My friend Al (over 90 yrs old)

[Robert A Whit]

Al was a broker and sold real estate. Like most of us old timers, his job career had a number of turns. I got well acquainted with him when he became an appraiser and when i closed my appraisers business, I tried to get him to take it over but he hated all the driving I had put up with.

Al graduated college in the East and enlisted in the Navy there. Due to his education, he was eligible to be a navy officer and once off active duty during wWII went into the reserves where he worked up to being a Commander.

Anyway, Al now somewhat frail is an excellent writer. At this point, he was not yet a commissioned officer.
I learn a lot from his stories and hope you all enjoy the words of a former navy officer.

Once Al got his commission, he was used in top secret operations stationed in Mexico.

This story happened when he was on a ship that hunted submarines off the eastern seaboard of the USA and now we read his story.

This is not copyrighted by the way.

I don't know if I ever told you about this before or not but Memorial Day every year brings back memories of this. Maxwell was the last name of the skipper of the ship. Thought that you might like to read about it.....Al


After one of the trips back from Cape May we were patrolling near Sandy Hook just after daybreak waiting for the convoy to form then it would be our turn to go in to the Section Base on Staten Island in New York harbor. It was Memorial Day 1942 and there were a lot of small fishing boats milling around or anchored in the area. I was on the wheel (seems like I spent a lot of time at the helm) with Asher the quartermaster on the sonar and Maxwell on the bridge. Asher didn't have the earphones on so we could hear the pinging of the sonar from the overhead speaker. Suddenly there was a loud echo on the sonar from a target and those of us on the bridge could hear it very plainly. Maxwell immediately sounded general quarters. The target was in the direction of a lot of the fishing boats so Maxwell got on the hailer and kept yelling instructions for them to get out of the way because we were starting an attack and would be coming through that area. Most of them that were anchored pulled up and took off but a few stragglers didn't want to move, probably the fishing was too good. So Maxwell warned them again and said that he was going to start our run. All hands were at their battle stations, I stayed at the helm and Asher on the sonar. There were two of the crew stationed at the depth charge racks, one with a headset and one of the crew at each of the "K" guns with headsets. They were awaiting instructions from the bridge. We picked up speed and headed in the direction of the target. The echo became louder and Asher kept the sonar on the speaker so we could hear it and I kept on course following Maxwell's instructions. Maxwell checked the depth of the water which was relatively shallow so gave the order to arm the depth charges and set the depth. He reasoned that if he didn't set them shallow enough they might not detonate and end up on the bottom which could be a hazard to shipping. I think that he ordered them set to either 25 or 50 feet but at either of those depths it wouldn't take them long to reach the depth that they were set for. We made a run at the target and Maxwell ordered two to be dropped astern then shortly afterward one from each of the "K" guns then two more from the stern. All of this seemed to happen in rapid succession and I distinctly remember the first two from the stern going off and the ship shuddering from the impact of the explosions. Then the two from the "K" guns went off but they were far enough outboard to not have as much effect. But meanwhile two more were dropped off the stern. At about the same time, both engines quit because the first detonation had caused the stern to come up high enough for the propellers to be out of the water and the overspeed governors automatically shut down both engines. I held my breath because I knew that the two last depth charges hadn't gone off yet. We settled down right on top of them and all we could do was wait. I thought that we were done for. The feeling of the shock to my feet and legs when they went off is hard to describe. The chief engineer came out of the engine room hatch like a shot. Water was coming in through the seams in the planked hull that had spread open from the impact and the metal deck in the engine room was ankle deep in water. Both generators were dead and there was complete silence. I remember that the brass screws on the chart table on the bridge were sticking out of the mahogany about a half inch. The water was covered with dead fish from the concussion of the depth charges and there were a lot of dead fish on the deck. Maxwell ordered the chief engineer to try to get the generators going again so we could start the bilge pumps and he was able to do that. After the water in the engine room was pumped low enough, they were able to start the engines again. Once the generators were running, the sonar was operating again and Asher started looking for the target again but couldn't find it. When we got under way again, there was a bad vibration from one of the engines so it was shut down and we were limping along on only one engine still trying to find the target. With all of our activity, other ships in the area began gathering around us and the blinkers were going with messages back and forth between us and the other ships. There was one Corvette from the British Navy in the group and I read his message which asked "Do you have a target or are you practicing?" Maxwell figured that it was a dumb question so didn't even reply. It was obvious that we needed to better assess our damage so we limped into port. Inspection by the crew showed that every toilet had been broken, all the dishes and any glassware were broken, bottles of hair oil or liquids in the lockers were broken so we had a real mess on the decks of the crew's quarters. They put us into a drydock for about a week. The starboard shaft was bent and the propeller had to be replaced. I remember having to write an extensive report on the incident and I would assume that there was an inquiry. Maxwell never did say whether or not he was reprimanded for it and I'm sure, like all of us, he would never forget it.

[jimnyc]

I don't fully understand naval things, some of it sounds greek to me, but still a cool story. Even cooler is seeing mentions of Cape May, the NY Harbor, and even more so - Sandy Hook. At the end of the peninsula which is Sandy Hook, I remember hiking around with friends and seeing the really old buildings and canons and such, but not much of a history buff, just looked at them as antiques. Weird to picture things like that in places I grew up swimming and boating. I do know of a naval yard in Brooklyn (I think), but don't know much about SI.

Anyone ever see the movie "Men of Honor" with Robert Deniro? I think it was filmed elsewhere, but it was a naval unit supposedly out of Bayonne I believe, which is about 30-40 miles north of Sandy Hook if I had to guess?

[Kathianne]

I don't fully understand naval things, some of it sounds greek to me, but still a cool story. Even cooler is seeing mentions of Cape May, the NY Harbor, and even more so - Sandy Hook. At the end of the peninsula which is Sandy Hook, I remember hiking around with friends and seeing the really old buildings and canons and such, but not much of a history buff, just looked at them as antiques. Weird to picture things like that in places I grew up swimming and boating. I do know of a naval yard in Brooklyn (I think), but don't know much about SI.

Anyone ever see the movie "Men of Honor" with Robert Deniro? I think it was filmed elsewhere, but it was a naval unit supposedly out of Bayonne I believe, which is about 30-40 miles north of Sandy Hook if I had to guess?

Bobby's intro is confusing. The guy works himself up to commander, the guy is non-commissioned officer. Hard to tell the timing, no context or chronology. Was he a commander during the story line or later? I'm so confused.

[Robert A Whit]

Bobby's intro is confusing. The guy works himself up to commander, the guy is non-commissioned officer. Hard to tell the timing, no context or chronology. Was he a commander during the story line or later? I'm so confused.

I have no clue about this so called Bobby.

However, I did only wish to put a small bit of context to who this Al is that mailed that story to me.

To reply to your curiosity let me do this much for you.

Al upon graduating enlisted. This means he signed up to be a grunt. He learned that his degree qualified him so he applied to become an officer when he was still on ships off the East Coast. He got orders making him an officer. Al told me the whole story one time when he visited me. I may not be 100 percent correct since I recall him speaking of a base at San Diego. I think it was there he got orders making him an ensign. I recall how he enjoyed leaving his office one day and the next am he wore his officers uniform. The top EM had been a pain in Al's butt so he sure did an about face the AM Al came in wearing his uniform as an officer.

I thought Al explained his part of the story very well. Sorry I added some information about him that left you so confused you thought you were talking to some person by the name of Bobby.

About the period of officer hood.

I forget the officers rank Al had when he was released from active duty but he rose to be a Commander in the reserves and it probably was the 1960s that he became a commander. When he hunted down Submarines in the East, he was still an enlisted man. I am not sure if as a enlisted man he got to the rank of non-commissioned officer but I doubt he did. He spent most of his active duty time as an Officer. I will ask him what his rank was during the war.

[Kathianne]

I have no clue about this so called Bobby.

However, I did only wish to put a small bit of context to who this Al is that mailed that story to me.

To reply to your curiosity let me do this much for you.

Al upon graduating enlisted. This means he signed up to be a grunt. He learned that his degree qualified him so he applied to become an officer when he was still on ships off the East Coast. He got orders making him an officer. Al told me the whole story one time when he visited me. I may not be 100 percent correct since I recall him speaking of a base at San Diego. I think it was there he got orders making him an ensign. I recall how he enjoyed leaving his office one day and the next am he wore his officers uniform. The top EM had been a pain in Al's butt so he sure did an about face the AM Al came in wearing his uniform as an officer.

I thought Al explained his part of the story very well. Sorry I added some information about him that left you so confused you thought you were talking to some person by the name of Bobby.

About the period of officer hood.

I forget the officers rank Al had when he was released from active duty but he rose to be a Commander in the reserves and it probably was the 1960s that he became a commander. When he hunted down Submarines in the East, he was still an enlisted man. I am not sure if as a enlisted man he got to the rank of non-commissioned officer but I doubt he did. He spent most of his active duty time as an Officer. I will ask him what his rank was during the war.

So Bobby, (That's my pet name for RW as if he was clueless. Brain fart. He may be just that clueless, but I'll give him the benefit of doubt.) you have a story about someone you barely remember and likely wouldn't remember you. You pass this off as worthy of discussion.

