ralph and I were placed aboard the Army Transport
Aconcauga to serve as chief and 2nd butchers, a beautiful ship, it had been a cruise ship in

peace time and converted to a troop carrier and could accommodate 2500 troops. What

we enjoyed so much were the wood decks – they never turned hot and cold with the

weather as was the case of the steel decks – nor did we hear and feel vibrations of

activity on deck. This transfer to the Aconcauga was made in late December (‗44) – any

time we had troops aboard we would have 8-10 army volunteers assisting in the butcher

shop. You can imagine (a couple of instances) the ‗drawing‘ of innards from enough

chickens to serve 2500 troops and the breaking of eggs to serve them their breakfast.

We managed quite well except in stormy seas – difficult to work and to have a big

percentage with sea sickness. We planned and had good food for our troops – we

would hear complaints about the food and even the troops would admit ―if you weren‘t

complaining you weren‘t well.‖

We made several trips to Hawaii called the ―Pineapple‖ run, what I liked about

Hawaii was there were seven (different service branches) men from Onawa – ―red‖

Rose, El Ray Hegwood, Jack Larsen, Bruce Harlow, ―Mick‖ Jividen, Don Parrish and

Carl Arndt. Jack Larsen was in a position where he could tell me the destination of the

Acocagua – on about the middle of June (‗45) while adding troops in Hawaii Jack

informed me we were going to I.e. Shima. It was difficult to locate on a map but we

found it to be a part of Okinawa. We began thinking about kamikaze planes with which

the Japanese were destroying many ships and killing many Americans from the

Philippines to Okinawa. On this trip I served as Troop Steward and Ralph became

chief butcher. We had troops aboard for 56 days – we visited the Marshalls, Ulithi (Mog

Mog), Saipan and Tinian before putting our troops ashore at Okinawa. While in Saipan

I received a visit from my good friend Pat Mustard – we were like brothers living next

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door as we grew up in Onawa. Pat was Navy and his ship was part of the invading
force at Okinawa.

Ralph and I volunteered once again to serve on a 3‖X50‖ cannon – we
experienced Japanese plane raids but couldn‘t witness anything as the anchorage was
covered with smoke – this prevented the Japanese pilots clear targets. I must admit I
was more fearful at this invasion than the Normandy one. We were forced to leave the
area due to typhoons – we returned to Ulithi where we stayed until word from
intelligence sources indicated the ―Japs‖ were preparing to launch a raid of kamikaze
planes from the Island of Yap – this island was by-passed as our fighting led north and
it wasn‘t far from our anchorage.

The Aconcauga was given orders to proceed toward Guam – when we were in
the area August 6th, we learned of atomic bombing of Hiroshima. We stayed in the area
until we heard of the 2nd atomic bombing of Nagasaki at which time we were given
orders to return to Seattle. We arrived in Seattle around August 20th, the Aconcagua was
placed in dry dock – Ralph and I stayed at the Merchant Marine Hotel for several days
– after getting back on board we made several trips to Hawaii, Ralph as Troop Steward
and me as 2nd Steward. Around late March (46) we were docked in Los Angeles
preparatory to delivering prisoners of war, German and Italian to Europe – I became
Chief Steward and Ralph became Second Steward. I had a problem ordering food
supplies for these prisoners, first it was determined we would haul Germans so I placed
an order (among other items) for kraut & franks – I was later informed it would be
Italians for which I traded kraut & franks to pasta.

The railroads were given the business of hauling these prisoners to New York
where we could take them aboard and deliver them to Europe. From Los Angeles we
were to travel light, through the Panama Canal and on to New York, since we were
traveling light our infirmary lacked doctors and medics. While enroute our chief
butcher developed appendicitis, since we had no doctor aboard we radioed the area of
our situation and a Navy Destroyer came alongside, we arranged a boatswain‘s chair to
transport our man back and forth for surgery and continued our journey.

We experienced some bad weather along the East Coast seeing the Statue of
Liberty and the New York skyline were welcome sights. After two weeks docking at the
Brooklyn Army Port of Embarkation orders were given to take the Aconcauga to
Newport News, Virginia to be placed in the anchorage as part of the Reserve Fleet,
most of these ships would be scrapped. The crew was saddened; everyone had a feeling
of betrayal, unbelievable her days of sailing would end like this. After several days doing
paper work and transferring items and equipment Ralph and I were provided
transportation and per diem to return to Seattle.

Our next ship was the ‗new‘ George Washington Carver, Lina Horne had done the
christening. I was given the duty of Second Steward and Ralph was assigned the
position of Troop Steward. (May of ‘46) Several ‗runs‘ were made to Hawaii and Alaska
moving troops and civilians of military personnel. Ralph and I reviewed our situation,
from all indications our future with the Army Transport Service was impaired due to

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seniority, the limiting of the number of ships and personnel would take its toll. We
elected to take discharges.

In the title of my writing I mentioned ―Why did America‘s young men (boys)
join the merchant marine‖ – it seemed I preferred this assignment from my draft board
as opposed to entering the army. I think being raised in the Midwest the ocean had
more appeal, I felt as navy member do, ―you joined to see the world.‖ Coastal cities
provided the merchant marine service exposure to the sea where young men were
attracted to ocean going vessels. Had these young men known they would be
considered civilians at war‘s end, that the government wouldn‘t recognize their service
and they wouldn‘t be eligible for the GI Bill, the 52-$20 program and other amenities
given to the other services, they most certainly would‘ve chosen another branch of the
services.

In 1988, 42 years after the end of WWII, the courts ruled the merchant marine
be given veterans status, Ralph and I were given army discharges. Those that didn‘t
serve aboard army transports were given coast guard discharges; our government still
hasn‘t recognized mariners who served in WWII. The merchant marine can be proud
of the contribution they made to the war effort, General‘s Eisenhower and MacArthur
et al were of the opinion World War II would not have been won without the service of
the merchant marine delivering troops and supplies to ALL invasions and theaters of
war. This accomplishment was made at a high cost – over 800 ships and ONE of every
TWENTY-SIX mariners who served were left on the ocean floor. The merchant
marine suffered the highest death rate of all the services – for the army it was 1 in 48,
navy 1 in 108, marine corps 1 in 34 and coast guard 1 in 400. For political forces to
deny military benefits to merchant mariners was not only foolish but a disgrace, it was
not fair and not in the tradition of a great nation. The merchant marine has a proud
heritage dating back to the Revolutionary War. I’m very proud to have served my
country in the Merchant Marine during World War II.
This picture is Ralph Belleville on the left and me on the right – Ralph is from
Woonsocket, RI and we sailed as shipmates for over three years.

In the next picture, we were
transporting military families from Honolulu to the states and this little girl was being
part of our life-boat drill – I was second steward on the army transport Aconcagua at
the time.

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RAYMOND P. DELRICH
Phoenix, AZ 85022

To Russia with Anticipation…
Graduation from the Academy in September 1944 was marred by one simple

error: a miscalculation in the DR problem during the license exam. For that I was set
down for 30 days. During that time, between cram sessions, I managed to ruin my left
knee for life during a "touch" football game. No, it was the right knee; both are so bad
now, that I can't remember which one started the process. When finally leaving the
Academy, after signing waivers on the knee problem, I finally got my first ship, the S/S
Charles Scribner. What irony; the name of a lost sweetheart: Marion Scribner who threw
me over for a guy that wasn't going to be at sea for long periods, at least that‘s what she
said.

To my great delight, I learned that I was headed for Russia, the famed
―Murmansk Run.‖ Finally I was going to get in the WAR! The disappointment of
having missed D-Day would now be rectified. My high school buddy, Bob Billian had
just graduated from Flight School and was on his way to England to fly B-l7's. I, of
course, was headed for more hazardous duty: braving the U-Boats of the North
Atlantic and the Luftwaffe of the Norwegian Coastline, not to mention the natural
threats of the North Atlantic and the Barents Sea in the dead of winter – and ICE.

The ship was a Liberty (EC2), my first freighter. After all, I was a tankerman,
having served on the M/V Cities Service OHIO during my cadet sea tour. I avoided all
of the freighter portions of the Sea Project so I had lots to learn. The Scribner was
berthed at the Brooklyn Army Base, naturally, loading everything from planes and tanks
to canned meat, trucks and ammo. I boarded at night and lost no time exploring every
cranny of the ship from bridge to shaft alley.

During my night-time wanderings, I caught occasional glimpses of a tall, skinny
spook-like character running around the deck with a can of grease and a brush, greasing
the steam winches. The fact that he was wearing greasy, dirty khakis caused me to
believe he was probably the Third Engineer or the Deck Engineer. Early the next
morning, I caught up with him and introduced myself. Little did I think, at the moment,
that I was meeting a man who would one day be my college classmate, best-man at my
wedding, God-father to my first-born son and lifelong friend. He was Frank Kolnacki,
King Point, '44; Georgetown '51.

The convoy departed New York at night, dark, starless and cold. We took a
course after making-up to rendezvous with a number of ships and Canadian escort
vessels out of Halifax. Our convoy Commodore was a US Navy Captain who would
relinquish the flag to a Canadian Admiral, as the majority of escort forces were to be
British and Canadian. The run to Halifax was uneventful, except that the weather was
worsening by the hour. Convoy speed averaged about 4 knots into the weather. The
grey dawn showed about 35 ships in the convoy with an equal number waiting to join
us out of Halifax.

The US Navy escort force left us at Halifax to provide cover for a fleet

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westbound from Europe and the British/Canadian Navy escort force took over. At the
commodores position was a British/Canadian Navy light cruiser with the Convoy
Commodore aboard. Immediately astern was a pocket aircraft carrier (converted C-3)
and another well astern. The remaining escort consisted of destroyers, DE's and
corvettes.

The merging of the two forces was confusing and took forever. The weather
wasn't helping as it approached Gale Force. After what seemed like an all-day effort,
the signal was made to make convoy course and steam at weather speed, which was
probably about 5 knots, into the head of the gale. By my watch, the next morning, the
weather was now at full gale force, visibility was down to about 500 yards, made worse
by rain and spume. The seas were now approaching the "mountainous" swell stage and
station keeping was becoming more difficult.

A word about our Captain might be appropriate at this juncture. This was to be
his fourth Murmansk run. He had been torpedoed once or twice on this run and
expressed concern that this might be number three. He was fond of rum; the drink of
the "warriors" as he was fond of saying and his supply was impressive: dark rum, in
green bottles, corked. He was a large; powerful man, intelligent, opinionated and ded-
icated to the Allied war effort.

The Captain referred to his deck officers as "truck drivers," because of our role
as station keepers in the convoy. He was disdainful of any wartime officers who had
never had his peacetime navigational experience. He couldn't believe that any of us
might be competent navigators.

On the second day out from Halifax, the convoy was virtually hove-to, with
station keeping impossible, the Captain ordered us to drop back and set a course for
the Irish Sea. We were proceeding alone to the next rendezvous point, Scapa Flow,
Scotland. The weather was our protection from the U-boat threat, but the weather was
also a hindrance to navigation.

Despite the weather, the "old man" ordered full ahead. His objective was to get
to Scotland before the body of the convoy, thereby proving his superior seamanship to
the Commodore. Full ahead turned out to be too much for poor Charlie Scribner, as
she pounded and rocked and rolled miserably. By my watch (8-12) that night, at around
2200, I heard a deep pounding, drum-like sound, when the ship took a roll to port. It
was obvious something was adrift in the hold; something big and heavy. I alerted the
Captain who bounded up to the bridge in his pajamas and robe. He immediately knew
what was happening, and called the Chief Mate and the Bosun to the bridge. He also
ordered the ship hove-to and speed to slow.

The Chief Mate was a young Matthews County (VA) farmer/sailor. The Bosun
was a tough Jamaican sailor who added bits of hawser hemp to his pipe tobacco. They
broke out all-hands and headed for No.2 hold where a Sherman tank was attempting to
free itself from the confines of the ship by making its own door through the skin of the
ship, below the waterline.

By "all-hands," the Captain meant, all deck hands, including my watch. He
turned to me and asked: "Can you steer?" To my ―Yes, Sir!‖ he ordered me on the

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wheel and the rest of my watch to No.2. They joined the rest of the deck gang who
were now in the cramped hold attempting to lasso a 42-ton tank whose lashings had
broken as a result of the pounding the ship was taking in the gale. Those guys were
heroes! When I saw the aftermath in Scotland, where we renewed the jury-rigged
lashing job, I was amazed that the bulge in the side of the hull hadn't caused a break in
the skin and a major leak. Perhaps the smashed cases of canned meat plugged any
cracks that may have developed.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, except for witnessing the most brilliant
example of dead reckoning I had ever seen. During the whole trip to Scapa Flow,
actually 'to Glasgow to check the hull damage, we saw neither sun nor stars, nor a
horizon to set them on. Yet, he got us there; we made a landfall on the southern tip of
Ireland within hours of our ETA. He called it "seat-of-the pants" navigation. I called it
a miracle.

