One day everyone showered in preparation, and that night we made an "anti-shipping" sweep at the entrance to Tokyo Bay. We encountered no ships at all, just one submarine, who fired a green flare and made a crash dive. The green flair indicated it was one of ours. So that we didn't do this exercise for nothing, we bombarded a Japanese radar station and took it out. Then we retired at high speed eastward for the open sea.
The next morning Japanese kamakazi's were after us, and they hit a destroyer escort picket ship about 50 miles out. They also came after us, but we shot them down with anti-aircraft fire. (The pictures are in the Topeka book).
That is the only action I "saw", and I didn't even see it as I was in the radar repair shop. On another night, we passed within a few yards of a floating Jap mine. But neither did I see it.
Finally, the first atomic bomb was dropped. Tokyo Rose said that they too had the atomic bomb, but were going to use it on the 6th fleet. We didn't believe her, and were not worried about it. Then the second atomic bomb was dropped. Shortly thereafter, the emperor got on the radio and said "It may be said that a country does not have the right to commit hari-kari." And then Japan surrendered unconditionally, on condition that they keep their emperor. It was a good deal, because the emperor was then de-mystified, and de-deified. The royal family was no longer an object of worship, but became instead more like the royal family of England, a good model.
So there we were, still off the coast of Japan, still blackout at night, still running zig-zag course, just in case any Jap submarines had not gotten the word.
Then it hit: A really high powered typhoon. And we were trapped between it and the coast. So we had to ride it out, and in fact the eye of the typhoon passed right over us. We headed into the waves at an angle of about 45 degrees. If you head directly into them, you can snap the bow off, just as another ship did. If you put the ship parallel with the waves, you'll flip over very quickly. The waves were about 50 feet high, and the wind got so high it broke the annemometer. At one point we were only a few degrees from flipping over. At another dime during this ordeal, the bow went under, the screws (propellers) were in the air, and the whole ship just shook. But we made it O.K.
For myself, I was in the radar repair shop. But it only had one exit, which was a big iron hatch, dogged down and opened just a few feet from the lifeline. During the port rolls of the ship, that lifeline was underwater. I didn't feel comfortable with the situation, so I decided to make a change. Timing it carefully, I quickly undogged the hatch, stepped out, re-dogged the hatch, ran quickly to the ladder leading up to the communication deck and grabbed onto the ladder as the ship rolled back again.
I hung onto the ladder which was now more or less tilted over the water. When the ship righted momentarily on the way to rolling in the opposite direction, I quickly climbed the rest of the way up to the communicaiton deck, which is considerably above the water line. There were a number of us up there, yet we could look up and incoming waves and wonder, "How are we going to make this one?" We all had on life preservers.
It became "chow time", and we all went below decks to the chow hall, which was an unusable spectacle. All the tables and chairs were loose, and crashed first to one side of the hall, and then to the other side, as the ship rolled. It made quite a racket. However, the cooks rose to the occasion, and in the hallway leading to the chow hall, they gave us sandwiches.
The next morning, I looked over at the aircraft carrier Wasp, and the forward part of its flight deck was draped over the bow like a blanket!
Some time later, maybe the following week, it was a beautiful day, and we slowly passed a destroyer "parked" in the water while the crew was firing at a floating Jap mine, trying to hit one of its "horns" to explode it. As we went by, we just stood there watching, until we were starting to get into the line of fire, and so most of us quickly went around to the other siide of the gun turret. Good thing we did, because then there was a hugh explosion because they had succeeded in exploding the mine.
It must have been maybe almost a month after the end of the war that we entered Tokyo Bay, and had some shore liberty. We remained at anchor in the bay, and went ashore in a motor whaleboat. I wanted to get a lot of souvenirs, and so on the advice of others who already had gone ashore, I purchased abouot 20 packs of cigarettes. I managed to put 15 of them around my middle, secured by a fairly tight belt, and the other 5 were under my hat.
The operation was mainly quite a success, and I was able to get quite abit of money to buy souveniers. I had not quite expended my whole supply; I was the only US sailor in sight, and surrounded by a croud of Japanese potential customers, when, I heard from the croud a "sigh", and then I got a tap on my shoulder from behind, to be confroned with the US Navy Shore Patrol, who gave me the choice of "Come with them to headquarters, or else surrender your (contraband) cigarettes. Obviously I chose the later, and that was the end of my blackmarketing, and I continued my tour of Tokyo, occasionally buying a souvenier or two.
I had one afternoon in Tokyo and one afternoon in Yokahama, and I can't tell you what happened in which place. Both scenes were very similar. Both cities were nearly flattened; most blocks were rubble with bad smells. Yet the trolly cars ran regularly, and the people were not unfriendly.
