Maritime

Maritime Tales of the Sea

when most veterans elected not to enlist. At this point, we were even considered draft
dodgers by many! My cousin who had served for two years, most of it under combat
situations, was drafted into the Marine Corps. There were no good jobs available locally
and I was not too impressed with the overall experience I had had as an ordinary
seaman and, being non-union and facing the possibility of getting another ship in a
timely fashion, I decided to try to enlist in the armed forces again. By spring of 1947,
the military was desperate for men, especially the Army. I signed up for three years in
the U.S. Army Air Force, I choose aerial photography as an option, but after basic
training in San Antonio, I was initially chosen for radio school. Once again, my papers
were stuck in a crack in shipping pool and I was even listed as AWOL. For weeks I
was pulling KP and guard duty. I finally did go AWOL and went to headquarters to
complain about my situation. I was immediately sent to Boca Raton, FL for training as
a radar technician. After several months and several levels of training, I was graduated
as a technician on Microwave Early Warning Radar (MEW).

At one point, aviation cadet training opened up to enlisted personnel and,
having had a great love of aviation, I applied and was accepted. For approximately
three months at Randolph Field in San Antonio, I tried to overcome air sickness, but
the interruptions eventually caused me to wash out after 24 hours of flight time in an
experimental program which started us off in the advanced trainer, the North American
AT-6. Regretfully, it would be one of my great failures. Later, in 1951, I did receive an
Air Force commission from ROTC in communications, but not in aviation.

After three years in the Air Force, I had opted not to reenlist and enrolled at the
University of Miami, majoring in journalism and government. After graduation, I
worked for several newspapers, including the former Knight Newspapers chain, the
Miami Daily News, as well as in public relations and in the Florida Power & Light Co.
communications department, putting out the quarterly and annual reports.

After living for 50 years in the Miami area, my wife, Lillian, and I moved to
Euless, TX, to be close to my daughter, who lives across the street from us, and my son
who lives in Fort Worth and is a mechanic for American Airlines. Except for a short
cruise as a passenger to the Bahamas back in the 1950s, I have not been aboard a ship
that wasn't docked. I would have liked to take other cruises, but my wife gets terribly
sea sick, so we've taken our vacations, either by car or flown. We've been to France and
Switzerland, but I've never returned to Algeria. I often think about the people I met
there and wonder what happened to them. Most, I imagine, were forced to go to
France to escape the terror and violence prevailing in its former colony. Since granting
citizenship to millions of Muslims, France today is experiencing severe cultural
problems. I saw the neo-jihad at work over 60 years ago and, for many years, I was
plagued with pangs of conscience because of bigoted feelings, but 9-11 has changed all
that. We are at war with an enemy as threatening as the Nazis, Japanese and
Communists ever were.

I hope that this rambling account of my relatively brief stay in the Maritime
Service and merchant marine has been interesting to you.

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PAUL E LAMP

Graduating from High School in 1944 meant one thing for sure, the draft board
was hot on your tracks. Not wanting to be in the Army" I made my way to Kansas City
to join the Navy, the recruiter told me "Seems everybody wants to be in the Navy, our
quota is full for the next two weeks, come back then or, go down the street and
volunteer for the Merchant Marine, they really need men, the pay is better and you will
be sailing in less than ninety days.‖

He was right, in less than ninety days I found myself aboard a tanker in the
Pacific. I had never been more than 20 miles from my birthplace and now here I was,
aboard a tanker loaded with sixty million gallons of aviation gasoline headed for the
Mariana Islands. A big step for a farm boy! And I was doing my part toward winning
the war.

The SS Sunset was a fairly new T-2 Tanker and pumped off aviation gasoline to
be used to fuel bombers that were bombing Tokyo around the clock. Was my fuel used
to fuel the enola gay? I hope so.

After the war President Truman said "You Merchant Marine boys stick around and
bring the troops back, your benefits will be enhanced‖. Sure Harry. I'm still waiting!

I am glad I stayed; my fondest memories were watching the GI‘s line the rail of
the SS Moore McCormick troopship to get a first glimpse of the Statue of Liberty, or
the Golden Gate Bridge. Thanks Harry, I didn't get my benefits enhanced until 43 years
later, when I was 63 years old. And by the way, 1 was drafted for the Korean conflict.
March 27, 2006

A DOG‘S LIFE IN THE MERCHANT MARINE by Paul Lamp
Most dogs spend their lives in a backyard enjoying three meals a day plus

snacks. Red spent his days searching for food along the San Pedro waterfront.
He was often abused by other dogs and yelled at when he pilfered from garbage

cans. This all changed when Red shipped out in the Merchant Marine.
Gangplanks are guarded against people boarding a ship, but Red, being just a

dog, slipped aboard. This was during World War II. He boarded a ship heading for
the Philippine Islands with replacement troops. Army medics fed and groomed Red,
and, in a couple of weeks, he could have entered a dog show and won. He was an Irish
setter with a beautiful red coat.

Red made friends easily, and when I stood my lookout as an ―able bodied
seaman‖ in the Merchant Marine, Red stayed with me watching for those dreaded
submarines on cold, dark nights.

During the war, the Merchant Marine was busy delivering war material all over
the world. About 243,000 volunteered for this dangerous duty. After the war, we
carried our own troops home, as well as giving a lift to Italian prisoners of war, who
were returning to Naples.

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Red became so friendly with the Italian chaplain that the chaplain wanted to
take Red home with him. We agreed that if it was up to Red: If he followed the
chaplain off the ship, it was a deal.

That‘s how red became an Italian.
My favorite memory of being in the Merchant Marine was seeing the veterans
lined the ship‘s rail at 3 a.m. to get their first glimpse of the Statue of Liberty, the
symbol they had fought for.
The goods were delivered, and the troops came home. Merchant ships were
being mothballed; there was no more need for merchant seamen. There were 1,768
ships sunk, damaged, captured or detained during the war, and 9,487 mariners who
died, according to records kept by the U. S. Maritime Service Veterans.
The survivors often paid their own way home. For them, there was no G.I. Bill
or any of the benefits granted to the military. The Merchant Marines are still the
forgotten heroes of World War II - the war could not have been won without them.
Help us celebrate national Maritime Day on May 22 and support the U.S. House
resolution giving an official thank you to the Merchant Marines of World War II.
Paul lives in Kansas City. He served on the S.S. Mormacdove.

WILLIAM LAWSON JR.
THE SINKING OF THE SS SORELDOC

I was born in Bossier, LA on Oct. 27, 1925. I joined the Merchant Marine in
Oct. 1943 at the age of 18 years old, and took my training at St. Petersburg, FL. I was
on the freighter, * SS Soreldoc when it was torpedoed on Feb. 28, 1945 in St. Georges
channel by the U-1302. She was en route from Swansea, Wales headed to Liverpool,
England to get another load of planes. Her complement was 29 crew members, 6 Naval
Armed Guard, and 1 U.S. Army Security Officer. Fifteen members went down with the
ship including my good friend *Karl W. Barron who I had talked into joining the MM
with me. He was working in the engine room where I usually work. But I was off duty
at the time the torpedo hit, lying in my bunk.

The torpedo struck amidships on the port side. The explosion broke the vessel
in two amidships. The forward section listed to port and sank within 30 seconds. The
after section remained on even keel and sank within minutes. Due to the rapid sinking
the survivors had to jump over board. I remember trying to get to my locker Gust
across from my bunk) to get my life jacket on. It also had my wallet inside with my
money. But I didn't have time and had to jump over board to keep from going down
with the ship. As the ship was sinking it made a terrible noise caused by air coming out
of the vent valves in the engine room.

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The water was very cold. I saw a raft and started swimming toward it. With the
cold water and the distance I knew I could never make it. I saw a 3 by 6 timber and
started toward it. I climbed on the timber and crossed my legs to hold on. I saw a chow
dog that belonged to one of the deck crew, she was tired and cold. I picked her up and
let her share my board. I maybe thought I was doing the dog a favor but later I decided
it was the other way around because I truly believe that if that dog and I hadn't huddled
together, I would have froze to death. I was picked up by a fishing boat and taken to
Wales. I was almost unconscious when I was picked up but I remember the fishing
boat kept lowering its safety valve. They wanted to be able to get out in a hurry incase
the U-1302 was still around.
I finally found a way to get back home but an army officer said "No, this is war and I
have an order for you to go on a tug boat as we need an oiler." But just before we left,
the man whose place I was taking showed up and I was excused. I heard the tug boat
hit a mine and all aboard were lost. So I am truly lucky to be a live. *My friend, *Carl
W. Barron had a ship named after him in a ceremony by Army port Headquarters in
Rouen France

I married my wife Katherine and had 5 children and 11 grandchildren and 4
great grandchildren. I worked in the pipefitting trade for 50 years and lived in
Kennewick WA but at the present I am living with one of my daughters in Spokane,
WA. I joined the Mid-Columbia Chapter AMMV a couple of years ago. (My beloved
wife died 23 years ago.) I am the happiest when I can be on the river fishing.

Bill in his 80's. He passed away March 24, 2006

(*Some facts taken from Arthur Moore's book, (A Careless Word. A needless
sinking)

The freighter SS Soreldoc, was torpedoed at 0915 on February 28, 1945 in St.
Georges Channel (535west by U-1302 (Herwatz). She was en route from Liverpool,
England to Swansea, Wales in ballast. Her complement was 29-crew member, 6 Naval
Armed Guard, and 1 U.S. Army Security Officer. Fifteen crewmembers went down
with the ship including the master,

At 0915, a torpedo stuck amidships on portside. The explosion broke the vessel
in two amidships. The forward section listed to port and sank in 30 seconds. The after
section remained on an even keel and sank within 4 minutes.
Due to the rapid sinking and breaking up the ship, the survivors had to jump

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overboard. After an hour in the water, they were picked up by the fishing boat Loyal

Star and landed in Milford Haven, Wales at 1645 GCT.

Lost at sea: Feb. 28, 1945

Master John W. Hamilton Gibson, Wallace

Barrow, Carl (FW0)* Grandado, Aristo (oiler)

Berg, Sanford J. (3rd mate) LaRosa, Manuel (AB)

Carpenter, Clifford (3rd Mate) Pollard, Harold W. (oiler)

Davis, John P. (AB) Reed, Knute (3rd Eng.)

Denman, William S. (AB) Serinoy, Joseph (Deck Maint)

Elefterades, Joannis, (2nd mate) Truss, Joseph (Purser)

Watson, Ronald (Chief Engr.)

GEORGE (J. JACK) LORD
PATTERSON, CA 95363

The following is a summary of the activities of my life in the United States
Maritime Service. WWII began in 1939, and that fact is significant because I was
brought up in Canada. My parents were British subjects. They migrated from England
in WWI and settled in Montreal where they all lived their respective lives excepting my
mother, who met my father and lived with him in New York City until they decided to
explore California where incidentally, I was born.

When I grew up, I made friends as is usual. I developed a close relationship
with one particular boy my own age and found out that he like I, was a US citizen too
which, was a pretty good reason to be friends. Neither of us became Canadian citizens.
Back in those days it was not a pressing matter and so we remained U.S.

While still in Canada, we became participants in the war that broke out in
September of 1939. Both of us were too young to enlist; my friend was a year older
than I. I was all of fifteen. At sixteen, he would have qualified to enlist but I would not
have been. We went about our lives for two years until 1941 when we decided that it
would a great journey to go to the U.S. We were not too sure that our parents would
appreciate the decision, but after a lot pressure about patriotism on our part we won
the day. We just gathered clothes and necessary items that would carry us over for a few
days. We hitchhiked our way to the US border where we were challenged by the border
patrol who inquired where we came from, and where were going to which we replied:
New York. Apparently that statement sufficed to gain us passage, and so, we were on
our way.

Ultimately we reached New York after many hours of thumbing and getting
hungrier by the hour. We finally did get a place out of the elements, and were informed
that in NY, an organization, "The NY Bureau for Young People," had a law providing
that: young people, boys and girls, be given shelter and necessary help for a limited time
until they could show that they were seriously making an effort to gain employment.

For several days we really did work hard to find some occupation. We decided
to apply to the Labor Department, which we did. We wound up in the Pennsylvania

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Station Postal Office, letter and package, outgoing mail. It was there that we learned
what work meant! We never worked so hard in our young lives and at $0.79 an hour
how could we complain?

Several jobs followed until 1944 when we decided to do something about our
need to aid our country, and we did. We went to the US Navy enlistment center and
expected to be sworn in that day, but it was not to be. While waiting to be interviewed
my friend was speaking to someone else waiting to be interviewed and their
conversation got around to what the requirements might be to enlist. They discussed
this and that, and the fact that my friend divulged that he had a punctured ear drum
was overheard by one of the examiners who called my friend to follow him. They went
to a room behind a glass wall where friend was motioned into a chair similar to that in a
dentist's office where a discussion ensued. Friend returned to the waiting room. I was
aware that he was disappointed about what he had learned: that he could not be
enlisted due to some congenital anomaly, though not too serious would, with the ear
drum problem, wash him out.

A consequence to the above was that we left the enlistment office to reconsider
our options. On the way out of the building we were joined by a couple of other young
men. They inquired what were we going to do. We explained that friend was washed
out and that only I would be able to enlist in any of the armed forces, but that I
preferred to go to sea. The fellows said they heard the Merchant Marine was in need of
men, but that a requirement that anyone interested would be sent to a Boot Camp
tantamount to the Navy boot camp. That was alright with me. Talking it over with
friend, we agreed that if I wanted to, I should sign up as there would not be anywhere
that we would be able to be together in any service. It was a sad moment when we said
goodbye, but there was not too much choice.

Several days later, I was on my way to Sheepshead Bay where I completed my
training (twelve weeks if I remember correctly?) It was not very long after boot camp
that I was on my first ship and on the open sea, a little scary at first, but I soon got my
sea legs and learned to keep my plate, while in the mess hall, out of my lap, and to sway
opposite the roll of the ship.

Note to Editor: Over the years, almost sixty five years to be more exact, I had
moved around a good deal working where ever there was work available. Subsequently
some of my personal papers and paraphernalia has been lost or irretrievably mislaid.
Most of the ships that I sailed on, I think I have discharges for. All the ports that we
went to were classified as "Foreign," except for those on tankers. The others did not
delineate the destinies, obviously to protect security.

I have copied all the ships discharges I have and will be an attachment to this
letter. In the eventuality that any confusion may be generated by the fact of my duality
of names, there are two legal documents that rectify the anomaly. The matter of the
name changes arose from an act of adoption.

After my service in the Maritime, I joined the United States Navy in November
of 1949 and served four years during the Korean War; eighteen months on Guam and

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an equal (less three months because of a public order issued by the US Gov) at Moffat
Field California. My last association with the Military occurred after I made a trip to
Vietnam with the MM, as the discharge paper indicates; Council Bluffs Victory. I still
have my license but, I doubt the MM would hire me? I'm too young!!

This has gone along enough. I hope that you will be able to use the material.
You have my permission to use all or parts of it for whatever your needs require but, I
request that none of it is used for other than MM. The enclosed picture is of my wife
Tillie. Tillie and I have been married for 36 years this coming April. She sends her
regards.