The North Cape Convoy was made up out of Scapa Flow, destined for
Murmansk. The Escort was about the same, somewhere along the line a USCG
Icebreaker "Northwind," I believe, joined the convoy, but that may not have been until
we rounded North Cape. The weather we faced crossing the Atlantic had abated
somewhat, but not a great deal. To the bitter cold and occasional ice storm was added a
new hazard to navigation: ICE. Ice began forming on the rigging and forward gun
emplacements as we plodded our way northward into the face of gale-like weather. The
crew was continuously on deck with steam hoses, attempting to keep the guns forward
in working order. The forward "battery" consisted of one 3"50 gun tub at the bow and
a twenty-mm on the port and starboard side deck gun tubs. The Bridge battery (4-
20mm guns) was kept operable by the gun crew by working the mechanism and
lubrication. The aft batteries were kept operable by similar means.

Everything seemed to happen on my watch. At about 1000 hours, the Cargo
Security Officer and I were enjoying our coffee and cigarettes on the bridge, when I
noticed a low flying aircraft (200') over the center file, heading for the Commodore.
Before a few seconds of wonder had passed, a large spume was seen at the stern of the
cruiser, to be followed by the sound of an explosion. The sound of "General Alarm"
was heard, having been activated by the Captain who was standing on the starboard
wing of the lower bridge and saw the aircraft the same time as we did.

All hell broke loose! The gun crew manned their stations- The Captain came up
to the bridge and ordered me to continue the conn and maintain station until otherwise
ordered by the Commodore, and to stay on the flying bridge. Our only protection on
the flying bridge was a flimsy plywood box, built around the steering station as a
protection from the weather, not from strafing which was soon to happen. Within
minutes, the sky was full of aircraft and puffs of anti aircraft explosive fire, with arcs of
tracers criss-crossing the low-clouded ceiling. The speaker on the bridge was tuned into
the VHF frequency of the British flyers who were more fearful of our guns than the
return fire of the JU-88's whichs were on the attack. I don't believe there were more
than six Junkers in the engagement, and I don't believe we got any of them. Two of our
planes went down. I doubt that the pilots were rescued; even if they were picked up,

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they could not have survived more than a minute of two in the frigid waters of the
Norwegian Sea in January.

Smoke on the horizon indicated that at least four ships had been hit by aircraft
launched torpedoes. I recall one low flying JU-88 passing directly overhead, so close I
could see the face of the pilot looking at me as he passed over the ship. Apparently, his
attempt to bomb or torpedo us failed because of a mechanical hang-up or he was
making a strafing run. That, too, was unsuccessful. The starboard gun tub was
frantically pumping 20-mm tracers at the sky immediately after his tail, until they hit the
stack or the preventer bar with the barrel of their gun. So my first real action... This is
what I was waiting for. Every thing seemed to happen so slowly. I seemed to be
somewhere else watching it all happen, including watching myself on the bridge,
gripping the rail, standing in front of the steering station with the windows open so that
the helmsman could hear any changes in speed or course I might give him. The convoy
was breaking up as ships were hit and falling out of station, so instead of keeping
station, my job was to keep from colliding with someone else. At no time did the
Commodore signal "Star" dispersion. The whole thing probably took less than 15
minutes; I don't know.

We had two more such raids before we rounded North Cape and the U-Boats
took over from the Luftwaffe. Both of those happened on the 12-4 watch. My station
was on the lower bridge, to take the conn in the event the flying bridge was hit. Except
for strafing evidence, and minor injury from flying glass, splinters, etc., the ship and
crew escaped unscathed. Lucky! By the time we hit North Cape, our forward batteries
were completely useless being entirely enshrouded in ice, even the heavy lift boom
which was topped was one mass of ice. It would have been a pretty sight, if not so
deadly. The entire foredeck and the deck cargo of vehicles, tanks and aircraft were
covered with ice up to the midships house. Efforts to steam free the guns had been
given up in favor of keeping the bridge deck and aft guns workable. Of course, the ship
was down by the head from the ice accumulation, making station keeping in the
reformed convoy difficult.

Murmansk is situated on the Kola Inlet River. In order to enter, it was
necessary to single up the convoy, entering the narrow river entrance one by one.
Protecting the slow swimming ducks, the escorts furiously patrolled either side, parallel
to the singling ships, depth charging all the while. It was quite a sight and sound. Until
we entered the breakwater, it seemed that every other ship entering was hit by waiting
U-Boats, some were hit on starboard, some on the port side. As each was hit, they
made for shallow water in an effort to beach and save their cargoes. The wolf pack was
having a field day. I lost count, but I saw about 8 ships smoking behind us as we
steamed safely into the breakwater.

The time in Murmansk was short, mostly defrosting the rigging and guns with
live steam and shoveling ice overboard. One memory I will never forget. The first
morning in Murmansk, when then the work crews were changing for longshore duties,
the relief crew, all of whom were on temporary duty from the front (Leningrad)
recuperating from wounds, came over the hill toward the docks singing

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―Meadowlands.‖ What a thrill!!
The short stay took long enough for de-icing and then we were headed for

Moltovsk the port for Archangel in the White Sea. The presence of the Northwind now
made sense. We steamed out of Murmansk, past our beached colleagues, which were
now being off loaded by barge and floating cranes, turned east and headed for the
White Sea, without further incident.

It was immediately apparent how the White Sea got its name: it was completely
frozen over to a sufficient thickness to allow trucks to deliver the harbor and docking
pilots to the ships arriving in line following the ice breakers. Two Russian icebreakers
joined the Northwind, but they were ineffective by comparison. The Northwind
frequently went to their aid when they got stuck. Hooray for the USCG!

In the process of docking in the frozen harbor, we badly damaged our screw.
Repair facilities were non-existent. So, with the help of a non-English speaking Russian
shore gang, our Chief Engineer manually straightened two badly bent blades with blow
torches and sledge hammers. The vibration of the repair job was not that bad, and
leakage at the shaft bossing was minimal.

I met Lola the first night. We were on day watches, which meant I had the night
cargo watch. Midnight to 8 AM. She was Security Guard on the same watch. Cute,
baby-face, non-English speaking machine gunner from Leningrad, on medical
recuperation TAD, while recovering from gun wounds received in battle. Wow! She
made the long night watches tolerable. Her partner, also a young woman wore a
goatskin coat, obviously of untanned skins, because you could smell that coat as soon
as she and Lola boarded the ship. Whew! But Lola's presence made it all worthwhile.
The Russian Government permitted no fraternization with its citizens. Our movements
were closely watched and guarded. No American magazines or newspapers were
allowed ashore. No US currency. The Russians gave us a pile of Rubles to spend and
provided social activities only at the Intourist Hotel, where hostesses, vodka and food
were available in sufficient quantities.

The trip home was uneventful, except for several reconnaissance flyovers by
various types of Luftwaffe aircraft. No U-Boat action or JU-88s. Our escort was very
light, 4 or 5 DEs/corvettes of British registry. Our stopover destination was Wales
(Cardiff) where we had repairs made to the screw and stuffing box and then took off
for New York, unescorted. U-Boats are not interested in empty cargo ships. Not at this
stage of the war, anyway.

Next stop: JAPAN!

JACK DHABOLT
WATSONVILLE, CA 95076

On June 14, 1943 I was 16 years old. I saw a friend in downtown Fresno and
he said going to San Francisco to join the Merchant Marines. He asked me to go with
him. We hitchhiked to San Francisco and rented a room. The next day we went down
to the pier. The Merchant Marines school was on a yacht called ―The Invader‖; on

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which you would do training for 2 weeks. For 2 weeks I worked at the bowling alley;
setting pins. We got ten cents a game. If you were really fast, you could set 2 alleys at
one time. For breakfast I could go to a cafeteria for 10 or 15 cents. At the end of 2
weeks, we got our coast guard pass and joined the ―Sailors Union of Pacific.‖

The first ship I was on was the ―Robin Whitney‖. It was a C-2, which is bigger
than a liberty ship. We went down to Port Hueneme where we picked up 1,800
Seabees and Acorns.

In a convoy, we zigzagged for weeks because a convoy can only go as fast as the
slowest ship. We stopped at Numia, New Caledonia. We got liberty there and I walked
around to do some site seeing. Outside of town, a guard said ―Halt or I will shoot‖. I
did not know if I was in a military restricted area or the leprosy colony. So, I turned
around and went back to town FAST.

When we left in the convoy, Tokyo Rose knew exactly where we were and the
names of the ships. We heard that our sister ship, ―The Comet‖ had been sunk. We
took the 1,800 men to Russell Island, below Bougainville. The men only ate twice a day
and they got off the ship before their evening meal. Lot of them filled up with
coconuts on the island and it got them sick. We had a little Dutch captain, when he got
excited, sometimes he would give orders in Dutch. He was a very good captain; he
docked the ship, without the aids of tug boats.

Whenever planes were observed in the area we had general quarters. The
armed guards sometimes set with their guns for hours at a time. We were lucky that
our ship never did get hit. The Japanese planes, liking a full moon, would come over,
so the captain would say ―unload the ship fast, because a full moon is coming up‖.

In the first year I was on 2 different ships, the second one being ―Joseph M.
Carey.‖ We went to New Guinea, Townsville, Australia and Wellington, New Zealand.
All the Navy armed guards on the ship were wonderful men. We got along great with
them. All the Merchant Marine guys were great ship mates. They never tried to lead a
16 year old boy wrong. The cooks had to lock up their vanilla extract; because a lot of
men would like to drink it. Later on, I was in a bar, having a ―root beer‖, when I met
another Merchant Marine who said he was on the ―Comet‖, and it was not sunk. He
thought the ―Robin Whitney‖ had gotten sunk. We sure liked to listen to Tokyo Rose
because she played the latest songs from back home. We just ignored all the other
things she said and just listened to the music.

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After I got out of the Merchant Marine, I went into the Navy. I spent a year in
Korea in 1950 – 1951. I got married in 1950 and have 5 children. I got out of the
Navy in 1951.

I loved the sea. It was a great life -- The people and places. I guess when you
get older and look back you only think of the good times and not the bad; and that is a
good thing. I am 78 years old now, and will always look upon my time in the Merchant
Marines as a great time in my life.

CHARLES P. DONLY

By the time I was 16, way back in 1942, I was "chasing the war" and tried to
convince my father to let me join the Marines. His sage advice was "as soon as you
graduate from high school"." I was pretty restless until May of '43; finally went to
Marine enlistment center and failed physical due to suspicion of heart murmur. Much
to my chagrin was also turned down by Navy and Army pilot training due to less than
perfect eyesight. My father, back to sea again as a Chief Engineer in the Merchant
Marine, came to my rescue by suggesting that I apply for Kings Point. With a six-
month waiting list in store for me, was convinced to put my name on the list and join
the Maritime Service, so off to Sheepshead Bay in May, 1943.

While in boot camp I heard about openings to become a radio officer, took
various tests, qualified and was sent to Huntington, Long Island for 8 weeks and then
on to Gallups Island (outside of Boston Harbor) where I studied all week, most
weekends and graduated in December of 1943.

Following graduation I picked New Orleans as my port to ship out from.
Several weeks later I was aboard a Liberty ship. We hugged the East coast as we made
our way up to our convoy rendezvous at New York City harbor. I was enjoying the
ride until we hit Torpedo Junction (Cape Hatteras, N.C.) when we were battered by
several days of severe weather and I immediately developed a classical case of sea
sickness. I requisitioned a bucket, which was my continuous companion, whether on
watch or lying down in my bunk. I made a vow that when we hit port I would desert
ship and join the Army. But, as the weather abated my health returned and "Ia maladie
du mer" never resurfaced in the subsequent 3 years of sea time.

Upon reaching New York Harbor we formed into a convoy of 80 some
merchant ships and a substantial number of escorts. The trip started with a proverbial
bang as I was sitting in the officer‘s mess enjoying a cup of coffee and conversing with

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several associates. Just as we were clearing the submarine nets several depth charges
went off as did the general alarm. Coffee cups were knocked over as we scrambled to
our battle stations. Depth charges continued to be launched for some time and then,
after about a few hours, we were released from battle stations.

That baptismal episode started my next 20 months of direct war time
experience as I served in the North Atlantic, Mediterranean-Middle East and Pacific
theaters. There were many more general alarms, depth charge occurrences, air raids,
mine scares, ship collisions and atrocious weather conditions. As I can best recall,
some of the highlights were (1) being in on the D Day Normandy invasio'1 (2) an
abortive run to Murmansk that was curtailed near Scapa Flow when a German capital
ship scare rerouted us back to Glascow (3) learning to locate nearby air raid shelter in
England during the German rocket attacks and (4) blundering into a mine field above
Naples, Italy. Throughout these and other events the several liberty ships I served on
during the war remained unscathed.

