I graduated from Hastings High School a little over two months before my eighteenth birthday when I’d be required to register with the Selective Service Draft Board. I decided enrolling in college for the summer would be a better use of my time than just hanging out. Consequently, I enrolled in the University of Michigan on a pre-medical track. While still in high school I had tried to enlist in the Naval Air Corps V-5 program. I passed all of the mental, physical and aptitude tests except that during the physical my pulse rate jumped up to about 130 which made for an invalid blood pressure reading. This problem is better known as the “white coat syndrome”. I went to Detroit several times to have my blood pressure taken but ultimately I had to give up my idea of getting into the Naval Air Force.
Being a Michigander I had lived around water all my life. This in addition to having an older brother in the Naval Air Force I really preferred joining the navy over serving in the army. However, Navy enlistments were closed in April or May, 1944 because their quotas had been filled. I was just about resigned to being drafted into the Army when I heard that Navy enlistments had been reopened. Without mentioning it to anyone, even to my parents, I hopped on the next train out of Ann Arbor for Detroit and enlisted in the Naval Reserve for the duration of the war plus six months. I was sworn in on August 3rd.
After enlisting I returned to Ann Arbor for a day or two, withdrew from college, packed up my worldly possessions and returned to Hastings to await orders to report for active duty.
I reported for active duty on my eighteenth birthday, August 14th, 1944,just a year to the day before the Japanese surrendered. During the morning on the day I reported for active duty Mom baked a chocolate birthday cake for me. In late morning, mom, dad and my brothers sang, “Happy Birthday” to me. We each ate a generous slice of cake then drove to Battle Creek where I caught a New York Central train for Detroit.
I reported to the Navy recruiting station in Detroit. From Detroit our “draft” of recruits was transported by train to the Great Lakes Naval Training Station, located on the shores of Lake Michigan north of Chicago, Illinois. We arrived at Great Lakes on the 16th in the early morning hours. We detrained and began the induction ritual. We were first herded into a large hall and ordered to stand inside one of the 3’X 3’squares painted on the floor. We were next ordered to strip down to our birthday suits. They gave us cardboard boxes to ship everything home. When I say everything I mean everything including all articles of clothing, wristwatches, wallets, photos, money, Bibles, pens, cameras etc. We were then issued uniforms, work clothes, boots, bedding, a sea bag and a ditty bag containing toiletries such as razors, soap, tooth brushes, tooth paste etc. Everything they issued was eventually stenciled with our name and serial number.
I was assigned to company #1676 billeted in Camp Greenwood. Each basic training unit consisted of about 120 recruits. Basic training or “boots” as it was referred to lasted nine weeks. Immediately after induction our newly created company assembled and was introduced to C. E. Wegener, Sp(A) 2/c, our “boot pusher”. Mr. Wegener read the rules, regulations and “riot act” to us loud and clear. We were informed that we would be quarantined our first four weeks in order to isolate us from the possibility of contracting or passing on a communicable disease. Next, company 1676 was formally organized and I was selected to be the assistant company clerk. I was assigned a variety of responsibilities relating to the company’s day to day activities such as muster reports, making up watch lists, keeping track of innoculations, picking up mail etc. The purpose of “boots” seems to have been indoctrination, shots, instilling discipline, shots, physical conditioning, shots, learning fire fighting, shots, the manual of arms, shots, rifle range, shots, using gas masks, shots, aircraft and ship identification, shots etc.
At the completion of our “boot” training my fellow shipmates selected me as the “Honor Man” of our company. This was a complete surprise to me. I didn't feel I deserved this recognition since as a clerk I was excused from much of the grueling day to day activities such as drilling on the grinder, guard duty etc. As company clerk I had occasion to help my fellow shipmates solve personal problems or help extricate them from trouble that they had unwittingly but often as not knowingly brought upon them selves.
For example, one recruit in our company was illiterate. I had never known anyone who couldn't read or write. I volunteered to be his personal secretary. He dictated letters to his girl friend back home and I read the letters she wrote back. I was careful to keep everything confidential and above all I was never condescending or judgmental.
Another shipmate, the youngest of six or seven brothers, was incredibly homesick the first four or five weeks in boot camp. He had never been away from home before and in addition to this his mother had died not long before he reported for active duty. He was so bad he lost his appetite, didn’t sleep much and I suspected cried when no one was looking. I assigned him to boiler room guard duty where he could be by himself four hours each day or two and had an opportunity to read, write, think and come to terms with his emotions. I suspect that these chaplain-like functions may have influenced my shipmates decision to elect me their honor man. In my heart of hearts I never felt I deserved it.
Company 1676 “broke boots” on October 31st. Following a nine-day “boot leave” with my family in Hastings I returned to Great Lakes for further assignment. After several weeks in OGU (“Out Going Unit”) I was assigned to the Signal School at Sampson Naval Training Center (U.S.N.T.C.), New York located on the shores of Lake Seneca. Lake Seneca is one of the so-called “Finger Lakes”. Our draft arrived on November 19th.
I surmised that my service records must have reflected the fact that I had been chosen “Honor Man” of my company in basic training when the chief petty officer in charge announced that he was appointing me section leader of the class. I was stunned to say the least. Little did the chief know that other than a brief stint in the Boy Scouts I’d never marched in formation in my life. The chief told me that for assuming the responsibility section leader I would receive extra long weekend liberty passes and wouldn’t have to stand Captain's inspections Saturday mornings since my liberty passes would begin late Friday afternoons after class.
With these perks as an incentive I became a quick learner! [Talk about “faking it”!!] One of my duties was marching the class in formation from place to place around the base e.g. from the barracks to classes, to the drill hall, to the mess hall, etc. To maintain discipline I had the authority to place a man “on report” which I never actually did although I threatened to once or twice.
The purpose of Navy Service Schools was to teach specialized skills needed by the fleet. In our case it was visual communications between ships because ships at sea were forbidden to break radio silence when underway. We were taught to send and receive messages using semaphore, blinker light using Morse Code and signal flags flown at the yardarm from the bridge of a ship. Visual communication was primarily used at sea between ships in convoy and to identify ones self when challenged by other ships. Identification codes were secret and changed daily. If you were challenged at sea and your signalman didn’t respond with the appropriate answer your ship would be in danger of being fired on. Ships at sea always traveled in radio blackout meaning that although they could receive radio signals they couldn’t originate them even in a life and death emergency. The reason for this of course was that emitting radio signals made it easy for an enemy to triangulate your signal and pinpoint your exact location.
To this day I know Morse code and with a little practice I’m sure I could pick up semaphore again. Like using a typewriter or swimming you never forget these types of skills. It is my understanding that modern technology has rendered visual communications obsolete and the navy no longer uses the specialized skills of signalmen.
Our class graduated on March 21st, 1945. At the successful completion of this ten week training course we were promoted to the rank of “Seaman First Class” and enjoyed a pay increase from $78.00 to $90.00 per month. Considering that the U. S. Navy paid for my board and room, medical care, provided me with a $10,000.00 term life insurance policy and a clothing allowance I felt well compensated. Up to this time this was the best paying and most exciting job I had had. Service personnel leaving the continental United States received an additional 20% of base pay as an "overseas" bonus. If they entered a combat zone such as when on an invasion they received additional "combat" pay.