In closing, I want to Thank You and the Organization for
publishing the information that I, and many others were very happy to receive. Not too
many MM Vets were aware that such an organization existed.

WALTER W. LUIKART
CEO MARINERS OF PENNSYLVANIA
NEW CASTLE, PA 16105

I was sent to Hoffman Island for training from 11-4-1943 to 3-3-1944. My first
ship was coast wise on the ―Berkshire‖ from Baltimore to Norfolk and it took eight
days. My second ship was the ―Exchange,‖ a troop ship from March 21st to May 15th,
1944.

My third ship and the most interesting on was the Nicholas Hirkimer. We left
New York on May 26, 1944 with a convoy of 102 ships and 8 escorts, gas masks were
issued to the Merchant Crew. I will try to condense this story as much as possible; at
Glasgow we picked up 550 American troops and went to Southampton, England which
was the first of 25 shuttles we would make across the English Channel.

On the 1st shuttle trip we removed torpedo nets, rigged for smoke and attached
a balloon which we lost on the first day. We were part of 16 Liberty Ships and 3 Naval
Escorts, we rigged a boom in the area and had general alarms every night; we opened
fire to bring down flying bombers while we could hear heavy shelling from the shore.

On my 2nd trip we carried an artillery battalion and because of heavy seas the
men were not allowed on deck.

On my 3rd trip we carried 510 Free French officers and men, on the first day
our cable snapped and we lost our balloon again. It took 5 days for the cargo to be

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unloaded.
On my 4th trip we carried troops and vehicles and there goes the balloon again.

The weather was extremely rough and it took us 8 days to discharge cargo.
On my 5th trip due to nice weather it was much faster.
My 6th trip was also routine.
My 7th trip was routine except attached balloon again
My 8th trip was very slow due to dense fog and jumbo book problems took 5

days to unload.
My 9th trip was very slow because of gale force winds lots of damage to cargo

because it was badly secured cargo. While we were there, the Elinor Wylie which was in
the area was bombed and abandoned while anchored at Utah beach head. We were
anchored for 8 days because there was a blackout and the cargo could not be worked at
night. From there we went back to South Hampton.

On my 10th trip we carried 150 troops and vehicles and had bad weather.
On my 11th trip we were called back and I think the reason was that five of the
crew was being held by the Shore Patrol, the chief mate saved their ass by demanding
to see the commander and going on about how the navy and army was crapping on the
Merchant Marine so they let them go.
On this trip we went up the very beautiful Seine River. When we got to Roune,
France, some of us took a life boat and went ashore where we were challenged by the
army a number of times because the area was under curfew. There were disarmed land
mines there and a French lady told us that for each German soldier killed they took 75
French natives and shot them.
We picked up troops here and went to Cherbourg, unloaded them, and tool on
refugees that same evening. We lost our anchor and no one knew it until we tool up the
chain that had drifted 4 miles.
On my 13th trip we encountered a storm in Southampton on our way to Le
Harve, France, which caused our cargo to shift and we were called back. That was at
1030 and we left again at 0400, turned back and left again, and at 0730 turned back and
stayed the night. I remember the devastation on deck, trucks, jeeps, trailers, and even a
bull dozer smashing all over the place.
On my 14th trip we went to Cherbourg, France and on my 15th trip our last
shuttle was back to Le Harve, then on to New York with our convoy.
My most interesting ship was the SS Nicholas Herkimer which was first launched
on the 8th of June, 1943.
1 4th ship: This trip was to Karachi and Bombay (now known as Mumbai),
India. It was very interesting but I can‘t go into detail except that we had a
lot of advice. For instance, ―Don't get killed because you would have to pay
for your own funeral at a cost of $8.00‖
2 5th ship: Our convoy split up and some went to France while we went to the
Suez Canal. We had more gunnery training, submarine and mine sightings,
and on the return trip we ran into a really bad hurricane approaching
Baltimore.

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3 6th and 7th ship: Westminster Victory this ship was named after the college
in my hometown where I studied navigation and sat for my third mate‘s
license.

4 8th ship: Sailed as Third Mate and made two trips to France. I sat for my Second
Mate‘s license but I sailed on my 9th ship as the third mate, that was due to the
shipping starting to dry up and the position of Second Mate was not readily
available.

Since then we started a Merchant Mariners chapter called Mariners of
Pennsylvania which has been very active. Our chapter participates in instructing two
classes at the Westminster College, ―American History‖ and a ―World History‖ class;
and we have been asked to do it at Slippery Rock University in the fall. Our chapter has
also been active in the high schools and other organizations in getting the Merchant
Marine story out there.

We have donated eight books ―Careless Word Needless Sinking‖ by Arthur
Moore, to various libraries about the WWII Merchant Marine

Since my retirement as a printer in 1988 at the New Castle News, I have been
active in music. I have played contrabass for the Westminster and Slippery Rock
concert orchestras and was president of the Lawrence County community band for two
years and built the band from 13 to 63 members, I play the French Horn in that band. I
also have a Blue Grass group presently and have been in four barbershop quartets and
have sung in the Youngstown Chorus and the Westminster Community chorus and
have director church choirs for 50 years.

RICHARD LYAU
SAN MATEO, CA 94403

For many of us, Dec. 7, 1941 changed our lives. On that fateful day, I was on
Midway Island, one of 200 or so construction workers building a secret submarine base
for the Navy. When Midway was attacked that night, the navy ordered civilians to stay
out of our barracks and to dig ourselves a foxhole for shelter. Digging was easy as
Midway was all sand and coral. Staying in the foxhole was miserable – it was cold and
very wet as sea water kept seeping through.

Needless to say, the Japanese warships bombarded Midway for 4 nights and for
reasons unknown the Japanese left – lucky for me. Midway, at that time, had no
defense – no guns at all to fire back. It is still a mystery to me why they did not capture
Midway. The navy evacuated all civilians from Midway on February 1942 and I
returned to Honolulu, my home.

With the foxhole experience, I swore I would never join the army but the draft
board was after me. Honest to goodness, I became a draft dodger by enrolling in the
US Merchant Marine Academy, Kings Point, NY. The USMMA sent me to basic
school at Coyote Point in San Mateo, CA. After basic school I was assigned to a newly

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built liberty ship, the SS George Rogers Clark, in San Francisco as a cadet midshipman.
My sea time on the George Rogers Clark was memorable.

The GRC departed San Francisco in January 1943 and the first port of call was
Sydney, Australia. The GRC did 12 plus knots which was fast for a Liberty. From
Sydney it was on to Suez, Egypt to delivery our cargo of tanks that British Bernard
Montgomery so badly needed to drive German General Rommel out of Africa.

The GRC was not expected to make it to Suez; therefore, there were no further
orders for the GRC to go anywhere. The captain decided to return home by way of the
Mediterranean Sea instead of reversing course. Next stop was through the Suez Canal
to Port Said whereupon the British commandeered the GRC and was sent to Haifa,
Palestine (now Israel).

The GRC was tied-up at the docks at Haifa for 3 ½ months doing nothing. I
took advantage of this period and toured Palestine over and over again. Finally the
British informed the Captain that the GRC was to lead a decoy fleet for the invasion of
Sicily and to expect heavy casualties as we will not have naval support. We left Haifa
early July 1943 for Alexandria, Egypt to pick up a bunch of liberty‘s and headed for
Sicily, D-day being July 10, 1943. The GRC and the rest of the ships anchored off
Avola on Sicily‘s east coast. Surprisingly, the invasion was ―easy‖ on the first day.

It took 5 days to unload our cargo of tanks and gasoline (in 5 gallon cans).
However, on the 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th days, the German air force made daily bombing
raids on the liberty‘s anchored off Avola. The bombing raids were scary. A few ships
were hit; especially the SS Timothy Pickering which took a direct hit and blew up
completely. The GRC did not receive any direct hits but was hit several times by
shrapnel‘s.

Incidentally, the main invading force was made by American forces under
General George Patton on the south coast of Sicily. Being the decoy fleet, we landed
the British 8th Army on the east coast. After Sicily, it was to Tripoli, Libya for
relaxation, then onto Algiers, Algeria for more relaxation. From Algiers, we sailed
alone, zigzagging across the Atlantic for New York, arriving late August 1943.

My sea time was supposed to be over but the captain wanted me to sign on for
another trip as his second mate with the Coast Guard approval. On September 1943,
the GRC set sail for Manchester, England. We joined a Murmansk bound convoy off
Halifax. As the convoy near Ireland, the GRC left the convoy and headed to
Manchester. This was an uneventful trip other than a U-boat scare which scattered the
convoy.

Returned to New York and was again asked by the captain to sail just once
more as his second mate. This time it was to London, England. Early December 1943,
my fellow cadet and I made the rounds of London and ended up in a British canteen
(counter part of an American USO). There were two British WACS in corporals‘
uniform acting as bar maids. Bob, my fellow cadet, and I decided to date the two
corporals. Their answer was no! Bob, being a joker, told the corporals that they should
have respect for me as my uncle is the great Duke Kahanamoku of Hawaii.
Immediately, the corporals took an interest in us but the answer was still no!

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All this time, there was a British soldier standing nearby and politely asked us to
leave as the corporals had repeatedly said no. The British soldier asked if we knew who
we were trying to date. We naturally said, ―Of course, the two lovely corporals.‖ The
British soldier then said they are not corporals but Her Royal Highness, Princess
Elizabeth (now queen) and Princess Margaret.

Bob and I felt like stupid asses and were embarrassed as hell. Princesses
Elizabeth and Margaret were most gracious and offered their hands. When I attempted
to shake their hands, the British soldier said ―not that‖ and that I should kiss them.
When I attempted to kiss the princess, the British soldier again said ―not that‖ and that
I should kiss their hands and bow. That‘s my experience with royalty and the British
soldier turn-out to be from Scotland Yard to watch over and protect the princesses.

From London, it was back to New York. The trip back was uneventful except
for the fierce winter North Atlantic seas. Any mariner will attest to that.

Upon arriving in New York, I went to the US Merchant Marine Academy at
Kings Point and was informed that I overstayed my sea time and must graduate with
the next class or take an accelerated course. I opted for the accelerated course and
became a ―special.‖ After 2 ½ months of boning up, I took my examination in San
Francisco and received my third mate‘s license in April 1944.

My Merchant Marine career ended here. Upon receiving my
license, the Navy called me into active duty. My Navy career is a story by itself but I will
end here.

After the Navy, I went to the University of Oregon to get my degree. I worked
in various jobs and finally settled in insurance work and did Risk Management for San
Francisco Bay Area Rapid Transit where I retired in 1976 at age 54. During my
―retirement,‖ I did consulting work for several years before finally called it quits in 1995
at age 73.

WILLIAM F. LYON, JR.

I was born in Dallas, Texas. As a young man, I was in the Boy Scouts and at 16
I joined the Texas State Guard after graduating from Mansfield High School in
Mansfield, Texas. I got discharged when I joined the Maritime service and trained at
Avalon, Catalina Island in May 1945. Garrettson, Barrett, Whatley & Welch and I
joined at the same time. The others shipped out before and some did later. We later

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signed up on the T2 Tanker, (Sweetwater). Bishop and some others (see photograph on
next page) got on another ship. We departed Texas City only hours before Texas City
harbor had a large explosion (a ship loaded with ammonium nitrate blew up) in the
harbor at Standard Oil in 1947; we were leased to the Anglo Iranian Oil Co. (British).
We were home on leave at that time.

I sailed to Manila where I was Fireman Water Tender on the Sea Flasher in
1945 from Portland, Oregon. After returning from Manila, I got a haircut in San
Francisco – as I was going into the barbershop my friend Campbell (who had sailed
east as I sailed west) was stepping out. He was heading home as I was so we visited
with each other before the photograph was made and finally shipping out at Texas City
in 1947. It was ironic both of us going half way around the world in different directions
only to meet on the street in San Francisco.

Merchant Seamen 1947 (Left to right)
Bransom, Roland Bishop, Campbell, Green, Bill Lyon and
Whatley. From Mansfield area except Campbell, he was
from Nennikah, Oklahoma, we were all on leave before the
Texas City explosion.

After the fanfare of the arrival of the troop transport Sea Flasher I was on that
brought home 2,200 troops to San Francisco, the USO celebrities and actors were there
(Jinks Falkenberg was one). After this I sailed to Oran & Algiers North Africa on the
S.S. Daniel Carroll (Liberty ship) a grain ship, Bulk carrier.

We proceeded to Aruba, W.I. where I was an oiler on the tanker Sweetwater,
for 11 ½ months went through the Suez Canal eight times delivering from Abadan,
Kuwait, Aden and Bahrain to Italy, Haifa, Denmark & Liverpool, Melbourne, Adelaide
and Port Perie Australia. We ran aground near Liverpool and went into dry-dock for
repairs for a month. We enjoyed the shore leave in Liverpool and Birkenhead, England.
I had a lot of fun there since my name was Lyon and so was Queen Elizabeth‘s maiden
name. Also the man that designed and owned the Jaguar automobile company (now
owned by Ford) was name William Lyon. I think they are Scottish descendants as I.

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In advanced training, I sailed on the American Engineer and the Wayfarer on
several trips to Ensenada, Mexico. One was a coal powered ship built in the 1920s and
was still running good. Graduation station was 1000 Geary St. San Francisco, Calif.

I went to TCU (chemistry of fuels and lubricants) and worked for Premier
Refinery Lab just before I joined MSTS. We had a band and played at Melbourne, Port
Pirie and Adelaide at church.

I have lived in Fort Worth, Forest Hill and Mansfield, Texas. My wife, Emma,
was a bilingual teacher for 30 years. We have a daughter that is a teacher and a son that
is a Nuclear Engineer. We have a grandson and granddaughter and two great-
granddaughters. My wife‘s birth was Corsicana.

I got into construction after sailing and owned and operated Lyon, Inc. Gen.
Contractors. I was also Maintenance Engineer at the Masonic Temple for five years,
Lancaster & Henderson, Sts. Ft. Worth, TX. I was in the Drum Corps at Catalina
Island and at the Masonic Temple, a member of the Lodge Shrine, Scottish Rite,
Knights Templar, and Royal Arch, which I joined in 1955. Paul Wilson and I just
celebrated our 60th year since we went to Mansfield High School. I worked maintenance
at Carswell Air Force Base for a year before going into construction. I am past
president of S.E. Fort Worth Lions Club ‘93 and ‘94 and still a member. I also belong
to the American Legion #624 Mansfield, Texas.

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Maritime Tales of the Sea

Mascots that keep
the rats and mice
off the Sweetwater.
They made the 11
½ months with us.

SS Sweetwater 1946
T2 Tanker near
Liverpool, England a
ground

HILARY MAKOWSKI
CARNEGIE, PA 15106

I was still 19 years of age when I signed up for the Navy, which happened on
October 28, 1942. I took my boot training in New Port, Rhode Island. After Boot
Camp I was sent to Little Creek, Virginia for gunnery school and was taught how to
handle nine guns in four weeks time. I missed being at home for the first Christmas
that year.