The most direct harrowing moment for me came several months after V J day.
I was on a liberty ship, the SS Joseph Hooker, bringing troops back from the E.T.O.
On our second trip back, off the coast of Newfoundland, loaded with troops, we ran
into rugged weather, started taking water in #3 hold and I had to send out an SOS.
Fortunately the navy sent out tugs and a cruiser, but even more fortunately, we
somehow managed to stay afloat, keep the pumps working and didn't have to abandon
ship. That would have been an unmitigated disaster as hundreds of American troops
who had survived combat in the E.T.O. would have drowned. As it was peace time,
Walter Winchell used this as his lead story on WOR radio that night while we were still
floundering at sea and the outcome very much in doubt. I lived in New York City at
the time and my family had quite a start at the dinner table when Winchell's voice came
crackling out over the old reliable Sears & Roebuck Silvertone radio, featuring the
plight of the SS Joseph Hooker.

I left the Maritime Service in January 1948 and after having only marginal
success at operating my own business I enlisted in the Army with the intent of going to
OCS and making it a career. Korea erupted shortly thereafter and I volunteered for
that show (still not cured of chasing wars) and spent, or I should say, survived 16
months over there. When I got back I was in no shape to qualify for OCS so I
accepted a discharge in May 1952 and then spent 10 years with the NSAICIA
organizations.

I departed from that para-military world in May of "62" to enter the business
world, have fun and make money. I was in a variety of businesses as both an owner
and as a marketing executive for several corporations. I gradually phased into
consulting in my areas of experience and competence and have had my own firm
which specialized in Marketing & Management fundamentals. I still remain active in
that endeavor.

In recapping my modest odyssey I would be remiss if I didn't mention my
wonderful wife Diane. We were married for 31 years and are the proud parents of a
great son, Chuck, who went to Georgetown University via a Navy ROTC scholarship.

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He then served 5 years as a Naval Officer in the Nuclear Reactors program and was
the first officer in fifty years from that elite unit to receive the Navy and Marine Corps
Achievement Medal for his brilliant engineering input regarding our nuclear
submarine program. He is currently employed as a director for Seagate Technology.

As I reflect on all of this, I have no doubt that my exposure to the U.S.
Maritime Service Academy schools I attended and the subsequent service aboard ship
at a very formative period in my life had a significant influence on whatever I have
been able to achieve subsequent to that. I learned how to focus on a single goal
(graduating), to sacrifice (weekends in Boston) and to discipline myself (never
becoming discouraged). These attributes, formulated during my Merchant Marine
service, have stood me in good stead in all the enterprises I have subsequently been
engaged in.

I was proud to have served my country by being part of the U.S.
Merchant Marine Service whose contribution to America winning World War II
was simply enormous and indispensable. If I had the chance I would
unhesitatingly do it all over again.

M.C. DURAND
LYDIA, LA 70569

I don‘t sleep much (2-3 hours a day). I was raised on a dairy farm and started
milking at 2 AM, delivered milk before, school all day, then back home, farm chores to
do -- at nine years old and up. Oilfield at 15, then all them years at sea, Texaco, Gulf
Sinclair, Nash bulk carriers, Keystone, Pure Oil, Amoco, plenty of overtime, so to make
extra money to pay off the farm or pay off divorce, alimony, child support payment.
Always you were working long hours to pay bills, and then I retired August 1967.
Twenty (20) years sea-time $250.00 a month pension. You got it. Still N.M.U. $250.00
month. Life now 83 about. Still don‘t sleep. Write letters to you at 3 AM.

I‘m on a new project. I planted 9 persimmon trees yesterday on lot. Merchant
Marine Armed Guard, Memorial Street, 570 E. St. Peter Street, New Beria, LA 70560,
started this month.

I never dreamed I‘d be here trying to leave a message of World War II
Merchant Marine to give it all away, cause you can‘t take it with you when you die.
(Read Paleontology Evolution) And every step you walk all the bones hurt.

I go to V.A. for medicine. They operated on my guts last year – outpatient,
Alexandria, LA. Went in 7 AM out heading home 10 AM. I got torpedoed 2-21-42
Florida Coast Jupiter Lit. SS Republic – 5 fatalities -- then went whole war without a
scratch, and all them years on tanker shuttling oil everywhere. Then on water working
oil fields, shrimp boats, oysters, long living fishing.

I‘m going to put on a pot of Seaport coffee 5 AM. KRVS.org 88.7 FM Cajun
music – Tug boats – Crew boats.

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Maritime Tales of the Sea

RAYMOND C. EBELING
MISSION, KS 66215

I joined the Merchant Marine in March of 1944, because all the other quotas
for the other services were full, except for the infantry. I understood that the infantry
was to be used for "mop up" duty. Since I had been raised on a tenant farm in
Oklahoma, I wasn't anxious to tromp around in the muck and mire, etc., after spending
several years wading through cow manure, mud, and all the other unpleasantries one
would find on a farm.

I inquired about whether there was any other option from the draft board and
they suggested that the Merchant Marine really needed men. I had seen the poster
indicating that this was true, so joined thinking I was joining a branch of the Armed
Services. Not so. I was told I would not be called right away because farm labor was
badly needed and I would be notified after all the harvest season was over. I was called
to Kansas City, Mo., for induction in December of 1944, and then sent to Catalina
Island for boot camp. I contacted scarlet fever there, which delayed my completion of
training.

A couple weeks before completing training, a notice was placed indicating
anyone who desired could take a test to see if they could qualify for Hospital
Corps/Purser training. Surprisingly to me I took the test, was then told that I would go
to Sheepshead Bay, New York, for school. That I did and had a recurrence of ear
infection from the scarlet fever and was hospitalized for about two weeks. I finished
the school, was assigned to the SS JAMES H COUPER, and told to catch the ship in
Galveston, Texas, which I did.

As one can plainly see I did not sail during actual war time. I sailed for IFC
Freight Corp., office at 17 Battery Place, New York City, New York, and made two
trips from Galveston, to Antwerp, to New York, then to Galveston, Antwerp, etc. The
first trip we still had Navy Armed Guard and I had the pleasure of seeing them blow up
a few floating mines. The storms in the North Atlantic during the winter of 1945 were
also very impressive, especially when we were returning "light" and with not enough
ballast. Liberty ships were just now designed for that kind of use. I left the Merchant
Marine in August of 1946. While I wasn't torpedoed, even shot at, or was not
considered to be a Veteran until 1988, I am still very proud of what I did, and especially
proud of knowing so many who sailed during the really tough days. Without the
AMERICAN MERCHANT MARINE we would all be speaking German today. No
question in my mind…

BOB EKOOS
NANOOSE BAY B.C. V9P-9J4

When working on a tugboat on the Columbia River at age 17 in 1942, I tried to
join the U.S. Navy but was sold on the Merchant Marines. The induction officer put me
in the Navy reserve because I was 1-A and that way would not be drafted into the

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Army and would be old enough to go to sea after graduating from the Maritime
Training Academy on Catalina Island. My training was for Deck Duty but I sailed as
wiper to get to sea quicker.

My first ship was the Liberty Ship S.S. J Sterling Morton, sailing June 1943 out
of San Francisco. She carried war materials and munitions to the South Pacific via
Hawaii, docking in Sydney Harbor Australia, 44 days later. Leaving Sydney we steamed
up the coast to Brisbane, Townsville, and Cairns, then inside the Great Barrier Reef to
Port Moresby, Papua, New Guinea, before discharging cargo at Buna. The Jap‘s made a
few bombing attacks along the way but no damage to us. From there we sailed to New
Zealand for repairs and to pick up Pitcairn Islanders for transport back to their Island
since we were going in that direction. A few days after leaving we were caught in a
Typhoon in the Tasman Sea. Riding empty, except for ballast, the ship struggled up
gigantic waves then surfed down the back sides of each. The flexing strain on the shaft
caused it to split in half then tore the rudder away on the way overboard. When the
shaft broke, the entire ship shook violently having a full head of steam in the boilers
and an engine with no shaft. It quickly seized up. After drifting some 20 odd days
(blacked out) with no steerage and at the mercy of the storm, the oil tanker Stanvic
Sydney failed in an attempt to tow us. They then stood by for a few days in case we
broke up.

All this occurred at midnight and without warning or knowledge what had
happened until the following morning. Eventually we were towed back to N.Z. by a
coal burning tug. After discharging the passengers and repairs completed, we headed to
Pitcairn Island once again.

After an extended period on Pitcairn it left a lasting impression on me for life. I
still correspondence with the Islanders after 63 years. Back in San Francisco my buddy
Tom Collins and I, immediately shipped out 3/29/44 as Oilers aboard the fully loaded
ammunition Ship, S.S. Seaman A. Knapp, another Liberty. Again, with out convoy
protection and landed in Sydney before heading up to Hollandia, New Guinea.

By luck we avoided the Explosion that leveled the Port Chicago ammunition
Dept. near San Francisco with the loss of many a mariners and civilian lives. We also
lucked out by avoiding the Jap atrocities dealt out to sinking merchant ships after a
torpedo attack by Captain Ariizumi. These attacks were covered in previous Pointer
publications.

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The Morton eventually joined the huge convoy organized by General
MacArthur in his quest to take back the Philippines. We first felt more comfortable
about our cargo, being in a convoy after leaving Hollandia but soon learned the Jap‘s
knew exactly where we were and the bombing started in earnest. Increased U.S. fighter
planes, especially the P-38‘s gave the convoy protection as best they could with
Kamikaze‘s continuously diving out of the sky. It was bad in the Layte Gulf but worse
near Tacloban where we were ordered to discharge cargo. Corvettes laid down smoke
screens during the day but a Dutch freighter drug anchor during a typhoon and struck
our ship twice before drifting aft. With the sounds of wind screaming through the
rigging it was a memorable night indeed. Our own gunners shot off our radio antennas
during their eagerness to down the Jap fighters. They did a great job and received
credit from the U. S. Navy for shooting down three Jap fighters. Food supplies aboard
were scarce being stretched from a 3 months supply to 9 months due to the ‗leap-frog‘
tactic by Mac Arthur and no where to re-supply.

Sydney changed all that with plenty of chow, beer and Sheila‘s before heading
home through the Panama Canal into New York. There after a wild time seeing the
sights, I shipped out as an Evaporator Engineer aboard the C-4 troop transport, S.S.
Marine Wolf.
After nearly two years in the South Pacific, it was wonderful for a change to a more
modern ship. We transported troops, 108 trips across the English Channel from
Southampton to Le Havre, France until 10/19/45.

After returning to New York, I signed off and
hitch hiked back to California. I sailed the Tanker S.S. New Hope to Yokosuka, Japan
12/7/45, out of San Francisco. Then the Marine Wolf again after she returned to the
West Coast. Her charter was to return troops from Japan to the U.S. Unfortunately the
turbines were shot requiring us to limp back from Hawaii to San Francisco and prepare
her for moth balls. Disillusioned by a Union Strike, I quit the sea.

Shore life was a challenge beginning with a Finance Company for 9 years then a
Banking career of 30 years. After a marriage of 25 years, the loss of my young son and
a divorce, I married Sakura Higa (Cherry), a wonderful lady from Okinawa, Japan and
immigrated to Vancouver Island, B.C.

For a complete autobiography, I invite you to go to Publish America.com or
Amazon.com .for a copy of my book titled, ―Clara‘s Boys.

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JOHN F. ELLIOTT

Graduate of Kingspoint 1940’s

My husband John Elliott was born in Falls
Church Virginia on February 4, 1921 and passed away January 5, 1993.

Who was this wonderful, intelligent, deep thinking man who sailed in the
Merchant Marines for 47 years and changed my life for the 37years we were together?
Those who may read this should know that he graduated from Kingspoint in the
1940‘s. John was a quiet man. He spoke very little about his days at sea during World
War II and the Korean War. As I recall, he did sail on the SS Windgate during WW II.

I met John in Baltimore in 1954. I was a blues singer at the time performing in
Maryland, New York City, Jersey and Florida. We were married in 1956. John was a
wonderful husband and stepfather to my son, Michael Campos. I am reminded of the
words from a famous song, "I got the world by a string sitting on a rainbow, I am in
love.‖ And I was in love with this merchant seaman. I traveled the world with John
meeting him in ports of call whenever possible. That rainbow was ours.

John sailed the Vietnam run from 1956 to 1967. He sailed on two ships at that
time, the S.S. Exmouth and during the war the S.S. Expeditor whose Captain was Ed
Black. John always kept a Bible with him wherever he went. One day during the
Vietnam War, he asked, ―Ann, Do you think I will come home safely?‖ My answer was,
"Oh yes you will John Elliott because God has put two crosses on your name.‖

John did come home safely. He continued to sail for American Export Lines
that was later sold in 1980 to the Farrell Lines. In July 1984 he retired as Chief Officer
of the S.S. Export Patriot where he sailed under Captain Mike Polleta.

After retiring, he continued his love of books, fishing, and art. He always liked
sketching scenes of the sea and sailing ships. I believe it was his way of keeping in
touch with the sea. When he passed away, I followed his wishes to be buried at sea and
returned his ashes along with those of his beloved dog Fluffy, to the waters off Port
Orange, Florida where we lived for so many years. I am reminded of a line from his
favorite song that I always sang to him, "I can‘t stop loving that man of mine.‖ Rest in
peace, John…
Your beloved wife, Anna Elliott

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John’s sketches – he passed away before it John F. Elliott
was completed Chief Officer
American Export Lines,
LESTER E. ELLISON
MT. VERNON, TX 75457 Inc., N.Y.