Enlisted, officer, etc. No clue. You kinda make it up as you go along. Diminishing in all likelihood those that should be given thanks. However, you use them as tools, in ways that don't work.

[Robert A Whit]

I don't fully understand naval things, some of it sounds greek to me, but still a cool story. Even cooler is seeing mentions of Cape May, the NY Harbor, and even more so - Sandy Hook. At the end of the peninsula which is Sandy Hook, I remember hiking around with friends and seeing the really old buildings and canons and such, but not much of a history buff, just looked at them as antiques. Weird to picture things like that in places I grew up swimming and boating. I do know of a naval yard in Brooklyn (I think), but don't know much about SI.

Anyone ever see the movie "Men of Honor" with Robert Deniro? I think it was filmed elsewhere, but it was a naval unit supposedly out of Bayonne I believe, which is about 30-40 miles north of Sandy Hook if I had to guess?

I enjoy Al's stories. Some of the navy guys here might understand better but i have spoken to Al in person many times and get a chance to dig into his stories. Al had a love of the Sea despite spending much of his WWII time in intelligence work for the Navy. I never heard him speak of combat other than hunting subs when he was enlisted. I have a vague idea of that area. Last time I was in NYC I noticed a WWII carrier from the Hotel window at Jersey City. I went into NTC the following day. I have been on 2 WWII battle ships so the one docked at NU City was of little interest. I imagine it could take years of exploring to see most of NY City in depth.

I was not ever on his boat but he did once own a pretty large vessel that I think was maybe 45 to 50 feet long. I have to ask him how long it was. He has a nice picture of it at his home. I know another real estate buy who said he had been on Al's boat. Al was going gang busters in real estate and rented a large office and filled it with nice furniture and so forth and right when he finished it, the market went bust and Al lost a ton of money. Offices were closing up fast. Big companies went into the tank. I hung on but I was not a big operation. The board lost half the agents so he did it at the wrong time. I recall some pals who owned a huge operation and one day they put up huge ads saying they were expanding and in a few days shut the doors bankrupted. That was the same period AL lost his huge office. I recall peeking in the windows while he was creating a super deluxe office.

I like the old guy. I have to bark at him at times over cussing but he settles down.

[Robert A Whit]

So Bobby, (That's my pet name for RW as if he was clueless. Brain fart. He may be just that clueless, but I'll give him the benefit of doubt.) you have a story about someone you barely remember and likely wouldn't remember you. You pass this off as worthy of discussion.

Enlisted, officer, etc. No clue. You kinda make it up as you go along. Diminishing in all likelihood those that should be given thanks. However, you use them as tools, in ways that don't work.

That dense pill you took???

Worked very well. Sorry you don't understand.

Al sent me the story. Unless he has Alzheimer's he recalls me. I get mail from the man often.

To those who did understand, Al enlisted. I said once he enlisted he qualified to become an officer and did. I also stated he was still enlisted on that ship he tells us about. This all has not a damned thing to do with his story that is the actual featured part. I could have put up a more extensive bio but felt some might complain. What do you know, one member cares more if he was enlisted vs officer than she did the story Al told me.

[aboutime]

With all of the respect I can muster. As the author suggested someone connected with Naval...might be able to help.

As a 30 year navy veteran, and many years on ships at sea, in every Ocean around the World.

Someone should have tried to get the facts in order before delivering what sounds like...very confusing, undocumented ramblings I had often heard and we learned to call 'TALL TALES"..or outright fabrications referred to as BS.

No doubt. The gentleman sharing his stories was probably in the Navy. But with age, and depending on the gullibility of non-navy listeners. It does sound like the stories have been stretched....JUST A LITTLE BIT.

I also have many stories to tell. But it is much easier to share them with other Navy veterans who know the difference between TALL and SEA tales, and PULLING YOUR LEG kinds of stories. Which really sounds appropriate here.

My apologies to our Resident Teacher, and Grammar Cop if ANY portion of what I wrote above...didn't meet your approval.

[tailfins]

Bobby's intro is confusing. The guy works himself up to commander, the guy is non-commissioned officer. Hard to tell the timing, no context or chronology. Was he a commander during the story line or later? I'm so confused.

This is typical of stories told by the uber-elderly. I was once fascinated by people born in the 1800s and they told stories in this manner. People in their 80s-90s-100s lose time perspective, losing significance whether something was 20 years ago or 70 years ago. It actually shows authenticity.

[Robert A Whit]

This is typical of stories told by the uber-elderly. I was once fascinated by people born in the 1800s and they told stories in this manner. People in their 80s-90s-100s lose time perspective, losing significance whether something was 20 years ago or 70 years ago. It actually shows authenticity.

Whether Al was then commissioned or not does not bear on his story. Kathianne would suffer less and be a better poster were she to have spent time on his story. It has nothing to do with my age nor his. i feel his story was very clear. I only wanted the forum to realize that Al is a real person and I have long known the man. I knew his wife that passed away. I got a call one day to go to his home to help him pick her up. She had fallen. I am over 2 miles from where they then lived so I rushed over to pick her up off the sidewalk to help him get her into the car to go to the doctor. I know his current wife and some of his sons.

Also, I asked him about his ranks and he corrected me by saying when he retired, he was a Lt. Commander which is the same grade a Major is. He said he will get back to me on things like his rank during WW2. I don't think that bears one bit on his story he told to me.

[Robert A Whit]

We were living in Glenmoor in Centerville before Fremont was incorporated. I joined a reserve unit that met in the evening once a week as the communictions officer. We were located in a Quonset hut on the taxiway that runs parallel to Lewelling Blvd., just before you got to the warm up area for runway 28. There were about six officers and approximately 25 enlisted men in the unit. There was a requirement that I had to take a 2 week cruise annually and I used to catch a carrier out of Alameda. I liked that duty because of the aircraft operations. I was working at Friden at the time and they had to give you the 2 weeks off as military leave. The time didn't count as vacation time. I don't remember what I got paid for attending the weekly meetings but it wasn't much. When I took the 2 week cruise I got paid the normal pay for officers on active duty and Friden paid me my salary too so that was a good deal.

When I was eligible for the promotion to Lieutenant Commander there was no room in the unit for one, they already had a Lieutenant Commander and a full Commander. The closest unit that had an opening and I could belong to was in Alameda. They met weekly at the Marine Armory on Clement Street. That was too long a commute for me, Hayward wasn't bad from Centerville but Alameda was a lot further. So I had a choice to turn down the promotion or take it and retire or resign. There have been a lot of times that I wished that I had stuck it out for a few more years and I would have been eligible for retirement income and if I stayed in long enough could have been promoted to Commander.

Hindsight is always better than foresight.

I'll get back to you to answer your first message a bit later. The A's are in a tie with the White Sox.

(From Robert) The A's are one of my favorites so I checked and they won 2-0 over the White Sox. Al sent this about 3 hrs ago.

I am confused. Al said he retired as a Lt. Commander, I wonder how that happened given what he told me just now??? If he went to Alameda, he could have been promoted.

[Robert A Whit]

I am always interested in human interest stories so this is what was in my mail today from Al.
I find it interesting. I learned how it was for a young man in the early 40s out of high school. Al is rich in detail and one can learn about Navy life in those days.

But those not interested; skip this too.

Bear in mind, this man is 92 years old and a veteran of WW2.



In 1937 my folks bought a home in San Leandro so we moved from Oakland and I transferred to San Leandro High for my senior year and graduated in 1938. San Leandro was a branch of the Oakland Post Office but in 1938 it was decided that San Leandro would become a separate office. Carriers and Clerks who were working in San Leandro had a choice to stay or to transfer to the Oakland office. Some of them decided to go to Oakland so there were vacancies. To fill those vacancies they held a civil service exam and I took it and passed. I started as a part time clerk/carrier so worked some at both. Those days most of the mail came across country on trains and there was a large distribution center in Oakland not far from the end of the rail lines. The facility was manned 24 hours a day with clerks sorting mail by city. The mail sacks were then put on a truck for delivery to the various post offices in the East Bay and San Francisco peninsula.

I would usually report for work at 5:30 AM and when the truck arrived several of us would sort the mail. There were bins for each carrier's route and you had to know which streets went to which carrier so it took a while to learn those. The carriers would come in around 7, remove the mail from their bin an take it to their desk for sorting in the order that they would deliver it on their route. If they had more mail than they could deliver in their normal delivery time, I would sometimes take part of it and deliver it to the houses. Eventually, you got to know the route. If I wasn't needed to help a carrier, I might be off for the rest of the day. My work schedule was varied and depended on the work load so I might not work every day. Christmas was a mad house and it started a few weeks before so I worked a lot of long hours. I was paid 65 cents an hour with no overtime pay and was happy to have it. I also carried mail for carriers when they were on vacation or sick leave.