Well, I guess I'll close for now, but I still have more to tell of what I saw there.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Saturday, December 29, 2007
At Sea, Cont'd
One day we were in port, and the word came that Germany had surrendered. There was much rejoicing all the way around. But we still had a job to do, "unfinished business". Japan, in their entire history (which is much longer than ours), had never been defeated. And their philosophy was against it. "Death before dishonor". Their soldiers virtually never surrendered, but of course were sometimes physically captured. We all evisioned a fight to the very bitter end.
We did a lot of work on the ship to get it perfectly ready. One job I had was to paint the SK radar antenna. At that point I was the highest man on the ship, even over the Admiral, (Admiral Bill Holden, we were his flagship). Once we were in port, and several of us were way up there doing work on the SK antenna, and wouldn't you know it, they decided to get up a head of steam. Note that we were above the smokestacks in a not very environmentally friendly location. It got rather hot and thick up there. The Chief and I believe one other tech decided to sit it out. Not me. I took a deep breath, and climbed rapidly on Hot Rungs through a worse area of steam and smoke and then down into the clear and the deck. I asked the Chief later, and he said they just stayed there and "sucked it in".
Eventually it was time to head west to the "Western Sea Frontier", as the newspapers always termed it. On the way, we stopped at Mog Mog atol in the Marshall Islands, for not much more than over night. We went ashore and went swimming. Once we got under way again, we finally joined the Sixth Fleet as they were finishing their operations against Okinawa. They had earned a couple of weeks of rest and rehabilitation, and were now on the way down to Leyte in the recently recaptured Philippines.
I remember entering the Gulf of Leyte. There were a lot of very small uninhabited islands covered with trees. But the islands all had very high steep cliffs. Finally we got to Leyte itself. But far away from any city. We went ashore in what you could call an "enclave", just a beach, and a fence surrounding it. Through the fence the sailors traded with the native people, who appeared very intelligent, yet very poor but friendly.
After a while we put out to sea again. And on the Forth of July, I saw fireworks like I have never seen before or since. I was eye witness to the Sixth Fleet "flexing it's muscles". There were towed targets in the air and on the ocean. Both were attacked fiercely with lots of fire power. Most impressive were the rocket attacks on sea sleds used for targets.
We were on the way back up to operations, this time off the coast of Japan itself. I believe we cruised up and down about 200 miles off the coast. I do have a record of noontime positions of longitude and latitude for those months which I have kept in the "Topeka" book, but have never got around to plotting, but always wanted to some day. I remember seeing birds and sometimes even butterflys, off the coast of Japan. Also, I was able to pick up Mt Fujiyama on the SK radar.
Our task force included an aircraft carrier, our sister ship and maybe another cruiser or so, plus destroyers. Out about 50 miles there were destroyer escort "picket ships". The planes on the carrier would daily make bombing runs on the Japanese mainland. We had two seaplanes that were launched by steam catapult. The pilot would rev the engine up to the maximum, and the catapult, being angled some degrees off to the side, the ship heading into the wind, and then the catapult would fire. The plane would run down the catapult, get into the air, sag a bit, and then be on its way. Retrieval was a tricky business. We would head into the wind, then at just the right time, we would make a turn to smooth out the water for the plane to land on. It would land, taxi up to alongside the ship; a boom would lower a hook, and the pilot would reach out, grab the hook and thread it through a big steel "eye", and then the boom would hoist it back aboard.
The planes were supposed to be only for reconosance, but often they would come back and their guns had been fired. I think in at least one instance they were attacking a train.
The USS Topeka's main job was to protect the carrier.
Once one of the pilots of our seaplanes came in to land, but not quite right, and attempted to take off again but failed. He flipped over. When I saw him, he had only his shorts on, and was riding the pontoon of his plane like on horse back. The rest of the plane was under water. A motor whaleboat was launched, and he was rescued. The plane could not easily be retrieved, and was sunk by gunfire.
Well, I must go now. Next time I'll tell about our "anti-shipping sweep" into the entrace to Tokyo Bay.
We did a lot of work on the ship to get it perfectly ready. One job I had was to paint the SK radar antenna. At that point I was the highest man on the ship, even over the Admiral, (Admiral Bill Holden, we were his flagship). Once we were in port, and several of us were way up there doing work on the SK antenna, and wouldn't you know it, they decided to get up a head of steam. Note that we were above the smokestacks in a not very environmentally friendly location. It got rather hot and thick up there. The Chief and I believe one other tech decided to sit it out. Not me. I took a deep breath, and climbed rapidly on Hot Rungs through a worse area of steam and smoke and then down into the clear and the deck. I asked the Chief later, and he said they just stayed there and "sucked it in".
