"Ma and Bill"
The date for my departure to the states came and I bid a sorrowful goodbye to my ship and reported aboard the ship that was to take me home. Back to the world at last. Except, when I saw the ride home I became quite apprehensive. I don't know where they dug up that tub of shit. It was a pre-World War I steam engine driven bucket of rust. I had doubts that it would clear the harbor much less transit the Pacific Ocean. But I boarded anyway's. The way I felt, if she went down, I'd just swim the rest of the way. Nothing was going to get in the way of seeing my family and that included the Pacific Ocean. (I will admit that I bammered a couple of fresh life-jackets and some stores to assist me if I had to go swimming. Better safe than sorry I always say).
After a perfectly miserable trip of ten days on thst rust bucket, I finally laid eyes on the good old Golden Gate Bridge and what a sight for sore eyes she was. I was tingling with excitement with the prospect of seeing my family. For the moment, was right with my world. What I didn't realize was that what appeared so close was in reality so far, far away. With the fortunes of war, the reality was I wouldn't get to see my family except on one brief occasion until the war was over.
We were dropped of at Treasure Island for processing. Including myself, there were about 10 Chief's. We were told to go to the Dispersing Office, collect some pay and take a long weekend leave. So, off we went, all seasoned combat veterans acting like a bunch of recruits on our very first liberty. The excitement level was high when we arrived and got in line to get paid. Somehow, I wound up being first in line and we started waiting. Then we waited some more. Then,,, we waited some more and it didn't appear to me that there was any money being dispersed. Now, I have never admitted to being the most patient person in the world so figuring Enough is Enough, I called out to one of the Wave's (Which incidently, was the first time I ever laid eyes on one) behind the iron bars for some service. After a while, one got up, walked over to me, took a healthy drag off the cigarette she was smoking, blew it in my face and asked me: "What's matter Chief, don't you know there's a war going on?"
Ohhh,,,that was definitely the wrong answer. I lost it "again" and blew a major gasket as I reached through those iron bar's, grabbed that cute little tie, pulled her forward until her face was stuck between the bar's, mashed my nose against hers and asked her: "Just where in the hell do you think we came from?". I was maxed pissed off and she was scared to death. I could see it in her eyes. They were as big around as silver dollars. I've always been a bit difficult when I lose my temper like that. I probably was being egged on by the other Chief's behind me all making a ruckus. But then it suddenly got real quiet and there I stood with my nose squished up against hers as I continued trying to pull her head through them bars when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I whipped my head to the side with a look that I knew said "Back Off" and found myself staring at a rather large full Commander. After a short moment he stated in a very commanding voice to unhand her Chief. I immediately released my grip and heard her crash into some furniture as I was thinking how much I was going to miss being a Chief.
The Commander then very politely instructed me to step into his office. Once we were alone he instructed to me to take a seat and he rang for coffee. While we waited, he just sat there staring a hole through me. I couldn't get a read on the expression on his face so I just sat there, ramrod straight and sweated off about 5 pounds before the coffee showed up. Once alone again he calmy asked me what possessed me to pull a stunt like that with me being a Chief and all. I figured what the hell, the damage was done and I couldn't deny or undo it so I just blurted out something like: Sir, all the shit me and most of them Chief's out there have been through and to have a sarcastic little fart like that ask us if we didn't know there was a war going on was a bit more than I could take and I lost it and I'm sorry and that pretty much sums it up in a nutshell. There was a moment of silence when suddenly a shit eating grin breaks out on his face and he says to me: Sorry? Hell Chief, Iv'e been wanting to do that since she showed up here but just didn't have the balls. I do believe tho that you may have rounded out her education a little. He then rang for a Warrant Officer and asked me how many Chief's did he have loitering out there. I answered 9 or 10 sir. He ordered the Warrant to get them Chief's out there paid so they can hit the beach. He then looked down and started working on some paperwork and stated: "That will be all Chief". I got up kind of stunned, not really comprehending yet what had just happened but I sounded off with an Aye Aye Sir and bid a professional and rapid departure. I did decide at that very moment that I was going to have to devote some serious efforts towards controlling my Irish/Native American temper. After all As I reasoned way back then, Luck can be as fickle as a woman.
Anyway's, that's now history and I started looking ahead to seeing my family. Thats All that mattered to me. Once the pay issue was resolved, we were given a 72 hour pass. It was almost like a second honeymoon and would have been except we never had a first one. Man oh Man, did Mom know how to make you feel like you were the most important thing in the world. A week later I was taking a draft of sailors to Chicago on my way to Miami to pick up my new construction. Didn't know what it was yet and didn't much care. Thr railroad had converted some old boxcars into troop carrier's and that was our plush ride. But, ya know, the smell was still there and I got a good case of deja'vu of my hobo days. I spent the whole trip dwelling on those days and how far I seemed to have come in what I felt was such a relatively short period of time.