Each month I had the paymaster withhold money from my paycheck to buy “War Savings Bonds” which helped finance the war effort. A $25.00 war bond cost $18.75 and matured in ten years. I don't know what the real rate of return on these bonds was but at the time it was considered fair and even generous. I owned quite a few of these bonds when the war ended, they were a great help in supplementing my G.I. educational benefits in college. I forfeited the interest on my war bonds because I had to cash them before they reached maturity. In retrospect I’m certain that I lost money in real purchasing power on this investment because of the surge in inflation immediately after the war ended and price/wage controls were lifted. Inflation is one way governments seem to pay for wars.
Back to my story, graduates from Navy service schools became “strikers” upon joining the fleet. That is to say, they were “striking” for a next higher rate which in my case was for a third class petty officer rate. Most members in my graduating class at Sampson were assigned to ships of the fleet but some were assigned to the Amphibious Corps who were especially trained to crew the personnel landing craft (LCVPs) that transported troops to beachheads during invasions. A few were assigned to land based signal towers in various ports around the world. Some were assigned to “Navy armed guard detachments” serving aboard merchant marine ships. Navy armed guard detachments aboard merchant marine ships consisted of signalmen, radiomen and a few gunners mates whose duty manning the ship’s guns if the need arose. Armed guard detachments were integrated with the regular civilian crews whose compensation was astronomical by Navy standards.
I was granted ten days shore leave upon graduating from signal school after which I was ordered to report to the United States Naval Base at Shoemaker, California for further assignment. I left Great Lakes by train for Shoemaker on April 4th, arriving there three days later. This was my first experience with semitropical flora and fauna. I had never seen so much as a palm tree before except in pictures. I was fascinated by everything.
After spending two weeks at Shoemaker I was transferred to Treasure Island in San Francisco Bay and from there to a large multi-storied building that had been converted into a barracks located on Market Street in down town San Francisco. Two things stand out in my mind about being billeted there. We had wonderful civilian cooked food, the first and last time I experienced that in the service. Secondly, there was a large contingent of service personnel representing all branches of the armed forces billeted there. The duty of these men was chauffeuring delegates to meetings for what eventually became the United Nations. History books state that the United Nations Charter was formally signed on June 26th, 1945.
In several weeks my name came up on a draft of men assigned to the U.S.S. Auriga. My orders stated that the Auriga was in dry-dock undergoing renovation and being de-barnacled at Alameda in San Francisco Bay. I reported for duty on the Auriga on May 19th. It had returned to the states a short time before after a tour of duty in the volatile Okinawa area. This ship was classified as an auxiliary attack transport. Its function was to carry troops and supplies on sea borne invasions. In addition to it’s regular crew the Auriga had a specially trained amphibious unit detachment aboard. The amphibious unit’s primary function was to crew the LCVPs and other amphibious craft transporting troops in to beachheads. In addition to these duties the Auriga often transported such high priority items as drums of high-octane gasoline, cement and beer. Our LCVPs were carried in wooden cradles lashed to the tops of the cargo holds forward of the deck-house and could be launched by the on board cranes.
Crewing LCVPs transporting troops to beachheads was hazardous since they became sitting ducks for enemy mortars on the beach. I heard harrowing accounts from the old salts on board that had participated in some of these invasions. Having entered the service so late in the war I didn’t participate in any of the many bloody Pacific island battles such as Iwo Jima, Guadalcanal, Tarawa and Saipan. The crew of the Auriga had been credited with downing three or four Japanese aircraft and had small “rising sun” flags stenciled on the side of the smoke-stack representing each kill.
The Auriga left San Francisco on July, 8th, passing under the Golden Gate Bridge and into the great expanse of the Pacific Ocean. We all wondered what adventures lay before us and how long it would be before we would see the States again. It was an exciting day but a sad one too.
The Auriga’s compliment was 258 men and officers. It was armed with a three-inch cannon mounted on the bow and a five-inch cannon on the fantail. Four 20-caliber machine guns were mounted on either side of the boat deck. In addition there were four twin 40mm antiaircraft gun mounts on the bridge, two on the starboard and two on the port side. Our normal cruising speed underway was about eight knots or about 9 miles/hour. This may sound like an impressive array of armament but as a matter of fact we were very vulnerable, a slam dunk target for enemy aircraft and submarines.
After a month or so I learned that the previous executive officer who had been detached from the Auriga when we were in San Francisco was Lieutenant Paul E. Siegel. While there he was detached from the Auriga, promoted to lieutenant commander and became captain of the U.S.S. Thuban. I learned from a San Francisco newspaper featuring the Auriga that a shipmate had clipped out that Paul Siegel was raised near Freeport, Michigan, a little north of my home town, Hastings and that he was a graduate of the University of Michigan Law School.
Upon separation from the service Paul returned to Hastings to practice law in partnership with George Dean and later with Richard Hudson. I would like to state that the crew of the Auriga was very unhappy when executive officer Siegel left. They admired and respected him very much. He was the only one who ever dared stand up to Captain Hart. They felt he was a very fair and dedicated officer. Paul acted as the mediator (buffer) between the crew and Captain Hart. It was with some justification that the crew of the Auriga compared Commander Hart with Captain Bligh of "Mutiny On The Bounty" fame.
Paul Siegel and I met the first time in the fall of 1945 on the bridge of the Auriga in Yokosuka, Japan. His ship, the U.S.S. Thuban, along with hundreds of other United States and allied warships were anchored in Tokyo Bay at the time. Lieutenant Commander Siegel boarded our ship one afternoon to visit his old shipmates. It was during this visit that I introduced myself to him. We compared notes and were both amazed that two Barry County natives from such a small county had served on so small a ship in so vast a Navy in the largest ocean on earth.
The men in our communications division were decent and intelligent. The communication division included two blacks that reported for duty aboard the Auriga about the time I did. They had previously been stationed in the signal tower on Yerba Buena, a small island attached to Treasure Island by a narrow land bridge. These two shipmates both had third class petty officer ratings. Historically speaking signalmen were one of the traditional seven "right arm rates". In the old navy, a right arm rate took precedence over a left arm rate when two petty officers held the same rank. It was unusual for blacks to achieve right arm rates. Both of these men were competent and had earned their petty officer rates "the hard way". I personally felt that they were among the most competent signalmen in our division.
Instead of being billeted in the regular crews sleeping quarters which was in the first level of the third hold they were bunked in a segregated area designated for men "of color" which included Filipino cooks and black orderlies that attended the officers. There were a few men of Mexican extraction on board who were bunked in the regular crews quarters. Evidently the Mexicans either were not considered "men of color" or there wasn't room for them in the segregated quarters. The United States Navy practiced blatant racial discrimination during world War II!
I had never experienced segregation first hand before although I had read about it and we had discussions about it in our High school social studies class. I thought the whole segregation thing was ridiculous, indefensible and grossly unjust. However, I decided that a lowly first class seaman's feeble protests wouldn't make much impression on the powers to be that set policy in the largest and most powerful naval force in the history of the world. I did discuss the situation while standing watch with my two black colleagues and told them how I felt about things. I doubt if my words of empathy eased in any way the humiliation, distress and anger they must have felt.