Eventually it was time to head west to the "Western Sea Frontier", as the newspapers always termed it. On the way, we stopped at Mog Mog atol in the Marshall Islands, for not much more than over night. We went ashore and went swimming. Once we got under way again, we finally joined the Sixth Fleet as they were finishing their operations against Okinawa. They had earned a couple of weeks of rest and rehabilitation, and were now on the way down to Leyte in the recently recaptured Philippines.
I remember entering the Gulf of Leyte. There were a lot of very small uninhabited islands covered with trees. But the islands all had very high steep cliffs. Finally we got to Leyte itself. But far away from any city. We went ashore in what you could call an "enclave", just a beach, and a fence surrounding it. Through the fence the sailors traded with the native people, who appeared very intelligent, yet very poor but friendly.
After a while we put out to sea again. And on the Forth of July, I saw fireworks like I have never seen before or since. I was eye witness to the Sixth Fleet "flexing it's muscles". There were towed targets in the air and on the ocean. Both were attacked fiercely with lots of fire power. Most impressive were the rocket attacks on sea sleds used for targets.
We were on the way back up to operations, this time off the coast of Japan itself. I believe we cruised up and down about 200 miles off the coast. I do have a record of noontime positions of longitude and latitude for those months which I have kept in the "Topeka" book, but have never got around to plotting, but always wanted to some day. I remember seeing birds and sometimes even butterflys, off the coast of Japan. Also, I was able to pick up Mt Fujiyama on the SK radar.
Our task force included an aircraft carrier, our sister ship and maybe another cruiser or so, plus destroyers. Out about 50 miles there were destroyer escort "picket ships". The planes on the carrier would daily make bombing runs on the Japanese mainland. We had two seaplanes that were launched by steam catapult. The pilot would rev the engine up to the maximum, and the catapult, being angled some degrees off to the side, the ship heading into the wind, and then the catapult would fire. The plane would run down the catapult, get into the air, sag a bit, and then be on its way. Retrieval was a tricky business. We would head into the wind, then at just the right time, we would make a turn to smooth out the water for the plane to land on. It would land, taxi up to alongside the ship; a boom would lower a hook, and the pilot would reach out, grab the hook and thread it through a big steel "eye", and then the boom would hoist it back aboard.
The planes were supposed to be only for reconosance, but often they would come back and their guns had been fired. I think in at least one instance they were attacking a train.
The USS Topeka's main job was to protect the carrier.
Once one of the pilots of our seaplanes came in to land, but not quite right, and attempted to take off again but failed. He flipped over. When I saw him, he had only his shorts on, and was riding the pontoon of his plane like on horse back. The rest of the plane was under water. A motor whaleboat was launched, and he was rescued. The plane could not easily be retrieved, and was sunk by gunfire.
Well, I must go now. Next time I'll tell about our "anti-shipping sweep" into the entrace to Tokyo Bay.
Friday, December 28, 2007
At Sea
Continuing my narative, we headed for Panama Canal. Now the ithsmus of Panama is twisted, so that the Pacific side is actually East of the Atlantic side! On one side of the ithsmus is Panama City, and on the other side is Balboa. I remember writing a letter describing perhaps Balboa. The airport is tucked in between a couple of mountains. I did get shore leave I think in Panama City. I remember going to a juice bar for a fruit drink, and trying out my Spanish. The people behind the counter were surprised and impressed.
I remember meeting a guy in U.S. uniform there. He was from Puerto Rico, and could not be sent to the war zone (because he was from Puerto Rico).
Calvin Larson and I were assigned Shore Patrol duty one night at a whore house. There was a live orchestra there, and sawdust on the floor, and I remember one of the orchestra members spitting on the floor. Our instructions were, "don't take anything to drink" I got exceedingly thirsty, and asked for a glass of water. Larson scolded me for this. There were no incidents.
We passed through the canal on a sunny Sunday afternoon. I looked up on a hillside and saw our sister ship, the USS Oklahoma City. She looked out of place up there. We also went past the original French effort at a canal, which was pointed out to us over the PA system. This really was like a tour at this point. At one end of the canal we passed the U.S.S. Franklin, on the way to the East Coast. She was a floating wreck, but still able to make good headway. She had taken a hit in one of the magazines, with just terrible damage. They never did fix her up, but she is now, still I believe, a floating museum somewhere.
Once we got into the Pacific, we headed for Pearl Harbor for final outfitting, refuling, etc. On the way, we squared off with our sister ship, the USS Oklahoma City, putting 10,000 yards between us, and shot at each other's wake using a 3 degree offset.
On the way, on shortwave we listened to the Free French Radio in Brazzaville, French Equatorial Africa. Also we listed to Tokyo Rose.