My sea career started October 12, 1942 when I reported to the United States
Merchant Marine Academy. My first trip to sea was on the "MS West Grama,‖ built in
1919 in Los Angeles. This Freighter, the "MS West Grama‖ was deliberately sunk on
June 8, 1944 as part of the Gooseberry 1 breakwater in Mulberry "A‖ An artificial
harbor at Omaha Beach, off the Normandy coast.

After sailing on various Liberty ships, I went to work for the Army
Transportation Corp as First Officer on a U.S. Army Tug, ST-761 and I was soon on
my way to Europe. This was February 1944. The next few months were spent training,
little did I know, that we would be at Omaha Beach at 0600 on D+1 to build and
operate an artificial Harbor. We received a letter dated 10 August 1944, marked
SECRET, from the Harbor Master of U.S. Naval Advance Base 11. It reads:
ST 761 – Operations of
1. Since its arrival at this Base, D plus One at 0600 hours subject tug has participated

in many varied activities which contribute to the success of the operation. Of these
activities the formation of an artificial harbor was the most important, during which

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time subject tug assisted in siting of over fifty (50) Phoenix units, weighing from
three to six thousand tons each, and twenty-three (23) block ships. The formation
of this artificial harbor made it possible for the successful landing of many
important troops, vehicle, and supplies. Besides assisting in the siting of the above,
subject tug also assisted in many salvage operations and general harbor tug work.
2. During the period from 6 June 1944 through 10 August 1944, subject tug has not
missed one day or night of operation for any reason and has been ready for any
assignment at any time.
3. In adequately performing the above duties, it has sometimes been necessary to
expend the subject tug and its gear, because of the nature of its duties, at times to
open channel, in all conditions of wind and weather, day or night, subject tug
received a most serious pounding, which accounts for the present condition of tug,
and its gear.
4. To the Officers and Men of U.S. Army Tug ST 761, we express our sincerest
gratitude for a difficult operation very well done, under most trying conditions of
wind, weather, and enemy action.

I am proud as a Merchant Mariner to have participated in the Normandy Invasion
some 60 years ago.

ERICK L. ERICKSON
QUINCY, WA 98848

At the ripe old age of 16 we had just completed a 4 month trip which began at
Aberdeen, Washington, on September 4, 1941 and my date of discharge in Portland,
Oregon Dec. 26th 1941. The Satartia was my first ship and we went to Shanghai, Hong
Kong, Manila, Iloilo, Cebu, and Zamboanga. From there we were ordered by the
American Mail Line Co. to move further south as all indications sensed that war was
imminent. We arrived at Port Moresby, picked up mail and headed back to Honolulu,
T.H. (territory of Hawaii) and off again for San Pedro, California where we pulled into
Proctor and Gamble dock to unload our deck load of Philippian mahogany and the
Copra from our holds for making soap. Being it was the weekend I asked our Captain if
I could take leave from the ship and travel by bus to Fort Ord, California where my
sister and husband lived as he was a Master Sergeant stationed there.

We met and after a good visit we decided to take in a movie in Salinas, Calif.
Halfway through the movie it stopped and a guy walks out on the stage and says ―All
Army and military personnel return to your base immediately. Pearl Harbor has just
been bombed by the Japanese and we are now at war.‖ I said goodbye and caught the
first bus back to San Pedro where I found the waterfront to be in utter complete chaos
and confusion. Even though I had my Seaman Papers and passport and all for
identification, I was held up from the waterfront due to road blocks and sentry guards
everywhere. After several hours I was given permission to return to my ship.

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Unloading cargo continued and we soon left San Pedro and headed out to sea.
Our Captain‘s name was Reinhold de Lein and he set the coarse north up along the
California coast hugging the shore as close as possible without going aground so all we
mainly had to watch was our portside. Some of our deck hand crew rigged a Russell
Gun (I think it was called) which was used to throw a heaving line into a miniature
cannon loaded with nuts and bolts. The object was to at least get one shot away should
a submarine surface and try to fire at us with its deck gun. The thought was good but it
was never used.

As we made our way up the coast to the best of my memory we approached
near to Cape Blanco on the Oregon Coast where our lookouts thought they sighted a
submarine dead ahead. The weather was fairly clear with fog occasionally blocking our
view. We immediately radioed in and in a short time we had air support overhead. We
didn‘t see any further submarine sightings, (thank God) but according to the July 2007
AMMV magazine (that I received yesterday) I read about the attack on the S.S. Emidio
on 20th December 1941, 25 miles west of Cape Mendocino. This attack by the Japanese
submarine I-17 was perhaps the very same submarine that we spotted a day or two
earlier. The scuttlebutt we heard was that the vessel fired upon was the Standard Oil
Tanker Antigua, not the Socony-Vacuum Oil Company tanker S.S. Emidio. I never
actually heard if a S.S. Antigua ever existed.

We continued up the Oregon coast to the entrance of the Columbia River
where we had to lay to waiting for a change of tide so that we could cross the
treacherous Columbia Bar. While waiting, an old Russian freighter was coming down
stream and lost her steerage as the current was running faster than the old ship could
go. It soon ended up on the Washington side and broke apart splitting in three pieces.
Breaking apart fore and aft of the bridge she was spilling her cargo of new cars into the
water. I visited the Maritime Museum at Ilwaco, Washington which shows a large
picture of this old Russian ship as she broke apart joining the many others that met
their doom in the graveyard of ships.

At the ingoing tide we journeyed up the Columbia River to Portland, Oregon
where we learned the S.S. Satartia would be detained for a period of time to have deck
guns and gun crews come aboard. The Manganese ore which we had in our bottom
holds was destined for the Tacoma smelters in Tacoma, Washington so I asked to be
discharged on Dec. 26th 1941 as so did most of the crew. Being my home was in Seattle,
Washington, where I was raised on the Duwamish River I caught a train for home and
it must have been a milk train as it stopped many, many time along the way at each little
berg or town.

My next ship was the M.S. Cape Alava, a brand new beautiful ship owned also
by the American Mail Line Co. We made the maiden voyage from Seattle to San
Francisco empty. After loading we left San Francisco in an 18 ship convoy doing 18
knots. We were escorted across the Pacific to Brisbane, Australia carrying the first U.S.
troops to Australia, arriving in February 1942. The convoy was made up of U.S.
Merchant ships carrying vital war supplies, and if my memory is correct, I believe the

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three passenger liners carrying the U.S. troops were the S.S. Matsonia, the S.S. Mariposa
and the S.S. America accompanied by U.S. Navy destroyers and cruisers.

We discharged our cargo in Brisbane and headed down to Sydney, Australia
where we loaded tons of wool and headed back alone across the Pacific to San
Francisco where I once again left the Cape Alava for another train ride home for a short
stay. At this time my father worked at the shipyard in Seattle and my oldest sister
worked at Boeings and my youngest sister being married to an Army Master Sergeant
soon also helped the war effort by becoming a U.S. Army WAC. My dear mother of
coarse held the fort down being a faithful house keeper, writing letters to us and
mailing packages of goodies to men and women in uniform.

In the meantime all along I had studied hard so as to take the test for fireman. I
took the fireman test in Los Angeles and after passing it successfully, the exam officer
told me that according to his records I was the youngest licensed fireman on the Pacific
Coast. This, of course, made me very happy to achieve such a rating. So I spent no time
in finding my next ship which was another W.W.I freighter like the old Hog Islander,
S.S. Satartia. My third ship was the S.S. Hamakua owned by the Matson steamship
company.

We left San Francisco for the Hawaiian Islands in a 53 ship convoy escorted by
many U.S.N. destroyers and cruisers. We discharged our cargo of war supplies and
loaded up some Co. H cane sugar and headed back to the good old U.S.A.

It was my boyhood wish to someday join Uncle Sam‘s Navy and I felt the time
had come. Prior to W.W.II I was told that to be in the U.S. Navy you couldn‘t have
more than two teeth missing. I already had three teeth pulled so I figured I‘d never get
in. But as the war came along and this requirement was lifted I decided to join the Navy
while I could. On August 11, 1942 I joined the U.S. Navy and even though I had been
going to sea in the U.S. Merchant Marine for a year they still required my mother‘s
okay. Ha!

I took a quick Boot Camp training in San Diego, California and was sent aboard
the troop transport U.S.S. Republic in San Francisco and landed in Pearl Harbor, T.H.
where I joined the U.S.S. Saratoga CV-3 aircraft carrier which was my home for the next
3 ½ years. But that‘s another story and I seen enough action to last a lifetime.

FREDERICK A. FARLEY
WWII HISTORY 1944 TO 1949

I enlisted in US Maritime Service August 22 1944 after welding in Navy yard at
Bath Iron Works, Bath, Maine on destroyers. Trained at Sheepshead Bay, New York
until October 28, 1944 and signed on Frank Park Liberty ship at Baltimore, Maryland,
on November 1, 1944 loaded with 155 mm howitzer ammo for Italy. Had a very
interesting trip to say the least. The first thing, I was put on the wheel to steer the ship,
[which I had not done before] down the harbor toward the bay and all was well till the
harbor Pilot came in the wheel house and threw me out the other door. I found out real
quick what was wrong. I had steered the wrong course and we were about to ram the

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Battle Ship Missouri. What a big bang that would have been! All went well after that
and I learned to steer properly at sea in convoy to Mediterranean Sea.

We had to stop at Oran, North Africa for fresh water as our desalinization unit
broke down and was repaired there. We started toward Italy and ran into a big storm
and lost all six life boats and all forward life rafts leaving us with only two aft life rafts
for 62 people. We anchored at Augusta, Sicily for the night as ships were being blown
up and we were on watch all night to keep the small boats away as they would try to sell
fruit while one of the other people put a magnetic bomb on the ship.

We got to Livorno, Italy and found that Army engineers had to blow a ship up
that had been sunk to block the harbor. They did a good job and we had 12 inches
clearance on each side of the ship to steer though. Ha Ha, fun don't you know. The
ship was 10,000 tons and 496 feet long. We unloaded the ammo part in the harbor and
part at an old ships hull that they had placed to the shore as a dock. Very good trip
back as the ship was light and wasn't worth a torpedo to sink it. I signed off on January
13, 1945 at Boston, Mass. I signed on the Ephraim Brevard Liberty ship at Portland,
Maine on May 11, 1945 and went to Santiago, Cuba for a load of Bauxite and returned
to Baltimore, MD where it was unloaded and 10,000 tons of coal was loaded.

I Signed on the Ephraim Brevard Liberty ship again at Baltimore, MD on June
8, 1945 and went to Bramerhaven, Germany with a load of wheat as they had run out
and couldn't feed the people bread. We unloaded at the grain silos that the first jet
fighters were being built in. We had to wait for the machinery to be removed. I signed
off at New York on July 30, 1945.
I signed on the John E. Schmeltzer Liberty ship on August 29, 1945 at Boston, Mass.
for a trip to Bramen, Germany with a load of coal for their power plants, and stopped
at Antwerp, Belgium for a load of troops to return home to New York. We had
approximately 450 troops on board and hit a hurricane in the North Atlantic on the
way home. We only traveled 24 miles in 24 hours in that and had very sick troops on
board. We normally traveled 124 miles in 24 hours at 12 knots. Had a very bad time
cleaning the ship after it was over. The cooks that fed the troops would sleep in our
beds while we were working as they cooked at all hours to do the job with the limited
galley facilities we had for them. I signed off at New, York in October 24, 1945.

I signed on the Benjamin Silliman Liberty ship on March 1, 1946 at Searsport,
Maine and sailed light to New York to load coal for Oslo, Norway for their power
plants that were running out. We had a nice trip there and found ships in different
degrees of damage along the fiord going up to Oslo where the British Navy had blown
them up and some were in the harbor in the same condition. We were playing cards
with the German sailors while the ship was being unloaded. The sun didn't set during
the time we were there and I got the worst sun burn that I ever had. We traveled back
to Portland, Maine where I signed off on May 9, 1946.

I enlisted in the Army Air Corps on May 15, 1946 and trained to be an aircraft
mechanic and served in Japan until April 22, 1949. I worked on various air craft
including AT6 Texans, C46, B25, B17, L5, P80 jets P61 black widows and P51 s. We
flew many trips to Philippines and South Korea as well as all over Japan. I was Flight

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Chief on the 9 AT6s that we had. I was approached to sign on as mechanic for the
China National Airlines that Claire Chanute started in 1949 but declined as I had had
enough traveling for a while.

After I discharged from Army Air Corps in 1949 I worked a while for TW Dick
Company in Gardiner Maine as laborer doing steel fabrication and stocking. I also ran
the gas furnace where we heated steel forms to open them and insert hooks and swivels
then closed them for the welders to finish the fabrication. I met and married Florence
Clark and started a family.

The jobs there in Gardiner didn't furnish a good living at that time so I decided
to get better training on industrial electronics and went to Industrial Training Institute
in Chicago, Illinois. Florence refused to move to Chicago with me so we divorced. The
sad part of it was that we had had a beautiful little daughter and she had passed away at
four months old.