The Auriga had two on-board mascots. Nancy was a German Shepard mix and had been adopted by the enlisted personnel. Nancy stayed on the main deck and never ventured up to the bridge where “Soupy” a Cocker Spaniel reigned. Soupy was the officer’s dog. A few weeks after we left San Francisco it became apparent that Soupy must have gone AWOL sometime or other and gotten herself pregnant. Some where in mid Pacific Soupy went into labor. The impending blessed event became the talk of the ship. After several days in labor it because apparent that Soupy was in serious trouble with her pregnancy and needed an operation to save her life. Luckily the ship’s medical doctor took matters in hand. He jerry rigged an operating room and with the assistance of several corpsmen he performed an emergency Cesarean. Unfortunately Soupy lost her puppies but our sawbones and his assistants became instant heroes with the crew because they had saved Soupy’s life.
Probably my biggest concern on board ship was the possibility of being torpedoed or hitting a mine. Our radio shack which monitored all radio transmissions from COMPAC in Pearl Harbor had stacks of reported mine sightings from all regions of the Pacific. For this reason I often slept (as did many others) on the hard steel deck topside. My favorite spot was in the forward 40-millimeter anti-aircraft gun tub on the starboard side of the bridge.
My concern about mines was not entirely misplaced since one afternoon a "horned" mine was spotted simultaneously by an officer casually gazing out of a porthole in his stateroom while shaving and our aft crows nest lookout. Since we were traveling unescorted in mid-Pacific and could only receive but not send radio communications the prospect of striking such a device was not a pleasant thought to say the least. The Captain immediately ordered the ship to come about. We lobbed all the firepower we had at the mine except for our five-inch cannon on the fantail. At times the mine would sink below the choppy surface of the water; sometimes for several minutes at a time. Some Japanese mines were designed on purpose to do this by making them almost but not quite neutral buoyant. Whenever we lost visual contact with the mine Captain Hart became very agitated since he thought it might be a magnetic mine. The Auriga had gone through the degaussing range to demagnetize the ship in San Francisco Bay before we put to sea but this didn't seem to ease his concern in the least. After untold rounds and a half-hour we finally detonated this elusive target. With a fiery blast debris flew hundreds feet into the air. It didn't take much imagination to guess what it would have done to the thin hull of our frail cargo ship.
Besides easing my concern about torpedoes and mines, sleeping on the bridge was much cooler than sleeping in the crew's quarters below decks especially when we were near the equator.
We crossed the International Date Line on July 16 on our way to Eniwetok, Marshall Islands. [When you cross the International date line heading west you lose one calendar day which means that events recorded west of the date line would be recorded in the states as having taken place a day earlier. In other words if you hit the sack on a Tuesday night when you woke up it would be Thursday morning. Very confusing to say the least.]
We arrived at Eniwetok on July 21st. We remained there ten days. After unloading supplies we were ordered to Kwajalein atoll a days journey. We left Kwajalein for Guadalcanal a week later arriving there August 12th.
These turned out to be momentous days for the crew of the Auriga and the world. It was reported on August 7th that the city of Hiroshima had been destroyed with a new bomb of incomprehensible power. Like Hiroshima, the city of Nagasaki was destroyed on August 10th, the day the Auriga crossed the equator. The Japanese surrendered unconditionally on August 15th.
There wasn’t any particular celebration aboard ship when we received word of the Japanese surrender. We heard through our radiomen about the joyful celebrations that erupted all over the world. To a man the crew of the Auriga wished they could have been home to join in but since we were at sea traveling unescorted there wasn’t much we could do except continue our usual daily duties and routines. Besides, the crew had been too preoccupied with transforming lowly pollywogs into respectable shellbacks to think about much else. My tattered and fading copy of the, “WORLD WAR II VICTORY PRESS” that was distributed aboard the Auriga reported: “PRESIDENT TRUMAN ANNOUNCED AT SEVEN O’CLOCK TONIGHT, JAPANESE ACCEPTANCE OF SURRENDER TERMS PROCLAIMED AT THE POTSDAM CONFERENCE. THE TERMS WILL BE ACCEPTED BY GENERAL MACARTHUR, WHEN ARRANGEMENTS CAN BE COMPLETED. MR. TRUMAN READ THE FORMAL MESSAGE RELAYED FROM EMPEROR HIRO-HITO THROUGH THE SWISS GOVERNMENT IN WHICH THE JAPANESE RULER PLEDGED THE SURRENDER ON THE TERMS LAID DOWN BY THE BIG THREE AT POTSDAM. PRESIDENT TRUMAN MADE THE STATEMENT, “I HAVE RECEIVED THIS AFTERNOON, A MESSAGE FROM THE JAPANESE GOVERNMENT IN REPLY TO THE MESSAGE FORWARDED TO THAT GOVERNMENT BY THE SECRETARY OF STATE ON AUGUST ELEVENTH. I DEEM THIS REPLY, A FULL ACCEPTANCE OF THE POTSDAMJAPAN. IN THIS REPLY, THERE IS NO QUALIFICATION. ARRANGEMENTS ARE NOW BEING MADE FOR THE FORMAL SIGNING OF SURRENDER TERMS AT THE EARLIEST POSSIBLE MOMENT. GENERAL DOUGLAS MACARTHUR HAS BEEN APPOINTED THE SUPREME ALLIED COMMANDER, TO RECEIVE THE JAPANESE SURRENDER. GREAT BRITAIN, RUSSIA AND CHINA WILL BE REPRESENTED BY HIGH RANKING OFFICERS. IN THE MEANTIME, THE ALLIED ARMED FORCES HAVE BEEN ORDERED TO SUSPEND OFFENSIVE ACTION. THE PROCLAMATION OF “V-J” DAY, MUST WAIT UPON THE FORMAL SIGNING OF THE SURRENDER TERMS BY JAPAN. SIMULANEOUSLY,MR.TRUMAN ANNOUNCED STEPS TO SLASH INDUCTIONS FROM 80,000 TO 50,000 A MONTH ONLY MEN UNDER TWENTY-SIX WILL BE DRAFTED.”
When crossing the Equator initiating lowly "pollywogs" into the august ranks of "shellbackdom" is a time honored tradition that goes back untold decades in maritime history. A pollywog is defined as anyone who has never crossed the equator.
The shellbacks aboard the Auriga must have spent days preparing for this gala event. This rite is a truly democratic institution since all pollywogs including officers, chiefs and lowly deck hands are all lumped together and treated alike. This is the only situation in the Navy when enlisted men dared talk to superiors disrespectfully, order them around, using any of the colorful words in their vocabularies they felt called to exercise. I would doubt if any of these expressions of endearment would be found in the Standard Collegiate Dictionary.
I personally thought the whole event was hilarious but some of my less imaginative and humorless shipmates did not see anything funny about it whatsoever. A few pollywogs complained that their recruiting officers had been less than honest at the time they enlisted because they had failed to mention an initiation in their job descriptions. Their pitiful pleas didn’t seem to soften the hearts of the salty Shellbacks aboard to any discernable degree.
We were told that pollywogs were the lowest critters on the face of the earth. If a shellback asked a pollywog how low he was we were instructed to reply; “I am a pollywog and I am the lowest creature on the face of the earth. I am so low that I can walk under whale shit lying on the bottom of the deepest ocean on stilts wearing a top hat”. Can you imagine anything lower than that?