Eventually we reached Hawaii, and pulled into Pearl Harbor. As part of the "All Hands", I helped load big ammunition shells. We got final installation of some of our radar. At times we would put out to sea, and return. We were in Hawaiian waters for about a month. I seem to recall having a total of two afternoons ashore. On one of my excursions I bought a Swiss wrist watch with a date hand. I grew very accustomed to it; the date hand was red and made one revolution per month. I would glance at my watch, and mentally say to myself, "wow, it is half past May". I've never been able to find its equal since.
On my first liberty ashore in Hawaii, some of the old timers said that this was "heaven on earth". We took a narrow-gauge open-car railroad train from Pearl to Honolulu. On one of my excursions ashore, I rented a bicycle and went to the top of Diamond Head. At the top I looked out over the bay and saw a very formitable armada of warships. On the way up, there were orchids growing wild. And down in the valley I could hear roosters crowing. A most attractive place indeed.
On one or the other times, I went to Waikiki Beach and rented a surfboard. It was in May, and I lay on the surfboard with the water washing over me, not realizing how badly I was getting sunburned. The next morning at muster, while standing at attention, I had to squat down so as not to faint. I was put into the sickbay with very bad burns on the back of my legs, so bad I could not stand straight up as the skin would stretch too far. While in sick bay, another kid was brought in. He was OK, but only a little shook up I guess and very wet. We were at sea again, and he had been sitting on the top lifeline with his back to the ocean, and his heels hooked into the bottom lifeline. Pretty foolish. His heels unhooked and he had gone over. The scarry part for him was that he saw the ship almost disappearing in the distance, before it turned around. He was also worried about sharks. He did remember his training though, and took off his pants, tied knots at the end of each leg, and filled them with air to stay afloat.
Well, time to go again.
I remember meeting a guy in U.S. uniform there. He was from Puerto Rico, and could not be sent to the war zone (because he was from Puerto Rico).
Calvin Larson and I were assigned Shore Patrol duty one night at a whore house. There was a live orchestra there, and sawdust on the floor, and I remember one of the orchestra members spitting on the floor. Our instructions were, "don't take anything to drink" I got exceedingly thirsty, and asked for a glass of water. Larson scolded me for this. There were no incidents.
We passed through the canal on a sunny Sunday afternoon. I looked up on a hillside and saw our sister ship, the USS Oklahoma City. She looked out of place up there. We also went past the original French effort at a canal, which was pointed out to us over the PA system. This really was like a tour at this point. At one end of the canal we passed the U.S.S. Franklin, on the way to the East Coast. She was a floating wreck, but still able to make good headway. She had taken a hit in one of the magazines, with just terrible damage. They never did fix her up, but she is now, still I believe, a floating museum somewhere.
Once we got into the Pacific, we headed for Pearl Harbor for final outfitting, refuling, etc. On the way, we squared off with our sister ship, the USS Oklahoma City, putting 10,000 yards between us, and shot at each other's wake using a 3 degree offset.
On the way, on shortwave we listened to the Free French Radio in Brazzaville, French Equatorial Africa. Also we listed to Tokyo Rose.
Eventually we reached Hawaii, and pulled into Pearl Harbor. As part of the "All Hands", I helped load big ammunition shells. We got final installation of some of our radar. At times we would put out to sea, and return. We were in Hawaiian waters for about a month. I seem to recall having a total of two afternoons ashore. On one of my excursions I bought a Swiss wrist watch with a date hand. I grew very accustomed to it; the date hand was red and made one revolution per month. I would glance at my watch, and mentally say to myself, "wow, it is half past May". I've never been able to find its equal since.
On my first liberty ashore in Hawaii, some of the old timers said that this was "heaven on earth". We took a narrow-gauge open-car railroad train from Pearl to Honolulu. On one of my excursions ashore, I rented a bicycle and went to the top of Diamond Head. At the top I looked out over the bay and saw a very formitable armada of warships. On the way up, there were orchids growing wild. And down in the valley I could hear roosters crowing. A most attractive place indeed.
On one or the other times, I went to Waikiki Beach and rented a surfboard. It was in May, and I lay on the surfboard with the water washing over me, not realizing how badly I was getting sunburned. The next morning at muster, while standing at attention, I had to squat down so as not to faint. I was put into the sickbay with very bad burns on the back of my legs, so bad I could not stand straight up as the skin would stretch too far. While in sick bay, another kid was brought in. He was OK, but only a little shook up I guess and very wet. We were at sea again, and he had been sitting on the top lifeline with his back to the ocean, and his heels hooked into the bottom lifeline. Pretty foolish. His heels unhooked and he had gone over. The scarry part for him was that he saw the ship almost disappearing in the distance, before it turned around. He was also worried about sharks. He did remember his training though, and took off his pants, tied knots at the end of each leg, and filled them with air to stay afloat.