In January I was sent to the Brooklyn Armed Guard Center and was told that I
was an Armed Guard; I was very disappointed for I thought that I would be guarding a
dock or warehouse. Well then the news came through I was assigned heavy gear, winter
underwear, sweaters, jackets, gloves, face masks, fleece line coat with an extra large
collar, heavy winter boots, extra heavy stockings, inner soles for the boots – 3 pair,
gloves, goggles, etc. Then I was assigned to the Liberty Ship, S.S. Thomas Hartly. When
we got aboard we had been told that we would sail to Murmansk, Russia. At that time
the news did not mean nothing to me, but ―oh boy‖ when it was explained to me, my
knees started knocking together so bad that they turned black and blue. (I forgot to
mention that on November 21, 1942, I had my 20th birthday.)

So anyway, in later January we set sail for Glasgow, Scotland. While out on the
water the second day, the gunnery officer J.G. came to me and asked what I know
about a 20 MM gun, I said just about what anyone else on this ship knows since we all
went to the same school together. He said, come with me, and I didn‘t know what that
was all about until I seen the mess. One of our guys took a 20 MM below deck, got a
4‘x8‘ sheet of plywood, set it up as a table and took the 20 MM all apart, each and every
piece. He did not know how to put it together, his mind went blank. We had a 2nd class
gunners mate assigned to our crew but he never seen a 20 MM that was something new

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Maritime Tales of the Sea

to him; the officer asked if I could put it together? I must have said every prayer I knew
in a matter of seconds and said I‘ll try.

Well as everyone stood around me piece by piece I put it together, the gunners
mate was pretty sharp and from that one experience he and some others now could put
a 20 MM together. However, as we sailed across the Atlantic our position was in Coffin
Corner. The last ship in the starboard side, we sailed in a zigzag fashion, it took us 16
days to Scotland.

After several nights to ship directly in front of us had trouble keeping up with
the convoy and would slip behind us, if you time city even rubbed our star board
side. One night and many other nights it was pitch dark and this ship fell behind us
and ‗Whamo‘ -- it took a torpedo. I thanked God that it wasn't us -- that was all she
wrote.

Another night a U-boat surfaced in the convoy and I was the pointed on a
5‖51. The Navy from a destroyer shot a star shell into the air; I could see the sub as
clear as day and I had my sights directly on it. Every one around me is hollering
―SHOOT – SHOOT‖ but I refused to shoot since this sub was along the starboard
side of the tanker in our convoy. Some people were mad at me, they said that I turned
chicken and froze at the trigger. The next day the gunnery officer asked me, ―what did
I see last night?‖ and I said a submarine; he said he could not make out what it was
from his position. Then he asked me since you seen the sub, why is it that you did not
shoot? I reminded him that our instructions at gunnery school was that the gunnery
officer would give you a high target setting on the first shot then lower the setting on
other shots until we hit the target. He said, ―Boy am I glad that you did not shoot for I
did give a high setting and you would have blown up the tanker in our convoy.‖

Well we made it to Scotland and after a few days we had to assemble a new
convoy. (I don't remember the name of the place that we done that, when someone
mentions the name to me then yes, I remember it.) Then we set out for Murmansk.
Oh yes! At times the waves must have been 50 feet high. When I was doing watch
duty on the bridge I could not see the top of the waves. We had five holds packed to
the very top where the boards and canvas covered everything, plus steel scaffolds
welded to the deck aft midship and a PT boat placed on each scaffold. It sure seems
funny when you see a PT boat in the ocean it appears to be a very small boat.
However, after our ship was loaded to the hilt, a mammoth crane picked up a PT boat
and put it on the steel scaffolds on the starboard side the ship listed near 45°. Then
they took us out into New York Harbor turned us around brought us back to the dock
picked up the other PT boat and set it on the port side scaffold, then we straightened
up.

When going to Murmansk, enemy planes flew over dropping their bombs. As
far as I knew one Russian ship in our convoy was hit on the bow, I understood that
only light damage was done. Since then somebody told me that one ship was sunk, I
knew nothing about it.

In Murmansk while tied to the dock we had 169 actual air raids, one ship tied to
the dock at our Stern was hit by a bomb and the ship started to list. By then we were

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unloaded and the captain told the Russians to get us out from the dock because when
the ship that was hit started to list it could block us with its mast -- so that‘s what they
did.

We were anchored opposite the docks and the Kola River; that shore was lined
with mountains and Nazi planes had a ball. They would dive at us drop their bombs
and go over the mountains; by the way we were in Murmansk two months. You know
something? I believe that those pilots didn't want to hurt us, with all the bombs that
fell only that one ship was hit. One day while I was shooting at this plane the pilot was
level with my gun. I had the forward 20 MM on the bridge on the starboard side; the
pilot dropped his bombs on the dock and greeted me by waving his hand like hello
buddy.

Now the ship was manned if my memory serves me right with about 75 people,
25 of that group was U.S.N. Armed Guard. The Russians decided to take us through
the ice fields with ice Breakers through the White Sea and to the port of Molatousk. All
was quiet, no bombs, and no airplanes.

However tragedy struck. The ship was equipped with enough food to feed all of
us for four months. We then lived or survived on stock that was housed in Russia.
Once in a while the ship's steward could buy a sack of cabbage, a hind quarter or fish
from the Russian. Our government had to pay dearly for that garbage. We all lost a lot
of weight for we stayed in Russia for eight months. We were known as the forgotten
convoy -- also the forgotten bastards of Molotovsk.

During our stay in Molotovsk we had nothing to do. So American ingenuity
began to work and someone found 4x4 pieces of wood on the dock. I don't know how
they got them a board since the Russians had soldier guards stationed on the docks.
Well anyway the 4x4 was taken to the engine room and had baseball bats made from
them on a lathe. Some guys knew how to start a woolen stocking to unravel, someone
else cut a chunk of rubber from the heel of a boot, and together made a baseball from
it after cutting a letter from the upper part of the boot the shape of the leather on a
baseball. Someone else made catchers mitt from our gloves that was used to change
the hot 20 MM gun barrel. Then, of course, we needed a catcher's mask, some one
made one. Then we were able to play baseball for we had approximately 6 weeks or
more of summer.

Some of us was going goofy; I got into a fight with a semi pro boxer we had
aboard, he hit me between the eyes and gave me to instant black eyes. However he
could not street fight worth a lick. I was ready to throw him over the side when our
officer grabbed both of us, took us into a folksole (forecastle) to give us a talking to and
find out what the fight was all about. Our officer told me to break a 2x4 over his head
if I couldn‘t beat him. I asked the officer to let us go back out on the deck so that I
could finish him off, he refused that request. I told the officer that the boxer was good
with his fist but he wasn't worth a doodly-doo when it came to the regular old fashion
street fighting.

In October 1943 we finally headed for Scotland, the Von Trepits was to come
out and sink us; she must have got a bellyache for she never came out. Sailing up the

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Maritime Tales of the Sea

Clyde River, doctors came aboard to examine us, in the meantime sides of beef was
hoisted up from tugboats while we were under way, along with lettuce, fruits and other
food, etc., you know this was in Scotland. The doctors that came aboard gave us pills to
take before we ate, they said be sure to take them for the food that you are going to eat
will be too rich for your system. If you don't take them you will vomit. Well, some
smart asses threw them overboard and yep, you guessed it --they did vomit.

When we returned to the States we went home on leave, after 30 days returned
to the Brooklyn Armed Guard Center, and then was sent to a rest camp in Haverstraw,
New York. After two weeks they sent us to another rest camp, College Arms Hotel in
the Deland, Florida, where our meals were served by waitresses, yep breakfast, lunch
and dinner.

When I got back to the Brooklyn Armed Guard Center, I requested shore duty
and became Corporal of the Guard for four months. In the mean time, Mrs. Eleanor
Roosevelt came on base; she had the distinct honor of presenting me and our gun crew
with a letter of commendation for shooting down enemy aircraft. So I can say that I
shook the hand of the first lady of our good old United States of America.

In May or June of 1944, I shipped out again on the S.S. Thomas Howell, was
shuttled to be in the invasion at Omaha beachhead, we got lost in the English Channel.
We were detained in New York since the invasion started as we were leaving port, so
we got there a month after the invasion. Dead soldiers were floating in the water.

After I returned to Brooklyn I was shipped to Hawthorne, Nevada. At that
time it was the world's largest ammunition depot in the world. I stayed there six
months and transferred to Hawaii in October, November and December. I shipped
back to Samson‘s New York boot camp for discharge in February 1946.

That's all minus some. Finished this in 2004.

JAMES L. MANZOLILLO

Many of us who served in the U.S. Merchant Marines during WWII have had
unusual experiences at sea which we will remember the rest of our lives. The War
taught us to live every day as if we will die tomorrow but also as if we will live forever.
An old saying is: "we don't get older, we just aren't young any more." All of us who
served in AMM, WWII are subject to all the different "aches and pains" imaginable.
Some of us are fortunate and suffer less.

There have been many stories and articles written about the unfortunate ordeals
and experiences suffered by AMM vets since their return from the war. However little
has been written about AMM WW II veterans who lived strong, productive lives after
the war. This story is about one merchant marine veteran who made a successful post-
war transition.

James L. Manzolillo was studying naval architecture and marine engineering at
Stevens Institute of Technology in Hoboken, N.J. and was in his last year of college
when he received the news that Japan had bombed Pearl Harbor. Without hesitation,
Jim joined the Merchant Marines and shipped out of Baltimore on an Esso oil tanker as

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Maritime Tales of the Sea

a Junior Engineer. He had just turned 21 years old. During the four years he served in
the Merchant Marines, he became fascinated with the various large diesel engines and
machinery installed in the engine room. It did not take long for Jim to receive his
Second Assistant Engineer's license (unlimited horsepower). He remained in the
Merchant Marines until the war's end.

In September 1946, Jim returned to college to continue his engineering studies.
In June, 1950, he received a degree in Mechanical Engineering from Colorado A & M
State College.

Because of his experience as an engineer aboard ships in WW II and his college
training, Caterpillar Tractor Co. hired Jim immediately after graduation. They were in
need of an engineer with a maritime background. His assignment was to develop a new
Marine Engineering Dept. and train Caterpillar dealers on how to sell Caterpillar tractor
engines for marine application. Caterpillar decided that with some modifications and
design changes to their tractor engine, it could be sold as a new marine engine having
the reputable Caterpillar name. Jim's work required traveling to different parts of the
world. He visited many Caterpillar dealers in other countries giving lectures to the
dealers and sales people about the new Caterpillar marine engines they could sell as well
as their application and installation in vessels.

In 1958 Caterpillar asked Jim to move to Mexico City to open an office for the
company there. His responsibilities included covering all of Latin America as a field
representative as well as training dealer personnel.

In 1960 Jim left Caterpillar to start his own Marine Consulting Business with an
emphasis on catering to foreign clients from various countries.

At the end of 1960, Jim was contacted by the Mexican Development bank to
build fishing trawlers for Mexico. Mexican fishermen had heard of his designs for
trawlers and asked the bank to finance construction of the boats. Under pressure to
start building vessels for the Mexican Co-ops and unable to find a suitable shipbuilding
facility on the Gulf or the Pacific Coast, he decided to build the first vessels in Mexico
City, where he made his home, even though this location was 7400 feet above sea level.

After delivery of these first shrimp boats, Jim learned that Mexico had two free
ports. He decided to set up a larger shipbuilding yard in the free port of Coatzacoalcos
on the Gulf Coast. His interest was to attract and build work vessels for export to
various countries. After obtaining orders for vessels which required additional ship-
building space, Jim opened up his second shipyard in 1963 in Oaxaca on the Pacific
Coast. Operating out of the free ports of Mexico, he was able to compete favorably
with foreign builders. In 1970 Jim had 40 vessels under construction for delivery to
various clients in foreign countries.

In 1982 Jim was approached by several businessmen to sell his two shipyards.
During his 22 years building ships for exportation, Jim designed and built 240 vessels
for 30 different countries. Among those vessels was the world's first commercial vessel
using one-quarter inch copper-nickel plate for its hull. The countries which placed
orders for the Mexican-built ships were: India, Sri Lanka, Germany, England, Kuwait,
Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Nigeria, and most of the countries in Central and South America.

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Maritime Tales of the Sea

After selling his shipbuilding company, Jim visited Houston and then returned
shortly to stay. "Almost from the beginning, Houston felt like home," he said.

Wanting to remain close to the sea and to ships, Jim began lecturing on cruise
ships. In all, he made ninety-five cruises, seven of which were world cruises. His
lectures dealt with various subjects associated with the sea. While traveling, he amassed
a great deal of nautical memorabilia and over 20 ship models – each with a history of its
own. ―It was as though I was gathering items of interest for a museum without realizing
what I was doing," he said. Recognizing that Houston (the second largest port in the
U.S.A.) did not have a maritime museum, he turned his attention to creating and
developing the museum he felt the city needed.

In December, 2000, this vision became a reality: The Houston Maritime
Museum, founded by Jim Manzolillo, opened its doors to the public and to an
overwhelming response of goodwill.

James Manzolillo, an old sailor and merchant mariner, is just one example of
the many WWII Merchant Marine Veterans who used the knowledge and experience
gained from serving their country aboard ships during wartime as a springboard to a
rewarding and interesting life's work.

CLYDE MARRS
ALLEN, TX 75002

Early in 1942 I received notice to report to the draft board in Maud, Oklahoma.
I was 18 years old and in the 11th grade. I had lost a couple of years of school having
come from a broken home and was told about the Merchant Marines which I knew
nothing about. I was told that I would be on ships to haul war supplies where the war
was going on.

They sent me to St. Louis
and then on to St. Petersburg, Florida, where I received seaman training. After three
months I took a test in a large auditorium. The test consisted of listening to two groups
of code signals. We were supposed to identify whether they were alike or unlike. I must
have had an ear for it since I was one of seven men out of over seven hundred selected.
The seven of us were immediately sent to Otto Kahn‘s Estate on Long Island to learn
to send and receive code. After two months we were sent to Gallups Island Radio
School in Boston Harbor to learn radio theory. After five months, graduates were sent

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Maritime Tales of the Sea

to ship out with a Federal Communication Commission License. I was sent to San
Francisco reporting to the Recruitment and Manning Organization (RMO) where I was
soon assigned to a new Liberty ship, the SS Juan Pablo Duarte. While the ship was
being loaded with black powder, 500 lb. bombs, and small arms ammunition and
fighter planes (on deck). I was staying at a YMCA and then working nights as a
longshoreman for spending money.

When the ship was loaded and ready to go we set sail under the Golden Gate
Bridge and out to the deep blue Pacific. It was late in the evening and we had chili for
the evening meal. The ship was negotiating long low swells and most everyone got
seasick. An ―old salt‖ had told me to avoid seasickness by getting as high as I could on
the ship, hold on to a pole, and fix my eyes on a point on the horizon. It worked; I got
rid of the butterfly in my stomach and thus avoided seasickness.

Our destination was Brisbane, Australia, where we spent a week then headed up
the coast of New Guinea to distribute our cargo. We went to Port Morsby, Lae,
Finchheaven, and Holandia, New Guinea. At Holandia the army was short of men to
unload the ship so we were asked to help. I was in # 2 hold taking the last of the 500 lb
bombs out when a sling of ten of them came out at the top of the hold. They were not
fused so I just stood and watched them hit the dunnage covering the small arms
ammunition. The #1 hold was full of black powder and had anything happened the
whole harbor would have blown up.