Early in the morning on that fateful day in August, we hapless pollywogs were rousted out of our sacks and herded into the chow hall and treated to a “square meal”. They claimed that our square meal would fortify us for our upcoming ordeal. We were instructed to eat our breakfast using only our fingers. What made it a “square meal” was the way we ate it. We were required to scoop up our food from our tray with our fingers, raise our arm vertically from the table until it reached the level of our mouth then bring it directly to our mouth, making a 90 degree angle in the process. When returning our hand for the next helping we retraced the route and repeated the routine. It is not easy to eat oatmeal and watery scrambled eggs this way, it takes a long time and is messy.
Next we were ordered to fall in on the quarterdeck wearing only skivvies and our wool winter pea coats. Most of us were issued a pair of empty Coca-Cola bottles and informed that whether we believed it or not the coke bottles were in reality super powerful binoculars with which we were to scan the horizon searching for Davy Jones, King Neptune and the Royal Family. We were stationed about ten feet apart on both starboard and port sides of the ship. The shellback “Captain of the watch” in charge of this lookout detail and his lackeys periodically made rounds to be sure we lowly pollywogs were maintaining a high state of alertness.
After an hour or so, soaking wet with sweat in our heavy wool pea coats under the blazing tropical sun an “attention all polliwogs" announcement was made over the squawk box announcing that Davy Jones and his royal entourage had been sighted off the port bow. All pollywogs were ordered to immediately shed their pea jackets and lay forward to welcome aboard Davy Jones, King Neptune and the Royal Family.
Our shellback overlords divided we slimy pollywogs into two more or less equal lines facing each other separated by six-feet. Next, we were ordered to drop to our knees, close our eyes, cover our faces with our hands and lean forward until we touched the deck, similar to the posture Moslems assume when facing Mecca. Once again we were reminded that we were lower than whale doo-doo on the bottom of the ocean and not worthy of casting our eyes on Davy Jones, King Neptune and the Royal Family. We were warned that should we chanced to peek unspeakable retribution would instantly befall us.
We were inspected by Davy Jones, King Neptune, The Royal Queen, The Royal Baby and sundry other members of the Royal Court. They strutted up and down between the two rows of prostrate pollywogs like a gaggle of haughty penguins, casting aspersions on our parentage.
I felt a tap on my head and a deep bass voice ordered me to arise. Standing directly in front of me, staring me in the eye was O’Brien, one of my fellow signalmen. O’Brien was the Royal Queen! I couldn’t believe my eyes! He was wearing a blonde rope wig, bright red lipstick, mascara, rouge and was smoking a cigar! Two coconuts that must have had been scavenged before we left Guadalcanal filled his bra to overflowing. The only item other than the bra O’Brien wore was a skimpy blue denim mini skirt. With his hairy chest and arms, unshaven face and knobby legs he was a sight to behold. O’Brien looked me straight in the eye and said in his quaint Bostonian accent, "Pollywog, you think this is funny don't you?". I answered as poker faced I could under the circumstances; "No sir, I mean no Ma'am, I don't". O’Brien: "How dare you call the Royal Queen a liar!! Fellow Shellbacks, did you hear that? This lowly pollywog has the audacity to call me a liar! Executioner, give this insolent pollywog two whacks!". With this I was instructed to bend over so the Royal Executioner could administer two smart whacks on my behind with his shillelagh.
The Royal Executioner’s shillelagh was hand crafted by the boatswain mates who had sail making expertise. They were fabricated from canvas stitched in the shape and size of a police officer's billie. This sleeve was then stuffed with rope and soaked in water until the rope swelled enough to fill the empty spaces.
We were next led to a gauntlet of sorts. The main deck of the Auriga had four-foot wide passageways port and starboard of the deckhouse. In the portside passageway the shellbacks had suspended a cargo net about 15 inches above the deck. The deck underneath the net had been lubricated with pine tar. At one end of the net they stationed two shellbacks manning a fire hose. The idea was for the pollywogs to slide on their backs or bellies under the cargo net and get to the other side before the fire hose crew could get a bead on you. If you didn’t make it you went slithering back to square one to repeat the ordeal over again.
Once through this gauntlet we were formally arraigned before the Royal Judge. As we stood in line awaiting our turn the Royal Chaplain passed out “Sympathy Chits” which would presumably influence the judge favorably when our case came up. The Judge was wearing an outlandish top hat and wielded an authentic looking gavel. He sat with great pomp and dignity behind an elevated bench flanked by several Royal Lawyers, Counselors and Advisors. Some creative shellback, probably one of the feather merchants had prepared formal warrants for each pollywog. Each personalized warrant listed three felonies we were being charged with. Without fear of contradiction I can state that Sunday school would not have been an appropriate place to discuss the contents of some of these warrants.
To legitimatize the proceedings and dispel the appearance of a kangaroo court we were each assigned a public defender and given a chance of pleading guilty or not guilty to each charge. Of course, anything you said was always exactly the wrong thing and then used against you by the Royal Prosecutor who pounded the judge’s bench with his fist at the same time the judge was banging his gavel calling for “order in the court”. Bedlam reigned! After pleading my case the Royal Judge and his counselors huddled to debate my fate. I forgot how many shillelagh whacks I got but the Royal Executioner was either merciful or I was still numb from my previous whacks because I don't remember feeling much of anything.
To cool our behinds and I suppose purify us we were then tossed into a mini pool filled with salt water. A crude pool had been fashioned out of a heavy canvas tarp slung between sawhorses. Two burley deck hands stood in the pool whose job was holding pollywogs underwater long enough to ingest some salt water but not long enough to drown them. This didn't bother me much because I was an excellent swimmer and could hold my breath for a long time. Some of my fellow pollywogs didn't fair so well and felt a bit queasy afterward.
While still dripping wet and a bit dazed we were unceremoniously plopped into an "electric chair" which they cranked up while assuring us that the process would reenergize us and make us feel more lively. How right they were!!
The last station on our road to shellback-dom was a free consultation with the Royal Doctor whose function was to make sure everyone was in good shape and had no complaints, a nice touch wouldn't you agree? I assured the Royal Doctor that I had absolutely no complaints about anything and that as a matter of fact I had never felt better in my entire life. But like all doctors worth their salt he always seemed to find a little something wrong with everyone. He was accoutered with several tried and tested home remedies that he seemed overly eager to prescribe. I suspect that they probably wouldn’t have passed muster with the Pure Food and Drug Administration. One was an atomizer filled with an absolutely abominable concoction. When opening your mouth to say "AAAAAHHH" the good doctor tried to nail your tonsils with the stuff. He also touted his very effective anti-depressant which were cigarettes dipped in pine tar. Just contemplating chewing up one of those things would miraculously cure anyone of whatever it was they might have imagined was wrong with them.
Understandably the doctor's strongest antidepressants were reserved for those pollywogs having the most complaints and those tending toward hypochondria. The last palliative in our learned doctor’s black bag were some foul biscuits baked by some fiend in the galley. He highly recommended these special biscuits for stomach disorders claiming they were baked from an old family recipe handed down by his grandmother.
I passed my physical with flying colors according to the Royal Doctor and he let me off lightly because I had waxed so eloquently about the excellent state of my health.