Well, time to go again.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Navy Pier (Cont'd)
One of the sailors in our class was Calvin Larson from Minnesota. He was a strong believer, and invited me one time to come to a gospel service. At the service, the fellow up front pleaded so strongly that I came forward and accepted Jesus as my Savior. I believe this was September 28, 1944. The very next Sunday, I went to downtown Chicago, and attended the biggest church I could find. I sat in the balcony. The minister preached something on politics. Thus it was that I became a "dormant" Christian for the next 19 years.
While in Chicago, I went to hear President Roosevelt give a speech. Everyone went wild (but not me; I wasn't in favor of him). I also attended the Democratic National Convention there in Chicago, and saw Harry Truman nominated to run for Vice President.
On another note, the only time I lost my wallet was at Navy Pier. I had put it in my pillowcase and went to sleep for the night. In the morning it was gone!
One evening they put on an electrical show for us at the theatre at the end of the pier. Some guy sat on a wooden stool, and received a very high d.c. electrical charge, and all his hair stood straight out from his head.
Eventually it was time to graduate. I was promoted to Radio Technician's Mate Second Class. They asked us what kind of duty would we like. Foolish people put things down like "Instructor at 190 North State Street, Chicago (another secondary school like Navy Pier). No one wanted duty on an LST Landing Craft (LST for us stood for "Large Slow Target"). I put down for something I thought I could reasonably hope to get: i.e., a light cruiser. So it happened that I was assigned to the light cruiser CL67, U.S.S. Topeka, which at that point happened to be on a shakedown cruise to I believe Trinidad. So I was sent to the Personnel Receiving Station in Norfolk, Virginia.
While in Virginia I had a chance to take another flying lesson, which I did, again with a Piper Cub out of a rather tiny field in the middle of a woods. While there I also learned a couple of facts. One, at Mail Call time, the letter "N" is just about in the middle of the alphabet. Two, I met a guy on a bus on the base who said he used to be an "A" student, but after suffering a rather severe blow to the head, became a "C" and "D" student.
Now I can't recall if I had delayed orders to Norfolk (I think I did). So I guess I went home first. And everything seemed smaller. And my parents thought I had matured more (but that could be debatable). I remember driving my Dad's car through Ellington with snow chains on it at 60 MPH. I also went over to Simsbury and took a flying lesson in another Piper Cub, but this time it was equipped with skis. Two things I remember about that one lesson. One was that if you come in for a landing and your altitude is too high, you can kill altitude by flying somewhat sideways, I think by banking to the left but holding a right rudder, or vice-versa. Later I learned that this technique can be a setup for you to be flipped over by a gust of wind. The second thing I recall at that time was that the end of the runway was a field full of tent tobacco posts and wires. Definitely not a place where you would want engine failure.
Now I had gone out with a couple of girls in Chicago, but it never amounted to anything. Same thing on my leave back home. I had a date with Joan Hyde of Ellington, a classmate of mine from High School. I was not attracted to her, but just fun on an intellectual plane (she was smart). So I was very relaxed. We had a good time horse back riding on a couple of their horses. Probably that was the very first time I ever had been horse back riding. The other girl was very pretty, a few years younger than I was. She was Marylin Wells, the daughter of Franklin Wells, a well-known farmer from Talcotville. I managed to get enough nerve to call her up and ask for a date to take her to a movie. We went to a movie in Rockville. I was scared to death. When I dropped her off at home that night, she very politely said "I had a nice time", and that was the end of that.
Finally it was time to go up to Boston Navy Yard and report for duty aboard the U.S.S. Topeka. While in Boston, I had the opportunity to look up another old classmate from High School, the top of his class, Alan Backofen. He was in a Doctor of Science degree program at M.I.T., Metallurgy. He told me they were working on Atomic Energy, but couldn't tell me more. Later I learned that both he and his wife became sterile due to radiation and could not have children.
When I first came up to the U.S.S. Topeka, tied up to the dock there in Boston, and looked up at it, I thought to myself: "Is this where I maybe am going to die?"
Finally it became time to ship out. I guess it was "ready or not", because the ship had about a 3 degree list to port. We left Boston at fairly high speed in a fog, using radar, and out at sea, followed a zig-zag course to avoid German submarines. We passed about 200 miles east of Cape Cod, and for years I had a favorite saying that the closest I ever go to Europe was 200 miles east of Cape Cod.
On the way down to the Carabean, we got word that President Roosevelt had died, and Harry Truman was President. What a long time he was President! And I never was for him. He was elected when I was in Third Grade, and here I was in the Navy on a cruiser heading for war.