I was interested in radio as a hobby and decided that I'd like to be an electrical engineer. There was a small school, Oakland Polytechnic College of Engineering located in downtown Oakland near Lake Merit. The County Courthouse is now on the site where the college was before WW2. The school hours were quite flexible with day and night classes. There was a lot of lab work, which I liked because we had hands-on assignments. Most took several days to complete but you were assigned a locker where you stored your project then got it out and worked on it later. There were also lecture classes that I was required to attend. Because of the flexibility of the hours, I was able to attend classes whenever I didn't have to work at the post office. Sometimes after a morning at the post office I would be off by 8 and take a bus to downtown Oakland. I could study or rest while riding on the bus so it was a good arrangement.

In mid 1940 with the war raging in Europe our government passed the draft law. Any one who was at least 21 years old on or before November 1, 1940 was required to register. My 21st birthday was November 4, 1940 so I missed it by only a few days. (By the way, my birthday was also election day in 1940. I found out that if you were 21 by election day, you were eligible to vote. I registered for an absentee ballot and voted for Roosevelt so was the youngest voter in Alameda County and perhaps the youngest in California). Early in 1941 there was a second call and I had to register and was classified 1-A. I didn't want to go into the army so checked the recruiting offices of the air force, the marines and the navy for something of interest and the best deal. My eyes wouldn't let me pass the flight physical for the air force which was my first choice. The navy had just announced a special classification for anyone with "small boat experience". I had spent a lot of time on the bay and the delta in small boats so that qualified me. They offered to give me a third class petty officer's rating. I had taken typing in high school so took a typing test and passed. I wasn't anxious to sign up so told the recruiting officer that I wanted to think about it. Then on December 7, 1941 the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and we were suddenly in the war. A few days later, I went to the local draft board to check on my status and see when I could expect to be called. The lady at the counter went to a file cabinet and came out with a folder. She looked at it and said "You're right near the top so you'll be in the next group called". A few days later I was sorting the morning mail when I saw a large manilla envelope addressed to the local draft board from draft headquarters in Sacramento. Across the front in large bold letters was "DRAFT CALL ORDERS, OPEN IMMEDIATELY". I said goodbye guys, clocked out and went down to the recruiting office and signed up for the navy as a yeoman third class. The next day I received a notice in the mail to report to the draft board for induction but it was too late. That's how close I came to ending up in the army. My orders were to report to the armory in San Francisco on January 14, 1942 so I was able to spend Christmas at home and put in a lot of hours at the post office.

On the morning of January 14, 1942 my mother drove me to the bus station and I caught a bus for San Francisco then a street car up Market Street to the Induction center located in an old armory. My mother didn't show any emotion but I could appreciate how she must have felt when in 1965 I dropped my son Bob off at an induction center in Oakland when he joined the army during the Vietnam War. I was given a physical and sworn in. A group of us were loaded into a station wagon and driven to Treasure Island which the navy had taken over as a base. Most of the old buildings from the 1939 World Fair had been taken down because they were not constructed to standards. There were two large hangars that had been built on the east side of the island for use by Pan American Airways to house their Clippers that were flying the Pacific. The navy had converted one of them to barracks and the other to offices. The navy had also constructed some buildings to house the high ranking officers and families and a Bachelor Officer's Quarters, mess hall and gymnasium. I was assigned a bunk and issued my uniforms. It was a large barracks with bunk beds stacked three high. There were probably a hundred or more of us, mostly radiomen. If you were a licensed amateur radio operator the navy would enlist you as a radioman second class. There was a radio training school on the Island where they taught them to be a radio operator or radar operator. I knew a lot of them from my interest in radio and attending radio club meetings. I didn't pass my amateur radio license exam until after the war so I wasn't licensed at that time. We were each given a stencil with our name and were shown how and where to stencil our names on our uniforms for identification purposes with black ink for the whites and white ink for the navy blue uniforms. I was assigned to the personnel office where I typed entries in navy service records. It was good duty and I was off most of the nights so had my car and usually drove home then back the following morning. I could buy my gasoline at the base gas station. The gas was cheap because there was no state or federal tax. I was thinking "This isn't so bad after all". One day a notice was circulated through the department asking for volunteers for crews to man two ships being built on the east coast that were to be assigned to the Twelfth Naval District (SF). No one volunteered so it was "last in - first out". I was assigned to the PC-506, another yeoman was assigned to the PC-505. Each ship would have 22 enlisted men and 2 officers. Later the crew was increased to 24 and a third officer was added to each ship. That happened after I was transferred from the ship in the fall of 1942. Most of the crew were reservists like me but we also had a few regular navy guys.

On February 6, 1942, a little more than two weeks after I joined the navy, The crews for both ships were taken to the Ferry Building and we boarded the ferry which would take us to "The Mole" in Oakland where the passenger trains were made up for the transcontinental railroads. We were assigned to a Pullman car that was on the Western Pacific Railroad. The following morning we woke up in Oroville. There had been a land slide on the tracks that ran along the Feather River so the train was held in Oroville until it could be cleared. We were allowed to get off of the train but were told that when the whistle blew we should get back on because it would be leaving soon. We wandered around downtown Oroville being sure not to get out of range to hear the whistle. There wasn't much to see so most of us got back on the train and waited. We finally got going again and it was a beautiful trip along the river. Since we had a car assigned to us, the porters didn't make up the bunks so we could climb in any time we wanted to. Most of the time we spent in the club car playing poker. There were a lot of civilians who kept us supplied with drinks so it was a fun time. When we got tired, we'd go take a nap in our bunk.

None of the railroads ran through Chicago. If you were a passenger on a train coming from the west coast you would have to change stations when you got to Chicago so you took a taxi or a shuttle to the other station. New York Central had their own station and we were scheduled to go from Chicago to New York on that line. To switch our car through the various yards from the Western Pacific to the New York Central took a couple of hours. Since we had been delayed in Oroville, the train that we were scheduled to be attached to had departed long before. They connected our car to the Twentieth Century Limited, a special high speed train that ran non-stop between Chicago and New York. The engine was steam powered and to keep from having to stop for water, there was a large trough filled with water between the tracks near Cleveland. The engine had a scoop that was lowered and it picked up water for the boilers without stopping. It was a wild ride with our old car connected between high speed rail cars. As before, most of our time was spent in the club car. In Albany, New York they disconnected our steam engine and replaced it with an electric for the trip to Grand Central Station in New York. There they switched us to the New York, New Haven and Hartford, an electric railroad that ran from New York to Boston. Our destination, Stamford, Connecticut was about a 40 minute ride from New York. When we got there they put us on a siding and someone called the shipyard. Four officers appeared, the Captain and Executive officers from each ship. They said "We're not ready for you. The ships aren't finished and there's no place for you to stay." After some deliberation, they made a couple of phone calls then said "We're sending you back to New York to the Receiving Ship until they take care of the paper work to pay you subsistence and allowance so you can find places to stay here and pay for it." So they connected us to a train going back to Grand Central Station. When we got there, a couple of navy stake trucks took us to Pier 92 where the obsolete battle ship Seattle was moored along side. The commanding officer and his family lived on the Seattle but the facility where we would stay was on the pier. The lower level had the personnel office, large galley and mess hall, sick bay, a beer bar that opened at 4 PM and other miscellaneous offices. On the second floor bunks were stacked three high along both walls with a large open area between. There were probably 300 or more enlisted men awaiting assignment to various ships and other naval facilities. We were off every day at 4 PM and all day Sunday. New York was a wonderful place to be at that time. The USO had free tickets to the Broadway Shows and radio broadcast shows at Rockefeller Center. We saw the Rockettes and some great movies, all for free. With the war only a few months old, anyone in uniform was treated like a VIP. Some of the restaurants served free meals for servicemen. Some of the hotels had special rooms with several single beds or cots that they would rent to servicemen for 50 cents a night. Most of us would stay in one then share a taxi back to Pier 92 in the morning in time to be there for roll call. That's how it was and we were there for about three weeks until the paper work was completed and we went back to Stamford. Several of us rented a room in a boarding house close to downtown for $3 a week. There was an old fashioned diner restaurant, Charlie's Diner, a few blocks away and we made arrangements with him for meal tickets which gave us breakfast and dinner with a bag lunch for $6 a week. Charlie was happy for the sudden increase in business.

This is taking longer than I thought. So enough for now.

<wbr> To be continued.

[Robert A Whit]

Not because Al is a friend of mine is this posted so much as it is rich in WW2 history and I believe some of the members find this sort of thing very interesting. I am amazed to find though how some Navy Vets have sort of complained over his reports to me.

This installment explains his days as an EM as well as how he was able to qualify to get a commission and what his college degree was in. If you notice, you also learn how Mexico handled US citizens at the time and it makes me wonder why this country does not boot them out after an extension in this country.

This man is 92 so his grasp of WW2 far exceeds my grasp since he lived it as an adult. He types dark so I submit it as I get it. Some of us might wonder what sub chasers were like and this is good to explain that to us all. Al says they were only 110 feet long and that my friends is a small ship. Recall how Kerry acted as if his boat was special???

By the way, his current wife is Dorothy. Ethyl who he married in WW2 that he speaks of was the lady I went to Al's home to help him get her up on her feet so she could see the doctor. Ethyl died maybe 6 months after i helped get her into their car.

