Upon arriving back in Council Bluffs, I was again taken in by my cousin. I did go visit my folks on a couple of occasions and I found to my surprise that I was treated differently than when I left. Unfortunately, in my mind, it wasn't a pleasant surprise. You see, when I left, if you remember, I was treated as a total outcast. Now, upon my return, I was treated as a total stranger. Either way, it was as if I didn't exist in my families eyes. I can't really tell you which felt worse- being an outcast or a stranger. What I can tell you is that it really didn't matter because I didn't care. It didn't mean nothing. I knew that one day I would have a family and I swore to myself that it would be a real family in the purest sense.
Anyways, I spent several months spinning my wheels and heading no where fast when I started thinking that I needed to get myself together and come up with a plan for my immediate future. I had just turned 17 and realized that if I continued on the path I was heading I'd probably wind up in trouble with the law. That thought didn't appeal to me so I did what I always did when faced with a problem. I started seriously thinking through my delimma. It was around this time that I first noticed a poster of some guy called "Uncle Sam" pointing his finger at me saying "The U.S. Navy Wanted Me."
And THAT got me to thinking because I was faced with a new concept and it was rather novel to me : Someone WANTED me!! So, I went inside this satellite recruiting office and asked a few questions. The recruiter was an old salty chief. He started telling me all about the Navy and within 5 minutes I had all the information I needed to decide to enlist. Three square meals a day, a clean dry place to sleep, a chance to further my education AND they would pay me as well. Sounded like my kinda club. The old chief kept rambling on and I didn't think he would ever stop talking. I just sat there being real polite because he seemed to being enjoying himself and I didn't want to be rude and cut him off thinking he might get ticked off and not let me join. When we got down to the paperwork , he told me I needed to give him a copy of my birth certificate. I explained to him that that might be a problem because I didn't have one. The chief explained it was no real problem, I just needed 5 letters from people who could attest to the fact that I was 17 yrs. old. I gathered 4 rather quickly: one from the fire chief, one from the school principal, one from old Sam at the grocery store and one from a policeman that I had made friends with. Oddly, it was the fifth letter that I had the hardest time getting--- one from my mother. For reasons unknown to me, she was reluctant to sign. Getting frustrated, I finally put two choices on the table for her to consider see me in jail or see me in the Navy. She signed the letter.
I enlisted in The U.S. Navy in the early spring of 1937 in Omaha, Nebraska. I was transported to the Great Lakes Training Center shortly after it was re-opened and I was assigned to the 9th Company. The first two weeks upon arriving were spent in "detention". This was the beginning of molding a sailor. We were in complete isolation in case of infectious disease. Our heads were peeled of hair, innoculations were given, clothing was issued and we were taught how to swim or...we were discharged. The basic discipline began in that period.
One of our first and main responsibilities was to cut, clean and clear the drill field so we could use it for training. The grass, as I recall, came to our knees and we used hand sycles to cut the grass. When we finished, the Company Commander came and conducted an inspection. His comment was, "Now that you boys have this field looking so good, let's try it out." And with those words, we bagan a 3 month period of very intense training. Strict discipline was administered immediately. Training was extremely tough and it had to be. The training staff only had 3 months to turn us cocky or whimpering mama's boys into well disciplined sailors. And they would succeed, failure was not an option for them. The mental and physical stresses of boot camp didn't cause me any problems. Physically, I was probably in the best shape I'd ever been. Mentally, there was nothing they could throw at me that I was unable to handle. What I did find rather amusing was how easily most of the men in my company were so easily rattled. Stress them out a bit and half of them couldn't tell you their name. There were a few like myself who took each day with relative ease. I spent a great deal of time trying to figure out what separated us from the majority. Best I could figure is the majority must have had a soft childhood.
I had been in boot camp about a month and hadn't been in any kind of trouble. I planned to finish up the way I started. However, as is probably true in every large group there had to be one individual who felt he could dominate everyone around him. I had been watching him for sometime and I considered him to be nothing more than a muscle bound big mouth bully. He liked to walk around the barracks smacking you in the back of the head with his elbow, knocking you around. No one ever challenged him. This just seemed to encourage him. My feelings were that if they wanted to take it, then it was their problem, not mine. He was 6 ft something and around 200 lbs of solid muscle. Well, my time finally came. I wasn't paying much attention when he clipped me behind the head and kept walking. Now, I was pissed off. Not mad, mind you, just pissed. I was probably more angry with myself for getting caught off-guard than at him for clipping me. So, I walked up to him and when I got his attention I told him that I was willing to consider this incident as an accident but if there was a second time the consequences would be different. He looked down at me,( I was 5'7" and 120 lbs), and just laughed. I walked off hoping that would be the end of it but feared that it wouldn't. I wasn't afraid of him but I was afraid of the trouble I would get in if he did it again because I knew what I would do the second time around.