We headed for Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, and stayed overnight there. Later we went to Culebra Island in the Virgin Islands for target practice. Ultimately we headed for the Panama Canal.
That was an experience, but it will be for another time. Time to go.
While in Chicago, I went to hear President Roosevelt give a speech. Everyone went wild (but not me; I wasn't in favor of him). I also attended the Democratic National Convention there in Chicago, and saw Harry Truman nominated to run for Vice President.
On another note, the only time I lost my wallet was at Navy Pier. I had put it in my pillowcase and went to sleep for the night. In the morning it was gone!
One evening they put on an electrical show for us at the theatre at the end of the pier. Some guy sat on a wooden stool, and received a very high d.c. electrical charge, and all his hair stood straight out from his head.
Eventually it was time to graduate. I was promoted to Radio Technician's Mate Second Class. They asked us what kind of duty would we like. Foolish people put things down like "Instructor at 190 North State Street, Chicago (another secondary school like Navy Pier). No one wanted duty on an LST Landing Craft (LST for us stood for "Large Slow Target"). I put down for something I thought I could reasonably hope to get: i.e., a light cruiser. So it happened that I was assigned to the light cruiser CL67, U.S.S. Topeka, which at that point happened to be on a shakedown cruise to I believe Trinidad. So I was sent to the Personnel Receiving Station in Norfolk, Virginia.
While in Virginia I had a chance to take another flying lesson, which I did, again with a Piper Cub out of a rather tiny field in the middle of a woods. While there I also learned a couple of facts. One, at Mail Call time, the letter "N" is just about in the middle of the alphabet. Two, I met a guy on a bus on the base who said he used to be an "A" student, but after suffering a rather severe blow to the head, became a "C" and "D" student.
Now I can't recall if I had delayed orders to Norfolk (I think I did). So I guess I went home first. And everything seemed smaller. And my parents thought I had matured more (but that could be debatable). I remember driving my Dad's car through Ellington with snow chains on it at 60 MPH. I also went over to Simsbury and took a flying lesson in another Piper Cub, but this time it was equipped with skis. Two things I remember about that one lesson. One was that if you come in for a landing and your altitude is too high, you can kill altitude by flying somewhat sideways, I think by banking to the left but holding a right rudder, or vice-versa. Later I learned that this technique can be a setup for you to be flipped over by a gust of wind. The second thing I recall at that time was that the end of the runway was a field full of tent tobacco posts and wires. Definitely not a place where you would want engine failure.
Now I had gone out with a couple of girls in Chicago, but it never amounted to anything. Same thing on my leave back home. I had a date with Joan Hyde of Ellington, a classmate of mine from High School. I was not attracted to her, but just fun on an intellectual plane (she was smart). So I was very relaxed. We had a good time horse back riding on a couple of their horses. Probably that was the very first time I ever had been horse back riding. The other girl was very pretty, a few years younger than I was. She was Marylin Wells, the daughter of Franklin Wells, a well-known farmer from Talcotville. I managed to get enough nerve to call her up and ask for a date to take her to a movie. We went to a movie in Rockville. I was scared to death. When I dropped her off at home that night, she very politely said "I had a nice time", and that was the end of that.
Finally it was time to go up to Boston Navy Yard and report for duty aboard the U.S.S. Topeka. While in Boston, I had the opportunity to look up another old classmate from High School, the top of his class, Alan Backofen. He was in a Doctor of Science degree program at M.I.T., Metallurgy. He told me they were working on Atomic Energy, but couldn't tell me more. Later I learned that both he and his wife became sterile due to radiation and could not have children.
When I first came up to the U.S.S. Topeka, tied up to the dock there in Boston, and looked up at it, I thought to myself: "Is this where I maybe am going to die?"
Finally it became time to ship out. I guess it was "ready or not", because the ship had about a 3 degree list to port. We left Boston at fairly high speed in a fog, using radar, and out at sea, followed a zig-zag course to avoid German submarines. We passed about 200 miles east of Cape Cod, and for years I had a favorite saying that the closest I ever go to Europe was 200 miles east of Cape Cod.
On the way down to the Carabean, we got word that President Roosevelt had died, and Harry Truman was President. What a long time he was President! And I never was for him. He was elected when I was in Third Grade, and here I was in the Navy on a cruiser heading for war.
We headed for Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, and stayed overnight there. Later we went to Culebra Island in the Virgin Islands for target practice. Ultimately we headed for the Panama Canal.