Al's story continues


The shipyard, Luders Marine Construction Co., where the boats were being built was in an industrial area about a mile and a half from town. Next to the shipyard was an electrical generating plant ConEdison, equivalent to PG&E. There were uniformed police guarding the plant, mostly reserve officers who liked to chat with us as we passed them when we walked to the shipyard. The shipyard had a small office assigned to the navy crew where I worked. The ships were far from finished. Both had their engines installed but one didn't have the deck or pilot house finished. it would be the middle of April before they were completed and the Navy accepted them at which time we took them to the Brooklyn Navy Yard for outfitting and commissioning.

The skipper of the 506 was Ensign Murdock Maxwell who was in the Merchant Marine and had been called to active duty. Maxwell was about 32 years old, an excellent skipper with a lot of experience at sea which gave me a lot of confidence. The Executive Officer was Ensign Berchiniger, fresh out of college and with little or no experience. He was one of the many "Ninety Day Wonders" that were commissioned right after they graduated. The 505 had a Lieutenant (jg) as skipper and another 90 day wonder Ensign as Exec. I have no idea what their background was but that skipper outranked Maxwell. As a yeoman, I was Maxwell's "secretary" so worked very closely with him. We got along great and I like to think that he respected me as I respected him and his leadership. We were required to report to the navy yard every day at 8 AM and were finished at 4 PM except Sunday when we were off all day unless you had the watch. The watch was rotated among the crew every weekday from 4 until midnight and from midnight to 8 AM. If we had to report at midnight, we walked a few blocks from where we lived to the police station. An officer would drive us to the shipyard in a patrol car and bring the one that was being relieved back to town. The one who had the midnight watch had the following day off. I had a lot of paper work with forms and correspondence to take care of for Maxwell. Because the office was so small, arrangements were made with a local church to use their multi-purpose room on weekdays. There the crews of both ships studied regulations and seamanship, learned signaling and became familiar with shipboard procedures and protocol. The ladies of the church served lunch or us once or twice a week. The local residents and businessmen were very receptive and we were often invited to various service club functions.

In March, when the weather got warmer, the officers decided that we should get more exercise. Twice a week we would take a hike of about seven miles to a park where we would have a softball game then hike back. Two of the officers alternated walking with us while the other two rode in a car with our equipment and lunches. On the way back, they would trade positions so they only had to walk one way. On several occasions, the Police Auxiliary would have a keg of beer delivered to the park. That was a real treat especially when the weather was hot. Usually by the time we got back to town, we were too exhausted to go out at night. Maybe that was part of the plan to keep us off the streets.

I met a girl at a USO sponsored dance at the YWCA one Sundayafternoon who would later become my wife. Ethel worked "split shift" as an operator at the phone company and would get off at 7 PM. I would usually meet her after work and we'd spend the evening together, sometimes going to dinner or just walking around town. She lived with her divorced mother in a large two story house with an older married daughter and husband along with two younger sisters and a younger brother who weren't married. Another older sister was married and living elsewhere in town as well as an older married brother who worked as an engineer for the phone company. I often was invited to dinner at their house, especially on Sundays. Ethel's mother was an excellent cook and baked fantastic apple pies. The mother had no income and no alimony from the divorce. All of the girls and the brother living at home worked and shared the living expenses.

The ships were nearing completion and we decided that we wanted to get married before I left. Connecticut had a long waiting period but New York was more liberal so we applied for a license there. We were married in an Episcopal Church (Ethel's religion) in Port Chester, New York on Friday April 17, 1942. Our best man, Ethel's brother-in-law drove us to New York City after the wedding. We spent Friday night andSaturday in New York City then took the train back to Stamford on Sunday
where we had a small reception with Ethel's family.

The ships were completed about the middle of the following week so we left for the Brooklyn Navy Yard with the shores lined with people waving and shouting as a sendoff. It was a nice spring day with no wind and calm seas so the trip was uneventful. We tied up at a pier and immediately began loading supplies on board. Some high-ranking officers came aboard and the commissioning of the ship was completed. The following day the armament installation began, a 3 inch gun on the bow, two 30 caliber machine guns on the flying bridge and two 40 mm. machine guns just aft of the pilot house. Two depth charge racks were installed at the stern and a K gun for launching a depth charge just aft of the bridge on both the port and starboard side. A day or two later we went to a remote island and loaded ammunition for the guns and the three hundred pound depth charges. After a shakedown cruise to Boston we were assigned to the Section Base on Staten Island in New York Harbor for convoy duty.

I bought a book a few years ago written by by Ted Treadwell, Commanding Officer of the SC648 during WW2. In his book "Taste of Salt" he describes the history and typical life aboard a sub chaser.

As the smallest commissioned ships in the navy, subchasers were a breed of their own - quite different from the bigger warships that basked in their aura of spit and polish. The reader may be unfamiliar with subchasers and their role in the navy, so a brief explanation follows:
When Germany and Great Britain went to war against each other in 1939, the attacks by German U-boats against British shipping were devastating. By December 1941, when we entered the war, U-boats had extended their operations and were roaming the Atlantic at will, sinking merchant vessels with no regard to neutrality. They operated freely off our east coast, a coast that was (except for a few patrol aircraft) literally undefended. Merchant ships sailed unescorted, with their running lights on at night. Onshore cities blazed with lights,making it easy for the U boats to launch torpedoes at the silhouettes. By the summer of 1942 U-boats had sunk more ships and taken more lives than we lost at Pearl Harbor.
Most American citizens were unaware of the seriousness of our situation, but our navy knew, and the U-boat menace became the navy's number one priority, even at the cost of delaying our response to the Japanese aggression in the Pacific.
The US Navy had been virtually destroyed at Pearl Harbor. Something had to be done quickly to stop the U-boats. Our only offense was an assortment of hastily recruited yard patrol boats (Yps), minesweepers, motor launches, sailing vessels and a "hooligan navy" of privately owned yachts and trawlers.
As early as 1939, with uncanny foresight, President Franklin D. Roosevelt had ordered the navy to design and build small vessels called "sub chasers" with the ability to seek and destroy - or at least deter - enemy submarines.
Smaller and in general appearance to the subchasers used in WW1, there were many differences. Most of the second generation subchasers had pre-fabricated cast aluminum pilot houses. For propulsion they used diesel oil instead of gasoline.
They were equipped with greatly improved ordnance and more sophisticated underwater detection equipment. Subchasers were built of wood in small family-owned boatyards, because steel was on allocation and big shipyards were backed up with contracts for building aircraft carriers, cruisers and destroyers. When war was declared in 1941, eighty 110' long subchasers were under contract in various stages of construction. By the war's end, 483 wooden subchasers had been launched and commissioned.
At the outset of the war subchasers were the only water-borne means of defense against the U boats, although everyone knew from the beginning that they were inadequate, both in size and in armament, to effectively destroy the U-boat scourge. When surfaced, a German submarine could go faster and its 4-inch guns had a much longer range than the 3-inch 50 caliber cannon or 40mm guns on the sub chaser. All the U boat had to do was get out of range and sink the sub chaser with its cannon on its own terms. But the sub chasers were a real nuisance to the U boats because the U-boat was effective only when it was submerged at periscope depth, sighting and firing its torpedoes at an enemy ship.
Once the sub chaser detected the presence of a U-boat with its sonar equipment, it had a big advantage. The sub chaser could attack with depth charges. It could force the U-boat to stay submerged and thus drain its batteries (for oxygen supply). In this situation the U-boat would be unusable to attack, rendering it powerless and allowing the convoy to proceed unharmed.
When larger ships such as destroyers and destroyer-escorts became available, the sub chasers continued to escort and screen for submarines but they were no longer our first line of defense. The larger ships were combined with naval airplanes to form killer groups that effectively searched and destroyed the U-boats.
It was in this way that the U-boat threat was eliminated and the Battle of the Atlantic was won.
I mentioned that sub chasers were the smallest commissioned ships in the United States Navy. The answer to the question "Weren't PT boats smaller?" is affirmative. It's affirmative, but PT boats were not commissioned individually. They were commissioned in squadrons.
Sub chaser decks were packed with armament - a 40mm or 3 inch cannon forward, three 20mm AA guns aft, ASW Mosetrap projectiles, K-guns, and depth charges. Their cruising radius was 1,500 nautical miles at 12 knots. The normal compliment on a sub chaser was three officers and twenty four enlisted men, mostly reservists, unaccustomed to the rigid ways of the navy, and lacking the points of ship discipline and formality. Many of the officers were recent college graduates, with only ninety days of basic training and an additional sixty days of specialized training at SCTC (Sub Chaser Training Center). The "ninety day wonders" and their freewheeling often scruffy looking crews ignored many of the ways of the regular navy and settled for their own set of rules.
A cutaway illustration of a sub chaser barely hints at the cramped, uncomfortable conditions for the crew who lived aboard. The forward compartment, a space about eighteen feet long and ten feet wide, was the living quarters for sixteen men. They slept in tiered pipe bunks folded against the bulkhead when not in use. Men who wanted to sleep had to put up with others in the lighted compartment who were playing cards, talking or, as was often the case, arguing. Eight men occupied the after crews quarters, sharing their space with the ship's company during mess, which was prepared three times daily (when the cook wasn't seasick) in an adjoining small galley.
Sub chasers, though very seaworthy, were uncomfortable even in moderate seas. The heavy roll combined with a violent itching motion, resulted in a harsh, incessant corkscrew pounding that permitted neither sleep nor rest for anyone. There were few creature comforts, particularly when at sea, with damp, cramped quarters, a scarcity of fresh water and palatable food. Depite the drawbacks however, the men who served speak rather fondly of their sub chaser adventures today. Most of them say they're glad they had the experience but they would never want to do it again.