After dropping my charges off at Great Lakes, I found myself bound for Miami in charge of a new draft of 36 sailors. This time I was shocked to find myself sitting in a plush passenger car. This was quite a novelty for me. I finally got to feel how the "Other Side" lived. You must remember that in those days passengers was about as low on the priority list as you could get. War materials carried the highest priority and being a sailor, I was a war material. So, it was kind of comforting for me to know that some paying civilian got bounced so I could get to where the Navy needed me. Even then, the trip took nearly a week to make it. The trip itself was relatively uneventful. The draft I had were all seasoned sailor's and cause no problems. Can't say the same for the chief in charge of them tho. That's becaused once we crossed the Alabama line, it seemed that all bets were off. Ya see, 3 of my 36 sailors were black and I would soon be introduced to something I had never experienced in my entire short life: Racism.
All along our route there were various scheduled rest stops and at each one there was a restaurant that was contracted by the goverment to feed our people. They were on a special list and were paid later from a Navy Food voucher refered to as "chits".
We were scheduled for a meal stop not long after crossing into Alabama that was pretty close to the station.I formed the gang up and marched them over to the restaurant. I got my people all inside and seated and some had already been served their meals when I overheard someone tell 3 of my men that they had to eat in the kitchen because they didn't serve "Ni$$3rs" in there. My first thought was: What the Hell? I approached the manager and asked him what seemed to be the problem. He responded very sarcastically that there was no problem sailor boy, Nigger's don't eat with white people. I didn't much like that word and so once again I felt self control zip out the window and once again I was maxed pissed off. I wanted to flatten that piss poor excuse for a human being real bad but I knew I couldn't. That would have been a green light for 72 fists to demolish that joint which I felt they rated. It was real quiet as everyone was watching me and that manager standing toe to toe. We were locked eyes so without breaking my stare I ordered my people to fallout and fall back in outside. To the sound of clanking silverware and falling chairs I heard my people move out at the quick step. In my peripheral vision I saw that there was more than a few pushes to move civilians out of the way. I took a quick glance outside and saw my people standing at rigid attention in perfect ranks and felt kinda proud of my self. Then I turned my attention to this idiot standing in front of me. In the finest Navy fashion and as loud as I could I let them know how I felt about them chicken S*#t sons o bitches and their whole chicken s*#t town. I turned to leave and that idiot manager got real puffy with me telling me that I couldn't do that because he had a government contract. The thought of breaking his jaw crossed my mind again but self control got the best of me so I just popped the brim of my Chief's hat against his head, stared for a moment and calmly told him to watch me. I gave one good slow disgusted look to everyone present and casually walked out.
As we hadn't had breakfast or lunch yet, I was damned if we were going to get back on that train until we had some chow in me. A bit in defiance I suppose, I marched my people straight down the middle of the street for several blocks until I spotted this smal little place and called my draft to a halt. I entered the establishment and found the manager. I asked him if he accepted Navy Food Voucher's (chit) and he stated that he sure would. I told him that I had 36 sailors outside that had to be fed in a hurry and asked if he could handle it. He responded it would be no problem. I then told him that 3 of my men were black and asked if he had a problem with that. He told me to bring en in Chief. I steppedoutside, threw a thumb over my shoulder and told the herd to "Hit It". After everyone was seated and had a plate of chow in front of them, I sat down and ate. Now, the staff of that restaurant was short handed but they did a great job outta stuffing that bunch with some excellent chow. Once everyone was full, I had em fall in outside and marched them back to the train station again right down the middle of the street. I was pretty pleased with myself until we got back to the station and I saw our car sitting on a side track. Our train was gone. Now the draft was pretty contented but I just stood there thinking: well shit, Ive done it again. Been back in the states less than 2 weeks and I'm on the hot seat twice. That's damn near more than I had in my first tour.
Our car was finally hooked up to the first train heading south and we were off again but we would still be considered AWOL (Absent without Leave) whenever we got there. If your a civilian type and are not aware, AWOL is Not Good.
When we were pulling into the station in Miami, my mood went from sullen to solemn as I looked at a largegroup of Shore Patrol and a number of officer's standing around looking a bit testy. I quickly started adding up how many lives I had allready used up. When the train came to a halt, I snatched up my gear and reported to the closest officer I could find thinking to myself: Here we go again dumbass. I could see the SP's taking charge of my former people. They weren't being mistreated (yet) but I was pretty sure none of them would stray off and get lost. After answering a bevy of questions, I was ordered to write up an official report and submit it through channels and then I was dismissed. As I walked past my former draft of people, they, very loudly, let me know how the felt about me. Quite a few heads had turned to see what was going on. It was all I could do to keep from smiling but they they sure made me feel appreciated. I felt real good about that because I know I hurt him a lot worse than I would have if I had decked him. I learned later that the first restaurant was removed from the Navy's list and replaced by that quaint little place tahat took care of all American fighting men. I hurt him alot worse than mabey a broken jaw. I hit him in his pocket book and I felt really good about that.