That was an experience, but it will be for another time. Time to go.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Navy Pier, Chicago
After 3 months of Primary in Gulfport, MS, we went to Chicago, Navy Pier, for 7 months of Secondary. The food there was just wonderful. The contrast between it and Gulfport was just unbelievable. The people in Gulfport were almost outnumbered by us sailors. But in Chicago it was just the opposite and everyone was most cordial towards us. Even if one of us was standing by the roadside waiting to cross, sometimes a car would stop to offer a ride!
At Navy Pier we got into all types of Naval Electronics, including radio transmitters and receivers, underwater sound, but especially radar of all types including search (long distance), and fire control (gunnery aiming). But all this was towards the end of our training; in the beginning we were very heavy on strictly electronics theory.
We had a lot of classroom sessions, some labs, and tons of homework. The classrooms at Navy Pier were normal size, but the sleeping area was monster in size, comparable to an aircraft hangar building. There were 4,000 of us learning electronics there. There were some characters amongst us. There was Wincup, who was a died-in-the-wool communist. There was another fellow from Scotland (I believe he was a Scottish Nationalist), who would say "Hitler may yet prove to be a friend". Then there was Loudermilk, a straight "A" student, who always fell asleep in class, to the consternation of the instructor, who would have him get up and stand in the corner. Loudermilk always had a smile on his face. Sometimes while standing in the corner, his eyes would close, and the book he held would fall. But he still had a smile on his face.
Another character (I don't know his name), was an old Navy veteran with oceans of hash marks on his sleeve (each one represents 4 years). But he would usually be found curled up on his bunk. People said he was regularly drunk.
We would be marched to downtown Chicago sometimes for swimming and diving lessons at the pool in The Palmer House, a high end hotel that is still there to this day.
While at Navy Pier, I had more spare time than I ever had in my life before, even though it was a very intensive course. With a buddy, we took the "Hiawatha" train up to Milwaukee to his home, and went on a double date. Often I would go roller skating. And I also enrolled for a few dancing lessons at Arthur Murray.
And on most week-ends, I went to Harlem Airport and took flying lessons in a Piper Cub, with an instructor who was an American veteran of the Royal Air Force (he had volunteered early). I didn't accumulate quite enough hours to solo, but would have if I had remained in the area long enough. My log book got left behind in the move years later from Indianapolis to Chicago. After a number of accumulated hours aloft, I practiced speed turns, and once, climbed to higher altitude and did a tail spin, to experience how to get out of it (they don't do that anymore). To get out of it, you flip the aerolons in the same direction as the spin, but hold opposite rudder. We did, and I got out of it OK. But I scared the instructor, who kept saying "the wings! the wings!" I had kept the straght down (dive) position a little too long for comfort before pulling out. This brings me to one of my favorite stories. Once I was coming in for a landing, and at the very last minute, another student flyer taxied right in front of the spot where we were going to touch down! My instuctor grabbed the controls, dove the plane into the tarmac, and we bounced OVER the other plane then came to a landing.
Once or possibly twice, I went to Palwaukee airport (unlike Harlem airport, it is still there), and took a lesson or two in a Talorcraft, which has a yoke rather than a joy stick like the Piper Cub. I felt I had perfect control with the joy stick, but never got used to the yoke.
Time to quit.
At Navy Pier we got into all types of Naval Electronics, including radio transmitters and receivers, underwater sound, but especially radar of all types including search (long distance), and fire control (gunnery aiming). But all this was towards the end of our training; in the beginning we were very heavy on strictly electronics theory.
We had a lot of classroom sessions, some labs, and tons of homework. The classrooms at Navy Pier were normal size, but the sleeping area was monster in size, comparable to an aircraft hangar building. There were 4,000 of us learning electronics there. There were some characters amongst us. There was Wincup, who was a died-in-the-wool communist. There was another fellow from Scotland (I believe he was a Scottish Nationalist), who would say "Hitler may yet prove to be a friend". Then there was Loudermilk, a straight "A" student, who always fell asleep in class, to the consternation of the instructor, who would have him get up and stand in the corner. Loudermilk always had a smile on his face. Sometimes while standing in the corner, his eyes would close, and the book he held would fall. But he still had a smile on his face.
Another character (I don't know his name), was an old Navy veteran with oceans of hash marks on his sleeve (each one represents 4 years). But he would usually be found curled up on his bunk. People said he was regularly drunk.
We would be marched to downtown Chicago sometimes for swimming and diving lessons at the pool in The Palmer House, a high end hotel that is still there to this day.
While at Navy Pier, I had more spare time than I ever had in my life before, even though it was a very intensive course. With a buddy, we took the "Hiawatha" train up to Milwaukee to his home, and went on a double date. Often I would go roller skating. And I also enrolled for a few dancing lessons at Arthur Murray.