Before we left Stamford, we were given our choice of bunks. Being naive, I chose the top bunk all the way forward on the port side. In rough weather, there were times when I actually left the bunk when we hit a big wave and the bow was pitching and would drop suddenly. The only access to the forward crews quarters was across the deck. The magazine where the ammunition was stored was located between the forward quarters and the radio room which I shared with my desk located in one corner on the opposite side from the radio equipment. The magazine was secured and could not be used as a passageway between the two areas. There were a lot of times when we couldn't get to the forward crews quarters because of taking water over the bow. Often in rough seas, the decks were almost constantly awash so I bought a pair of moccasins to wear without socks instead of shoes. Many times, I would put on a life jacket and lie on my back on the deck in the radio room with my feet toward the bow or stern and wedged in between something so I wouldn't roll when the ship did. That's the way I got some sleep between watches. While at sea, we stood watches 4 hours on and 4 hours off around the clock. Most of the time I spent my watches at the helm or at times, in the crow's nest or on the flying bridge, never in the engine room. That duty was for the engine room " black gang".

The German submarines were raising havoc with our merchant shipping along the east coast so we were assigned convoy escort duty between New York and Cape May, New Jersey. There were oil refineries in Cape May and most of the ships in the convoy were tankers along with a few cargo vessels. The speed of the convoy was determined by the slowest ship in the group, normally about eight knots. The trip to Cape May took a full day and when the ships entered the harbor we and the other escort ships were assigned patrol duty that night until the following morning when the convoy would form and we'd escort them back to New York. When we got to New York, the ships would enter the harbor and we would patrol all night outside until the convoy formed the following morning. (That's what we were doing on Memorial Day which I described in my previous message) Another group of escort ships would take them back to Cape May and we would then go into the Section Base. We would be off that day and the following day then on the third day we'd leave the harbor and wait for the convoy to form for another trip to Cape May.
I became well acquainted with taking the Staten Island Ferry then a subway to Grand Central Station and the train to Stamford. Maxwell and the skipper of the 505 still had their wives living in Stamford so sometimes they would drive there and let me ride with them and back. That was much better. On one of those trips Maxwell told me confidentially that this would be the last trip to Stamford. He said that we had orders to go south and after the convoy reached Cape May we wouldn't be coming back to New York. So it was goodbye time for me and Ethel. I couldn't tell her where I was going but only that I wouldn't be coming back for a while.

A few weeks before we left, Berchinger, the Exec, decided that he would like a book shelf on the bulkhead along side his bunk. He made a rough sketch of it and had me type a work order for the Section Base carpenter shop which Maxwell signed. After Maxwell and I got back to the ship from Stamford it was early evening. Berchinger told me to go over and pick up the book shelf because we were getting under way early the next morning. I went ashore and found that the carpenter shop was closed for the night. There was a guard on duty on the pier and I told him that I was supposed to pick the book shelf. He said that he knew where the chief in charge of the carpenter shop was so would go and tell him. He came back and said that the shelf wasn't finished. I told the guard that we were leaving in the morning an that the Exec had told me to pick up the shelf even if it wasn't finished. He went back to the chief and when he returned said "The Chief said that the shelf isn't finished and to tell that damned Ensign to pound sand up his ass". There was nothing more that I could do so I went back to the ship to report to Berchinger. He had the first watch in the morning when we were getting under way so had turned in early and was asleep in his bunk. I decided that there was nothing more that I could do so didn't wake him. That was my mistake.

I had the opposite watch so when I came up on deck we were under way. Berchinger was waiting for me at the top of the ladder. He said "Where's my book shelf?" When I told him what had happened he said "I gave you an order. When I give you an order you are supposed to carry it out and not question it. You are restricted to the ship." I couldn't believe what he had said. Then I decided that being restricted to the ship wasn't too bad because I had no reason to leave it since I wouldn't be able to go and see Ethel anyway. It didn't take long for the word to get around the crew. I think everyone knew what had happened except Maxwell. Asher, the Quartermaster, an experienced regular navy veteran took me aside and said "Don't worry about it Al. We'll get even with him, just hold tight for a while."

Late that day we dropped off the convoy at Charleston and were given our patrol assignment for that night, about 15 miles off the coast. Each ship was assigned an area about 20 miles long and 10 miles wide, The procedure was to run at slow speed using the sonar to check for submarines. The skipper and the Exec took turns in the pilot house directing the operation. The person at the helm would be ordered to steer a specific course using the compass. From time to time the officer on deck would order a slow right turn while the sonar operator located along side the helm would listen for an echo. This procedure was to make sure that a sub wasn't sneaking up from the rear. The sonar underwater head could only be rotated 180 degrees so couldn't be directed behind the ship. While the ship was turning, it was the helmsman's duty to call out the points on the compass every ten degrees. When the ship came about close to it's original heading the officer in charge would say "Steady on course so-and-so". The helmsman would acknowledge and say "Steady on course ---- sir."

That night I was on the helm and Asher was seated on a stool at the sonar station along side of the helm. He was using earphones and had them cocked with one ear uncovered so he could hear what was happening on the bridge. Maxwell was the officer on deck. We were steering a course of 340 which was almost north and parallel to the coast to our west. To make sure that you were paying attention to your job, occasionally Maxwell would ask "What's your course?" or often used the expression "What's your head?" and I would repeat the reading of the compass. Berchinger came up on the bridge to relieve Maxwell. Maxwell asked me for the course and Berchinger acknowledged 340. Maxwell used to take cat-naps and said that he was going below for a while. After a while Berchinger ordered a routine slow right turn and I called out the compass points every ten degrees. When we approached 240 (not 340) Berchinger said "Steady on course 240". I replied "Steady on course 240 sir". A few minutes later Asher got up from his stool, stretched a bit and moved over toward me. We were running darkened ship with only the dim light of the compass visible on the bridge. Asher leaned over and looked at the compass then I felt a gentle nudge of his elbow in my side so knew he realized what was going on. That heading meant that we were headed for the coast but Asher and I knew that we were a long way out and it would be a couple of hours at the speed we were traveling to reach land so there was no immediate danger of running aground. It wasn't long before Maxwell came back on the bridge. He told Berchinger that he was relieving him and asked me for the course. When I said "steering course 240 sir" Berchinger said "You mean 340". I said "No sir, 240". He said "I told you to steer 340" I said "No sir, you told me to steer 240" He turned to Asher and said "What course did I tell Melcher to steer?" Asher said "240 sir". Maxwell shouted "Damn! Hard right rudder and come about". We were way off of our assigned station. Our ship didn't have radar (it was added later) so they had to break out the sextant and shoot the stars to get us back to the right area. The following morning Berchinger came to me and said "You knew that 240 was the wrong course didn't you?" I said "Yes sir". He said "Then why didn't you say something?" I said "Because you told me that whenever you gve me an order, that I am not to question it but carry it out and that's exactly what I did." He turned and walked away without saying anything. Later Maxwell sent for me. He said "What in Hell is going on between you and the Exec?" I said "Nothing sir." He said "Com'on, I know you better than that, you don't make mistakes like that when you're at the helm. What's going on?" So I told him what had happened. He said "OK, I'll take care of it. You're not restricted to the ship any longer". I had my sweet revenge.

The submarines had moved into the Caribbean so we were needed there. After we dropped off the ships at Cape May, this time we headed south with another convoy that we dropped at Charleston, South Carolina and then to Miami where we dropped off the remaining ships in the convoy and continued alone to Key West, Florida. There naval facilities in Key West were practically non-existent at that time so we tied up at a pier that had been used by passenger liners for cruises to Cuba. In 1943, after I was commissioned, I returned to Key West for sonar training and a large modern base had been built with a movie theater, swimming pool, bowling alley and other recreational facilities, a great improvement over my first visit. Shortly after we arrived we started escorting convoys between Key West and Port of Spain, Trinidad. This was a much longer trip that lasted several days. We ran darkened ship at night and had to keep a sharp lookout to stay on our assigned station in the convoy, usually at the rear starboard corner. The convoys were also a mixture of cargo ships and tankers but the number of ships was greater than the convoys between New York and Cape May. The tankers would leave the convoy off the cost of Aruba where the oil refineries were located and we would continue on to Port of Spain with the cargo ships then pick up the loaded tankers on the way back to Key West with another convoy.