I spent the days in training and worked nights for the Crow Nameplate
Corporation as a punch press operator and die setter along with running trim sheers on
the television Bezels for Sentinel Television Company. In 1952 they closed the plant as
they had built a new plant in Evanston, Illinois and lay off all of the crew. I found a job
at the Industrial Condenser Corp. as Assistant Forman in the electrolytic department.

During that time I met my landlady's daughter and she went to work with me at
that plant. Loralee and I worked there for about a year and were laid off in July as they
closed the plant for vacation and we decided to go to Maine to see my family. When we
got there we found that the state of Maine Highway Department needed men so I got a
job with them and was truck driver for an asphalt distributor. In the fall I was
reassigned to the Scarbough, Maine shop and in the winter time I operated the snow
plow for the next ten years.

Loralee and I had two girls and three boys plus we raised a son from her first
marriage and had a hard time making ends meet. I got a part time job with a gas station
and worked until 12 PM each night along with some week ends. This came to an end
when the two gas stations closed down. I quit the Highway Dept. and went to work for
Huntley Appliance Co. for two years and couldn't earn enough to keep us going, so I
went to work for N.A. Burkett Equipment Co. as a mechanic on construction,
lumbering and farming equipment all over the state of Maine and part of New
Hampshire. I worked for them five years until Loralee's mother died in EI Paso and we
came to the funeral. I looked at jobs here and found a job for Rust Tractor Co. as
mechanic on all kinds of equipment including cranes, shovels and back hoes. I worked
for them 15 years during that time I had been Assistant Service Manager after a heart
attack in 1974 plus an operation on my heart. I was retired in 1983 after a second heart
operation for clogged arteries. After this I worked for various companies, Border Steel
Co. as truck shop foreman, Jon T. Hansen Construction Co. as equipment foreman and
later equipment superintendent, Rust Tractor Co. as mechanic, Fortune Lincoln &
Mercury as service writer, and while I was at Atkinson Heavy Equipment I had my 3rd
heart operation and worked for him until October 2001 when Mr. Atkinson passed
away.

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I have been in retirement since then with more heart problems and a
defibrillator implanted. I work some around the house and attend the meetings of the
local veteran's organizations that I belong to including the American Legion, VFW the
40 & 8 I build and program some computers and repair some appliances as needed. I
am trying to put together a complete autobiography and have researched my family tree
as far back as I can.

DALE G. FERGUSON
RENFREW, PA 16053

I was born in Chugwater, Wyoming on September 8, 1922. I graduated from
Wheatland High School in Wheatland on May 15, 1942. Then I attended welding
school to learn electric, forge, and gas welding and received a certificate on August 31,
1942.

I enlisted in Denver, Colorado in the USMS Merchant Marines in September
1942 and left for Sheepshead Bay, New York the day before Thanksgiving, November
1942. We had Thanksgiving dinner on the train to New York City.

I took basic training at Sheepshead Bay and transferred to U.S. Merchant
Marine Graduate Station in New York on April 24, 1943. I was employed by Marine
Transport Line aboard the S.S. Maltran, a freighter, as an Oiler and shipped out of New
York on April 27th for a trip to Cuba. We brought back a boat load of sugar to New
York harbor and discharged June 15, 1943. The S.S. Maltran was torpedoed and sunk
on the next trip to the Caribbean on July 5, 1943, luckily no lives were lost.

I next attended the U.S. Maritime Service Officers School at Fort Trumbull,
New London, Connecticut, in late 1944 and early 1945. I received a license as a 3rd
Assistant Engineer for Condensing Ocean Steam Vessels of any horsepower on 5th May
1945 at the U.S. Coast Guard for port of New Orleans.

I shipped out from the ports of New York, Norfolk, VA., New Orleans,
Louisiana, and Jacksonville, Florida. I made trips to Panama, North Africa, Guatemala,
London, England, Edinboro, Scotland, and Naples, Italy.

I served on the S.S. Justin Morrell and S.S. Daniel H. Hill, and other ships. In
October 1945, the trip aboard the S.S. Daniel H. Hill was from Galveston, Texas where
we loaded wheat at Port Arthur, grain docks for a trip to Naples, Italy. The ship was
loaded with so much wheat you could sit on deck and dangle your feet in the water.
Naples harbor was full of sunken ships including a Red Cross Hospital Ship. On the
return trip we brought back a load of U.S. trips and docked in New York, in November
1945. I received an Honorable Discharge from the Armed Forces of United States of
America from United States Coast Guard dated August 9, 1945.

I worked as a carpenter for a local building contractor in Bernardsville,
Somerset Co., New Jersey from 1946 to 1948. Then I worked as a self-employed
landscaper and carpenter in Somerset and Morris Counties in New Jersey from 1948 to
1958.

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Next with my family I rented and operated a beef farm in Johnsonburg, Warren
Co., New Jersey from 1958 to spring of 1960 where we operated a 132 acre beef cattle
farm.

I went into carpentry again in 1966 to supplement the farm income from the
farm. I retired from farming and carpentry in 1986. I still have a hobby working with
wood and live on the farm in Renfrew, PA with my wife.

HARDY FIELDS
MY JOURNEY THROUGH WORLD WAR II

Joe Crisp, Ike Stearman, and I joined the U. S. Maritime Service. We thought
that would be the same as being in the Navy, except we could always ship together.
What a joke. We were all 20, too young for the draft.

On 09/01/1942 Joe Crisp, Ike Stearman, Jack West, James Crow and I went to
San Antonio for the final health exam, and approval for shipping to Cadet training. We
passed physical exams, shipped immediately by train to St. Petersburg, Fl. We spent the
next three months aboard a four-masted sailing ship, the Joseph Conrad, learning how
not to be seasick! We took an exam and I was the one to go to the first Pharmacy
School to be a Purser-Pharmacist Mate, but mainly to be an officer aboard ship.

I arrived in New York City on 12/07/1942 in Whites and almost froze. I was
amazed at the tall buildings and huge railway terminal. The Hospital Corps was to train
us to be the only medical care aboard Merchant Vessels. We were to learn how to treat
the sick or wounded and would study three months of anatomy, physiology, nursing,
emergency treatment and minor surgery. All 239 of us graduated 03/12/1943 as
Pharmacist Mates, 3rd Class U.S.M.I. I was second in the class. The top four students
were sent by train to St. Mary's Hospital in San Francisco, Calif. where we spent the
next 60 days staying at the Drake Hotel and commuting to St. Mary's Hospital. The
four students that the doctors thought had much more training than we did were
Henry Finch (AL), Hardy Fields (TX), Martin Eisen (MI), and Z'benden (AL). Our
training complete, we were ready to take care of 36 Merchant Crewmen and 15 Navy
Sun Crew, plus keep the ship sanitary.

Finally ready to go to sea began 09/01/1942. The first ship sailed from San
Francisco on 05/11/1943. We boarded the S.S. William Thornton, a 17000-ton Liberty
Ship. The Master, T. G. Willartz, was a Norwegian with a lot of sea experience. Most of
the rest of the crew except for the Chief Engineer were first voyage sailors. I had to
order and check the medical supplies.

In September of 1944 I went home to Dallas, Texas for the first time since
September 1942 and would need to report back to San Francisco in 30 days. We
departed from San Francisco on 08/18/1945 to Japan for invasion. It was a large
convoy of 30 merchants, 2 aircraft carriers, 2 cruisers, and 4 destroyers. Japan
capitulated on 09/02/1945, while we were at sea. We landed in Sasebo, Japan on
09/15/1945 and then sailed to Nagoya, Japan on 09/25/1945. We stayed ashore
several weeks; saw the destruction of the atom bomb at Nagasaki. On 09/30/1945, we

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sailed to Yokohama port for Tokyo. We stayed in port for five months, stationed
aboard with occupational army liberty until February 1946. This was really good liberty
time. I had charge of the slop chest with cigarettes and candy to dispense. We returned
to Long Beach, California in February 1946. Billeted at the Long Beach Hilton until
discharged in September 1946. Back to Dallas 48 months later!

After having finished two years of college at NTAC in
Arlington, I started my junior and senior years at SMU in Dallas in 1947 and 1948. In
July 1948 I graduated with a BBA with Business and Accounting majors. There were
three offers for employment following graduation: One with Tallon Zipper Co.,
moving to NJ; another with 3M, moving to Minneapolis; the last with Burlington
Industries, staying in Dallas as carpet salesman. Naturally I wanted to stay in Texas. I
moved to Lubbock in 1948 to sell retail. Made the greatest decision of my life and
married Dorothy Nell East on December 30, 1949.

Started tufting carpets in an Army Warehouse in Lubbock. In 1952 started a
corporation called Tuftwick Carpet. Later we moved tufting business to Cartersville,
Georgia. Started retail businesses in Lubbock, Texas, Albuquerque, New Mexico, and
Austin, Texas. Built buildings in each location. Austin building burned in 1985 (arson).
We sold the business in Albuquerque and Lubbock to employees in 1986. Real Estate
locations were sold in 1987 when I retired to Horseshoe Bay, Texas.

Best news of all still married after 56 years. Had cancer of bladder in 2002 on
March 3rd, my birthday. Still surviving. May make it to 84 years of age. So there too!
No, really, I'm quite healthy.

BERNARD C. FLATOW
FLORAL PARK, NY 11001

I WAS BORN IN New York City in January 1925, and attended Public Schools
in NYC. I graduated from Stuyvesant High School in June 1942, and then attended
New York University as an Engineering student. My studies were interrupted by the
outbreak of World War II. I enlisted in the U.S. Maritime Service before I was 18 years
of age.

In my early childhood I joined the Boy Scouts (1936), and as of this writing I
am still an active Scouter with more than 67 years of service. At that time I learned the

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Morse Code as well as semaphore. The signals were transmitted visually by flag and
blinker.

I attended bases at Kings Point, Sheepshead Bay, Cold Spring Harbor, and
Gallups Island. As a result of my early communications training in the Boy Scouts, I
applied for, and was accepted as a cadet in the U.S. Maritime Service for radio training
at Gallups Island, Boston, Mass. I obtained my FCC License, and sailed as Chief Radio
Officer in the U.S. Merchant Marine until May 1946.

During World War II, I sailed in every theater of war including the
Mediterranean, Red Sea, Arabian Sea, Indian Ocean, Pacific and the North Atlantic,
including the Murmansk convoy route.

My first ship was the SS Thomas Donaldson, and we destined for the Persian
Gulf. The convoy was attacked numerous times during the Atlantic Crossing by
submarines. When we entered the Mediterranean, we were attacked by German aircraft
flying from southern France on April 1, 1944. Numerous ships were sunk, and I was
awarded the Combat Bar for this engagement. We continued on our voyage with the
final destination of Krumshaw, Persia where we unloaded our cargo which was taken
by trucks to Russia. Germany had occupied all of Europe and this was the only way
that supplies could get to Russia other than to Murmansk. We returned to the United
States to prepare for our next trip. While in Persia the temperature reached 135 degrees
and l worked stopped during the day hours.

Trip number 2 on the Thomas Donaldson was to Murmansk, Russia. Not only did
we have to survive submarines in the Atlantic, when we departed Loch Ewe, Scotland
we were attacked by submarines, aircraft, surface ships and by our worst enemy – the
weather. Severe cold and ice from the spray of the sea. Everything was covered with
ice. The ice was more than 6 inches thick on everything. Hospitality by the Russians left
a lot to be desired. They would not allow us to bring any American money ashore, but
provided each crew member with 300 Rubles to be used at the International Club to
purchase a glass of vodka or wine and black bread. We had to walk only on one street
and we were not allowed to talk to the Russian people. They also put a sign up that
stated that the Russian Sentry‘s had a tendency to shoot. Everyone followed the rules.

I made a hit at the Club as the Jitterbug King. I was 19, young, a dancer from
New York and all the Russian girls wanted to dance with me. I was the Jitterbug King
of Murmansk. That title has stayed with me all these years.

Some ships were lost on the return trip. The Captain asked me to stay on for
the next trip, but after deep thought I needed a rest and decided to take a 30 day
furlough. This was a wise decision. The Donaldson was torpedoed and sank on the
next trip to Murmansk.

Trip number 3 on the SS Thomas Nuttall was to Italy. We discharged cargo at
every major port in Italy, Ancona, Bari, Brindisi, Naples and Leghorn (Livorno).
Problem at Leghorn. The Germans broke through and we were only 12 miles to the
south. We sweated that one out, but we were okay. We were tied up at the same dock
as an Italian submarine. The war was over for them. I made friends with the Captain of
the sub and he invited me aboard for vino and I invited him to my ship for food. I

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didn‘t understand Italian and he didn‘t understand English, but I learned how to sing in
Italian. Bella. Back to the United States for the most eventful trip.

Trip number 4 on the SS Thomas Nuttall. We were in convoy heading east across
the Atlantic when two days before we reached Gibraltar the convoy commodore
informed us by blinker that we were to fall out of the convoy and proceed alone on a
pre-determined alternate course to Augusta, Sicily. No explanation was given to us as to
the reason for our leaving the convoy. The Thomas Nuttall was fully loaded with 10,000
tons of ammunition and our original destination was Bari, Italy.