And on most week-ends, I went to Harlem Airport and took flying lessons in a Piper Cub, with an instructor who was an American veteran of the Royal Air Force (he had volunteered early). I didn't accumulate quite enough hours to solo, but would have if I had remained in the area long enough. My log book got left behind in the move years later from Indianapolis to Chicago. After a number of accumulated hours aloft, I practiced speed turns, and once, climbed to higher altitude and did a tail spin, to experience how to get out of it (they don't do that anymore). To get out of it, you flip the aerolons in the same direction as the spin, but hold opposite rudder. We did, and I got out of it OK. But I scared the instructor, who kept saying "the wings! the wings!" I had kept the straght down (dive) position a little too long for comfort before pulling out. This brings me to one of my favorite stories. Once I was coming in for a landing, and at the very last minute, another student flyer taxied right in front of the spot where we were going to touch down! My instuctor grabbed the controls, dove the plane into the tarmac, and we bounced OVER the other plane then came to a landing.
Once or possibly twice, I went to Palwaukee airport (unlike Harlem airport, it is still there), and took a lesson or two in a Talorcraft, which has a yoke rather than a joy stick like the Piper Cub. I felt I had perfect control with the joy stick, but never got used to the yoke.
Time to quit.
Friday, December 7, 2007
USN Gulfport Cont'd
They had a very good large swimming pool there, and we were taught proper ways to swim, etc. One place was 8 feet deep, so I did some experiments there at the deep end. I inhaled to the maximum, held my breath, and climbed down the ladder to the bottom and let go. Immediately I popped right up to the top. Then again I did the same thing but this time I exhaled to the maximum. I let go at the bottom, and just stayed there (and then climbed back up).
At night I went to bed on my cot in the Quonset hut. I felt pretty much at home at that point, and did just like I would regularly do at home. I used an upturned orange crate for a night stand, and put my stuff on it when I went to bed, including my wallet. A buddy from Brooklyn was totally shocked, and gave me some friendly advice. Put your wallet in your pillow case so it won't get stolen.
Another thing I did to avoid too much laundry work was to take my mattress bag and use all four surfaces before washing it. One week, normal, next week, turn it over, third week turn it inside-out, fourth week, turn the (already inside-out) over. Fifth week: Laundry. I though I was so clever with this. But looking back, childish.
Towards the end of our three-months crash course in Pre-Radio, I became rather sickly, I believe due mainly to very poor food, lack of fresh vegetables, etc. My friends urged me to check into sick bay, but I thought it would be a very bad idea, only delaying my leaving of this place with such poor food, so I stuck it out, though I had a hard time studying at night. So finally we graduated from there. Next stop was Navy Pier, Chicago.
That's all I have time for right now.
At night I went to bed on my cot in the Quonset hut. I felt pretty much at home at that point, and did just like I would regularly do at home. I used an upturned orange crate for a night stand, and put my stuff on it when I went to bed, including my wallet. A buddy from Brooklyn was totally shocked, and gave me some friendly advice. Put your wallet in your pillow case so it won't get stolen.
Another thing I did to avoid too much laundry work was to take my mattress bag and use all four surfaces before washing it. One week, normal, next week, turn it over, third week turn it inside-out, fourth week, turn the (already inside-out) over. Fifth week: Laundry. I though I was so clever with this. But looking back, childish.
Towards the end of our three-months crash course in Pre-Radio, I became rather sickly, I believe due mainly to very poor food, lack of fresh vegetables, etc. My friends urged me to check into sick bay, but I thought it would be a very bad idea, only delaying my leaving of this place with such poor food, so I stuck it out, though I had a hard time studying at night. So finally we graduated from there. Next stop was Navy Pier, Chicago.
That's all I have time for right now.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
USN
Life at NTS Gulfport was good and bad. The weather was generally good. I believe it was the springtime. My fellow ETM (Electronic Technician's Mate) students were generally very decent people, but most with backgrounds totally different from mine, though a few were from farms, most were from cities like NYC and Chicago, etc.
It was generally conclude by all that the supply officer there at Gulfport was a crook. It was based on our experience at chow hall, which was mostly "sea rations". So many of us would just go to the on-base store and buy sandwiches, etc. One time for breakfast the powdered eggs were green. The comment: "Pretty, ain't they!!??" Another time I experienced a cockroach fried into my eggs.
Well, I have to go for now. (I'm now in San Marcos, CA)
It was generally conclude by all that the supply officer there at Gulfport was a crook. It was based on our experience at chow hall, which was mostly "sea rations". So many of us would just go to the on-base store and buy sandwiches, etc. One time for breakfast the powdered eggs were green. The comment: "Pretty, ain't they!!??" Another time I experienced a cockroach fried into my eggs.
Well, I have to go for now. (I'm now in San Marcos, CA)
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