We returned to the U.S. and I was assigned to the SS William P. Duval on the
East Coast. We crossed the Atlantic in a convoy of about 250 ships. We unloaded most
everything at Marseilles, France and the last of it in Algiers, Algeria. The war in
Germany ended while we were in this area. We loaded surplus supplies and a deck load
of Grumman P47s and set sail for Layte in the Philippines through the Panama Canal.
We were about a month getting unloaded and were under severe air attack every night.
This trip lasted about 11 months and we returned to the U.S.

I was then assigned to a new T-2 tanker, the SS Chemawa in the shipyards of
Mobile, Alabama. We took a load of fuel from there to Naples, Italy. We then hauled
oil out of Abadan, Iran to: London, England, Shanghai, China, Durban, South Africa,
Haifa, and Palestine, which all took about 11 months then returned to the U.S. via
Trinidad. During one trip up the river to Abadan, there came a dust storm about
halfway there from the Persian Gulf. Our Captain instructed the pilot not to anchor in
that narrow channel but he did anyway. The ship worked its way out of the channel and
the next morning we were high and dry in the desert. There was only a puddle of water
around the screw which was out of the water. I leaned over the storm rail and got a
picture of it. Captain Bandel was furious and ordered the pilot to walk a hawser to a tug
boat that I had called for from the mouth of the river. When the tide came in, Captain
Bandel worked the ship out and back into the channel.

On our way back to the U.S. I had an extra job taking care of a man who tried
to sabotage the engine room and was caught in the act. The Coast Guard came aboard
and got him as soon as we docked in the States. I was the only radio officer on that
ship and I had my hands full with the prisoner and the radio room. This was my last

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Maritime Tales of the Sea

ship and I left it and headed home from Galveston dry docks where the tanker was to
be butterworthed. While waiting for a trip to the airport I was in the lobby of a hotel
when Texas City blew up. The pilot of the airplane flew real low over the disaster which
was awesome. I took ICS courses to sea and mailed the lessons all over the world and
was able to finish high school.

At home I found jobs to be scarce. Below is a list of my activities to date.
 I took a job selling and hauling fresh meat to grocery stores from OK

Packaging in Tecumseh, Oklahoma.
 Worked for Shell Pipeline as a lineman.
 Worked for Earl Bray driving a gasoline transport.
 Married Barbara Jean Boyd and have been married to her for 57 years. We had

three daughters, Peggy, Gena, and Dana, and six grand children and 7 great
grand children.
 Purchased our 1st home.
 Attended Oklahoma University and then Oklahoma Baptist University part
time and received a BA degree all on my own taking night classes.
 Got a real estate brokers license.
 Taught real estate classes at night at Cook County Junior College in Plano,
Texas, and Grayson County College.
 Worked as a production foreman for Sylvania Electric in Shawnee, Oklahoma,
making radio tubes.
 Worked for Texas Instruments as an industrial engineer making transistors.
 Went to Texas A&M at Commerce, Texas, and got a Masters Degree. It was
then East Texas State University.
 Taught high school in Dallas, Texas, until I retired. I was a Vocational
Adjustment Coordinator and taught mostly math.
 Joined the Merchant Marines Veterans Chapter which is the SS Stephen
Hopkins at 81 years of age. I thought it was time I slowed down a bit.
Interspersed with the hard work of fulfilling dreams, meeting goals, and
accomplishing ambitions, my family and I took some beautiful trips. We moved
many times and each place seemed better than the last. I was blessed with many
great friends, one palomino horse named Gypsy and currently a sleepy old
tabby cat named Sunburn. Life has been beyond expectations.

RICHARD D. MCCAMY
ASTATULA, FL 34705

I was born on 9-25-1926 and grew up on a small farm near Scottsboro, Alabama.
In 1943, with World War II going on, I quit high school just one year short of
graduating and went to a maritime commission welding school in Mobile AL then went
to work at the shipyard building T2 tankers. While working there and watching the ships
being launched and ships sailing out of Mobile I got the urge to go to sea.

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Maritime Tales of the Sea

I joined the U.S. Maritime Service and was sent to St. Petersburg, Florida. I was
there from November 1943 to April 1944. I took what they called advance engine
training. We learned to feel of the bearings on the cranks and crossheads and oil them
on the 5.5. Vigil which was an old coal burner with the shaft disconnected. We were also
taught to repair pumps and make gaskets, ect., then I was put on the S.S. American
Sailor for two weeks to learn to fire the boilers and water tender. Another guy and me
were sent to Mobile and put on an old Hog Island ship. He was fireman and I was
watertender on the same watch. It had fire boxes in both ends of the boilers; we did a
perfect job on our first watch.

I made several trips up the Suriname
River in Dutch Guiana to the bauxite mines and brought bauxite back to the States. We
were attacked once by a German Raider between the Suriname River and the Port of
Spain, Trinidad, with the help of an Army Air Force plane out of Trinidad we managed
to escape. I made several trips on the Atlantic and Mediterranean. I received the
Atlantic, Mediterranean and Middle East war zone bars and the combat bar.

On July 8, 1947 I married Mary Harris. I sailed until our first child was born in
July of 1949. This year we will have our 60th anniversary. We have one son, Richard D.
Jr., of Manito, IL, and one daughter, Marsha Loftis, of Cookeville, TN. We also have
nine grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren.

I worked at Caterpillar Tractor in Peoria, IL, for thirteen years before going into
the heating and air conditioning business. I was a heat and air contractor until retiring in
1990 when my wife and I moved to Florida and turned the business over to my son.

We were at a dinner at our club house a few weeks ago and the gentleman seated
beside me said he was in the army in WWII but did not go overseas. He asked if I did
and I replied ―yes, at least 15 times‖ and explained I was a Merchant Marine and what
we did in effort to help win the war. I asked him if he used the G.I. Bill and he replied
―yes.‖ I told him that we did not get the G.I. Bill of Rights.

I am a member and C.E.O of the Rudy Kozak Chapter American Merchant
Marine Veterans, Sanford, Florida.

TED MCCONLEY
ACCOUNT OF BARI, ITALY
The following is the transcribed testimony from Theodore McConley regarding what he saw in Bari,
Italy during WWII in 1943.

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Maritime Tales of the Sea

―As an Armed Guard with the US Navy, I was assigned to the SS Johns
Hopkins and was heading to Bari, Italy with a load of bombs. On the way up to Bari,
we hit a bad storm. By the time we got to Bari, the storm had quit but there was a
strong undercurrent.‖

―It was a frightful sight when we entered the harbor. There was an oil slick all
over with garbage, debris, dead bodies and body parts and large bubbles, approximately
6 – 10 inches in across, coming up out of the water.‖

―There were men in a small rowboat in the water that were pushing bodies into
a net that had been lowered into the water on a boom from ashore. The boom would
raise the net and dump the bodies into the dump truck. I was asked to push bodies into
the net for a short time.‖

―When we were finally allowed to go to shore, I asked the Englishman who was
working the boom, what they did with the bodies. He said they had a trench dug up the
hill and they were dumping the bodies into the trench and covering them with a
bulldozer.‖

―I had some Lucky Strike cigarettes at the time and the Englishman asked me
for some so I shared some cigarettes with him. I asked him about the bubbles and he
said 17 ships had been sunk and during the air raid, some canisters of gas broke on the
ship and a storm brought heavy undercurrents, which was helping the gas to escape
into the water.‖

―Each ship carried approximately 1,000 men and with the 17 ships blown up,
there had to be thousands of men that were buried. I don‘t know how many inhabitants
of Italy died from the bombing by the Germans.‖

―This is the first time I have ever spoken of my military life to anyone and to
remember Bari, Italy is an extremely difficult task. I have never recovered from that
blow.‖

―Though I did not realize it at the time, I have since learned that the gas that
leaked from the ship containers was mustard gas, to which I was exposed and now
suffer all the symptoms from.‖

By Theodore McConley

J. MCDONNELL
HULL, MASSACHUSETTS

On September 21 1941 I was enrolled in the U.S. Maritime Service at Boston. I
then went to Hoffman Island in New York harbor, and from there a group of fellow
apprentices were shipped to St. Petersburg, Florida on Tampa Bay. We learned to
launch and row; some of our training was aboard the ship Joseph Conrad. After the
attack at Pearl Harbor we again found ourselves on the train assigned to the training
ship S.S. American Sailor in San Pedro California.

At last training completed I signed on the S.S. H. M. Storey as an ordinary
Seaman. My first deep water vessel. This was March 24, 1942. We made a few

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Coastwise trips, and then loaded a cargo of bunker fuel for the U.S. Navy six landing
craft on deck and our cargo hold was filled with fifty-five gallon drums of gasoline,
diesel fuel and lube oil. We arrived at Noumea, New Caledonia, a French colony in the
S.W. Pacific about 900 miles N.E. of Australia. This trip took 25 days. In those days -
promotion was rapid. Most of the crew aboard Storey when I arrived either had licenses
or had enough sea time to take the examination. They soon became officers on the new
ships that were leaving the American ship yards. The new seamen coming out of the
training programs soon were the AB's, Oilers and firemen. Before our fourth trip to the
Southwest Pacific, I was kicked up the ladder and became Bosun to my surprise. Not
for my superior skills, but because we got a new first mate and he needed someone who
knew where things were stored and also the regular Bosun stayed a shore in San Pedro
too long.

Another twenty-five day trip to Noumea where we unloaded our cargo, fueling
different types of Navy ships including destroyers, cruisers and transports. We also
fueled fast Navy tankers which were equipped to fuel other fighting ships while
underway. We were too slow for this kind of delivery. Having discharged all our cargo
we were once again at sea, bound for the US West coast. On May 18, 1943 we were
torpedoed in the engine room, killing Paul Harrison and Harold Whalman, an engineer
and an oilier. As we were in ballast the ship started sinking and Captain Johnson had
hoped to save the vessel and stopped abandoning ship. About 45 minutes later, we
were hit again. Number three lifeboat which had been swung out, as were all four
boats, was destroyed. The ship started settling by the stern. My station was to lower the
forward fall on the number one boat. The ship was now going down so fast that I had
trouble keeping the boat level.

Finally the boat was in the water and Hoover, the AB on the after fall, with the
third mate and I, climbed down the net into the boat. The ship, still sinking, was rolling
on top of us and nearly swamped the boat. Finally getting clear of the ships side, the
foremast came down across the boat and I was pinned down over the rail of the boat
and there was a one half wire stay across my back. This was the first time I gave up
hope, thinking I might not make it. The ship suddenly rolled away and I was clear but
the boat was still caught. One of the flag halyards running towards the mast was caught
under the boat. We finally managed to get the halyard on the rail of the boat. I got my
knife out but my hand was shaking so badly I was unable to cut it right away. Finally,
when it got cut we were clear of the ship. Next thing we knew we heard diesel engines;
the sub was on the surface. We heard stories that the Japanese machine gunned
lifeboats, so we all crouched down below the rail of the boat. The bow of the Storey
was still showing about 100 feet above the surface of the water. And the sub fired
about 12 shots into the ship to be sure that she sank. The sub finally left and we were
glad to see her go. The sun was now rising and the other boats came along side. Within
an hour there were planes over us, for the radio operator had managed to contact the
shore station. They were dropping canteens of coffee attached to life jackets. We were
feeling much better about our chances for survival now. Just before sunset the USS

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Fletcher DD 445 came and rescued us. We were brought to the island of Efate, New
Hebrides in the south Pacific.

I continued shipping during the war and became a third mate and then a second
mate. I quit deep water shipping in May 1946.

CLINT A. MCMULLEN
MOUNTAIN TOP, PA 18707

My name is Clinton McMullen and this is my story. I was born and raised in the
Queen city of Canada, Toronto. In January of 1942, being a senior in high school and
having just turned eighteen, I went to the naval office in town to try to enlist in the
Navy. They took my application but told me it would be some time before they could
take me because of a lack of training facilities. At about the same time I read an article
in our local paper that men were needed in the Merchant Marine. I answered that ad,
and by summer I was headed for a training school in Nova Scotia. After three months
of training as a deckhand I was given a short visit home and then was sent to St John,
New Brunswick, where I joined my first vessel as an OS. I was now in the Merchant
Navy.

On Canadian vessels there was no Armed Guard. Crewmembers made up the
gun crews and there were three or four naval petty officers aboard to run the show.
Whenever our vessel was in Halifax, we would spend two days at the naval facility
taking gunnery courses.

In September of 1943, I was in Halifax, Nova Scotia, having just paid off a
ship. I learned that there was an American ship in the harbor, ready to sail, and in need
of an OS. I went after that job, got it, and the following day I was outbound again, in
convoy for Iceland. She was a small Danish freighter, taken over by the Allies, placed
under a Panamanian flag, and handled by the War Shipping Administration. And the
job was that of AB, not OS.

About four months later we were back in the States in Jacksonville, Florida,
where I was able to payoff of the vessel. Along with three others, I took a train to New
York. Wasting no time, I went to the Coast Guard office on lower Broadway, applied
for an AB's ticket, took a test, passed it, and got my AB's papers. I was placed in the
manning pool, and within a week I was off again, aboard the Liberty ship, Thomas
Heyward, bound for the Persian Gulf with supplies for Russia.

While aboard the Thomas Heyward, I became a member of the S.I.U. From
then on I shipped out through the union hall in New York. The "West Kyska" on a
couple of voyages to the Caribbean and Venezuela, three trips aboard the Liberty ship,
"Tarleton Brown", from the East Coast to Antwerp with war supplies. On the return
trips from Antwerp, we put into Cherborg. One voyage we brought back 500 German
POW's. Another voyage we brought back 500 American GI's. And then it was back on
the "Thomas Heyward" again for a trip to Russia in the Black Sea. It was during that
trip that V.J. Day happened, and the war was over.

I enjoyed sailing so much that I made it my career. I was fifteen years in the

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crew as A.B. and Bosun. Then I went to work for the oil companies on the East Coast,
and retired after forty years with a Chief Mate's license. Yes, it was a great life.

02/20/2006 note: In reading through the brochure on the upcoming
convention, I see that there is an interest in wartime biographies of Merchant Mariners.
So, I put together a few facts about my time at sea during the war. I spent the war years
sailing on the North Atlantic, Caribbean, and Mediterranean waters. Except for a few
air raids in European coastal waters and the Mediterranean, most trips were uneventful.
As I used to tell my friends, “Sail with me, I’m lucky.”

JOHN MCSPADDEN

“We carried 99 percent of the food and ammo and supplies, including the
airplanes. We were the missing link in the chain.

Haltom City man battling for mariners' benefits
Bill would acknowledge U.S. Merchant Marine's key role in WWII

By KATHY A. GOOLSBY / The Dallas Morning News
Thurs., October 21, 2004

John McSpadden spent the waning months of World War II delivering supplies
to troops. The 17-year-old merchant mariner's first shipment: 125,000 barrels of Navy
oil destined for the South Pacific.
"We were in a convoy with nine other tankers, and I was a lowly wiper in the engine
room," said the Haltom City resident, now 77. "The whole crew had to stand watch for
one hour before sunrise and one hour before sunset."