When we got into port, one of my duties was to pick up the mail. I would then sort through it separating the personal mail for the members of the crew and deliver any personal mail to the skipper and exec. I would sort through the official mail then open and read it and give it to Maxwell keeping any that required action on my part. One day there was a notice from the Bureau of Personnel saying that the navy was looking for people who could speak a foreign language for duty in Naval Intelligence. I was raised with my grandparents who spoke German at home so I was fluent in German. I had also taken conversational Spanish for two years so could converse in that language although I was not as fluent as I was in German. I decided to submit an application listing my qualifications. At that time, I was also eligible for a promotion to second class yeoman and Maxwell approved it. That meant a lot more pay because if you were second class or higher, you were entitled to benefits for your dependents. With that promotion my monthly pay was more than double what I had been getting as a third class yeomen.

I was aboard for several round trips between Key West and Trinidad then on one of our trips when we got to Key West I picked up the mail as usual. In the ship's official mail was a letter from the Bureau of Personnel with orders for me to be detached and proceed to Washington, DC for duty in Naval Intelligence. There was also another letter with orders for a yeoman to report to the ship as my replacement. I took a bus to Miami then boarded a train for Washington and reported for duty. We were required to have a "Secret" security clearance which took some time to process so in the interim I was assigned to a class of yeoman being instructed in payroll preparation and accounting. The training was to enable us to take on that additional duty at our next assignment. The class had about 30 enlisted men in various stages of the course. On several occasions I noticed that some of those who had been in the class as enlisted men came in the following day in an officer's uniform. I asked one of them that I had been sitting next to in class about it. He said that if you had at least two years of college you could apply for a commission. I decided to send a request to the college for my transcript because I knew that I had at least 2 years. When my transcript arrived I found that I had been awarded a Bachelor of Science Degree in Electrical Engineering in January 1942. In the excitement and haste of joining the navy, I didn't realize that I had acquired enough credits to graduate. In addition to a copy of my college transcript, I was required to complete a rather lengthy application with a photo and three letters of reference. Meanwhile I was continuing to study the assignments. I completed the application but hadn't submitted it. One morning I was called into the office of the Chief Yeoman, in charge. He said "Melcher, you're married aren't you?" I said "Yes, I've been married about six months." He said, "We had planned on sending you to Switzerland because you speak German but we have an opening for someone in Mexico and you speak Spanish. Dependents are no longer allowed to live with servicemen assigned to foreign duty but Mexico and Canada would allow your wife to enter on a visitor's visa. Would you like to go to Mexico?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I thought the navy never asked you if you'd want to go somewhere, they would just tell you where you were going and you had no choice. I guess for some reason, he took a liking to me but I was dumbfounded. Then I said "Yes, that sounds great butI have something to show you." I got my application and let him read it. After he finished he said "You have all of the qualifications and I know that you'll be accepted so I'm not sending you to Mexico." I said "Well, what if I don't submit it now but just keep it in case I don't like my assignment?." He hesitated but then said "OK, but only if you promise not to tell anyone that I knew anything about it."

Shortly after I reported to Washington, I found a basement apartment in Falls Church, Virginia, just across the Potomac River that was owned by an elderly couple who lived upstairs so I sent for Ethel. It was a short bus ride from the naval facility and I witnessed something that I had not seen before. When the bus got on the Virginia side of the river the driver would stop the bus and order all of the black passengers to the rear of the bus. There were no objections, that's just the way it was at that time and that was the law. On the return trips the blacks would move to seats up forward when the bus got across the river on the DC side.

There were no cooking facilities in the apartment but we had use of their kitchen and they gave us some space in their refrigerator. They both worked for the Washington Post newspaper and we became very good friends during out stay of about six weeks. While the navy was preparing my orders to Mexico, Ethel and I went to the Mexican Embassy in DC and got her visitor's permit. It was issued for six months after which she could renew it for an additional five months then she would have to leave the country for 24 hours. After that she would be allowed to return and the cycle started over. I was assigned to the US Naval Liaison Office in Tampico, Mexico which was on the gulf coast about 75 miles south of Brownsville, Texas. I had a two week delay in reporting so we decided to take a train to California, pick up my car which I had left at home, and drive to Tampico. We took a train from Washington to Chicago then the City of San Francisco to Oakland. I had a 1941 Chevrolet sport coupe that I bought in early 1941.

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M<wbr>ore to follow - and the conclusion

[Robert A Whit]

This is it. A man who is 93 helping me and you understand WWII from this unusual angle.

You need not like his story so if you get bored at human interest stories, stop reading now and move on. But he tells so much in the story that we don't see on TV or in the movies Ifeel blessed he told me the story. Enjoy and have a great experience.

Als last chapter

While we were living in Washington my mother and dad took a train to New York City and I managed to get a few days off so Ethel and I met them there. We spent a few days together sightseeing. My mother and dad were living in San Leandro along with many uncles, aunts, my grandmother and relatives so they all had a chance to meet Ethel for the first time when we went there to pick up my car. After a few days, my dad and I got out some maps and looked up a route to drive to Tampico. After we realized the distance, we decided it would be best to leave in the morning to get there in time for me to report.

I found some interesting entries about the trip that Ethel had made in a book. It shows that we made over 400 miles the first day. We left San Leandro at 8:30 AM, bought gas in Merced 5.7 gallons $1.24, Castaic 11.1 gallons $2.36 Redlands at 8:15 PM, Motel $3.50, 452 miles. The notes said that we crossed the border at Laredo on October 7, 1942 at3:05 PM, arrived in Monterey at 6:30 PM, 3.5 liters of gas, 7 pesos. Dinner cost 2 pesos. At that time the exchange rate was 4.85 pesos for 1 US dollar. We left Monterey at 7 AM, lunch 4 pesos, 5.6 liters gas 8 pesos, 2 centavos. The notes say that we arrived in Tampico at 3:30 PM, October 8th, so it was good that we left San Leandro when we did because that was the day I was ordered to report.

My orders were to report to the American Consulate in downtown Tampico. The ALUSLO office was in a suite of rooms at the rear of the Consulate on the first floor. The officer in charge was a regular navy retired Lieutenant Commander by the name of Brown. A reserve Lieutenant, senior grade by the name of Smith was the Executive Officer. He and his wife had been living in Cuba for many years before the war so he spoke the language better than any of the us. There were two reserve Ensigns, Bob Lite and George Dunklin, a regular navy Chief Yeoman named Don Abbot and a civilian, Jack Pierson who was a civil service employee. Brown, Smith, Abbot and Pierson were married. All except Abbot had their wives living with them. Abbot's wife was expecting a baby so was living in the States but came to Tampico after the baby was born. Neither of the Ensigns were married. Pierson's assignment was to do the accounting and payroll so I didn't use the training that I had in DC.

A few years before the start of the war, the Mexican government had nationalized the oil industry. Until then we had many American Oil Companies with operations in Mexico but that ended when the government took over. There were several large oil refineries in Tampico and since it was a major seaport there were a lot of tankers coming and going . Most of the American Oil Company employees had left but some of the oil companies had built apartments for use by their executives. One of them, owned by General Petroleum was managed by an American, Larry Porter who, with his wife, Sue, lived in one of the apartments. The other apartments were vacant but were reserved for the executives for their use on trips back such as for a vacation. For a while we lived in a portion of one apartment that had been partitioned off from the kitchen. That was used as a second kitchen for the Porters. The part that we lived in only had a bedroom and bath so we couldn't cook. The two Ensigns, the Chief Yeoman and Pierson and his wife were boarding with an elderly American couple by the name of Dahlgren so we arranged to have our meals there. The Dahlgrens had two maids that did the cooking and serving. After a few months, Larry Porter said that they had a vacancy so we were able to rent a one bedroom apartment that had a kitchen. Sue Porter recommended a maid who we hired for $15 a month. She couldn't speak English and Ethel couldn't speak Spanish so I had to interpret and tell her what we wanted for lunch and dinner before I left for the office. She did the shopping and probably saved as much per month on the food as we were paying her because they had higher prices for the Americans. Can you imagine two 22 year old kids having a maid?

When I reported, I was in uniform. One of the first things that I was told was that I was to take off the uniform and dress as a civilian. The US didn't want the Mexicans to get the impression that our military was taking over so none of our military personnel wore their uniforms. I bought a couple of pairs of khaki cotton slacks and shirts and black ties so I looked the same as the others in the office. There was no way of telling the rank by the clothing since all of us in the office dressed alike. There was an area partitioned off at the rear of the office with only a locked door as an entrance. There were no windows in the room. This was where encrypted messages received by telegraph were decoded by the two Ensigns and the Chief Yeoman. That was never one of my duties while there although I was allowed into the area and watched the procedure. The southernmost terminal for Western Union was in Tampico. Throughout Mexico, the telegraph company was owned by the government. Messages addressed to other offices and the Embassy in Mexico City all came to our office and were delivered by messengers who worked in the telegraph office. The messages were decoded then re-encoded and forwarded to the respective offices throughout Mexico. That was the primary job of this facility. We also had informers who reported subversive or illegal activities. Lieutenant Smith would be the contact person and would gather and evaluate the information then write a report to be sent to Washington, He probably had a source of funds to pay for the information but I never saw any money exchanged because all this took place in his private office. My primary assignment was to type those reports from Smith's notes. I had to use a legal sized "stencil" form so the reports could be duplicated. Copy machines as we know them, hadn't been invented. We used messy blue forms that caused your hands to be stained when you handled them no matter how careful you were. The forms had to be typed without any errors and the use of correction fluid was not allowed. If a mistake was made, the form had to be destroyed by burning in a small stove located in a closet like room at the rear. Then a new form had to be used and the process of preparing the report started all over. I really became an accurate typist eventually but it took a while to perfect those skills.