A few weeks after we became shellbacks we were presented with large ornate certificates signed by the major dignitaries witnessing our rite of passage including Neptunus Rex, Ruler of The Raging Main, His Majesty’s Scribe, Davey Jones and last but not least Commander John Hart, Captain of the Auriga. There must have been a professional calligrapher on board because the script is beautifully rendered. On August 15th we arrived at Espiritu Santo, the largest of the New Hebrides Islands. The New Hebrides Islands are located not far from the Fiji Islands near the Coral Sea. While there I saw my first water spout while standing watch on the bridge one afternoon. We stayed at Espiritu Santo for nine days leaving port on the 24th headed for Guam. We remained at GuamU.S. for three weeks. We were told that there were still a few Japanese stragglers holding out in the hills and they occasionally took pot shots at G.I.s standing in chow lines on the base. These Japanese diehards must have been tough since it had been about thirteen months since forces recaptured the island.
We left Guam on September 24th, skirted Tinien and Saipan and arrived at Iwo Jima on the 26th. We were anchored within sight of hallowed Mount Suribachi. [NOTE: U. S. Marines established a beachhead on Iwo Jima February 19th, 1945. A fierce battle raged there for almost a month. Nearly 7000 American marines sacrificed their lives.] We were there but two days when orders were received to put out to sea because of an approaching typhoon and Iwo JimaIwo Jima. On October 1st we left Iwo Jima for Tokyo Bay, Japan. was an unprotected harbor. Our maneuvering avoided the worst of the typhoon and after two days we returned to
An interesting but potentially dangerous thing happened at sea on this trip. A fire broke out in our number four hold, just aft the deckhouse. It turned out that there was an air compressor in one corner on the first level of that hold which had overheated. Stacked next to the compressor were a pile of Kapok life jackets. The life jackets began smoldering and soon clouds of thick black smoke began belching out. General quarters were sounded. The smoke was so dense that firemen entering the hold donned masks. Evidently the masks didn't help very much because the firemen emerging from the hold were coughing, choking and gasping for air. The dense smoke made it impossible at first to pinpoint the exact location or assess the seriousness of the fire. This upset Captain Hart especially since we were traveling unescorted and couldn’t break radio silence no matter how dire the circumstances. All in all it took about three hours to bring the situation under control.
We entered Tokyo Bay during the morning of October 4th. It was the Captain’s belief that mine fields at the entrance had not been completely cleared and that only a narrow corridor into the bay had been declared totally safe. Ships entering the harbor were given a set of precise bearings and instructions as to how to navigate safely through the area. As we were entering the bay I noticed that Captain Hart became unusually agitated and up tight. I remember him yelling at our navigator Lt. Darby, "Well, are we in the G- D- mine fields or aren't we or don't you know?" Captain John Hart had the ability to bypass the intercom system by simply screaming. He had little use for megaphones or bull-horns. The anchor detail on the bow claimed that they could hear the old man screaming over the thunderous noise of the anchor being dropped; no mean feat.
Our ship was assigned to a berth in one of the several huge dry-docks at the Yokosuka naval base. These dry docks were the ones the Japanese used to work on their battleships and aircraft carriers. Five or six ships the size of ours could fit in one of these slips. Stored dockside were several mini submarines. I thought they were probably similar to the ones used in their attack Pearl on Harbor. I've often wondered what ever happened to them. Both sides of the dry dock slip were equipped with gigantic cranes mounted on railroad tracks.
On clear days we were able to see snow capped Mount Fujiyama some 50 miles distant. It was an awesome sight. We had heard that Fuji was considered to be a sacred mountain by the Japanese; it is easy to understand why.
The Yokosuka Naval Base was surrounded by steep rocky hills on top of which batteries of anti-aircraft guns were mounted. U.S. Army demolition crews spent days destroying them by detonating sticks of dynamite charges wrapped around the barrels. We watched them through binoculars from the bridge until one day several pieces of shrapnel came clattering across the deck not far from our feet. Since none of us were particularly fixated on purple hearts we took cover for the rest of the day.
The scuttlebutt was and that the high hills surrounding us were honeycombed with an elaborate network of interconnecting caves. It was rumored that these caves were stockpiled with an assortment of weapons, ammunition and war supplies. One afternoon captain Hart, with several other officers and a crew of deckhands explored the network of caves in our immediate vicinity. They liberated enough Japanese army rifles to supply every member of the crew with a rifle along with a few rounds of ammunition to take home for souvenirs.
It was well known that the Japanese civilian population was in desperate straits months before they finally surrendered. Their circumstances became even worse immediately after the cessation of hostilities because everything had shut down. For example the food situation was so serious that armed Marine guards were posted on our dockside garbage cans to prevent scavenging. Rotting food could have become the source of an epidemic. On Tokyo Bay we observed a number of sampans bobbing around. I first thought these men were fishing, however, on closer inspection with binoculars we observed that they were really scooping up bits of garbage that had carelessly been dropped overboard from one of the hundreds of allied ships anchored in the bay.
We were fortunate enough to have liberty several times and have an opportunity to visit Tokyo. On liberty days we would leave immediately after breakfast making the trip in one of our amphibious LCVPs. Upon arrival we were told that it was forbidden drink the water and of course there were no restaurants open or transportation of any kind.
Entire blocks of downtown Tokyo had been turned to rubble by American firebombing. [HISTORICAL NOTE: On March 9th/10th 1945 the United States Air Force bombed Tokyo. A fleet of 334 B-29 super fortress bombers were used on the raid. 100,000 lives were reportedly lost in the resulting firestorm. Most of the casualties were old people, women and children since all able bodied men and boys were away on active duty.]
We found only one business place open to the public although there were undoubtedly others we didn’t happen upon. It had the appearance of a mini arcade. We were delighted to find that some enterprising Japanese had set up several rows of long wooden tables and were selling items they had salvaged from who knows where. I bought several items with the occupation currency we were required to use. [It was illegal to use U.S. dollars.] I bought a slide ruler made from bamboo and celluloid and a small framed picture that had a scene of Mount Fujiyama sewn on it in loose black thread. Someone once told me that this picture represented an indigenous art form practiced by women who had purposely grew very long fingernails with which they stitched these pictures. I don’t know whether this is true or not. The souvenir many of us thought we’d like to take home was a silk kimono. We quickly found that kimonos were very expensive and even if you had the money it was practically impossible to find one that was for sale.
The two times I visited Tokyo I never saw an adult female. They all seemed to be staying indoors out of sight. Children however were everywhere and showed no fear of G.I.s in spite of the fact that they had been told Americans were monsters and baby killers. The kids soon figured out that we were really "softies" and easy pushovers. We shared gum and candy with them.
While in Tokyo we by accident found the Ginza and strolled down several blocks of this famous street. Electrical service had not yet been restored. Most of the structures that still stood were heavily damaged. Although the streets had been largely cleared of debris the few motor vehicles about belonged to the U.S. military.
We hiked over to the wooden bridge that arched gracefully over the moot surrounding the Emperor's Palace. This was a thrill for me because it looked exactly like the image I remembered seeing on one of the pre-war Japanese postage stamps in my collection. We were not permitted to walk on the bridge. G.I.s guards posted at the foot of the bridge informed us that the area was sacred to the Japanese and that we should be respectful. Emperor Hirohito was still considered a living God by the Japanese having not yet renounced his divinity. My memory is that it was a beautiful, serene area and appeared to have been untouched by the war. I wished I’d had a camera.