That's when enemy submarines were most likely to strike, and supply ships were
prime targets. Mr. McSpadden emerged from the war unscathed.

But nearly six decades after the war ended, he and others who served in the U.S.
Merchant Marine are in another battle. They are fighting to win support from the U.S.
Congress to pass H.R. 3729.
The bill, called Belated Thank You to the Merchant Mariners of World War II Act of
2004, would pay $1,000 a month to the 8,000 to 10,000 surviving members or members'
surviving spouses.

Mariners don't qualify for full veterans' benefits because the group is not
recognized as a military branch. They received limited benefits in 1988, more than 40
years after the war ended.
"We could be buried in the national cemetery, but we couldn't get educational benefits,"
said Al D'Agostino, 77, of Arlington.

The U.S. Merchant Marine is a civilian organization that began in 1775 when
private ships delivered supplies during the Revolutionary War. During wartime, the U.S.
Maritime Service oversees its operations but mariners are still considered civilian
employees.

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Many members say that without their service in the Merchant Marine, the Allies could
not have won the war. Besides carrying supplies for U.S. troops, they also carried
British and Russian forces.

"We carried 99 percent of the food and ammo and supplies, including the
airplanes," Mr. McSpadden said. "We were the missing link in the chain."
Jack Black of Garland, a gunner in the U.S. Marine Corps during World War II, saw
mariners risking their lives to deliver ammunition to his unit. When an injury forced
him out of the Marines, he immediately joined the U.S. Merchant Marine.

'They were sitting ducks'
"Without the mariners I wouldn't have had any ammunition for my gun, so

what good would it have done me?" said Mr. Black, 78. "They were sitting ducks out
there, so I asked myself, 'Who is the bravest, me or them?' "

He and several dozen other members of the S.S. Stephen Hopkins Dallas/Fort
Worth Chapter of the World War II American Merchant Marine Veterans met last
month at the American Legion post in Bedford. They talked about their wartime
experiences and progress on getting the legislation passed.

Some struggled to breathe, a result, they said, of asbestos raining down on them
night after night in their bunks aboard ship. Some suffered hearing loss and other
injuries while serving.

They were the lucky ones. More than 9,400, or 3.9 percent, of the approximately
243,000 members of the Merchant Marine died in World War II. That's a higher ratio
than any military branch, according to the group's Web site.

Many said they didn't realize when they joined that the Merchant Marine was
not a military branch.

1947 Downtown
Fort Worth, TX
The Way it was?

"We were misled," Mr. D'Agostino said. "Nobody questioned it, but we were
always under the impression it was a military branch."

He joined the Merchant Marine when he was 17 and completed his required
time in 1947. Mr. D'Agostino went home believing he had fulfilled his military
requirements, only to be drafted two years later and sent to Korea.

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His military service means Mr. D'Agostino receives full veterans benefits. But
he's fighting to get the new legislation passed because he knows many mariners are
struggling financially.

"My total income is $1,230 a month," said Dick Rice, 84, of Corsicana. "I know
there are so many in the same boat, so many who are hard up."

So far, 149 members of Congress had pledged to support the bill, including
Reps. Martin Frost, D-Dallas, Pete Sessions, R-Dallas, and Eddie Bernice Johnson, D-
Dallas. Ms. Johnson came on board after the group's meeting in Bedford.

