Shell Back

After boot camp was over we were shipped by rail to Oakland, California and then taken to Goat Island in the San Francisco Bay. We stayed there for about 2 weeks then loaded onto a converted passenger liner which took us out to sea. Most everyone was given some sort of work to do: K.P., washing pots and pans, mopping floors, mopping the deck, standing guard (no need for a guard except to give us something to do) and chipping the old paint from off the deck and frame work then repainting it. This was the most distasteful part of the chores.

There was usually a poker game being played on the deck (or maybe a dozen games depending on how many guys had free time). Some of the guys that were good at it took in quite a lot of money, but I never played. What little money I received was sent home to Mom and Dad. A heavy storm came up about 3 days out. The tops of the waves towered over us a couple of hundred feet. The next minute we looked down into a watery canyon from the crest. The storm continued until our ship docked at or near Pearl Harbor. Many of the fellows became very ill but my stomach was just a little queasy. I continued to eat my food and never lost any over the rail.

Pearl Harbor was a most impressive spot. The harbor was not very large but at least 6 or 7 big warships lay half submerged with gaping holes in the hulls and decks, victims of the Japanese attack and the deliberate conspiracy by President Franklin D Roosevelt and his cabinet to involve the United States in World War II. No admiral in his right mind would ever concentrate such a large portion of his fleet in such a small area where any maneuverability was impossible. The Pacific Fleet Commander (Admiral Nimitz) was ordered by Washington, D.C. to put his ships into Pearl Harbor. The admiral probably didn't know the reason but soon found out. The attack by the Japanese aircraft was launched from their aircraft carriers.

Our unit was designated as CASU #8 (Carrier Aircraft Service Unit). The first week we camped in a hanger near the harbor. The second or third day as I was wandering around the base I bumped into Emer Bundy, an old boyhood friend. We went swimming together at Wakiki Beach and when the tide went out I had difficulty swimming to shore. Emer would swim along side and let me rest my hand on his shoulder. Finally we made it back to shore. I was surely glad that my friend was there to help me. Emer was working for a civilian construction company on government contracts.

We were then moved around the island to the east side where the navy had an air base. Every day or so a Grumman Torpedo plane would take off towing a target sleeve. Some of the shop personnel could get what was termed as flight pay if they flew 2 or 3 hours each month. These target towing planes provided an opportunity for such flight. The old prewar Grumman Torpedo plane had a large, radial air cooled engine with about 24 cylinders. It developed about 100 horsepower to each cylinder and was awkward in appearance, the wings stubby, with a short fuselage. It was definitely nose (engine) heavy. It was capable of carrying one large torpedo or three small ones

One day it took off at about 10 AM on a beautiful sun-shiny day with the pilot and several flight pay men on board for the purpose of towing a target that the anti-aircraft gunners could practice shooting at. Our repair shop was located at the edge of the airstrip. The plane was in the air about 200 feet as it passed by when the pilot pulled it sharply upward. A few seconds after it started to climb the engine konked out and it nosed down to the earth and burst into flame. All six men were burned to death before our eyes and we were helpless to give them aid.

Sometimes when we were not busy working on aircraft in the shop we were subject to doing other work around the base. One day I helped transfer a truck load of different kinds of whiskey into a concrete building with strong doors. The commissioned officers were issued a pint about once each month. Those who didn't drink could always find eager buyers for their pint from among the enlisted personnel for $50 to $70 dollars. That was a lot of money in 1942 when the average enlisted (or drafted) man was paid about $110 per month. Some guys spent all their wages on booze, cigarettes, and gambling.

Our Chief Petty Officer sent me on an errand down through the area where the barracks were located. A pickup truck pulled up along side me as I was walking along and a Bosuns Mate hollered for me to get in the back, that I was going on a work detail (as they called it). I told him I was on duty for our Chief Petty Offcer who had more rank than he did. He jumped out of the pickup and came over and grabbed hold of my arm telling me to get in the truck and damn quick. I wasn't about to do what he told me so I punched him in the nose a hard lick. He cussed and said he'd put me on report and I'd end up in the brig for the duration of the war. I said: "go ahead you empty headed galoot!" then I continued on my way. When I returned to the shop the Chief Petty Officer wanted to know what I had done. I told him and he said he would defend me. They set a "Captain's Mast" hearing to take place in about a week. In a day or two an Ensign (lowest rank of a commissioned officer) a regular navy man called me in and told me that the navy didn't allow any insubordination such as I had committed by landlubbers like me and he would personally see that I was punished the absolute maximum. He was just showing his meanness cause he had a little authority. I'm standing there looking him in the eye thinking "you slave, any man that would voluntarily make a career of this lashup aint got any concept of freedom, all they know is dog-eat-dog." I didn't think the brig would be much worse than what I was already subject to: just like an animal ordered and driven, like a beef being shipped to market.

The Captain of our unit was in the Navy Reserve, fortunately, not regular Navy, a man about 50 years old and he looked upon us young fellers as his sons. The men that operated the airstrip were regular navy and all of our outfit was Navy Reserve or Landlubbers as they referred to us. My Chief Petty Officer took me into the trial where 3 or 4 officers sat with the Captain of my outfit, they acting as councillors, the captain making the final decision. The nasty Ensign presents about 8 or 10 charges that I had committed. When he got through my Chief said that he had sent me on an errand and told what had happened. The Captain asked me if that was correct and I said, yes. He asked the Bosun Mate if the details were correct and he also agreed. The officers talked among themselves for a minute, where-upon the Captain started chewing on the Bosun's mate and went on for about 5 minutes, then he looked at me and said: "you'll do 8 hours extra duty," and told my Chief to assign it. Case dismissed. I dug a hole the next day and filled it up (didn't work too hard at it either.)

About 2 weeks later we loaded up all our tools and other gear on a sea plane tender and headed out to sea. In a few days the scuttlebutt going around was that we were headed toward Australia and would be crossing the equator in a week or so. Our assigned bunks were down in the hold close to the engine room where the smell of diesel fuel was strong, the temperature hot, with the constant throb of the engines busting our heads. I can't stand this so took my blanket up on top deck and make my bed out under a 2 wheeled trailer. Trucks, trailers and other gear are tied down all over the top decks and most of the good sleeping places are utilized by us Landlubbers. Course we'd have to go below deck if a storm came up, but none ever did.

We cruised along by ourselves many days with the ocean like undulating glass. Flying fish and shark fins were the only break in the monotony of that vast ocean. Flying fish are small with wing like fins with which they can break out of the water and skim along the surface a short way, sometimes a hundred feet or so.

Back at the base in Hawaii I started growing a beard and by the time we crossed the equator it was about 1 1/2 inches long. The custom is that when a new swabbie crosses the equator he is initiated into the Order of Neptune and becomes a Shellback Frog, or maybe it's a Toad. So on the day of the crossing the regular sailors set up this elaborate ritual which they ran all of us greenhorns through. They cut all my hair off on the right side, including my beard so I cut it all down even, to match. They did a number of other things to us but there was so many of us to run through that they didn't make it as rough as if there were only a few.

We finally sighted land at New Caledonea where the ship weighed anchor for a few days. This was a French possession and had been a penal colony in the 17-18 hundreds. We went ashore once and there were a few French people visible. After a few days our ship joined a convoy bound for the Solomon Islands where things were shaping up for a big battle with the Japs.