We turned our attention away from the Emperor’s palace to a cement building a short distance away. General Douglas MacArthur had expropriated this building for use as his headquarters. This large structure looked austere and cold. It was architecturally unremarkable.
There was a flourishing black-market especially in cigarettes at the onset of the occupation. I've forgotten how much a carton of cigarettes would fetch but it was many, many times the fifty cents a carton they cost us from the slop chest aboard ship. [That’s right, fifty cents a carton!!] The penalties for being caught dealing in the black-market were severe and those of us with any sense stayed as far away as possible from anything that even remotely looked like dealing.
We were admonished over and over never to drink any Japanese alcoholic beverage. We were told that wood alcohol was sometimes substituted for grain alcohol and consuming it could result in blindness, severe brain damage, paralysis or death. Despite these repeated warning U.S. ships at anchor in Tokyo Bay were frequently ordered by SOPA (senior officer present afloat) to fly the colors at half-mast during funeral services for someone that had died from consuming wood alcohol. Orders to fly flags at half-mast were issued two or three times each week.
Shortly after our arrival in Yokosuka the Iowa Class battleship U.S.S. New Jersey, BB-62, along with some other ships of the line left for the states. I’ve been told that The New Jersey, a sister ship of the U.S.S. Missouri was the most decorated warship of WWII.
The Auriga left Tokyo Bay for the States on November 25th, three days after Thanksgiving. By this time we had been stationed in Yokosuka for almost seven weeks and were anxious to go home. Other than skirting another typhoon and almost hitting a mine our trip to Pearl Harbor was uneventful. We arrived at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii on December 7th, on the fourth anniversary of the Japanese attack. I don’t recall that there were any special ceremonies commemorating the date. While there we received orders to proceed by way of the Panama Canal to Bayonne, New JerseyPearl Harbor on December 12th. When we reached the Gulf of Tehauntepec off the west coast of Mexico we were ordered to deep six our ordinance. The Auriga was stopped dead in the water while the crew tossed every bit of ammunition we had on board over the side. If every U.S. Navy ship returning to the states via the Panama Canal were issued the same orders the Gulf of Tehauntepec must be strewn with tons and tons of ordinance from one end to the other. We spent Christmas on the Pacific side of the canal. I remember that I stood watch on the bridge during the afternoon of the 24th and it was over 90 degrees in the shade. Christmas Eve was a riot as far as I was concerned because the local radio station kept playing over and over, Í’M DREAMING OF A WHITE CHRISTMAS sandwiched between SILENT NIGHT, and JUNGLE BELLS. In the eyes of Northern bred boys the sight of palmettos decorated with Christmas tree lights, singing Christmas Carols and seeing Santa Claus in 90 degree temperatures seemed utterly absurd.
The crew was granted shore leave in Balboa. This was my first experience with Spanish customs and culture. We had a terrible time shaking a group of little shoeshine boys who followed us around wherever we went like puppy dogs. If you didn’t stay alert one of them would invariably sneak behind you, reach around and smear your shoes with black polish thinking you’d then have to engage their services. Going through the Panama Canal is an interesting experience. One thing that fascinated me was watching a man at a construction site heating up iron rivets until they were white hot then using his tongs he tossed the rivet up to a guy standing on the roof who caught it in a funnel shaped metal container. I never saw them miss. We were told that taking pictures of the locks was strictly prohibited. Also we heard that if we looked carefully and were lucky we might see monkeys and parrots cavorting in the trees along the canal. I searched diligently with binoculars as we locked through but had no luck. We arrived in New York on January 3rd, 1946. The day we arrived it was bitterly cold. A strong wind swept across the harbor dropping the wind chill far below zero. We suffered terribly from the cold having spent so many of the preceding months in the warm Pacific. They told us that the cold bothered us so much because our blood had become thin because of the tropical temperatures [whatever that meant]. The entire crew of the Auriga sported deep tans which was in stark contrast to the pasty white, sickly looking complexions of the locals. When on shore leave in New York we soon realized that our tans sent a signal loud and clear to everyone that we had just returned from overseas and probably had at least few months back pay in our billfolds. Around Times Square we were often approached by sundry seedy looking characters offering to buy us drinks. These were transparent efforts to lure us into a situation where they and their cohorts could roll us. I assumed that most of them were either alcoholics or pimps. For this reason most of us rarely went ashore alone.
After decommissioning the Auriga in Bayonne, New Jersey my service consisted of playing musical chairs and performing the “bureaucratic hop”: I was moved around continually from place to place during the next five months. I served briefly aboard two more ships and traveled across the continent and back several times. Mercifully, I was honorably separated from service on June 24th, 1946 at Great Lakes where my naval career had begun almost two years before. I’ve never thought of my part in WW II as being “heroic” in any sense of the word. As you will conclude in reading this, my service experience was mundane and often boring. I never heard a shot fired in anger. I along with most veterans never expected any reward or special consideration for doing what we considered to be our duty. The only thing I ever felt I was entitled to was the respect of my countrymen for having voluntarily responding to my country’s call during a truly historical crisis.
I still remember and grieve for the many fine young men I personally knew that made the supreme sacrifice in WWII and yes, for the thousands upon thousands, upon thousands of others who scarificed their lives that I didn’t personally know. War is insane.
*******
A Log of Events Aboard the U.S.S. Auriga
During the time I was member of the crew:
Apr.12, 1945 President Franklin D. Roosevelt died. I was billeted in Receiving Ship Barracks #206 on Treasure Island, San Francisco Bay awaiting assignment to a ship...Like the rest of the country I was devastated. I first heard the news while visiting the U.S.O. hospitality house in Alameda. (note: “T.I.” as we called it was the former site of the 1939 San Francisco World Fair)and is contiguous with Yerba Buena (“Goat Island”) which was also used by the navy. May 8, 1945 V-E Day in Europe.
May 19, 1945 Reported aboard Auriga, in dry dock at The American Ship Yards, Alameda, California. The Auriga had returned only seven days before from duty around Okinawa where the kamikazi planes were diving into any thing that floated. The crew hoped that they did not have to return to this duty.
June 26, 1945 The United Nations Charter was signed in San Francisco.
July 8, 1945 Left San Francisco Bay ("under the Golden Gate").
July 16, l945 Crossed International Date Line.
July 21, 1945 Arrived Eniwetok, Marshall Islands.
July 31, 1945 Left Eniwetok.
Aug. 1, 1945 Arrived Kwajalein Atoll, Marshall Islands. Went ashore several times for beach parties which meant drinking three cans of hot green beer (“panther piss”) in the hot sun and beachcombing for seashells. Aug. 6, 1945 Hiroshima destroyed with atomic bomb. We didn't know about it until several days after the fact.
Aug. 8, 1945 Departed Kwajalein for Guadalcanal, Solomon Islands
Aug. 9, 1945 Nagasaki destroyed by an atomic bomb. Again, we didn't hear about this event right away.
Aug. 10, 1945 Crossed the Equator. Initiated from a "polliwog" to a "shellback". Crossed Equator at Longitude 163 Degrees East; headed for Guadalcanal. Awarded a large certificate signed by Davy Jones attesting to my Shellback status. Somewhere about this time we learned via our radio operators that some kind of new bomb had been dropped on several cities in Japan and had caused widespread destruction. It was now felt the war might be won without having to launch a frontal assault on the Japanese mainland. We all felt that this was wonderful news.