"Frankly I was not aware of how they had been treated differently, and to learn
the merchant mariners were not given the same rights was very disturbing," she said.
"It's impossible to make up the 40 years they were without benefits, but I'm glad after
all these years we're beginning to acknowledge their services."
``````````````````````````````````````
The first time I saw Johnny McSpadden was when his family joined the First Baptist Church of Boyd,
Texas. I was completely smitten by his dark, curly hair and good looks. He was 16 years old and I
was 12. He soon joined the Merchant Marines and I didn’t see him again until he came home after the
war in 1946. He was the only boy and had five sisters that adored him and spoiled him rotten. I made
it a point to frequent his family’s Café after school and by the time I could date he didn’t stand a chance
as his family thought I was the gal for him. It must have worked because this July 13, 2006 we’ll be
married 58 years. We have been blessed with two children, nine grandchildren and ten great
grandchildren. By Jimmie McSpadden

2006 The Way
it is!

DAN MELLISH

My Arrival Home: Arriving home from my first trip to sea on the foreign
vessel, I went to see my dad in Escondido. Within minutes some armed police came
and took me to jail and to the draft board for draft dodging. After many questions and
quandaries they asked each other what do you suggest to do with this draft dodger?

I explained to the judge how I had gotten on that foreign ship and why I had
quit my job in San Diego. He was surprised and asked the officer on the draft board
how to handle my case. The draft board officer said, ―Let him go. We are releasing men
all the time from the military to go with the merchant marines. They need men worse
than the military to haul supplies to the war zone. But this young man must sail on an
American ship and have proper identification papers and leave the USA legally.‖

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The judge of the court stood up, shook my hand and said, ―Young man I want
to wish you good luck and blessings.‖ I had a few days leave and soon returned to
Frisco to sail again. After a short visit with my mother in Carlsbad.

At Sea In Life Jackets: I was at the helm, my shift, steering the ship that
summer morning in 1943 even though I had been a seaman only since May. Most of
our ten man crew on the US Army Tug S.T. 41 had been seasick since we left the
Hawaiian Islands a few days before. We were in route to the Port of Suva in the Fiji
Islands where we were to deliver the Army barge and cargo of sensitive dangerous
materials, marked with skull and cross bones.

S.T. 41 was one of many long haul army vessels that helped in WWII with the
steady unbroken movement of troops and supplies around the world. We were without
defensive weapons or escort as we crossed dangerous submarine haunted ocean, on our
appointed mission. It was a relief to be in fairly calm waters of the warm South Pacific.
The tug only seventy-four foot long and barge gave no clues as to the strange thing that
happened in the sea around us. As I stared at the water, it began suddenly to turn a
strange color. I wondered what was happening. The ocean water began raising around
the ship and suddenly the ships compass went wild as the ship swung to portside. I
pulled the wheel hard to the starboard or right, but the ship continued to swing
violently off course to the port or left, 90 degrees off course.

Captain Camp rushed in asked ―What‘s happening here?‖ leaving his chart room
duties of navigating and charting our course. ―Our ship is swinging to port, Sir,‖ I responded.
―I have the wheel hard right and yet we continue 54 degrees off course.‖ I‘ve never
seen the ocean look like this before,‖ Captain Camp puzzled, with a worried frown.
―Put the wheel midship.‖ I quickly responded to his command. But the ship did not
react, ―Hard Right!‖ Camp ordered. Again I responded as directed but the ship
continued to port. Now suddenly in the midst of a previously calm sea the ship rose on
a high wall of water ahead of us. The vessel lay way over to the port, then as suddenly
rolled to the starboard and continued to roll uncontrolled. ―We may loose it,‖ the
Captain said ―cut loose a life board Mellish.‖

Several seamen rushed to help me, but try as we did we could not free the
lifeboat to get it launched and in useable position. ―I have $1,700 in cash in my cabin‖
Captain remarked. I offered to get it for him, but he said, ―No let it go Mellish.‖ The
cook was asleep down in his bunk. ―Get up! Get out!!‖ We yelled at him. ―Abandon
ship!‖ was Camps order. ―Leave me alone!‖ The cook grumbled, just then the port hole
burse open and water gushed in giving him a direct hit. He popped up like a cork and
raced up the stairs with never a look behind.

Abandon ship!‖ Captain ordered. Still unable to get a life boat free, we grabbed
life jackets and raced down the side of the ship to the keel. There we stood on the
bottom as the ship rolled upside down. Then the bow slowly dipped under water and
took a dive. We plunged through the water as fast as we could to get away from the
sinking ship. I paused momentarily to watch the boat. The bow was straight down and
the rudder raised up. Then with everything seemingly in slow motion, the rudder and
propeller and all the rest of the ship disappeared below the waves. We didn‘t have

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anything except our lifejackets to help us. You can get awfully thirsty out there in the
ocean without fresh water to drink.

It was early morning and all that remained were ten men in lifejackets in the
middle of the vast Pacific Ocean with no means of survival, no boat, no raft, nothing.
Yet we seemed to be surrounded by a sense of calm. The water was calm and although
we were helpless, we sensed no immediate danger. We were unaware of what our
captain knew. The barge was still afloat. It had unhooked from our tug as it turned
upside down. We had been warned never to board the barge with its dangerous cargo
even in case of life or death. However I lunged after it. Being a strong swimmer, I
thought perhaps I could reach the barge successfully. I soon realized I was not making
any progress and I was forced to turn back with aching muscles.

We continued to float helpless in the ocean, nothing to see but the vast expanse
of blue green water and sky. Unexpectedly a crate of oranges appeared, somehow
suddenly released from the sunken ship beneath us. ―Our survival may depend on
those oranges,‖ I thought, so with power strokes I took out after them. Soon I had to
give up my try for the oranges, and returned to the rest of the men to float and relax
and wait.

It was difficult to keep track of time, but it may have been about noon when
Captain Camp asked me to whistle for the men to gather in close together. ―I want to
speak with all of you men one more time,‖ he began gravely. The sea was calm and all
seemed normal again. ―I need to tell you something,‖ Captain said soberly to the ten
men in our circle of faces. ―Men, I hate to tell you this, but our radio was dead. We had
no way to alert anybody or send a distress signal before the ship went down. I have to
tell you that so far as I know, nobody will be looking for us. We are not expected at our
next port of call in Seuva for another week, that is the very earliest anyone would miss
us.‖ The Captain continued, ―We cannot survive out here very long.‖

Silence hung over our pitiful group of men. We were ten specks of flesh
floating helplessly in the huge ocean. The largest deepest body of water in the world. Our life
jackets were keeping us from plunging 20,000 feet to a briny grave. The jackets filled
with kaypack were good for approx. 24 hours only.

Captain Willis B. Camp shaded his eyes and looked heavenward. ―I have to tell
you we have very little hope.‖ He said, ―But there is One who knows all about us. He
knows where we are, and He knows our situation, I suggest each one of you in your
own way, turn to Him and ask for help. Our situation here is desperate.‖

There was silence. Not a word was said, not a prayer uttered aloud. ―Why
doesn‘t someone pray?‖ I thought. ―I want to pray, but I‘m a sinner.‖ ―I had harsh
comments directed to me by someone, that the prayers of a sinner are an abomination
to God. I had tried to pray before but somehow it seemed that my prayers never went
beyond the ceiling. I was just such an ordinary guy. No special accomplishments or
awards. ―There is nothing special about me, not a thing, I thought, ―Why would God
spare me?‖ While I reminisced there, I wondered if I would ever see my little son or
any of my family. Mom would always wonder what happened to me.

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The sun was past midday by now so was my hopes going with it. We would
probably end up as fish food before morning. Suddenly one of our men yelled ―Look!!
Look!!‖ at the top of his voice. My first thought was a shark. But instead as he tried to
leap up higher out of the water, he pointed towards the north. We could see in the
distance two little specks on the horizon.

The specks were the masts of a ship. My friend thought he could raise and
splash but that ship was so far away, they could not see us. We had to face reality; they
seemed to be going away from us. We strained to keep those masts in view and as we
thought they were about to disappear, the ship seemed to turn on a southerly direction
under the sun. The masts became larger and rose higher above the water. The
superstructure came into view and came right toward us. The superstructure and bridge
were plain to see.

Finally a voice boomed over a bullhorn, ―We see men in the water. We are
coming along side to pick you up. If you have strength to climb the ladders to come
aboard raise your right hand, or we will lower a boat for you.‖ Our hands shot out of
the water and from our throats came a hearty cheer. We hurried to climb the ladders. I
climbed behind our Captain, he was an older man and I wanted to be sure he was safely
aboard the rescue ship. We dripped salt water as we landed on the deck of a U.SL.
inter-island military supply ship. Everyone was glad to be aboard.

The Captain of that ship asked us who we were and why we were out there like
that. Captain Camp asked ―How did you find us?‖ Then the other Captain excitedly
interrupted Camp. ―Hey I‘m going to tell you something strange. Since early this
morning I had a feeling I had to turn my ship and do a search of the sea. I had no
reason to do it so I dismissed the thought. But it persisted in my mind. Finally this
afternoon the impression was so strong, I actually plotted a course, but it seemed so
foolish that I threw the papers in the waste basket. Shortly after, the impression came
even stronger, so strong that I retrieved my map I had drawn and I issued the order for
the helmsman to turn to the left 10 degrees every so many minutes and begin the circle
till we had made a circle I had plotted. I don‘t know what made me do it, but half way
round, we spotted you in the water.‖

I was amazed that a captain of a ship in wartime would turn off course for no
human reason. ―This is God‘s hand,‖ I thought as I remembered Captain Camp‘s
words, ―The One who knows all about us.‖ We all stood in awed silence and gratitude
as we realized what God had done for us. God is not baffled by 11,000 miles of ocean
nor terrified by waters 20,000 feet deep. God is not hampered when ships radios go
dead. God does not abandon us even when we feel He cannot hear us. God‘s love is
not lessened because His children are so ordinary.

I continue to be awed because God cares so much for us. It is a sacred thing
that has led me to live a life of faith for the many years since this miracle was a turning
point in my life—a turning point in building my faith in God. ―As verily as in the days of
the Apostles heavenly messengers are passing through the length and breadth of the land seeking to
comfort the sorrowing and to protect the impenitent to win the hearts of men to Christ!‖ Acts of the
Apostles Page 152

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As soon as we were safe on the ship that rescued us, almost all of the men
asked for beer and was at their old habits, smoking and drinking. I was the odd one that
did not smoke or drink and I was a vegetarian. Another vessel towed the barge to the
South Pacific Island destination. Not long after, we learned that one hundred men were
killed in an accident with the explosives at that island. The cargo we were towing was
involved. Could it be we were towing nerve gas? I so think.

GLENN E. MILLER
HICKORY, NC 28601

I was born on January 10, 1926 and joined the Merchant Marines in Norfolk,
Va. in February 1943. Enrolled in Sheepshead Bay N.Y. until May 1943 when I shipped
out from Charleston, S.C. on the SS Black Warrior as a messman. I was promoted to
fireman/watertender on my next ship. I then served on the SS Archibald Mansfield, the
SS William B. Leavitt, the James Aswell, and left the Merchant Marines in December 1946
in Bayone, N.J. from the coastwise tanker, the SS Georgia as a Deck Engineer. I visited
over 50 ports and saw service in the North Atlantic, the Mediterranean, the Caribbean
and Pacific Ocean.

Some of my shipmates were: Ed. Parker, Danny Perez, Joe Gullis, Bud Parris,
Stanley Swickla and Chief Ed. Lotzia.

I returned to Hickory and married Barbara Flowers (her father was Ralph
Flowers, a World War I vet and amputee). We have three children: Lee, Lynne and
Randy. I worked as a Staff Manager for Pilot Life Insurance Co. for 41 years. I retired
in 1988. My hobbies are singing and sailing.

ARTHUR R. MURRAY
THE SMOOTH LOG

The following is the story of the part of my life when I made the transition
from that of a naïve boy to that of a more experienced and worldly man. It spans the
time from when I was a teenager to the time I reached 30 years of age. During that
time monumental changes took place. The bloodiest war, World War II, was fought
from September 1939 to August 1945. The effects of that war lasted for decades. New

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nations evolved out of what had been colonial territories. Most of them fell under the
control of despotic rulers. The sun set on the British Empire. The United States
emerged as the most powerful nation on the earth.

During my youthful years I always wanted to make a career going to sea. My
father had gone to sea and his father before him had gone to sea. The sea was in my
blood, or more accurately the sea was in my genes. In following this ambition I had no
intention of being a mere sailor. I intended to be a ships officer and eventually captain
of a ship.

I wrote to the New York State Maritime Academy and requested that they send
me their enrollment application forms. They responded with a nice letter instructing
me to submit an application when I entered my junior year in high school, and that I
would have to have a good academic record especially in mathematics and science to be
considered. I had four years to solve that problem and I was confident that I would be
able to do so.

My application for enrollment in the New York State Maritime Academy was
submitted during my junior year. I also applied for the Navy's V-7 midshipman
program. A short time later I was called to go to Fort Schuyler to take the competitive
entrance examination. It was said that several thousand prospective candidates took
that examination. Being in very high spirits I did very well on the examination. There
were about 300 candidates selected from this examination, and I was one of them.

It was June 1943 and my class at the New York State Maritime Academy was
not scheduled to convene until January 1944. In the meantime I was fitted for
uniforms and issued some basic instruction booklets and told to report to Fort Schuyler
right after New Year's Day. Officially I was a Midshipman USNR.

At the end of the first six months my class advanced from Third to Second
class, and a new Third class entered the Academy. Shortly thereafter both the Second
class and the Third class were transferred to the USMTS American Pilot (formerly the
USS Empire State) an old Hog Island freighter that had been converted to a training
ship and was berthed at Fort Schuyler. The tween deck spaces had been converted into
class rooms and berthing compartments.

On the ship my class had dominance over the Third class who were known as
―Mugs.‖ We were learning the techniques and responsibilities of directing and
supervising the work of subordinates. At the same time the officers and instructors
were teaching us how to obey orders, perform various tasks, and take on certain
responsibilities. One such responsibility involved maintaining the cleanliness of the
main deck mess room head. Another classmate, John Green, and I had four Mugs to
supervise in cleaning the head. Every morning right after breakfast we would spend
about a half hour swabbing out and cleaning this head. One morning one of the Mugs
informed John and me that one of the toilet bowls was infested with crabs. We gave it
a thorough examination but saw no sign of crabs. The Mug insisted that he had seen
some when he was cleaning the bowl. There were no insecticides available but John
being an engineering cadet said that he knew how to get rid of the crabs. He
disappeared into the engine room and returned a short time later with a juice can

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containing about an ounce of gasoline. The gasoline was poured into the infected bowl
while the cleaning crew stood just outside the doorway. Then John lit a match and
tossed it into the bowl. The result was spectacular. There was a muffled explosion
along with a column of bright flame that rose up out of the bowl and spread
mushroom like across the ceiling of the head. The porcelain bowl disintegrated into
hundreds of small pieces scattered across the deck along with the water the bowl had
contained. The ceiling paint change from pristine white to a charred black and burnt
brown color. Blisters of various sizes covered the ceiling and the sides of the stall, and
a good deal of smoke poured out of the head into the mess room. General quarters
were sounded followed shortly thereafter by the fire alarm. The executive officer and
several other officers came rushing into the mess room along with the fire fighting
crew. When they assessed the damage the ship's company stood down from general
quarters and the firefighting team left the area. After John and I gave the executive
officer our story he said, ―Both of you are on report for willful destruction of
government property and endangering the safety of the ship.‖

During the few days it took to ship to return to the dock at Fort Schuyler John
and I with our Mugs scraped off the damaged paint and repainted the entire mess room
head. The ships plumbers replace the toilet bowl John and I had destroyed, and the
head was back in use before the first line went on to the dock.

The country was in desperate need of officers for the Merchant ships as well as
Naval vessels, so we were given a choice of going either Merchant or Navy after
graduation. The class split about 50-50. Half went Navy and half went into the
Merchant Marine. I chose the Merchant Marine. There were several reasons for this
choice. First and foremost was the fact that this would be the fastest way of becoming
captain of a ship.

Before the graduation exercises Dick Kadison invited me to spend our leave
time with him in New York. His parents were away on vacation and we could have the
apartment to ourselves for two weeks. We had two weeks leave after graduation before
we had to report to the Recruiting and Manning Organization for assignment to a ship.
This was too good an opportunity to turn down, so I accepted his invitation.

After the second day of carousing, Dick and I were having a wake-up cup of
coffee in the apartment. We looked at each other and asked, ―What are we doing?
There is a war going on and we should be in it.‖ We decided to report to the
Recruiting and Manning Organization that morning. At nine o'clock we were in the
office and by ten o'clock we had our assignments as Third Mates on different ships.
Dick was assigned to a ―C-1‖ operated by the Alcoa Line, and I was assigned to a
Liberty ship, the SS Patrick C. Boyle, operated by the Boland and Cornelius Steam Ship
Company. Dick and I shook hands, wished each other good luck, and proceeded to our
assignments. It was almost two years before I saw Dick again.

I took the Long Island train home and told my mother and father that I had
been assigned to the liberty ship, SS Patrick C. Boyle, and that we were sailing early the
next morning. They asked me what kind of ship it was and where it was going. I told
them it was a cargo ship and I did not know where it was going. It was customary

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during the war for ships to sail with sealed orders which were not opened until after the
pilot had been dropped off and the ship was at sea. I got back to the ship at around
1800 and reported to the Chief Mate. He said there was not much for me to do before
sea watches were set at midnight, and then I was free to go ashore for a last fling before
we sailed.

Upon return to the ship I was introduced to Captain Peter Hickey, the ship‘s
Master, and to Roger McNeil, the Second Mate. Sea watches were set at midnight and
the ship sailed at about 0200. Soon after dropping the pilot the Captain opened the
sealed orders and found that we were to proceed to the Port of New Orleans. My first
watch as a Third Mate went rather well. There was a lot of activity around the bridge.

My next watch began at 2000 when I relieved the Second Mate. The sky was
overcast and darkness fell rather quickly. The ship was heading south down the East
Coast on our way to New Orleans. No lights were shown. The ship was completely
blacked out. Even the Western horizon was dark in accordance with wartime
regulations. I found myself alone on the flying bridge except for the man at the wheel
in the small wooden makeshift wheel house. It was very dark and very lonely. The
charted course was checked carefully before I went on watch so I was confident it was
correct. With ships operating in a blackout condition, and knowing that there was
always a great deal of traffic along the coast, I was extremely anxious - hell I was scared.
The lives of 59 people were in my hands. If I were to collide with another ship there
