USS Autauga

So the 48 hours off and the 48 hours on continued until the ship was totally emptied of all ammunition. So I got a chance to see Susan a number of times every 4 days after a rather long bus trip. Meantime, plans were made by the Navy to sail the Autuga gh the Panama Canal to Brooklyn Navy Yard for de-commissioning. Again I said goodbye to Susan, not knowing when I'd ever see her again, and I was off with the USS Autuga, out from Puget Sound, and down the Pacific Coast, southbound.

Generally we stayed just within sight of land, heading down the coast. But the ship was totally empty and rode like a cork. It was the only time in my life that I got seasick, but after a while I got over it. A strange thing happened, somewhere off the coast of Oregon, I believe. The engine quit. The ship had been built by Kaiser shipyards, and had a very big diesel engine in it that got warm, and some of the crew used to rig a clothsline over it to dry their clothes. I don't know why the engine quit, but after a couple of hours wallowing in the sea, they got it going again.

On the way, I wrote my first letter to Susan that included the words. "To answer a question you may have: No, I don't have one in every port, just you." We continued south to San Francisco, putting in there, passing under the Golden Gate Bridge. I did get liberty there, and walked up to the top of Telegraph Hill. While in San Francisco we got word that the Alaska Steamship Company wanted to buy our ship. So we headed back up the coast to Puget Sound again and tied up to a pier in Seattle.

Orders were to burn all the Navy navigational charts, and throw overboard all the bottled gasses. What a waste! Then the ship would be ready to turn over to the Alaska Steamship Company. So we did. I believe at this point that I got enogh liberty to catch a bus and go down to Portland and see Susan again, which I did. I turned up at her doorstep "out of the blue" so to speak, and she was so ssurprised and glad to see me. This is where I made such a big mistake that probably changed the course of my life. This is hard to believe, but I just stood there with a big smile on my face like a dummey, instead of giving her a big hug, because I was so bashful. Anyway, she must have overlooked it for the time, and we very much enjoyed one anothers company.

Returning back up to the ship which was ready for de-commissioning,, I still didn't have enough points to get out of the Navy, and so I was returned to Personnel Receiving Station, Bremerton, Washington. While there I continued to get regular shore leave, and of course almost always used it to go down to Portland. It might have been one sunday afternoon, I really can't say, but many of us were hanging around in the bunkhouse in Bremerton, some napping. All of a sudden everything started to shape, and someone yelled out "Earthquake!" We (all but one), ran down the stairs (which was shaking back and forth as we ran down), and out into clear ground. I looked up, and the power lines and poles were shaking. I stood there waiting for the earth to open up and swallow us, but it didn't. This was my first earthquake.

I have to tell you about the one guy who didn't immediately run down the stairs. He stopped first and put his shoes on, then ran down the stairs. We asked "Why?" He related his story. His battle station on the ship he was on was directly above the fire room, and the deck there was always very hot. Once they rang GQ, he was in bed, but ran down to his battle station barefooted, and was there for 24 hours. His motto was "Never again!".

It may have been in May that I received my Honorable Discharge, plus $300 separation pay. At that point I could have elected to go home to Connecticut, but instead went back down to Portland and took a cheap room at a hotel, and looked for a job. I found one almost immediately in Sherwood, Oregon, which is near Twalatin, and a litle ways past Oregon City. It was on a dairy farm owned by George Horning.

I was determined to make a good impression on him, and I believe I succeded. Parenthetically, when I first went aboard the USS Topeka, I'm pretty sure I made a terrible impression on Mr Wilmot, before I even realize he was the one I was to report to. I encountered him shortly after I had come aboard, and wanted to ask him where something was, but couldn't describe it.

I was so happy to get a job so soon, nearby to Portland, and the whole family was very friendly. I was their hired man. I asked to have every other week end off so that I could go to town to see Susan, and Mr. Horning readily agreed. He used Surge brand milking machines, just the same as we used at home. He also wanted a lot of wiring to be done, which I happily obliged. I helpled to re-shingle the roof on the barn, and salvaged a whole lot of used bricks by chopping off adhering cement with a hatchet.

At this point I made another mistake for which I still pay, involving one of my molars. It had a very bad cavety, and Mr. Horning was kind enough to let me use his car to go into Portland to a dentist to get it taken care of. The cavety was hugh, and I thought, "Oh well, it's way in the back, I'll just have it yanked out", and that's what I did, even though the dentist was reluctant.

I ate with the family, and used their shower, but had my own little house with a "living room" I guess you'd call it, with a wood-burning stove, and a bedroom.

More later. Time to go.