Aug. 12, 1945 Arrived at Guadalcanal.
Aug. 13, 1945 Left Guadalcanal.
Aug. 15, 1945 Japan surrenders: NOTE; due to the "dateline" August 15th was the same day as August 14th in the States. Arrived Espiritu Santo, New Hebrides Islands.
Aug. 24, 1945 Left Espiritu Santo.
Aug. 27, 1945 Crossed Equator.
Sept. 1, 1945 Arrived at Guam, Apra Harbor. Took liberty several times. Japanese snipers still reported living in the hills and occasionally shooting at the mess hall "chow lines" near the beach.
Sept. 2, 1945 Japanese formally surrendered on the deck of the Battleship Missouri in Tokyo Bay, Japan.
Sept.24, 1945 Left Guam, sighted Saipan and Tinien.
Sept 26, 1945 Arrived at Iwo Jima. Anchored near Mount Surabachi.
Sept 28, 1945 Put to sea because of a typhoon in the area.
Sept 30, 1945 Returned to Iwo Jima.
Oct. l, 1945 Left Iwo Jima for Tokyo Bay, Japan.
Oct. 4, 1945 Arrived Yokosuka, Tokyo Bay, Japan. Remnants of the Imperial Japanese Fleet were there Including the badly listing battleship Nagoto. The Nagoto was eventually towed to the Marshall Islands and used in the Bikini atom bomb tests in August of 1946. Oct. 12, 1945 Had Liberty in Tokyo.
Nov. 22 1945 Thanksgiving on board ship in Yokosuka. Quoted from letter JBW sent to parents dated 23 November 23, 1945: “Dear Folks, It is day after Thanksgiving and I am still so full that I don’t think I could eat another meal for a week. Enclosed is a menu --- you will know what I mean when you see it. I not only ate enough to last me a long time I also had enough sleep. Made up for lost time --- slept 24 out of the last 36. The Intrepid and “Lex” pulled out this morning. They sure looked swell heading out to sea. “We are taking a few passengers aboard today...they will probably fill up the berths in number five (hold). “Suppose we will be leaving tomorrow or the day after. Everyone is glad to get started. We’ve been here for seven weeks now, kind of monotonous. Heard a rumor that points were going to be down to 36 the first of January.Hope they keep up the good work. If they lower the points by 2 each month I’ll be out in July. At the present time the boys are engaged in a very intelligent discussion as to whether or not it is possible to take a photograph of a mirage. That is just about all we do all day long is argue about something or other. Well, more later if we don’t shove off.”
Much love, Jack
Nov. 25, 1945 Left Tokyo Bay. Had no cargo but a few passengers.
Letter to my parents dated; November 25th, 1945
“We left Tokyo Bay on schedule this morning. It is the last land we will see for three weeks or more. Boy, it is going to be boring… think I’ll write a book or something. Japan looked just the same this morning as when we pulled in, a low overcast and fuzzy rolling fog. Japan is just as much a mystery to me now as when we pulled in. I can see how and why we can’t understand them. This will probably be our roughest trip. We have no load [cargo] for stability. Right now it is pretty calm and we have quite a roll. There will be a number or seasick casualties I imagine. Where are you going to spend Christmas this year? I want you to be sure and wish everyone a very merry Christmas for me. I tried to write as many people as I could but we shoved off too soon. I’ll have plenty to write during the next few weeks and lots of time to do it in.”
Much love, Jack
Nov. 26, 1945 Letter to Mom and Dad dated November 26, 1945
“Quite a few of the boys have been getting seasick today. It hasn’t bothered me yet but there is always a first time. I have a lot of fun kidding the “salts” aboard that always get sick just as soon as we set “the special sea and anchoring detail”. We are supposed to arrive there [Hawaii] on the 17th … we will get there on schedule at this rate. As I have never been there before I will have lots to see. It ought to be a little warmer than Tokyo was. We have four different movies to show on the trip. Tonight is, “The Son of Dracula”. Do you think I would sleep well if I saw it? We are standing a five-section watch now. We have three passenger signalmen. The Banner clippings came the day before we shoved off. I read every article with the usual thoroughness. Glad to see so many boys home already. Well, I think I’ll do a little washing tonight so this will be all for now.”
Much love, Jack Nov. 29, 1945 At sea, typhoon, detonated a mine with gunfire.
Nov. 31, 1945 Letter to Mom and Dad dated November 31, 1945.
“It has really been rough out here …… the wind and swells have been terrible. We really get slapped around. The bow goes clean out of the water and smack into the next swell. The whole ship shudders. Yesterday we had a little excitement … we almost hit a mine. Neither the lookout on the number one gun forward, the forward crows nest or the lookout in the starboard 40mm number 7 saw it. The aft lookout reported it about 60 feet off the starboard beam. We circled around to sure what it was and sure enough it was one of those ugly looking horned mines. We exploded it with fire from our 3 inch, 40mm and 50 cal guns. Shrapnel flew 800 or 900 ft in the air. The look outs take more interest in their work now. We have been slowed down several knots by the terrific headwind. At times it hardly seems like we’re moving at all. This is the longest trip I ever hope to take. You have no idea what it is like bounding around without seeing land or other ships for days and weeks. We will probably be to sea four or five weeks this time.”
Much love, Jack
Dec. 2, 1945 Crossed International Date Line.
Letter to Mom and Dad dated December 5th, 1945.
“We have been having a lot of terrible weather for about a week now. Several days ago the swells were between 20 and 30 feet. We had to slow down to 6 knots to keep from beating the seams open. We took a big detour to keep out of one typhoon and ran into another. I hope we don’t hit any weather like that for a long time. We have been able to get some programs (radio) from Pearl. They really sound good … you don’t know how much you miss the “plugs” until you’ve been away from them for awhile. This morning we put a nice coat of blue paint on the bridge. It really didn’t need it but the old man thought so. That reminds me, the old man is getting relieved in a couple of days. He seems to be just about the opposite of Hart... claims he’s going to change things a bit when he takes over. We are all hoping anyway. We are going to stop off at one of the small islands out here and pick up a few supplies. They will be making a mail trip so this letter ought to get home soon.”
Much love, Jack
Dec. 7, 1945 Arrived at Pearl Harbor, Hawaiian Islands. Had liberty several times in Honolulu.
Dec. 12, 1945 Left Pearl Harbor.
Dec. 24, 1945 Arrived Balboa, Panama Canal Zone.
Dec. 25, 1945 Christmas: temperature was 90 degrees on the bridge in the shade that afternoon!.
Dec. 26, 1945 Liberty in Balboa.
Dec. 27, 1945 Went through the Canal, Left Colon for New York.
Dec. 30, 1945 Sighted the coast of Cuba
1946
Jan. 3, 1946 Arrived New York Harbor: docked at Bayonne, N.J. Went on liberty in New York City quite often.
Visited my Sprague cousins who lived in New York City. My cousin Clair Sprague showed me all over Manhatten Island. We visited the Statue of Liberty, Wall Street, Rockefeller Center and Trinity Church. We walked everywhere and even though he was many years my senior he about wore me out. I saw several Broadway musicals courtesy the U.S.O. ("Desert Song" and "The Chocolate Soldier". Another cousin, Frances
Sprague who has the head librarian at Radio City Music Center gave me a ticket to see "The Rockettes".)