would be a great loss of life. In those days merchant ships were not equipped with
radar. We were lucky to have a gyro compass on bored. There was no Loran. We did
have a radio direction finder, but the radio stations were silenced because there was a
war on. Navigation was crude by today's standards. Through out the watch I strained
my eyes looking ahead and to the sides.

By the time the ship reached New Orleans I felt I was a seasoned watch officer.
Still I was amazed that Captain Hickey would leave a green Third Mate alone on the
bridge at night. Some months later I asked Captain Hickey why he placed the fate of his
ship in the hands of a fresh out of school green third mate about whom he knew very
little. He told me that I was not alone on those eight to midnight watches. He said that
he had stood every one of those watches with me. While I was on the flying bridge,
Captain Hickey was on the lower bridge, when I walked to the starboard wing, he
walked to the starboard wing, and when I walked to the port wing, he walked to the
port wing. He knew exactly what was happening with his ship. I asked why he had not
let me know that he was standing the watch with me. He would have made me feel
much more at ease. Captain Hickey said that I would not have gained the confidence
to be totally responsible for running the ship as quickly as I did if he had let me know
that I was not alone on those first watches. Once he was satisfied that I could handle
the responsibility, he no longer stood my watches with me. I was a 19 year old kid, but
in those days one had to grow up fast.

A week later the SS Patrick C. Boyle tied up at the Pauline Street wharf in New
Orleans to load cargo. We took on a mixed cargo of munitions, machinery, PX
supplies, 4000 tons of aviation gasoline in 55-gallon drums, vehicles, aircraft wings in

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crates, and some large boxed items. Many of the larger vehicles, crates, and boxes were
stowed on the main deck. A wooden cat walk was built over this deck cargo so the
crew could get to the guns. The ship had a full load but we had no idea where we were
to take it. It took about a week to load the cargo and the crew took advantage of all the
pleasures available in New Orleans.

After leaving New Orleans we headed for the Panama Canal. As we departed
Panama our captain opened the sealed orders-our destination was the Philippine
Islands. When we were within a day's time of making landfall in the Philippines we
received a message by radio to return to Balboa in the Canal Zone. We put the ship
about and proceeded on the reciprocal great circle track back to Balboa. It should be
noted here that at this time while the SS Patrick C. Boyle was in the Philippine Sea the
Navy's heavy cruiser USS Indianapolis was torpedoed by a Japanese submarine and sank.
Hundreds of lives were lost in those shark infested waters. Had the Indianapolis been
able to stand and SOS on their radio, the SS Patrick C. Boyle and other ships in that sea
would have gone to the area of the sinking to rescue the survivors. When we reached a
position on the track just a few days from making landfall in Panama, we got another
radio message directing us to proceed to our original destination. Accordingly the ship
was turned around and headed back on the track to the San Bernardino Straits. Again
when we were within a day of entering the San Bernardino Straits, the ship received
another radio message instructing us to change course and proceed to the island of
Eniwetok and the Marshall Islands. The ship was turned around again and set on a
great circle track for Eniwetok.

When the ship cleared the Eniwetok lagoon the captain set a course for San
Francisco. That was the destination spelled out in the sailing orders when the sealed
envelope was opened. After a few days in the open ocean the shipboard routine
returned to normal. Most of the sailors had recovered from their encounter with the
beverage known as white lightning. A week or ten days had passed when word was
received that the Japanese had surrendered. The war was over. However their radio
reported that there were many Japanese units that were still active and did not believe
that the war was over and that they had lost. We were advised to stay alert and exercise
every precaution. About a week before the ship was expected to arrive at San
Francisco, a radio message was received directing the armed guard officer to clear out
the ships ammunition lockers and to jettison the ammunition overboard. It took the
Armed Guard sailors three days to complete the task of dumping all the ammunition
overboard. To all of us on board this was proof positive that the war was over.
Everyone in the Merchant crew was looking forward to getting paid off, leaving the
ship, and returning home.

Arriving in San Francisco the next morning we picked up the pilot and
proceeded into San Francisco Bay passing under the Golden Gate Bridge. The SS
Patrick C. Boyle anchored in the southern part of San Francisco Bay, and the pilot was
taken ashore by motor launch. A short time later the Port Captain for Boland and
Cornelius, Captain Arthur Burke, came aboard with Army, customs, immigration, and
other port officials. The ship was cleared and pratique was granted.

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The second voyage on the SS Patrick C. Boyle. As we were casting off from the
pier I realize that this would be a different type of voyage. Captain Nils was arrogant,
brusque to the point of being nasty, and showed only contempt for the mates. The
crew was an odd mixture. I had a young lanky ―Okey‖ as one of my able seaman, and
the other able seaman was a young Mexican lad as was the ordinary seaman. The most
experienced of the able seaman was a short wiry red haired Australian about 40 years
old. The total complement of people on board was forty four.

It is appropriate at this point to describe the normal organization of a peace
time cargo ship ranging in size from 5000 to 20,000 tons displacement. Such a
merchant ship has three basic departments, the deck department, the engine
department, and the stewards department. Each of these departments has a chief in
charge, the Chief Mate is responsible for the deck department, the Chief Engineer is
responsible for the engineering department, and the Chief Steward is responsible for
the stewards department. These three chiefs are subservient to the Captain or Master
who has overall responsibility for the safe and efficient operation of the ship.

One day as I stood my morning 0800 to 1200 watch I noticed that there were
streaks of high cirrus clouds across the sky originating from one spot ahead on the
horizon. We had been at sea for about a week. The sea was calm with the typical long
low Pacific swell. The wind direction was constant but increasing in force with each
passing hour. Barometric pressure was falling slowly and at a constant rate. When the
Chief Mate relieved me I told him that the weather signs indicated that there could be a
tropical storm developing ahead of us. Ted said that he would keep an eye on the
weather signs. By the end of his watch the sky had become completely covered with a
light haze. The wind had increased to a Beaufort force of three and there were waves
with white caps. Wind direction had remained constant, and the swell had increased.
The barometer was still falling at a constant rate. Ted and I were convinced that there
was a storm brewing ahead of us. We called Captain Nils to the bridge and told him of
our concerns and the weather signs we had been tracking for the past eight hours.
With a very depreciating voice he said, ―Vat to use school boys know about da vedder?
I bin going to sea for forty years and I forgot more about da vedder dan you vill ever
know. Don‘t bodder me mit any more of dis nonsence.‖ Then he strode off the bridge
shaking his head and muttering, ―Stupid school boys.‖ The weather continued to
deteriorate through the next three watches. By the time I relieved the Second Mate at
0800 the next morning, the wind had increased to a Beaufort Force of five. The wind
direction was still unchanged, and the barometer was still falling at a constant rate.
Waves were running from about 10 to 15 feet in height, and the swell had become
deeper. The ship was rolling easily at about fifteen degrees with a corkscrew motion.
The sky was completely overcast. When Ted relieved me at 1200 we exchanged
thoughts on the approaching storm. It seemed pointless to advise the captain to
change course and try to run away from the storm. Such advice would only bring more
insulting comments from this arrogant bull headed master. We decided to say nothing
more and just let the Captain figure out the meaning of the weather signs. By the end
of my second watch at midnight, the wind had reached gale force and the waves were

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running well over 30 feet. The ship was rolling heavily between 25 and 30 degrees with
each roll. Still the Captain made no attempt to change course and run from the storm.
All the indications, unchanging wind direction, increasing wind force, the steady
following barometer, the increase in the size of the waves and swell meant that the ship
was steaming toward the center or the eye of the storm. Sleeping was difficult with a
heavy rolling of the ship. As the night wore on conditions continued to worsen.

Breakfast the next morning consisted of toast and coffee. It was impossible for
the cooks to prepare any food because of the violent rolling. The engine revolutions
had to be reduced because the propeller kept coming out of the water. When the
propeller came out of the water the engine would over speed. This could cause damage
to the engine and might even cause the propeller to spin off the shaft and be lost. The
SS Patrick C. Boyle was caught in a typhoon, and could barely make steerage way. When
I came onto the lower bridge to take my morning watch, both of the other Mates, the
Chief Engineer, and the Captain were there. They looked very concerned, especially
the Captain. Mountainous seas were crashing over the ship. At times the whole fore
deck would disappear beneath the turbulent water, and then the ship would rear up
throwing tons of water and spray into the howling wind.

There was no doubt in anyone's mind that the ship was in danger of foundering
for it was taking a terrible beating. Strange though it may seem, I felt no fear. Instead I
had a feeling of exhilaration and fascination. The ferocity of the sea was exciting to
behold. I made my way up to the flying bridge and clung to the railing in the starboard
wing. It was like riding on a giant seesaw. I could almost touch the wave tops when the
ship rolled to starboard. At one point I found myself looking up at the crest of a wave
about to strike the ship. That wave must have been at least 100 feet high. The wind
driven spray felt like buckshot when it hit my face. The captain called me to come back
down to the lower bridge saying that I could be blown overboard if I stayed on the
flying bridge. He was right. I was taking an unnecessary chance. During the afternoon
watch as the five of us plus the helmsman were in the lower bridge the ship took an
exceedingly steep roll. The wheel house clinometer showed a roll angle of fifty five
degrees. The ship just hung there for a long moment and it looked like she would not
recover. Then a wave caught her on the low side and she rolled to the other side, but
this role was not as steep. A loud thud was heard coming from one of the forward
holds. The huge tractor in number two tween deck had parted the wires securing it and
it was running free from one side of the tween deck to the other with each roll. This
was bad. The size and weight of the tractor made it a formidable battering ram. With
the ship rolling 40 to 50 degrees, it would only be a matter of time before the tractor
would smash through the side of the hull. First however it would have to smash
through the cases of machinery stowed in the wings of the tween deck. It was those
cases of machinery that saved the ship.

The next morning as a dismal dim dawn began to break, everyone was
exhausted from a lack of sleep. Wind and seas were kept broad on the port bow by the
almost heroic effort of the helmsman. Whoever was on the wheel was constantly
fighting the seas. The large upright crates of aircraft wings on the aft deck acted much

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like a weather vane always trying to head the ship directly into the wind and seas.
Reduced engine revolutions because of the heavy pitching gave barely enough force on
the rudder to control the heading. If the ship were to broach or go broadside to the
seas she would surely roll over, and if she went straight over the waves she would
probably break in two. The atmosphere felt very oppressive, and the barometer gave
the lowest reading I have ever seen. Unbelievably high waves kept battering the ship
while the wind tore the tops off the waves and flung them at the ship like shrapnel.
Cold sandwiches and coffee were the only food available for those who felt a desire to
eat or drink anything. One Seaman had an injured and possibly broken arm, another
had a bad cut on his head, and everyone was bruised to some degree from constantly
being knocked about by the severe rolling and pitching of the ship. Banging and
screeching noises were still coming from number two hold where the tractor was still
running free. After a couple of hours had passed the wind suddenly decreased to no
wind at all. The waves were extremely high but confused. They seem to have lost their
direction. The ship rolled and pitched in an unpredictable manner. Overhead the sky
became blue, but there were ugly dark storm scud clouds all around the horizon. The
atmosphere was still very oppressive. The ship was actually in the eye of the typhoon.

Respite from the wind was short-lived. In less than an hour the wind hit the
ship from the opposite direction like a sledgehammer. Wind and sea again had
direction and were still furious. Now the helmsman fought to keep them broad on the
starboard bow. The ship was moving out of the eye of the storm and away from it.
The noise from number two hold stopped. It was assumed that the tractor had broken
through the tween deck hatch and buried itself in the cargo of PX supplies in the lower
hold. The ship continued to roll heavily but it was through the worst of the storm.
Twenty four hours later the seas were lower and the wind was less than gale force.
There was still a very heavy swell, but the engineers were able to increase the ship's
speed. The barometer began to rise, a sure sign that we were getting away from the
center of the tycoon. Another day passed with the wind and the seas gradually
decreasing. Even the swell became lower and the clouds started to break up. Full
speed, eleven knots, was resumed. The S.S. Patrick C. Boyle had survived the worst
typhoon ever recorded in the Pacific. Later reports claimed that over 300 ships of all
types have been lost in that storm. Our arrogant, stubborn, Norwegian Captain had
blundered our ship right through the center of that typhoon. It could have easily been
avoided if the captain had not been too proud to listen to the advice of his ―school
ship‖ officers. Five days of misery and extreme danger could have been avoided as well
as damage to our cargo. Still we were fortunate. None of the deck cargo was lost,
although the two life rafts on the fore deck were carried away by the storm. The
outside of the ship itself was cleaner than it had ever been. The storm had pressure
washed every square inch of exposed surface and in some areas had even removed the
paint.

Some credit is due the ship builders at the Fairfield shipyard of the Bethlehem
Steel Co. in Baltimore, Maryland where the S.S. Patrick C. Boyle was built. Of the 2700
liberty ships built by various companies across the nation, those built in the Fairfield

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Shipyard were the strongest and best built. Shell plates were riveted to the hull frames
instead of being welded. No shortcuts in manufacturing that compromised strength
and safety were used. Other shipbuilders such as Kaiser Industries on the West Coast
used welding almost exclusively in the construction of their ships. These ships were
often referred to as ―Kaiser‘s Coffins‖ because of their tendency to break apart in
severe storms, especially when they were improperly loaded. The fact that the S.S.
Patrick C. Boyle survived the typhoon was due to the quality of its construction. There
were some Liberty Ships of a lesser quality of construction that were lost in that storm.
Naval vessels of various sizes reported severe damage. The total loss and damage
resulting from this storm in both the land and the sea has probably never been
adequately determined.

After much more traveling to the Philippines, Manila and Japan, the ship
reached the pilot station off the Farallon Islands and picked up the pilot for San
Francisco. As the ship was proceeding through San Francisco Bay, I went back to the
mess deck and entered the mess Sergeant‘s office. When he saw me and my uniform
with the gold braid on my sleeves, he stood up behind his desk. I said to him, ―As you
were, I just stopped by to thank you for making this a very pleasant voyage for me.‖ He
brought both of his hands up to his cheeks and then muttered, ―Oh my God, I thought
you were one of my expletive soldiers.‖ Wishing him good luck, I left the mess deck
and returned to the fore peak compartment to gather my gear. The ship docked at a
pier in Alameda. The elite passengers disembarked first and quickly disappeared in
some of the many cars, buses, and trucks lined up on the pier apron. Next the troops
were disembarked and driven off in trucks to some Army camp. Then just about every
unavailable customs agent in the Bay area formed a cordon around the ship. The last
group, the Merchant seamen were then disembarked. Each man and his belongings
were thoroughly searched. The customs man confiscated anything that resembled
military equipment or any item that had not been made in America. This included
guns, swords, knives, some souvenirs, jewelry, and similar items. I was one of the last
to get off.

There were representatives from the various unions and the shipping
companies to meet the seamen being disembarked. When I was finally clear of
customs, I saw Captain Burke, the port captain for my company, Boland and Cornelius.
He was on hand to take care of the licensed officers. Rooms had been reserved for us
in a small hotel in San Francisco and he had us transported there in a couple of
taxicabs. The Second Mate, the Second Assistant Engineer, and the Purser had homes
in the local area and disappeared quickly. Captain Nils and Ted Loos, the Chief Mate,
managed to get transportation to New York the next day. Captain Burke asked me to
sign on as Third Mate on one of the company ships due to sail out of Seattle. I
declined and told him that I was going back to New York and sit for my Second Mate's
license. My name was on a waiting list for a place on a civilian airplane to take me back
to New York. After three or four days my name came up and I boarded an airplane
one evening at the San Francisco airport for a flight to New York. The flight took
about 12 hours with a two-hour stopover in Omaha in the wee hours of the morning to

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refuel and exchange some passengers. Everyone had to get off the plane and go to the
rather small and crowded waiting room. My plane arrived in New York about
midmorning on a Friday. After collecting my luggage, I took a taxi cab to the Long
Island Railroad Station and boarded a train for Central Islip. Needless to say, my
parents were happy to see me after so long an absence.

JOHN J. NESBIT
GLENDALE, AZ 85310

I signed onto the S.S. John F. Myers on October 6, 1943 in San Francisco. The
ship was bound for Brisbane, Australia. After being at sea for a week, and steering a
zigzag course, two of the Navy guard crew was wrestling on the fantail and one fell
over the side.

The captain knowing full well he was putting his ship in danger decided to turn
around and pick him up. It took a full 40 minutes to rescue him. I was on watch and
the captain relieved me on the bridge and told me to go down and tell the man that the
captain wanted to see him right away. I told the gunnery officer and he brought the
crewman to the bridge. The gunnery officer wanted to press charges against him, but
did not. The Captain thought treading water for 40 minutes was enough punishment.

Arriving in Brisbane the troops got off and we discharged most of our cargo,
bombs for B-17s and ammo for Fighters. The crew was happy to be rid of that cargo.
From there we went to New Guinea and dropped anchor in a bay on the north side of
New Guinea. At night we could see what looked liked flashing lights from Navy ships,
firing into the jungle, where there may have been Japanese hiding.

The Marines were a rough bunch. They all carried knives and talked tough; they
did most of the fighting. We heard all kinds of news about the war, but it was hard to
tell exactly what was going on. Some merchant ships were taken over and had to stay in
order to help move materials up the coast as the Army moved north. We heard reports
of fighting on nearby islands, some of which were not too far from where we were.

We ended up going back to Brisbane, Australia to load heavy trucks and tanks
to bring back to the troops there. One day three of us went ashore and walked down a
narrow road to a bridge. We stopped on the bridge for a while and then laid down
along the side of the road for a rest. We hadn‘t seen anybody until an Army captain
came by and said, ―What the hell are you doing here?‖ He told us to get the hell out of
the area, so we started back and caught a ride on a truck that was speeding by. The
driver told us snipers had been shooting at the bridge. It was amazing how this helped
to relieve our boredom for a while. We did, in fact, find out later that the fighting had
been going on near the bridge.

From there we sailed to Chile with no cargo, mainly to bring back more
nitrates. This mine was said to be the largest supplier, so we knew we‘d be going back
to the States, we just didn‘t know where.

The gunnery officer received permission to take 20 men on a trip to the mines
to see where they got the nitrates from, so I went along. The guide was an American