Sure enough, two days later, he caught me again and this time...he put me on the floor. NOW I was mad! That is not good. I came up behind him and in a rage, I nailed him behind his right ear. It was probably the best punch I had ever thrown because he dropped like a poled ox. When he came to, he got up... but before we locked horns, it seemed like the whole company separated us. They knew we would ALL be in hot water. I went with the flow but it was unfinished business - that I intended to finish.
There was a custom at the time that grievances could be settled during a grudge fight on friday nights called Smokers. These fights were conducted under supervision. The athletic officer had to interview both combatants. He talked to muscle mouth first and then called me in. When I walked in, he appeared to be shocked and told me there must be some mistake....that he couldn't let me fight against that man. I calmly explained to the officer ( with all due respect ) that we were going to fight. It could be in his ring, under his supervision or it could be someplace else...but the bottom line was : we were going to fight.
On friday night, I was apprehensive but I was also determined. Whether he beat me or not didn't matter. He was going to pay a price. When the bell rang, we came together. It was a slaughter. He was big and muscular and slow as a slug. I'd hit him 3 or 4 times and move out of range. I pounded him for 3 rounds and he never hit me. Not once. I actually started feeling sorry for him. It was this night that I learned that size and muscle meant little against ability and determination. Later, I really started feeling bad for him when all his previous victims bagan thumping him on a regular basis. Towards the end of boot camp he actually became quite friendly. What I didn't know was somehow that fight got in my record and would come back to haunt me later on.
I really loved boot camp and began to feel that I found a place where I was truly meant to be. Upon graduation, I recieved my first set of orders to serve on a battleship. At this time, the battleship was the pride of the fleet and I felt honored. I remember the day I first laid eyes on her as if it was just yesterday. I was in Long Beach, California sitting in a launch approaching the largest man-made object I had ever seen. She was a true lady with beautiful lines built for combat. I was totally awestruck. She was my home and as it would turn out she would be home for the next four years. After I signed on board, I was shown to my sleeping quarters which was the casemate for a 5 inch secondary gun battery. That really didn't bother me because I had slept in a lot worse places. It was when I was assigned to my first job that I found I wasn't the prize puppy in the litter. I was a deckhand responsible for keeping the ship clean. I realized I was on the lowest rung of the social ladder but when I was introduced to the stern end of a brown handle with a holy stone attached to the bow end, I was definetley not happy. This apparatus was utilized for cleaning and polishing the teak deck. This is where the phrase " holy stoning the deck " came from. I made up my mind by the end of my first Friday that I wasn't going to be a deckhand.
Bright and early Monday morning, I put in a chit to see the XO (executive officer). When I came before him I explained that I joined the Navy to be an engineer not to push a brick bat to polish wood. (I didn't realize until years later just how lucky I had been that day. Oh, the stupidity of youth.) The XO asked, "What if you don't get to be an engineer?" I responded spontaniously, "Then when I get my first liberty, I won't be back." I don't know if he was in a good mood that day or if he just appreciated my honesty because he puffed up a bit and said, "Sailor, if you got the balls to come in my office and talk to me like that, you deserve to be one. Don't fail me, be a good one." I was assigned to M Division of the engineering Dept. Now, everything was all right in my world and I was on my way, right?? WRONG!!!
It would be another 8 months before I finally made it into the engineering dept. I started out on a compartment cleaning crew, graduated to mess cooking for the engineers, then finished up doing a tour working as a mess cook for the chiefs. At this time in Naval history, there were no such things as senior or master chiefs. They were just chiefs but they were held in very high esteem by everyone on board from the skipper on down. He was truly the intelligence of the ship in his field of expertise. It was during this time that I set my sights on becoming a chief.
During this 8 month period in my off duty time I was constantly exploring engine rooms, firerooms and propulsion plants, all of which fascinated me. I was always asking questions and I found out quickly that if I displayed a true interest in something, someone was always willing to answer my questions. Some chiefs even went as far as giving me inside tips on what to do to make more rank ( which wasn't easy in those days ). After I completed this 8 month tour of menial tasks, I was finally assigned to the forward engine room for duty. I finally reached the first step of a long educational career of becoming an engineer.
THE ENGINE ROOM
THE HOBO YEARS PART 1
THE HOBO YEARS PART 2
THE BEGINNING
THE EARLY YEARS
HOMEPAGE...so you can sign the "GuestBook"
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