We proceeded alone and anchored in the roadstead at August. The NCSO
(Naval Control Ship Operations) boarded our ship and informed the Captain that there
was a problem with some of the ammunition in our cargo and that we were to proceed
to Taranto, Italy, anchor in the roadstead, and some of our cargo would be offloaded.

We still did not have any idea as to the reason of the offloading, but upon
arrival at Taranto we were informed that we were carrying 100 pound fragmentation
bombs. In the conversion process the munitions manufacturer had failed to remove the
chemical lining on the inside of the bombs and just added the explosive powder. It
seems that there was a chemical reaction between the lining of the bomb casing and the
explosive and that they were very unstable and could explode at any time. Some of the
bombs had already exploded on other ships and to the authorities knowledge there
were only four ships left carrying this type of bomb and the Nuttall was one of them.

It took thirty days to remove the defective bombs. They were removed from
the hold two at a time on a cushioned lift and placed on mattresses on the deck of a
mine layer which was tied up alongside the Nuttall. As soon as the mine layer was fully
loaded it would depart and dump the bombs somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea, and
then return for more bombs to be disposed of.

After thirty days we were ordered to proceed to Bari, Italy where unloading
commenced. We were in Bari only a few days when the war ended in Europe and a
decision was made to reload the ship and bring the 10,000 tons of ammunition to the
Pacific by way of the Suez Canal, Red Sea, Indian Ocean, Ceylon, Darwin, Australia,
Port Morsby, New Guinea, Manus, The Admiralty Islands, The Caroline Islands,
Guam, and finally to Saipan in the Marianas Islands. During this time we traveled alone
with no escort.

At Saipan we anchored in the roadstead far from any ships. It seems that word
had preceded us that there was a possibility that some of the defective bombs might
still be on board. Needless to say the ship was never unloaded and we never reached
Okinawa which was our final destination. The war with Japan ended on August 15,
1945. We remained at anchor in Saipan for more than six months and finally we set sail
for the United States on January 19, 1946, across the Pacific via Hawaii, the Panama
Canal, the Gulf of Mexico and finally to Galveston, Texas where we were again
anchored in the roadstead far from the port.

In was another two weeks and we finally received orders to proceed to the San
Jacinto Ammunition Depot outside Houston, Texas where the ammunition was finally
unloaded. The Nuttall did not dock from the time we left Bari in early May 1945 until

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we arrived in Houston in April of 1946. Word was that the count of the defective
bombs was not accurate and that there were more bombs of this type on board than
were listed on the manifest. We will never know the true story.

Upon return to civilian life I remained in communications and accepted a
position with Western Union and was promoted through the ranks to Corporate
Manager of Safety and Disability Benefit Programs. I retired in 1976 and accepted a
position with ITT as Corporate Manager of Safety, Fire Prevention and Environmental
Health. In this position I was responsible for the safety of all employees working in
ITT Communications Companies worldwide.

I was involved in the design, installation and construction of microwave
facilities, central telephone exchanges, erection of towers and huge earth station
antennas. I was a member of the EIA Committee on RF Radiation and conducted
numerous radiation surveys worldwide as well as with the FCC in the United States. I
designed and installed devices to eliminate radiation from VDT‘s as well as installation
of shielding against RF radiation on all marine shore to ship radio transmitters at ITT
facilities.

In 1977 PCB‘s were declared a possible carcinogen, I arranged for the disposal
of all capacitors and transformers containing PCB‘s. This was an enormous worldwide
project. I have written more than a dozen Safety and Environmental Health manuals.

I retired in 1988, but I do consulting work on a limited basis. I am the National
Veterans Affair‘s Officer of the American Merchant Marine Veterans, Past President of
the United Veterans Organization of Nassau County, Instructor Trainer for the
American Red Cross, and an AARP Driving Instructor. I have lectured to thousands of
Nassau County public school children about respect for the American Flag, and I give
talks to senior citizens about alternative medicine, chemical safety at home and
nutrition.

I arranged to obtain, transport, install and dedicate two, three-inch 50 cannons
used on WWII vintage Liberty ships along with two ship‘s anchors. They are installed,
once each at Eisenhower Park and the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy at Kings Point.

I am a member of American Legion, AMMV, AMVETS, JWV, VWOA, and
Navy League.

JOHN FORTI SR.
EAST HANOVER, NJ 07936

I am a Merchant Marine Veteran who served in WWII in the Pacific. I served
on the William M. Stewart delivering medical supplies to the Philippines and Hollandia,
New Guinea.

I was the only trained medical person on the ship. I was like a male nurse. I also
took care of the payroll data and the slop chest (mini store). The Officer‘s Training
School I attended was called Purser-Pharmacist Warrant Officer‘ School. The course
was taught by medical doctors from the Kings County Hospital in New York. The

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course included anatomy and Physiology, Epidemiology, advanced EMT Training,
Basic Pharmacy, and other hospital training courses.

The course was about 10 months from 8 AM to 5 PM plus one month of
nursing training at the Brighton Marine Hospital in Boston, Mass. I participated in two
operations as a scrub nurse. One operation was for a neck tumor and the other for an
appendectomy. We also had to witness two complete autopsies. Most students begged
off but I remained for complete procedure. With total humility, I graduated at top of
the class.

Following the dropping of the A-bombs on Japan in August of 1945, Captain
Gene Rutherford was notified to report back to the States. When we were about 300
miles from the Bay of Manila, the Captain was notified of an impending typhoon. A
day or so later the Captain was notified that the navigation officer was suffering from
an infected tooth. His face was swollen and one of his eyes was practically shut and
consequently could not perform his duties.

Captain Rutherford instructed me to extract the tooth. Although I had intensive
medical training at the Maritime Training Center at Sheepshead Bay in New York, I
never received any dentistry training; let alone I never had a tooth pulled. I immediately
visited with any sailor or officer that had previously had a tooth removed and asked
what movements the dentist performed when extracting their tooth. I requested the
Captain and the chief engineer escort the navigation officer to my stateroom. I
suggested to the officer that I would do a practice move to remove the tooth, but rather
than feign the move, I immediately went into the actual extraction. Fortunately, the
tooth came out clean as a whistle.

The infection was so impacted the purulence projected across the room
splattering the opposite wall in my stateroom. A day later the swelling went down and
his eye opened giving the navigation officer the ability to perform his duties. The day
following the successful extraction, the Captain posted a sign on my cabin door which
read ―John Forti DDS.‖ Also, the captain elevated my position from Ensign to Lt.
Junior Grade.

The typhoon was now in full swing. The inclinometer read 44 degrees. One
degree more and the ship could have turned over. To this day I still become
apprehensive while in bed during a driving rain storm.

The medical doctors from the Kings County Hospital in New York that taught
in the program, plus my Captain of the William M. Stuart on which I did the tooth
extraction, thought that I should go to medical school after the war. I was then 25 and a
little old for that.

However, I did go to evening college for 10 years at Rutgers University to
acquire my diploma in Electrical Engineering. I went to work for New Jersey Bell
Telephone Co. where I retired as a District Manager. Since my retirement, I have been
teaching swimming to preschool children at the Madison YMCA in Madison NJ.

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Maritime Tales of the Sea

IRVIN FOX
ROCKINGHAM, NC 28379

I come from Baltimore MD and I enlisted in the US Navy in 1936 after I
graduated from High School for 4 years at $17.00 a month. My first ship was the USS
Concord, a 4 stacker, light Cruiser, that just came back from China. I was sent to new
construction in the Philadelphia Navy Yard where they were working on the 5 inch
guns. We were ordered to England with the civilians still working on the guns. The USS
Savannah was a light cruiser with 5 turrets and a hangar with 4 sea planes – we could
not fire the guns.

We were to take Americans out when Chamberlain met Hitler. The next day
England declared war against Germany as Hitler did not keep his word. Coming back
from England France surrendered to the Germans; therefore we were sent to Pearl
Harbor to join the Pacific fleet. By that time I was an EM2C. My enlistment was up in
Sept. 1940 and I was sent back to the states for discharge and went home. That was
October 1940 and war broke out in 1941 and I was recalled to active duty.

I was on a Minesweeper, YMS, for about a year. From there I went to New
London where I became a 3rd Assist Engineer in Steam and Diesel -- I took steam.
They sent me to Electric Propulsion School for the T2 Tankers. My ship was the T2
Tanker, Colina, owned by Socony-Vacuum, now Mobile. We had two 3rds so I took Jr.
3rd and found out later that the Chief made me do all the work as the Sr. 3rd knew
nothing.

We left Brooklyn, NY, loaded with oil. On the tank tops they built a super
structure and secured P 38 fighter planes to it. On the deck they put drums of cleaning
fluid for Australia. Two days out our Captain told the convoy that they were losing too
many ships and we left the convoy and sailed alone. We took on more oil in Aruba and
sailed through the Canal to Karachi, India. We unloaded the planes and left for
Broome, Australia, which was way up the west coast, where we pumped out the diesel
into a tank farm for American subs, then turned to Iran where we took on oil again and
went back to the tank farm and pumped out diesel fuel, then ordered to Fremantle,
port of Perth, Australia.

Since the tanker was an electric propulsion tanker, it would take a good while to
stop. I was on the control board on my watch 4 to 8 when we went into Perth and took
on a Pilot -- I got Emergency Back Down which I logged right away along with the
oiler standing by. All the water about left the Boilers as we had a Bailey Board and
could see what was going on in the Boiler room. We heard a large noise and knew that
we hit the dock since a Tanker takes about 2 city blocks to reverse. They all came
running down the engine room to see our log -- the pilot took all the blame. We had a
large hole in the bow. We pumped ballast aft and kept the bow high out of the water
then took two large planks of wood and bolted them together and poured concrete
between the two bolted boards and sailed to Ceylon where we stayed about a month
before they would repair the damage.

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Maritime Tales of the Sea

We left Ceylon and arrived in Brisbane, Australia, where a Tanker ―Fort
George‖ was anchored that needed a 3rd Engineer. That was my chance to get off the
Colina. The Vice Consul went aboard the Colina with me and got me transferred to the
Fort George. The Chief was mad as hell at my leaving and offered to send the Sr. 3rd
but I refused since I knew I would do all the work again on the Colina with the Chief
being angry.

The Fort George Chief was happy to me onboard and so was I. We left
Brisbane and went to Pearl Harbor and anchored at the coal docks. They would not let
us anchor with naval ships; but they needed us to take oil to Tararrah since the Marines
had just cleaned the place out. The Navy had a Tanker anchored out and we came
along side and pumped fuel into it.

We went back to New York where I got my 2nd license. I went home to
Baltimore to see my mother; however, I did not stay long. The Draft Board wanted to
know why I was home so I got on a ship that was in the Maryland Dry Dock for
repairs.

I still have my 2nd assist engineer license.

CHARLES R. FRERE, SR.
BEL ALTON, MD.

On 7 June 1941 the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, at the time of the attack I
was in junior class at Glasva High School in Maryland. I was born on 10 December
1925 in Tompkinsville, Md., and was raised on the family farm. The farm was located
near the Potomac and Wicomico rivers where I enjoyed crabbing and fishing as a
youngster.

Upon graduating from high school, I worked as a file clerk at the Government
Printing Office in Washington, D.C. In early December 1943 I attempted to enlist in
the Navy and also the Coast Guard, I was informed that their quota for the period was
filled. They referred me to the US Maritime Recruiting Office also in Washington, DC.
I enlisted in the US Maritime Service and underwent basic training at Sheepshead Bay,
New York.

My first ship assignment was made by the War Shipping Admin., and it was on

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the Italian liner Saturnia, which was being used as a troopship. My next ship was the SS
Wyoming Valley, a tanker sailing out of Baltimore, Md. We joined a convoy and sailed
the North Atlantic route to the North Sea and thence to the Thames River and into
London. We returned on the same route and proceeded to Aruba for another load of
gasoline. We departed Aruba and arrived at Normandy on the afternoon of 6 June
1944. We were diverted to Swansea Bay and off loaded our cargo onto barges to be
towed to Omaha Beach. Other ships that I sailed on were: the SS Leonard Chase
Wason, a concrete ship which later served as a breakwater for ferries at Cape Charles,
Va.; the SS Frederick Victory- Oct 1944; the SS Chapel Hill Victory- January 1945, an
ammunition ship out of Boston, Ma. and the SS East Point Victory- April 1945 to
Odessa, Russia. All three victory ships were on their maiden voyages out of Baltimore,
Md. I served as an ordinary seaman on my first assignment, then as an Able seaman,
Deck Maintenance and Bosuns Mate on successive assignments.

After the war, I returned home and married my high school
girlfriend/classmate, Charlotte, on 16 December 1946 and have been married for-59
wonderful years. We have five children: Charles Jr.,Mary Kaye , Joseph Larry, Thomas
Keith and Pamela Ann; six grand children: Ricky, Brian, Eric, Kelly, Brandon and
Allen; two great grand children: Emily and Megan. Daughters in-law Diane and Tae.
Son-in-law William A Toombs (deceased). Grand daughters-in-law Connie, Ann Marie
and as of 15 July 2006-Erin.