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from the company. We were taken in buses that had been used for taking passengers
from the ship sightseeing, before the war. While driving to the mine, our guide told us
that it never rains in this part of Chile. Looking at the desert, where there were no trees
or grass growing, seemed to prove his statement true.

The mine trip was interesting. We shook hands with our hosts and went back to
the ship. We sailed for the Panama Canal, passing through the canal we went to
Pensacola, Florida, and from there to Mobile, Alabama, where I was discharged. I
continued to sail till after the war.

WILLIAM P. O'CONNOR
MANCHESTER, CT 06040

I was born on May 31, 1921 in Long Beach, California. I joined U.S. Maritime
Commission Cadet Corp in September, 1939, as an Engineering Cadet. I was assigned
to the President Monroe of the American President Lines. This was my assignment for
the next 22 months, during which time we made seven trips around the world.

In January of 1942, I sat for and passed the 3rd Assistant Engineering exam. My
first job was a 3rd Assistant on the SS Uruguay of the Moore-McCormick Lines. The
ship had been hastily converted from a. passenger liner to a troop transport.

In the fall of 1942, I joined the American Export Lines, sailing as an engineer
on liberty ships and C4 troop transports. During that time several items of interest
occurred, such as being attacked by German submarine wolf-packs in the North
Atlantic, being rammed by a tanker in the Irish Sea, taking part in the Invasion of
Normandy as a Blockship at Omaha Beach and being sunk in the English Channel by a
mine on December 22, 1945.

This experience prompted me to consider working ashore. After several
short jobs as a stationary engineer, I went to work for the Travelers Insurance
Company in the Engineering & Loss Control Division as a Boiler and Machinery
inspector in the Newark, NJ office, then to Philadelphia as a senior engineer in 1954,
Resident Engineer Waterloo and New Haven and Engineering Manager in 1969 in the

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Albany, NY office. I was promoted to the Home Office of Travelers in Hartford in
1973 as an Assistant Superintendent, and in 1976 was appointed as Secretary. In 1987, I
was appointed a National Accounts Manager until I retired in 1992.

During my years in Hartford I attended Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute and
received my MBA in 1982.

JOE OSBORNE

In the spring of 1943, I sailed on the Liberty ship Paul H. Dern. She was loaded
with ammunition. We left San Pedro, CA for Sidney, Australia alone and it took us 28
days. We refueled in Sidney and then sailed in a convoy to Bombay, India. We spotted a
Jap Cruiser coming over the horizon as we were leaving the Tasman Sea. A typhoon hit
us at the right time and 48 hours later it blew it self-out. There was no sign of the Jap
cruiser. Two days later we arrived in Colombo, Ceylon, half the convoy left us for
Calcutta, while we continue on to Bombay. A week later we received the news that a
Jap Cruiser sank every ship in the convoy to Calcutta, and just a hand full of sailors
survived. To tell the tale, I believe there were 24 ships that were sunk. After six weeks
tied up to the dock, we sailed to Aden, Arabia to pick up some British Air Force
Soldiers to take to Port Said, Egypt. They were starved for food. We sneaked them
canned peaches and bakery food. We probable gave them too much as we ran out of
food later and had only Sardines and Australian mutton to eat. I've hated sardines and
mutton every since then. It was 130 degrees in the engine room going through the Red
Sea. I had my 21st birthday on the day we arrived in Suez.

Over Easter we were tied up in Port Said, which we spent on a Greek
Destroyer. They were very gracious to us. The Germans sank two ships in the Suez
Canal. But they were able to drag them to one side of the canal so that the ships could
get by. We were ordered to return to Port Sudan, in the Anglo Egyptian Sudan that
borders Egypt on the South. We picked up several tons of Sesame seeds as a deck load.
We returned to the Canal and sailed to Haifa, Palestine, where the grain was unloaded
and transported to Iran, where they were having a famine.

While we were in Haifa (one month) I visited the Holy Land with two buddies.
It cost .75 cent to ride a bus to Tel-Aviv. We stayed all night in a Red Cross Hotel for
free. We paid .18 cent for a nice dinner and .13 cent for steak, eggs, fried tomatoes and
coffee for breakfast. There were 40 sailors and soldiers boarded a nice bus and went to
the Mount of Olives and Garden of Gethsemane. We then went on to Bethlehem the
birthplace of Jesus. We returned to the old City of Jerusalem. (In the fall of 2002, the
infidels shot up and held hostages in the temple that covers the birthplace of Jesus) we
toured all through it and had lunch and each of us was given a picture of our group
with the old City in the background. Our cost for everything was $3.00. We returned to
our ship. But what a great 24 hours we had, where we could forget the war. I will tell
the rest of the story at a later date.

Previously, I had told you about being in Palestine and the Holy land, loading
anti aircraft guns. We left there in June of 1943 and were saddened as we passed the

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Sunken French ship "Patria" that had hauled a load of Jewish people from Germany.
These desperate people were not allowed to land, by the Arabs. They were ordered
back to Germany and the gas ovens. In desperation, they opened valves and sunk the
ship in the harbor of Haifa. Some were drowned and others made it ashore. We didn't
hear what happened to them.

We sailed to Alexandria, Egypt and stayed there for 2 weeks then left July 3rd in
convoy. After we were at sea the captain announced that we were going to the invasion
of Sicily. The next morning on the 4th of July, we were told to get ready for gunnery
practice. I was strapped into a 20 mm oerlikan and ready for practice. Several of the
English ships had Barrage balloons tethered above them several 100 ft. by cable. When
the gunnery officer yelled "Fire" I was startled and pulled the trigger. I then looked
where my tracers were going, and guess what! Right into a Balloon above the ship on
our starboard Beam. I was petrified, thinking it would explode. I hurriedly corrected my
aim. No one seemed to have seen and it didn't explode. Thank God for Helium instead
of Hydrogen, for it must have leaked slowly. The next morning when I came off watch,
it was still tethered to the ship. But it was down to about 20 ft. above the waters. I am
telling this story now as I 'm probably too old to court martial.
Joe Osborne More later…

JOHN C. PANELLA
NEW CASTLE, PA 16105
SEAMAN FIRST-CLASS, UNITED STATES NAVY ARMED GUARD

The ship in this story was the SS. Robert Lansing which was built and launched
in Panama City, Florida, in 1943 where we boarded her in August of 1943.

On January 23, 1944, we took on ballast in Hull, England. On January 24, 1944,
we left Hull and met a convoy from London, England. There were very strong winds.
On January 25, 1944, I was on the 4:00 a.m. to 8:00 a.m. bow watch in the forward gun
tub, and there was a very heavy fog. It was so foggy that we couldn't see anything. We
could not see the ship in front of the bow or on the port or starboard side. The ships
had turned on their running lights which was very unusual during war time. They were
even sounding their fog horns to let other ships know where they were.

At about 6:30 a.m., I caught a glimpse of a red running light about one point
on the starboard bow. It only lasted for about a blink of an eye. I reported it to the
bridge, but nobody saw it. About 15 minutes later I saw it again, and it seemed as
though it was getting a little closer. Again I reported it to the bridge, but no one else
saw it. I saw it two more times and it seemed to be closer every time, and again I
reported it. Then suddenly out of nowhere it was directly in front of us. I couldn't
believe my eyes. It was a British cargo ship (which I found out later), smaller than our
Liberty ship, and we rammed her broadside on her stern. I was looking right down on
the ship, and I could see the men on board scrambling around putting on their clothes
and life jackets. We just kept on going as though nothing had happened. This occurred
at 7:25 a.m.

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After a stop in Menthol and Lockhue, Scotland and with many other ships, we
headed for the U.S.A. On December 17, 1944, we docked in New York. As they were
putting down the gangplank, I noticed a man in a suit with a briefcase standing there.
As soon as the gangplank touched the dock he came aboard and wanted to talk to
anyone who had seen the ramming. My buddy and I were the only ones, and we talked
to him separately. He laid two small pieces of plastic on the mess table, each piece
pointed on one end to represent a ship, and he asked me to place them as I had seen
them (which I did). After I finished he said, "That is all." When I got up to leave I
asked him what had happened to the ship that we rammed, and all he said was, "You
sunk her." We also ran aground in the Clyde River in Scotland on October 7, 1943.

On November 6, 1944, while on board the SS. Elisha Graves Otis and while
anchored in Cherbourg, France, a 16,000 ton C4 ship broke her anchor chain and was
coming straight for us amidship; but she managed to get up power. She hit us taking
off part of the bow and also two 20 mm gun tubs and the flying on our port side.

On November 23, 1944, on board the SS. Elisha Graves Otis in Cherbourg,
France, we also rammed a ship that was docked and smashed her life boats. We also
hit another ship on the stern and scraped the side of a ship that was docked.

WARREN PATTERSON
ARLINGTON, TX 76016

1947 Naples, Italy
I worked in a Navy Yard until I found out I

couldn‘t go to Annapolis, so I joined the US Maritime Service in July 1945 and took
basic and special engine training in St. Petersburg, Florida. I joined the Liberty Ship
Frank Park as a fireman/water-tender in November 1945. I continued to sail on various
ships in unlicensed ratings until December 7, 1949, when I got a Third Assistant
Engineer license. I sailed tankers, getting a chief engineer‘s license in July 1955. Due to
the shrinking Merchant fleet, I wasn‘t able to sail as Chief Engineer until 1959 at relief
status; finally in 1972 I got a permanent job as Chief Engineer and served in the
position for the duration of my career.

On June 3, 1951, I married Irene Holliman and we made our home in Port
Arthur, Texas. We had a son, Russell, in August ‘52, a second son, Norris, in October
‗53, and a daughter, Vanessa Ann, in May ‗57. We now have three granddaughters and
one grandson. I was able to sail coast-wise for twenty-four years with Port Arthur as

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the loading port. I was home every two weeks or more often with vacations of seventy-
five days every year, progressing to one hundred twenty days in time. In 1975, Gulf Oil
wanted me to go into worldwide shipping.

In my early career, and since 1975, I have sailed around the world both ways. A
few of the most interesting ports were Leningrad, Singapore, Rio de Janeiro, London,
Hamburg, Naples, Le Harve, and Amsterdam. I have been through the Suez Canal and
the Panama Canal many times, as well as many trips to Valdez, Alaska. While working
with Gulf Oil, I was part of an inspection team building VLCC American Spirit. From
August 1976 until July 1977, we lived in Towson, Maryland. I took out the American
Spirit as Chief Engineer, the largest and newest ship in the American Merchant
Maritime at that time. I remained on that ship until sold to Arco in 1982.

I retired from Gulf Oil after Chevron bought Gulf, and eliminated the Maritime
Dept. in March 1985, and then went to work for American Heavy Lift, and while there
I had Jean Arnold as first Assistant Engineer. She was the first female to get the
American Chief Engineer‘s License and got a ten thousand dollar award from Kings
Point for being the first female to get the CE License in February of 1986. I also sailed
with the first female American Tanker captain, Ellen K. Warner, who is now a Sabine
Bar Pilot for the ports of Port Arthur, Beaumont, and Orange, Texas, and now
President of Sabine Bar Pilot Association.

1945 Graduating Class -- St. Petersburg Maritime, Warren Patterson – Front Row 5th from left

I have been involved in Land Development in Lee‘s Summit, MO since 1986
with my brother, brother-in-law and nephew. There is a Patterson Drive (for Daddy)

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that intersects with Holliman Lane (for wife Irene) and also a Warren Drive. I have
been enjoying retirement since March 1996, trying to make up time lost with my family
while away at sea. We travel some and spend lots of time with our grandson Matthew
and granddaughter Elizabeth, who live in Arlington; and we visit with our other two
granddaughters in Houston, Amanda & Tricia. We are in a Senior Adult Choir at our
church and I was President of the LLL Club, which has about eighty members meeting
once a week for lunch and entertainment. We make day trips and occasionally
overnight or longer trips as a group. I went to my 60th year high school reunion in May
2005, I am still thankful for time spent at North Charleston HS and the inspiration I
got from my wonderful friends and teachers. It was a greater time than I realized.

1996 SS Solar
Irene & Warren
4/2006

Job description Ships Dates
FWT & Oiler Frank Park 11/1945 – 04/1946
Oiler Cape Spencer & Charles N Cole 04/1946 – 12/1946
William E. Pendelton & Adelphia
Oiler Victory 12/1946 – 08/1947
Mission San Luis Obis PO &
Oiler Gulf Maricabo 12/1947 – 06/1948
Jr. Engr. Mission San Luis Obis PO 06/1948 – 08/1948
Oiler Republic 12/1948 – 03/1949
3rd Asst Engineer
License Republic 12/07/1949
3rd Asst. 03/1950 – 05/1951
3rd Asst. R.P. Smith 06/1951 – 07/1951
3rd, 2nd & 1st Asst Gulf Caribbean 07/1951 – 11/1958
Chief & 1st Asst 12/1958 - 1968
Gulf Lube
Chief Engineer 08/1968 – 02/1996
Gulf Service, Gulf Seal, Gulf
Knight, American Spirit, Gulf
Solar, Gulf Pride, American
Heavy Lift Ships King, Knight &
Solar

Retired March 1, 1996

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WILLIAM PAVKOV
HASTINGS, IA 51540

I was born September 30, 1927. In 1944 I was 17 years old and had two
brothers already in the service. I told my Mom and Dad I just had to do something
myself. I joined the Army Transport Service late in 1944. I served wherever needed
most.

These are some of the vessels I served on: Y46, AK88, LT495, USS George
Washington and helped deliver a fire boat from New York to Florida via the inland
waterway canal.

When the war was over in Europe, we went down through the Panama Canal
into the Pacific Ocean. While getting repairs in California the war was over, 1946. I
registered at the draft board in Wilmington, California.

In 1950 I was not considered a veteran and was drafted into the US Army. I
served two years in the Korean War. I didn‘t think it was fair, it cost me two years of
decent wages.

Mom and Dad had seven sons and all served in the military in varying years.
God Bless all of us that are still aboard.

GEORGE H. PAXTON
BEAVER FALLS, PA 15010

This is a partial account of my experience during WWII. I tried to join the Navy
or the Seabees, but could not pass the eye examination. I walked across the street and
joined the Merchant Marines. I left home on Labor Day 1942 for New York City. They
put us up in an old Seaman's home down in the Bowery by the docks. What a sight for
a bunch of young fellows to see (old seaman lying around). The next day they took us
to Sheepshead Bay for our training. We were in the 1st 100 men to start up the center.
After 3 months we were sent to the Hotel Chelsea in New York to wait for a call from
a Steamship Co. I left Sheepshead Bay with Fireman's papers, but while I was on the
waiting list, I was asked if I could type and I could enough to get by, so working for the
office in this hotel for the War Shipping Association I got a ships clerk's papers and
that's how I shipped out.

My first job was to take a ship from New York to Boston (Luchenback S/S
Co.) I left the ship in Boston and came back to New York and was assigned to another
ship, the Andrea Luchenback. By the way the ship I left in Boston, left for Murmansk
and was never heard from again. We sailed for England on January 29 and on March
10, 1943 we were hit by two torpedoes at around 6:00 PM. Everything happened so
fast you didn't have time to be scared. I had my own room, I was laying on my bunk
reading when POW everything let go. I grabbed what I thought was my life jacket but
when I got to my lifeboat I realized I had my peacoat in my hand. I hustled back to get
my life jacket and when I returned the lifeboat was gone. By then the ship was tilting to
the stem so I prayed and jumped into the water. Our one lifeboat was picked up by an

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English ship. I can remember looking up at this big ship alongside me yelling help. I
started to drift around the stem and I can remember thinking the Screws would pull me
down but they stopped the ship and the last thing I could remember was somebody
tying a rope around me. My skipper and another seaman crawled down the net and got
hold of me. We lost our whole gun crew and 15 merchant seamen (quite a loss)

We arrived in the northern part of Scotland 5 days later and was given
clothing and whatever they could spare. The Scotch and English treated us like real
heroes. In England they thought as much of their Merchant Navy as they did the
regular Navy. Four of us were sent back to the states on a C-2. I came home for a few
days and my skipper called me to get back he had another ship the J.L. Luchenback,
my 1st trip on her was 8 months long. We sailed to the Far East and back by the way
of the Straits of Magellan. After two and a half years on the J.L. Luchenback I left and
signed on a Victory Ship. We made quite a few trips to France and Belgium bringing
back troops after VE Day in 1945. During all this time I went to school at Sheepshead
Bay to be a Pharmacist Mate. I used that training quite a few times, and finally came
home March 1946.

Did anybody here experience the Buss Bombs in Europe the V-1 and V-2 the
1st ones sounded like a motorcycle and when you didn't hear it anymore it was coming
down and the V-2's didn't make any noise. We had one land by our dock in LaHarve,
France, it killed a bunch of soldiers that were standing close enough and damaged a
ship at the docks. By the way our Gunnery Officer was Jack Kelly; Grace Kelly's
brother, they called me to ask if there was any chance for him.

After I came home, I kept in touch with my skipper, Captain Neslund, he was
from Seattle. I visited him on one of my vacations and he visited me also. There is
quite a sad story to his ending, he was murdered by his wife and she died in prison. I
thought as much of this man as if he was my own dad.

Ships:

S.S. Andrea Luckenbach Purser 01/29/1943 - 03/10/1943
(Torpedoed)
Purser 04/20/1943 - 11/10/1945
S.S. J.L. Luckenbach Purser 11/30/1945 - 01/03/1946
S.S. Pittston Victory

GEORGE L. PETERSON
Mobile, AL

This is as much as I can remember about my sea life. My birthday is April 23,
1925. I graduated from Citronelle High School in 1942. I was just 17 years old. I had
graduated in May of 1942 and had just turned 17 in April. Back then in public schools
you‘d just went through the 11th grade.

Then whenever I had turned 18 in 1943, my school mate, Paul Havard, had me
fill out an application to go to the Maritime school in St. Petersburg. This I did but

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they turned me down because I failed the color blindness chart. But then about a week
later they accepted me to go to St. Petersburg as a Cook and Baker School where I
came out as a Second Cook and Baker.

Then I took 3 T-2 tankers out of Mobile, Alabama shipyard. I sailed on the
first two as Messman and the third as an Ordinary Seaman. On one trip we went to
Bristol, England and on deck we had 20 fighter planes and the sea was so rough going
over in convoy that it destroyed all the planes on deck in front of the midship house.

And then on another trip we went to Scotland, and I was an Ordinary Seaman
on this trip. And we left, I believe it was Providence, Rhode Island, the fog was so
thick and I was on the bow as a lookout and our ships horn was blowing every 20
seconds and I seen a ship dead ahead so I rang the bell three times to let the pilot and
the captain know what I had seen. My buddy who was on the wheel put it in hard right
and then left hard. But the captain and the pilot out on the wing of the bridge couldn‘t
see anything. And then the other ship loaded with gas something like that came to us
on our left side, you could have jumped from one ship to the other-that‘s how close we
were and we were unloaded of our gas cargo.

Then in the first of 1944 my buddy Paul Havard got me to New Orleans,
Louisiana where he was on a ship they were converting from a passenger ship on the
Great Lakes to a combination refrigerated ship and passenger ship. She was the
U.S.A.T. Octorio and I went aboard her an Ordinary Seaman and we went to the Canal
Zone and picked up a some natives from New Guinea. One of the AB‘s was sick and
they set me up to AP where I took the natives to Sydney, Australia. It took us about a
month to make that trip as we kept breaking down on the way and we made the trip all
by ourselves. Then we left Sydney and went up to New Guinea and then came back to
Sydney. And whenever the Master of the ship tried to get the deck department to paint
the Hospital Center on board the ship and the whole deck department refused and the
captain had us taken off the ship by MPs. They took us down to the USAT office in
Sydney and they sent us up north to Brisbane, Australia.

I and another AB from New Orleans, Louisiana got on a
small craft just hauling ammunition out into the harbor away from the city of Brisbane
where the Japs couldn‘t bomb a ship loaded with ammunition and destroy part of the
city.

Then I got off that boat and got onto another passenger ship ( I don‘t
remember the name). There was three or four of my old buddies on that ship. I went

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