Jan. 13, 1946 Granted emergency leave to attend funeral of grandma Mary N. Potter, in Lansing, Michigan. The service was held on January 15th in Lansing. I was a pall bearer. I made it back to the ship with only 15 minutes to spare before being reported AOL.
Jan, 22, 1946 U.S.S. Auriga decomissioned at Bayonne, New Jersey I was promoted to Third Class Petty Officer (signalman)
Jan. 23, 1946 Transfered to Armed Guard Center, Brooklyn, N.Y.
Jan. 25, 1946 Arrived in Hastings on leave. (by train)
Feb. 20, 1946 Reported to Grosse Ile Naval Air Station, Detroit.
Feb. 22, 1946 Left Grosse Ile for Seattle, Washington (by train.)
Feb. 25, 1946 Arrived Seattle.
Mar. 2, 1946 Transferred to O.G.U at Lake Union, Seattle.
Mar. 15, 1946 Reported aboard U.S.S. Dixie (AD 14), Portland, OR (a large destroyer tender.) Called to Executive officers office and informed that if we didn't sign up for six more months we couldn't go to Bikini Atoll in August for the historic A-Bomb tests that triggered the post-war armaments race. “Dixie class Destroyer Tender; Displacement, 17,176 tons (full Load): Length, 530’6”; Beam, 73’3”; Speed: 18.5 knots (max), 12 knots (econ); Armament 4 5”/38DP, 4X2 40mm, 23 20mm. Complement, 1,262; Gear turbine engines, twin screws, 11,300 h.p.; Built at New York Shipbuilding Co.; Commissioned 24 April, 1940.” Mar. 29, 1946 Transferred to R/S Swan Island for transfer back to Seattle.
Apr. 1, 1946 Transferred to Pier 91 Seattle.
Apr. 4, 1946 Left Seattle by train on leave.
Apr. 7, 1946 Arrived home at Hastings, MI.
Apr. 11, 1946 Reported to Naval Armory, Chicago, Illinois.
Apr. 12, 1946 Left Chicago for Seattle Washington. (Train)
Apr. 15, 1946 Arrived Seattle, Washington.
Apr. 24, 1946 Transferred to Harbor Island Receiving Ship.
May 7, 1946 Transferred from Harbor Island to Pier 91 and left for duty aboard YMS 423 located at Treasure
Island, San Francisco Bay, California. (by Train).
May 10, 1946 Turned in my orders (Couldn't locate the ship!).
May 11, 1946 Transferred to Yerba Buena barracks ("Goat Island")
May 14, 1946 Found YMS 423 berthed at Yerba Buena. Got original orders reinstated. Reported for duty on YMS 423. “This ship was a YMS-1 class Auxillary Motor Minesweeper. Laid down 27 December, 1943 by the Astoria Marine Construction Co., Astorian, OR. Launched 5 August 1944, Completed 25 October 1944: Commissioned, (date unknown): Decommissioned, (date unknown): Stuck from the Navy Register 25 February 1947; Sold 26 December 1947. Fate unknown. Specifications: Displacement 270T; Length 136; Beam 24’6”; Draft 8’Speed 13 kts: complement 50. Armament one single 3”/50 gun mount. Porpulsion two 880 shp General Motors diesel engines, two shafts.” June 15, 1946 "Points Up". Eligible for discharge! Left YMS 423 for Intake Center.
June 20, 1946 Left Intake Center by troop train for Great Lakes Illinois. (we took "southern route" through
Arizona and Texas.)
June 22, 1946 Arrived at Great Lakes Naval Training Station, IL.
June 24, 1946 Honorably Discharged. Prior to decommissioning the U.S.S. Auriga I was promoted to petty officer third class. After the decommissioning I was granted a short leave. I turned my orders in at Grosse Ile Naval Air Station near Detroit when my leave expired. From here I was sent by train to the Lake Union Receiving ship, Seattle Washington. To pass the time away they put us on work details "moth-balling" various ships docked in the area. Eventually I was put on a draft of men who were assigned to the U.S.S. Dixie located at Portland, Oregon in the Columbia River. This ship which was a destroyer tender was the largest ship I was ever assigned to. It had three large machine rooms and a vast supply storage capacity. I was told that the ship could repair, refuel and restock six destroyers simultaneously. About the time I learned how to find my sleeping quarters without getting lost, I along with fifteen or twenty others were summoned to the Executive Officer's office. We were told that our "points" were enough that we were eligible for discharge in several months. We were also told that the Dixie was going to the atom bomb experiments at Bikini in August. Since we would be eligible for discharge during this time we would have to sign up for an additional six months if we wanted to go on this cruise. To my knowledge not one man volunteered for this additional service. I was returned to OGU in Seattle for several weeks and then assigned to YMS 423 (Yard Mine Sweeper) berthed at Yerba Buena, an island adjacent to Treasure Island, in San Francisco Bay. After a month or so on this Yard Mine Sweeper my points "came up" and I was sent by troop train with hundreds and hundreds of others to Great Lakes Naval Station where I was honorably discharged on June 24th, 1946.
I never felt like my part in the Second World War was "heroic" in any way. In fact, my service was mundane and uneventful. I never expected any reward or special considerations what-so-ever for doing what I considered to be my duty. The only thing I felt I had a right to expect was the respect of my fellow countrymen for having voluntarily served my county in a time of crisis.
When I graduated from High School I really didn't have any firm career goals in mind. I believe that this is rather typical of most young men even to this day. While standing watch on the bridge of the Auriga, especially on the "dog watch" from midnight to 4:00 A.M. I had nothing to do but look at the stars and sort out my thoughts as to what I wanted to do with my life after leaving the Navy.
I decided that if at all possible I wanted to be my own boss. I also realized that I was attracted to the "service occupations". This narrowed my choices down considerably since the law and accounting professions were completely out of the question. Medical doctors had long hours, were well paid but I had heard didn't have much of a family life and a high rate of divorce. Dentists concentrated their attention in a very confined area all day long and had the highest rate of suicide outside of psychiatrists of any of the professions. This led me to consider more seriously my father's occupation. Optometry had a lot of pluses but it also had one big disadvantage from a professional point of view. Its big disadvantage was caused by the relatively small but blatant commercial element that had always plagued the profession. Commercialism seemed to prevent optometry from achieving the recognition it deserved and taking its proper place among other health care professions. [I really believed at the time that professional optometrists working together could eventually bring commercialism under control like the other professions had done during their early history. As it turned out, when I look back after 42 years in private practice, I couldn't have been more wrong.]
The end result of my “dog-watch” introspection on the bridge of the USS Auriga was that I decided to become an optometrist. We heard that the United States Congress had been holding hearings on proposed legislation dubbed the, "G.I. Bill". We understood that this legislation was being crafted to provide substantial educational benefits for ex-servicemen and women.
[I think that this was one of the most enlightened pieces of legislation ever enacted by the Congress of The United States in terms of the social and economic benefits to our society. I'm certain that on balance the G.I. Bill didn't cost the taxpayers very much, if anything because those of us who took advantage of it increased our skills and consequently our income potential. These higher incomes were then taxed at higher rates as our incomes increased through the years. This would not have happened had we chosen not to use the G.I. bill.]