At the end of the war I returned to work at the Government Printing Office,
however most of my career was spent in the Defense Department. I attended several
colleges and other schools of higher learning during and after my employment. I retired
as Deputy Chief of Civil Engr. O&M at Andrews AFB, Md.

Overall it has been a wonderful and fulfilling life, with a great family and
traveling to a lot of interesting and special places in this country and abroad.

THOMAS H. GALLAGHER

I have quite a story to tell. I am 84 years old. I am one of eight Great
Depression kids, coal heat, no hot water, no anything…I had a Minneapolis Tribune
paper route until I was 17 years then I got a job at Coca Cola.

The war came in December of 1941. I tried to enlist in the Navy; however they
rejected me because of eyesight. I then applied to the Maritime Service in May of 1942.
I was sent to New York. I thought I was going to Hoffman Island, it was full. Then at
midnight in New York I got on a train to Baltimore and a ship, The Berkshire. Three
months there and I was back in N.Y. at Sheepshead Bay teaching life boating.

There I met a guy from Donora Penn. that had spent a hitch in the Navy. His
name was George Pado. He ran the power boat at Sheepshead Bay. One day in Dec. of
‘42, George said Tom, ―Let‘s ship out.‖ We went into Manhattan and Cities Service.
We waited until midnight and they said ―Let‘s go!‖ We went in a bumboat out to the
―Cities Service Fuel.‖ A beat up rust bucket tanker, built in WWI. I sailed mostly in the
North Atlantic, but also in the Mediterranean and South Pacific.

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My Coca Cola
bus & I that
held 19 carts
with 50 cases
of Coca Cola
on each one.
From here I
went to a semi
until I retired.

My granddaughter, Tiffany‘s wedding, me
and Marion Gallagher
In 1946 Minnesota declared a $400 bonus, excluding Merchant Seamen. I
brought on the inclusion of Merchant Mariners all by myself. Hubert Humphrey III,
Attorney General, said in 1989 that Merchant Seaman didn‘t deserve the bonus after 40
years, what a dope. I wrote him and said, ―Your father wouldn‘t have done that to us.‖
He wrote back to me and said, ―I will send your letter to the Minn. Legislative.‖ I got a
check for $390. (They knocked off $10 because of the fuel on coastwise trips.) What a
fool he was. One night on the Fuel I heard the first mate get order from the Captain,
―to find a chart without all these sunken ships‖ on the East Coast. He said ―It looks
like a picket fence.‖ Of course he was jesting, but it was true.
I paid off the James J Hill in New York the day the war ended. New York City
went wild. The train blew the whistle all the way out to Farmingdale, L.I. where my
sister Margaret lived.
After the war I went back to Minneapolis and my job I left at Coca Cola. I
hauled Coca Cola cases for 47 years and retired on my 65th birthday. Guess what? I
went on to become a millionaire. From 5 years of borrowed $2000 a year from my bank
when I became eligible to have an I.R.A. It is unbelievable, but I can prove it. Not bad
for a ―dumb Irish kid‖ from the Depression that lifted Coca Cola cases for 47 years
except for the war, could manage that.

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Maritime Tales of the Sea

DOUGLAS LEE GILE
PINE GROVE, CA 95665

I signed up in Salt Lake City, Utah, in 1944 for the Merchant Marines. We left
S.L.C. by coach train with a group of men from Tooele, Utah. It took two days
sleeping in the coach to travel to Long Beach, California, after being sidetracked to
allow troop trains, military tanks and equipment to go by in the opposite directions.

We left Long Beach by ferry boat to Catalina Island for Basic Training. After
Basic Training I was assigned to San Francisco Port of Entry and sailed out of San
Francisco on the USS Rainbow, a C2 cargo ship carrying supplies and ammunition to
the South Pacific area, the Admiralty Islands, Manis and Yap Islands, etc.

While there, anchored in the harbor, two Japanese torpedo planes flew in from
land side, swooped down, dropped their torpedoes, missed our ship but struck two
sea-going dry dock barges nearby and left toward open sea before any alarm could be
sounded.

I am not sure how many islands we shuttled to and from, but eventually going
into Leyte invasion of the Philippines.

While in convoy to Leyte, a destroyer escort shot past our ship and blew up a
mine out of our path. Thanks to the U.S. Navy.

After two trips on the USS Rainbow, I was reassigned to the Army
Transportation Service out of Fort Mason to serve on U.S.A.T. ―Puebla,‖ vessel
manning cadre, U.S.A.H.S. ―Acadia,‖ U.S.A.T. ―Louis A Milne‖ and U.S.A.T. ―General
W.F. Hase.‖

After receiving an ―honorable discharge‖ from the U.S. Coast Guard, I returned
to Utah and went to work for a monument company to build the ―This is the Place‖
monument in Salt Lake City, Utah.

I then returned to California to go to work for
the Pacific Telephone Co., and worked for 35 years, retiring as a building industrial
consultant after several management jobs.

I am happily married to my bride, Elna, for 57 years. I‘m retired and own my
own timber acreage in the Sierra Foothills working with the Forest Stewardship
Program.

We raised four children with five grandchildren. And that‘s my story… Life has
been good to me.
Elna & Doug in 2005

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Maritime Tales of the Sea

SEA GOING BIOGRAPHY OF
JAMES S. GREENBERG

My father, Philip S. Greenberg, shoveled coal into the furnaces of World War
One merchant ships. His stories fascinated me.

Soon after Pearl Harbor, I too, went to sea, beginning an 11 year career in the
U.S. Merchant Marine.

I started at age 19 as an ordinary seaman. There was no dumber person on any
ship! The Bos'n said, "Greenberg - you can't even tie your shoe laces!!! ―I worked and
learned. I learned to splice ropes and steel cables and I soon understood the gear and
rigging of cargo ships.

After 14 months of seatime as an ordinary and able seaman, I spent 4 months at
the U.S. Maritime Service Officer School at Fort Trumbull in New London,
Connecticut.

I came out with a Third Mates License. I was quickly placed as Second Mate on
a liberty ship. They couldn't fill that position.

I never played cards or hung out in waterfront bars. I studied at sea and got my
master's license in March 1946. I was 23 years old and it was said that I was the
youngest skipper in the U.S. Merchant Marine. For the next 7 years I commanded 9
liberty and victory ships and one German built freighter.

I quit the sea at age 30 and became an art dealer, introducing
European artists to American dealers. I married my late wife, Shoshana, who had
served in combat in the Israeli Army. I have two daughters.

I have great memories of those eleven years: Harrowing Events, Invasions,
Explosions, Amazing Adventures, Exotic Ports World-wide, and unique characters on
board ship and ashore. Yale and Harvard never offered such an education!

I'm proud of my former shipmates, especially those who never made it through
those perilous war years.

I wish to thank those Veterans who work so hard today to preserve the history
of the U.S. Merchant Marine!
James S. Greenberg, Greenwich, CT, August 5, 2007

IN 1942, IN SUEZ, EYGPT...
I was an able seaman on the S.S. Santa Cecelia, at anchor, unloading bombs,

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Maritime Tales of the Sea

tanks, trucks, etc. into barges.
The Germans were fighting in North Africa and the Mediterranean was so

vulnerable to air attacks... we had to avoid it by sailing South of the entire African
Continent to reach the Red Sea and Suez.

While unloading, we kept a blimp cabled to our ship flying in the air above, in
the hopes of stopping strafing enemy aircraft.

It was red hot and dusty as I hitch-hiked in a series of British army trucks to
Giza, the site of the Pyramids and Sphinx, about 90 miles away.

There, I climbed the highest Pyramid…the memorial to King Cheops. I stayed
on top for about 3 hours, marveling at the fabulous Nile Valley, just as it must have
looked centuries earlier. Climbers had carved their initials and names in the ancient
stone. In large letters, I added:

JIM HAMDEN, CONN.USA 1942

When I came down, a group of
guides got into this photo and each later wanted payment. After much fist shaking
and curses, a price was agreed and paid. But, then they demanded payment for the
Camels!!

I was so thirsty; I bought a drink from a vendor with a tank on his back... a
real No-No!!

As I sat on a stone, a hustler approached me with a basket of little folded
papers and a white mouse on a string. He said the mouse would tell my fortune.
Before I could refuse, the mouse jumped in the basket and pulled out "my
fortune". While unfolding the paper, the trained mouse pulled the paper money
out of my side pocket!!

Late that night, dirty and exhausted, I arrived back at Suez Harbor, after more
harrowing episodes, a bum-boat with two toughs, began to row me out to my ship.
They stopped in mid bay and demanded more money, which I didn't have. They
threatened to dump me overboard. Mercifully, another bum-boat, filled with drunken
seamen from another ship, rowed by, took up a collection and paid my way. I heard a
lot of screaming as they rowed into the night!! I pray they made it!!

Thank you Dear God, for allowing me to return to the safety of my bomb-
laden ship!!!
James S. Greenberg, Sept. 1, 2007

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Maritime Tales of the Sea

SAMUEL HAKAM

Brooklyn resident, Samuel Hakam, was born in 1907 died in 1995, at the age of
88. He went to sea as a radio operator in 1934. At the outbreak of WWII he went to
France to join the American Ambulance Corps, but the French made him radio
operator aboard a French ship carrying supplies between France and North Africa.
When France surrendered, Hakam and his shipmates were stranded in Casablanca,
Morocco, under observation for two months by Nazi agents, who learned of their plan
to carry refugees to Canada.

He was drafted into the Army not long after he returned from Murmansk. He
was posted to the Aleutians, where fellow GI Dashiell Hammett, author of Maltese
Falcon, advised him on his writing. Hakam wrote a play about the Murmansk Run.
Then he was posted to Seattle, where he sat at a sub listening station at a former
country club and figured, "Yeah, this is a tough job but somebody's got to do it." After
18 months in the Army, the Merchant Marine discovered his whereabouts and yanked
him out and back onto a ship, as radio operators were scarce and badly needed.

Hammett sent the first draft of Mumansk Run to his agent, saying that, ―It has
something.‖ The play was never produced.

After the war Hakam came ashore and ran his own business. Daughter Wendy
is one of three children with his wife Pat.

All material above courtesy of Wendy Joseph, daughter of the late Sam Hakam. Wendy Joseph

My Log by Sam Hakam

"May 10 — Sunday — It's Mothers Day. Would like to send Mom a telegram —
always have when away from home. But guess will have to skip it this time."

[Radio Operator Sam Hakam kept this diary aboard the S.S. Richard Henry Lee, a
Liberty ship, on Convoy PQ 16, which sailed from Reykjavik, Iceland, to Murmansk, Russia in
April-July 1942. He was thirty-five at the time. I have left most misspellings and grammatical errors
in; he never finished high school, and though he later earned a college degree , no schooling ever
hampered my father's English, and his entries emit occasional whiffs of da poifume a' Flatbush. —
Wendy Joseph, ed.]

SS Richard Henry Lee
Voyage #1
[First entry is undated; summary of voyage to April 29]

Joined ship in Baltimore on Feb. 23. She just out of shipyard. After few days
went to Phila[delphia]—via canal. Had engine trouble en route. Laid in Phila few days
then returned to Baltimore for extensive engine repairs. Ship lay in Baltimore over two
weeks so I went home. Had a bad cold and wanted to hang around home anyway. The
ship went to Phila about a week before I figured it would. A telegram was sent me to
join ship but it was wrongly addressed. Joined ship in Phila after a lot of headaches.

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Captain wanted to dock me three days pay, but I took it up with union an think I wont
lose anything account the telegram being sent to wrong address. Stayed in Philadelphia
about three weeks loading. I went up home most of time. Finally pulled out on
April 10. Laid a day or so at an anchorage in Delaware while we loaded about 500 tons
munitions. Then pulled out. Hugged the coast goin north. At nightfall reached New
York and laid there a couple of days. Then pulled out for Halifax. Went via Cape Cod
canal. Had planes, blimps and destroyers patrolling about us. Just before leaving
Delaware Bay we put ashore a fireman who went nuts and started to get violent.
Maybe he was nuts and maybe he was putting on an act. Those 8,000 cases TNT may
have set him off.

Got to Halifax in about 3 days. Our Bosn said he had heart trouble and left
ship there. Halifax a boomtown. Lots of new buildings up since I was last there two
years ago. Town is full of dance halls. Girls there mostly very young. All of them
jitterbugs. They wouldn't have much to do with you unless they know you or you are
wearing a uniform of some kind. Many service clubs there. YMCA, K of C etc. Also a
new and first class club for merchant seamen only. This is the first place where
somebody thought of merchant seamen. Most of the clubs cater to the guys in
uniform.

Laid in Halifax about 5 days. Then pulled out in a convoy of some seventy
ships.