Meanwhile, as all this was going on "Mom" (Which I had began calling sweety by now) was working hard towards making it down to Miami. Just a footnote here: I have been calling her Mom now for about 55 years. The name stuck and she's been Mom to everybody since. She bore me 4 sons but she has been Mom to hundreds over the years. She was making no progress at all getting to Miami. You must remember that back in them days there really wasn't any dependents and even if there were, they sure weren't considered War material.
When I reported into Miami, everything around me was in a state of mass turmoil. It almost made me miss the war because at least out in the Pacific there seemed to be a common cause which made the chaos tolerable. But Miami was just a major pain to the posterior portion of my anatomy. They had converted all the hotels into barracks and blocked all the streets to provide a way to march the troops whereever they needed to go. One huge building had been converted to quarters for all the Chief's in transit or awaiting orders. I suppose somebody had looked at my personell jacket because I was selected for one of the most critical billet's in the area. My job consisted of insuring that all the troops were marched to chow: breakfast, lunch and dinner.I must admit that I didn't dive into the assignment with my normal enthusiasm. I also must admit that we were not the sharpest group when it came to close order drill, But, all of us got fed on time. I did get a chance to meet up with some of Mom's friends who wanted me to stay with them. However, with my current Critical duties, this just wasn't possible.
While I was enduring this hardship duty, Mom was still fighting an uphill battle to secure travel arrangements to Miami with no tangible results. It wasn't until one of her friends interceded and took her to meet her father who turned out to be the Fire Chief for the San Francisco Fire Department. He pulled some strings and called in a few debts and finaly got her a seat on a train to Miami. Hot damn,,,,,, here she comes. Just the knowledge of her pending arrival made my duty totally bearable. But,,, the fickle finger of fate tapped me on the shoulders and I was stuck on a train to Port Arthor, Texas to pick up my new construction. I didn't even have a chance nor a way to let her know I was gone. I can't be positive but I've always felt that our trains passed each other as we headed in different directions. How scared and lonley she must have felt. Alone with a son and a suitcase and no idea where I was. Our paths would not cross again for quite some time. I did manage to eventually speak to her on the phone. She told me that her folks had asked her to return to Boston with the baby. She asked me what I thought and I told her that I felt it would be the best thing for now because I had no idea when I'd be back or where I would be.
When I arrived at Port Arthor, I found that it was a rather small shipyard as shipyards go. I reported aboard my new construction which turned out to be an Ocean Going Tug. She hadn't been launched yet which gave us a good opportunity to look her over real good. My first impression was that she was a well built tub. Looking at that largr screw (Propeller for you non Navy types). I knew she was built for power. It reaked from her every rivet. Looking at her 3" gun up forward and the twin 20 mm port and starboard and the numerous .50 cal mounts reminded me that she was built to go to War.
All we had to work with at the time was a complete set of blueprints. With them, we learned everything to know about her. We had 2 weeks so, we dressed her out, supplied all stores finished our training and in just 18 days we put out to sea for her sea trials. It was no small task but we got the job done.
Now is an excellent time to tell you a bit about the crew because it bears remembering as this portion of the story unfolds. First and somewhat important was the fact that not one member of the crew from top to bottom had any experience whatsoever on a tug much less an Ocean Going tug.We had a complement of about 37 enlisted men. That was the down side. The upside was that everyone of them were experienced and all but a few were true professionals so whipping them into shape wouldn't take a great deal of effort on my part. The problem with the crew wasn't at the bottom. In this case the problem was at the top. Our new "Skipper" had joined the Navy as a "Tunafish" as they were refered to back then. It seems before the war he was a Police Officer. He may have been good at that, I don't know. Once in, his primary job was working as an athletic director.Turns out that he married a Lieutenant and damn if they didn't make him one to. How he got a sea going command is a mystery to this day. What a contrast he was from my last skipper. Talk about night and day..We had a pinstrip Warrant Officer who realy seemed to know his stuff. Following him, we were stuck with a Butterbar (Ensign) on his first assignment.As any military man will attest to is the fact that a butterbar is the lowestform on the food chain in the Armed Forces and the most dangerous to boot.The only way I can put this that you will understand is like this: A butterbar is like a white belt in karate. They know just enough about their job to screw it up or get hurt. Me, I was the only Chief on board and one of my jobs was to sort of breast feed this ensignuntil he was no longer a threat to himself or the crew. I'm sure it's the same in all branches of the service. It's historically been the job of the senior enlisted to take care of and raise Officers. It's like raising kids. You get them when their babies (Butterbars) and you care for them until the become of age, become of age, sprout their wings and become Officer's. The rest of the crew were white hats or the core of the crew, the enlisted man and as I said earlier, I was damn lucky there.
All in all, besides not getting to see my family, I figured this new duty was going to be gravy compared to what I went through on the DE. In fact, I recall telling Mom that she didn't have to worry about me anymore because I would be in the rear with the gear towing stuff around. This turned out to be the last assumption I would ever make in my life because as it turned out, while aboard the DE, I found myself up to my hips in the war. We got our orders and it was back to war again. This time it would turn out that I wouldn't be in the rear with the gear but rather, we would be up to our necks in it.
© 1997 ervd@hotmail.com
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