One of the duties that was rotated between the Ensigns, Chief Yeoman and me was to meet the State Department courier that flew between Washington and Mexico City on a Pan American Airways DC-3 daily except Sunday. The plane was scheduled to arrive at about 11 in the morning and at 3 in the afternoon on it's return trip. When you met the plane, the courier would have a brief case chained to his wrist (just like in the movies). He would open the brief case and hand you the sealed parcel then take the one from you and put it in his brief case. The same procedure would take place on the return trip from Mexico City in the afternoon. The last stop for the southbound flight before Tampico was Brownsville, Texas about a half hour away. The flight was rarely on time so the person who had the duty that day would have to phone the airport control tower to check on the arrival. Most of the time the standard reply would be "it has not yet left Brownsville" so you'd wait a while then call again often with the same result. Mexican Airways was also using DC-3s and they had scheduled flights into Tampico. The information from the control tower regarding arrival of the Pan American flight wasn't always reliable. The pattern for landings at the airport was over the city so you could hear the motors on the approach. At that time, you ran outside and looked for the plane. If the bottom of the wing had AeroMex painted on it, you went back inside. If you read PAA you would have to run for the 1938 Ford navy station wagon and drive like Hell with chickens, geese and animals scattering along the two lane road to the airport. Many a time when I got there, the plane was already taxiing out for takeoff. I'd drive across the airport toward the plane. The pilot would see the car and recognizing it, would shut off the motors and the courier would climb down and we would complete the exchange. The afternoon flights were mostly on time. Perhaps the clearing of customs in Browsville before taking off for Mexico had something to do with the delays from the US.

It was good duty, with the allowance for quarters, subsistence and foreign duty bonus for me plus allowances for Ethel, I was making more money than the single Ensigns. Also the almost 5 pesos to 1 dollar exchange rate made it better. The American oil companies had built a country club with a nine hole golf course on the outskirts of the city. It had a clubhouse with a dining room and a pro shop. I don't recall the cost of membership but it was very reasonable so most of the Americans living in Tampico (quite a large colony) belonged to it. We joined it and played a lot of golf. There were monthly dinners for members prepared under the supervision of some of the women members using local native women as cooks and waitresses. Caddie fees were the equivalent of about 15 cents per round with the exchange rate.

So life was good, especially considering that it was war time. There was no rationing and American products that were rationed or in short supply in the states were readily available. Gas was plentiful and cheap., Why would I want to leave? For one thing I wasn't fond of the food and to this day don't like Mexican dishes. I didn't like the lack of sanitary conditions with dirty streets, pan handlers and slum like residential neighborhoods. Corruption was evident everywhere. There was a three story building that occupied a square block in downtown that was to be a hospital but was never occupied because when the money for the equipment was available someone would run off with it. This was reported to have happened several times so it was never finished. After we arrived in Tampico I had to get a Mexican driver's license. There was no problem getting one with my valid California license, which they accepted without an examination. The Mexican license was a small book that was in a plastic envelope with one end open. I was told to put a silver peso in the envelope behind the license. When you were stopped for a violation, the policeman would ask for your license. When you handed it to him, he would pull the book out of the envelope and the peso would fall into his hand. He would then put the license back in the envelope, hand it back to you and let you proceed without giving you a citation. If there was no peso, you would most likely get a ticket.

One evening we walked to a street carnival with Larry and Sue Porter. The women went off looking at something that was of interest to them and Larry and I just wandered around. After a bit I felt chilly although the temperature was comfortable but then I started to shake. I told Larry who looked at me and said "You've got Malaria". We left the women there and he walked home with me. I went to bed and Larry called a doctor. The doctor came, gave me an injection then gave me some quinine pills. Larry went back and got Ethel and Sue who had no idea where we were. As a preventive measure the doctor prescribed attabrine for Ethel because she was pregnant and quinine could cause an abortion. Since I wasn't treated by the navy because there was no naval medical facility, there never was an entry made in my medical record. For years afterwards I would occasionally have a mild attack and run a temperature and have chills when I had a cold.

In early 1943 Ethel was pregnant with my first son, Dick, and we decided that we didn't want to have him born in Mexico. He was due in the fall so we agreed that she should go home to have the baby after our wedding anniversary in April. Since there was no longer an incentive for me to stay there without her, I decided to submit my application for a commission. A few days before our anniversary one of the Ensigns came out of the code room and handed me a telegram. It said "TRANSFER ALTON R. MELCHER, YEOMAN SECOND CLASS, USNR, SUCCESSFUL CANDITATE FOR ENSIGN TO RECEIVING FACIITY AT NAVAL ANNEX, WASHINGTON, DC FOR COMMISSIONING AND FURTHER ASSIGNMENT"

The timing couldn't have been better. The message arrived in time for us to pack up and head back to the states before our anniversary. We spent it in San Antonio enjoying some good old American food and milkshakes which we couldn't get in Mexico. Since we were in Mexico over the the first of the year, my California car license was no longer valid so I had to get Mexican license plates and had those when we returned. There was no gas rationing if you had a Mexican license. Even though I was an American, because I had Mexican plates, I could get all the gas I wanted just by going to the rationing board and showing evidence that the car was registered in Mexico. After we left San Antonio, I drove to Connecticut and left Ethel and the car there then took a train to Washington and reported in as directed.

Before you crossed the border into Mexico, the American custom officers would record the serial numbers of your tires. Those numbers were recorded on the papers that you would need to get back into the US. The reason was that tires were available in Mexico but were rationed in the US so some people would go to Mexico just to buy tires and the US was trying to stop that. While we were in Mexico, I had to replace one of my tires so bought a six ply General, the best type available. When we came back the American custom officers said that I couldn't bring the tire into the US. I asked what I was supposed to do and they told me to go to the ration board and get a voucher that I could take to a dealer an buy a retread. They wouldn't give me a voucher to buy a new tire. So I left the tire there and bought a retread. After I had been in Washington for a few days, I went to the OPA (Office of Price Administration) headquarters which was the bureau that had the authority over all of the ration boards in the US. I told a secretary why I was there and she took me into the office of the top guy who was the head of the department. When I told him what had happened he said that wasn't the intent and that they shouldn't have taken my tire away from me. He asked where I would like the tire shipped so gave him Ethel's mother's address in Connecticut. He picked up the telephone and called the border and ordered them to ship the tire to me at that address immediately. He was probably trying to impress me with his importance but I got my tire back.

I was assigned to a typing pool in DC with about 200 or more awaiting assignment. The personnel department was on the second floor and when I reported in to them, the yeoman said that he would contact the Bureau of Personnel for my orders and in the meantime I was to report to a Chief Yeoman by the name of Ember on the floor below. That's where I was for a few days while awaiting my orders. Ember had a desk at the door to the room and every morning when I passed the desk I'd say "Good morning Ember". He would usually not even look up but pretend to be busy and mumble "Good morning" in a rather gruff voice. He was regular navy who didn't really accept any of the reservists and had no idea nor did he care why I was there, just that I had been assigned to his group awaiting further orders. A day or so later, the yeoman came down and said "Al, your orders are in. Come on up and I'll let you read them". So I followed him to the personnel office and read the orders. They said that after commissioning I was to report to the Indoctrination Center at Fort Schuyler, Long Island, New York for orientation and training. When detached I was to proceed to Pre-Radar School at Bowdoin College, Brunswick Maine then upon completion to Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Boston, Mass. for radar instruction then to Naval Sonar School in Key West, Florida for sonar training. All in all this would mean about 10 months of special training in Radar and Sonar. Wow, what an advanced education I would get thanks to the navy. The yeoman said to take a copy of my orders to the supply department and they would give me the money that I was entitled to for uniforms. He said to report back in the morning and I would be sworn in by the officer in charge. I went to downtown Washington and found a uniform supply store where I bought my uniforms. The dress blues had to have the gold stripe sewn on but the work uniforms had shoulder bars to show your rank so I could wear those right away.

The following morning I went directly to the Captain's office on the third floor. I gave my name to the Chief on duty at a desk and he went into the Captain's office then came out and told me to go in. The officer in charge was a retired navy Captain with over 40 years of service before retiring and had been called back to active duty and given this assignment. He greeted me, shook hands and told me to sit down across from him at his desk. He asked about my time in the navy, where I had been and how long etc. We chatted for a while then he took a stack of papers off of the desk held them in his hand and told me to stand up. He formally discharged me from the naval reserve as an enlisted man then swore me in as a commissioned officer. After that he congratulated me and I the formality was over.
I went down to the first floor to clean out my desk and get ready to leave. As I passed Ember's desk, I said "Good morning Ember". He mumbled "Good morning" as usual then looked up and with wide open eyes of surprise, he stood up and s;owly added "S-I- R". He obviously was shocked.