April 30, 1942
Morning weather very rough. Ship ahead signaled man overboard. Ship on

port side signaled "torpedo track." Think ship mistaken about torpedo track. Ship who
lost man circled but don't think they found him. Guess poor devil is lost. Our first
casualty. Weather cleared up shortly after noon and is quite nice now (evening). Fixed
antenna lead-in which was grounding against D.F. ant. Gave myself an hour overtime.
Tried to pick up stations from states but N. D. [No Deal] Guess very little broadcast
now until we pick up stations from England. Figure on being in Iceland May 8.

May 1 — May Day —
Weather rough again in morning. Still a little rough. Shifted position in

convoy. We now at extreme lower left hand corner. Hope no sub sneaks up on us.
We now about half way to Iceland. Figure we will be there about May 9.

May 2
Weather fair and warmer. Did a lot of washing today. Sewed a patch on my

pants. Hole had been eaten by acid from batteries. Clocks go ahead an hour tonight.
News broadcast English did a "successful withdrawal" in Burma and the Indian Govt
declares will not aid British in defending India. Looks like John Bulls chickens are
coming home to roost. Guess the Japs will be in Calcutta within a month. Unless they
are stopped by the Chinese and the U.S.A.

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May 3
"German music pretty good—played a lot of American songs"
Weather fair — continued warmth — Escort ships churn around every once

in a while and dropping depth charges. Skipper said they got a sub. Wonder how he
knows. Picked up broadcast stations in London Germany and Ireland. German music
pretty good—played a lot of American songs and give some news reports in English—
mostly bunk.

May 4
Weather fair. Worked over the electric wiring on gun aft. Got it fixed up OK.

Don't think much of the wiring—it seems a makeshift arrangement. All open flexible
leads. Should have a solid job using pipes etc. Our convoy split up today. Over two
thirds went off to England. They included a lot of ships originally scheduled to go to
Iceland with us. Maybe Big Joe [Stalin; Churchill referred to him in a speech as "Uncle Joe,"
though I do not know if that speech predated this entry, and if so, if this is my father's re-phrasing of
the term. He may have been referring to the huge portraits of Stalin on buildings in the Soviet Union,
but here again I am unsure if he knew of them. Wish I'd asked him more about it] is getting short-
changed and maybe those ships will go on to the USSR from England—

May 6
Weather rough tonight. Ship rolling heavily. Plane circled over us during day.

Must be getting close to Iceland as plane probably based there. Picking up a lot of
European stations on broadcast. Most of them are Germans. They put out good
music but bum propaganda. We listen to the music.

May 7
Weather fair— Gun crew had practice today—other ships opened up too.

Sounded like a battle. And no sooner was they through than a sub was spotted—the
boys stuck around their guns hoping to get a shot but no luck. Couple of planes
overhead. A small laker behind us I call Dopey. First he falls way behind, then almost
on top, then over to one side, then the other—just like Dopey in the seven dwarfs. It's
10 pm and still light. This is the land of the mid-day moon/sun or something. ["moon"
is written directly over "sun"] Discussed with gun officer an idea I got to train the crew in
handling guns—so they can substitute just in case.

May 8
Arrived in Iceland this morning. We are anchored about twenty miles from the

town and it's around a bend in the fjord so we can't even see it. No shore leave will be
granted here. Guess it's because the town would be over-run with seamen. Don't
know how long we will be here and no one else seems to know. Hope it won‘t be too
long. We got news that a previous convoy to Russia had been attacked and 3 ships
were sunk. Also the cruiser (Edinburgh) escorting them was sunk. The heines attacked
with planes subs and destroyers. Heard one heine destroyer was sunk but no full details

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available. [This was convoy PQ 15, whose 25 merchant ships left Reykjavik on April 26, 1942.
Three ships were torpedoed by aircraft and sunk; the remaining 22 ships arrived in Murmansk on
May 5. Two destroyer escorts, O.R.P.P 551 and H.M.S. Punjabi, were also sunk. The HMS
Edinburgh was escorting Convoy QP 11 on the return voyage to Reykjavik, and was torpedoed and
sunk on May 7.] Better news came from Java where an American fleet knocked off
about 7 or 8 Jap ships. [This was the Battle of the Coral Sea, May 7-9, 1942, which is to the
northeast of Australia, while Java is to the northwest, a continent away, but the message may have been
relayed through Java. The U.S. sunk the Japanese light carrier Shoho, and badly damaged the carriers
Shokaku and Zuikaku. The Japanese sunk the U.S. carrier Lexington and the destroyer Sims, and
badly damaged the carrier Yorktown.] Sent letter to ACA recommending crew be taught to
handle guns.

May 9
Anchored in Iceland— No sign of when we leave. May be here two weeks I

think. Hard to get used to going to bed while it's still daylight. It's now 10:30 pm but
it's like 6 pm at home. Never gets very dark the whole night. Shifted battery box on
gun aft, making it easy to take out battery.

May 10 — Sunday — Mothers Day
Got an idea which wants written expression. An article about my ideas on

Roosha—the Reds—Pinks—and Blues. Will give my attitude towards the above and
solution of the problem they raise. It's Mothers Day. Would like to send Mom a
telegram—always have when away from home. But guess will have to skip it this time.
No way of getting ashore to a cable office, then there's the Censor.

That's because we got a war on. Heard some news from over radio.
Corregidor fell — bad news — Japs lost 2 aircraft carriers — 2 cruisers & 2 destroyers
off Solomon Islands—that's good news. [Corregidor surrendered on May 6. The other news is
of the Coral Sea]

May 11
Thick fog all day. Still anchored in Iceland. Fixed up radio receiver to get

better voice reception. Thinking of rigging up a speaker.

May 12
Another convoy came in today — Maybe we'll get out of here soon. Weather

been very thick last few days.

May 13
S.S. America pulled out today. We managed to get our letters off today.

Wonder when the hell we'll get out of here. Weather is now clear.

May 14

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Some of the boys from Massmar [S.S. Massmar, a freighter] rowed over for a visit.
Told they in convoy of 60 boats had gone to Glasgow stayed about 10 days then came
up here with about 30 ships all enroute Russia. Told of one ship which about reached
Murmansk then convoy attacked and she with 5 others returned to here. Another tub
has been laying here over a month already. Looks like something screwy going on.
Either Russia can only handle so many ships at a time, or the heines are out in force
ahead or maybe Big Joe is just getting a rooking. About 35 ships lying in here now,
with about 100 ganged up near the entrance to the fjord. Maybe we'll get out of here
Monday. Several large American battleships and cruisers are in here. Also many
destroyers and I heard an aircraft carrier was around also.

May 15
"Sun sets past 10 pm and it's daylight all night long."

Still hanging around here. Weather very clear now. Sun sets past 10 pm and it's
daylight all night long. This ship is all welded and sound travels easily. Reverberates.
People talking in one part are easily heard in another. Annoying to people who want to
sleep. Watching Cadet work on light sockets. Found them stuck in any old way in the
wall and ceiling. Holding by one or two screws only when there should be four. The
paintwork is peeling. Looks like the ship was put out in a big hurry. Just smacked
together any old way and then chased to hell out to sea.

May 16
Still hanging around. Finished reading one book on oratory. Almost through

with Radio textbook. Been skimming through it. Will start study of from beginning
next week.

May 17
Still hanging around. Rumors we leave in few days. Hope it's correct. Lot of

warships came here today. Maybe something brewing.

May 18
"Wish they would get the Tirpitz. That's the baby who could make trouble."

Still here. Radio reports Prinz Eugen torpedoed twice off Norway. Should have sunk
her. However guess she will be in no condition to bother us this trip. Wish they would
get the Tirpitz. That's the baby who could make trouble. [This is Hakam's first mention of
the northern boogiman, the German Navy's largest battleship, the Tirpitz. Sister ship to the sunken
Bismarck, she packed eight fifteen-inch guns which could decimate a convoy from over ten miles away]
Latest galley rumor is that we will be stuck here until ice to north of Norway melts so
we can go via a more Arctic course and avoid the planes based in Norway.

May 19 Tuesday
Finished reading through Radio Physics. Will start through it again in a day or

so. When I finish (in about 3 or 4 months) I should have a sound fundamental

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knowledge of Radio. Started on Eastman's book on Vacuum Tubes but it's a bit too
technical for me. [This is the one and only time I ever knew my dad to have admitted to something
being beyond his comprehension!] Will leave it go until I get through the Physics book again.

Am slated to go off tomorrow with the skipper to, I think, a conference of all
ops [radio operators] and captains of ships in harbor. This means we will leave probably
Thursday, May 20. [Thursday was the 21st] With luck should be in Roosha [Russia] June
5. Leave there maybe July 1 and home about August 10 — maybe — if we don't meet
up with anything on the way.

May 20 — Wednesday
Sailed today for Roosha. Met several old friends ashore at conference. Tired

out by day's activities so will give details tomorrow.

May 21
Yesterday about 7 am, went ashore with skipper for conference. Captains

assembled in one place, operators in another. They must have forgotten us as no one
came to speak or give us any data — but we had good social visit. Met many old
friends including Roy Robenson who is op on West Nilus. They were down in
Scotland. Roy said living conditions very bad in Glasgow — food very scarce and
prices very high. Hotel rooms scarce and high in price. Lot of young girls, school kids
roaming around after getting out of school and diddling in the alley ways. Lots of
disease, V.D. and scabies etc. prevalent from filth. Onions in great demand — tobacco
scarce and booze sells for $15 or $20 a quart. Clothing on people are shabby.

We went ashore here at a marine barracks in the fjord. The fjord is some 20
miles from Reykjavik. The barracks is under construction. Lot of thick gooey mud
around. The houses are built with rounded tops — [at the end of the line here, my father has
drawn a small, three windowed Quonset hut, about the size of the word "built,"] account of the
high wind they sometimes get.

The natives, from reports, don't care for the English and British account of
their effect on the women. They never had a rape case until the military moved in.
Also during the dark winter months it's easy for the women to sneak off and get
diddled.

Roy told me about various devices for protection against enemy planes & subs
that the British ships have worked out. We ought to copy a lot of them ourselves.

We pulled out about 7 pm after a stay here of 12 days. There are 35 ships in the
convoy, 6 British, 4 Russian, 1 Hollanders 3 Panamanian (really USA) and the rest
Americans. [Note the lack of capitalization for any country but his own—and this arrogance from a
self proclaimed bum from Brooklyn] In the 12 days we been here, there must have pulled out
over 200 ships from Halifax, but only 35 of them is going to Roosha. Is Big Joe getting
short changed? Then maybe it's account the weather.

Just before returning aboard ran into Willie Green, now Captain on Steel
Worker. [S.S. Steel Worker was a freighter] Was with him (he mate then) on Steel
Seafarer for two years. Will try to see him in Roosha and talk over old times. Also in

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convoy is the Amer. Press. [Not sure which American Presidents line ship this is] I think Roy
Newkirk who was with me on Lehigh is 3rd mate on her. The skipper mate and Chief
engr. [engineer] have also a lot of friends in this convoy. This convoy will be like an old
home week when we get into Roosha.

We are skirting around Iceland. The long lines of ships make an inspiring sight
against the great rocky headlands of the coast. The headlands rise sheer and are flat
topped. Ens. Murray told me this particular structure is known as a geological plain.
Weather is very fair and nights continuing to get more and more bright. Sun sets about
11 pm. Understand in a few weeks it won't set at all but hang a red ball of fire over the
horizon the whole night through — circling around from west to east.

May 22
Foggy most days. We have passed the Arctic Circle and are now in the Arctic

Ocean. On to Roosha.

May 23
The whole blooming navy came out to join us. We got cruisers, destroyers,

subs and what not all around and among us. We sure are well protected. Fritz better
have plenty on the ball if he tries to stop this convoy from getting through. Some of
our ships have planes so they can spot Fritz coming. The only baby that might be able
to give us an argument would be the Tirpitz.

Weather was perfect during day but toward evening it started to get thick. At
midnight fog was very thick and I had to go on radio log watch. But it doesn't get dark
nights any more. You can read a paper easily any time of the night. It never gets more
than about as dark as just after sunset at home.

May 25
"About two pm the fog lifted and we found ourself in the middle of a mine field . . .
Feel like saying the kids prayer — now I lay me down to sleep etc. and if I die before I
wake etc."

What a day. Thick fog most of time. Was on watch most of night. Had the
navy boy Mustard relieves me for a few hours to catch some sleep. Morning came and
still very thick. Almost collided with a ship. Just missed her by about three feet. The
lookout on the other ship stared pop eyed at us as we suddenly loomed out of the mist,
his mouth agape but no words coming, his feet moving but standing in one place. The
cook walked out just then and high tailed back in. The fog was so thick you could only
see about 40 feet — well a miss is as good as a mile. Then we heard a plane droning
overhead which sounded like a German. He couldn't see us. About two pm the fog
lifted and we found ourselves in the middle of a minefield. Big black derby hats
bobbing by every once in a while. About half our convoy was missing. About ten pm
the missing half showed up.

We are all together now. Lots of mines are still going by. Funny our escorts
don't try to explode them. Maybe they are duds or magnetic mines brought up by our

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