I took a train to Stamford where I had left my car. This was in the middle of the week and I didn't have to report until the following Monday. I drove down to Ft. Schuyler on Long Island to familiarize myself with the route. I saw a sign on a house nearby that said "Garage for Rent'. I rented the garage by the week because I couldn't get off the base except weeekends and didn't want to leave my car outside unprotected. There were about 30 of us in the class, mostly Ensigns with one or two jgs who were older so came in with that rank. In one of the classes ahead of mine was Governor Stassen (not sure of the spelling) of Minnesota. He was a Lieutenant Commander. The school had three classes going at the same time, one class graduating every two weeks. After six weeks, I graduated and was ready to report to Bowdoin college in Brunswick, Maine, about 100 miles north of Boston and 15 miles north of Portland.

One member of my class at Fort Schuyler was Ensign John Tomsyck who was from Appleton, Wisconsin. We became good friends and he also had orders to Bowdoin. He went home for a few days before reporting and I went to Stamford then drove to Brunswick. We had decided to try to find a room where we could live together because the dormitory on the campus was filled by officers in classes ahead of ours. We put our name on the waiting list and looked for someplace to stay until there was an opening. The school had a bulletin board with listings of private homes that had rooms for rent. Most of them were in town, close to the school. There was one that looked interesting. It was for a room for rent on the coast out of town. The place had a name called "Stoneleigh". There was no public transportation to reach it but I had a car and unlimited gasoline so we decided to look at it. it was several miles out of town and the route to get there went around NAS Brunswick, a naval air station. We checked out the place and rented a nice second story room with a private bath overlooking the rock-bound coast of Maine. It had been the summer home of a man and his wife who lived in Portland. He was the owner of a large meat packing plant but after he died, his widow and a grown daughter had moved there. it was a great place but was quite a long ride from the school everyday. Then I had an idea. We were in the same navy as the air station so why not see if there's a road through it that we could take. We checked and got a gate pass so were able to drive through the air station which was several miles closer. After the class ahead of ours had graduated, there was an opening in the dormitory so we moved there and were only a short walk from the building with the classrooms and laboratories.

The dormitory was in a two story brick building with two wings on each floor. Each wing had four rooms on each floor with a large bath with showers in between the wings. Tommy and I had a corner room on the first floor. There was a place to park my car in front of the building right outside our room so I could keep an eye on it. There were paved walkways leading from the dormitory to the main building. While we were in class, our rooms were cleaned and beds made by employees of the school. Our room became a popular gathering place after class because we had liquor and a happy hour before going to the cafeteria for dinner. The school also had an army school for enlisted men in a different area of the campus. The army officer-in-charge, a Captain and his assistant, a Second Lieutenant lived in the room across the hall. The Lieutenant liked to visit us for happy hour but the Captain really didn't approve of that but tolerated it. He used to tell him "Stay away from those damned navy guys, they'll corrupt you with their carousing". We had roll call every morning at 8 then classes or laboratory until 5. Saturday morning was exam day after which, usually by noon, we were free until Monday morning. A group of us would meet in our room Friday night (we'd skip the happy hour that night) and compare class notes and cram for the exam the next day.

Only a few of us had cars. I had a lot of "friends" because I not only had a car. I had an unlimited supply of gas available because of the Mexican license plates. Sometimes on a weekend I'd load up the car with a gang and we'd do some sightseeing. We visited more of Maine and Vermont and New Hampshire so I got to see a lot of the country. Sometimes I'd go to Connecticut for the weekend. I'd catch a train to Portland after the exam on Saturday morning then one to Stamford which got me there about 5 PM. The next day I'd have to catch one going back at about 2 to get back. In mid August after a trip to Stamford Ethel started into labor late Saturday. We took her to the hospital and she was there all daySunday but hadn't delivered when it was time for me to catch the train back. There was an overnight train that left about midnight and got me into Portland at about 7 but the connecting train to Brunswick wouldn't get me there until after roll call. I had a decision to make, whether to leave or to wait it out and take the late train. i decided to take a chance. Dick was born about 9 Sunday night so I boarded the night train. When I got back to Brunswick I went directly to the main office and reported to the officer-in-charge who was a college professor in the reserves. He was a Lieutenant Commander and when I went into his office I handed him a cigar and said "It's a boy !". He didn't reprimand me but looked at me and said "Just don't do it again". I guess that he realized that it was a special occasion.

The course name "pre radar" at Bowdoin really wasn't the propper title. It consisted of advanced electronic theory of very high frequencies which was used in radar. Because it was highly classified, we didn't get any info on radar until after we graduated and went to MIT. We were scheduled to graduate from Bowdoin in early December so when we had the day after Thanksgiving off, Tommy and I drove to Boston to find a place to live because the school didn't have a dormitory or any living quarters. The navy had a contract with MIT to teach the course. The MIT campus was in Cambridge but the school was in a four story building on the waterfront overlooking the Boston harbor. The first floor had the administration offices and a cafeteria. The second and third floors were classrooms and the top floor had various models of radar with their antennas mounted on the roof. This gave excellent access to targets in the harbor for practicing. Security was really tight. Studying had to be done in the building, none of the notes could be taken out. This meant long hours of instruction and studying without going home until late at night. The instructors would "bug" the equipment and teams of two or three would have to trouble shoot and get it working again.

Tommy and I bought a newspaper and with a map checked out places to live. We finally settled on a two story house in a nice neighborhood. The plan was for me to bring Ethel and Dick to live with us and Tommy would share in the expenses. The house had a furnace that used heating oil for fuel so we had to have the tank filled to prepare for the cold winter. After we graduated from Bowdoin, I drove to Stamford and picked up Ethel and Dick then brought them to Boston. Tommy and I didn't spend much time in the house, we would eat breakfast and drive to the harbor building where we'd stay until night time. We were in the school every day except Sunday and the instruction was very intensive and at times rather exhausting.

I finished the course in January, 1944. We said goodbye to Tommy who had been assigned advanced training at the Raytheon factory, one of the manufacturers of navy radar. In the summer of 1944 he came through San Diego on his way to duty in the Pacific and Ethel and I had dinner with him. I never saw or heard from him after that. I drove Ethel and Dick to Stamford, left my car and took a train to Miami then a bus to Key West. There once had been a train between Miami and Key West but a hurricane a few years earlier had destroyed the railroad and it wasn't rebuilt. Key West was nothing like it had been when I was there on the ship in mid 1942. The navy had built a beautiful base with new docks, a large administration building and classrooms. There was an officer's club, swimming pool, theater and a bowling alley. The downtown area had been cleaned up and new businesses established. The school had several classrooms in a building not far from the BOQ (Bachelor Officer's Quarters) where I stayed. I had my own private room with a closet, a dresser, table and chairs and a single bed. There was a large bath with showers down the hall shared by others in the building. Navy mess attendants took care of the cleaning of the room and changing the bed linen. The navy had built a large hospital on the outskirts of town and had taken over The Casa Marina, a fancy resort hotel, for the nurses living quarters. Every Saturday night a navy bus would bring a group of the nurses to the officer's club for a dance with music by al live band. Some of us would usually walk some of the nurses back to their quarters. It was about three miles from the club and the nights were warm but the walk back seemed to be much longer and not nearly as much fun.

The instruction was similar to that at MIT but much easier. We had lectures on electronic theory and Sonar equipment was located in one of the rooms. The instructors who were navy chiefs would "bug" them and a team of two or three would have to trouble shoot the equipment. We also had "hands on" experience on a ship equipped with sonar and some of our submarines as targets, It was interesting training. When it came time for graduation, the Bureau of Personnel in DC made an alphabetical list and assigned two officers to each naval district beginning with the First Naval District in Boston. Another Ensign named McCaffrey and I were assigned to the Eleventh Naval District in San Diego. The two whose names followed mine, Mount and Montgomery came to the Twelfth Naval District in San Francisco. I came that close to ending up in SF. Not knowing where I might be sent after finishing sonar school, I had shipped my car from Connecticut to California and had sent the necessary Mexican registration papers to my dad so he could register the car in California again. After I graduated, I took a bus to Miami, a train to Chicago and the City of San Francisco to Oakland again. After a few days at home, I took a train to Los Angeles then a bus to San Diego leaving Ethel and Dick in San Leandro until I could find a place for us to live. McCaffrey and I reported to the Eleventh Naval District Headquarters which was in a multi-story building at the foot of Broadway. When we graduated from Key West, we were told to expect temporary duty for approximately 1 month at a naval repair facility for on-job training then we would be assigned to a ship or forward base in the Pacific. McCaffrey was assigned to the Repair Base but I was told to report to the 11th Naval District Industrial Manager. One of the departments under the Industrial Manager was the Radio Pool (later named the Electronics Pool). There were four officers assigned to an office with the responsibility of coordinating the repair and installation of shipboard electronic equipment. The day before I reported, one of the officers had an appendicitis attack and was in the hospital recovering from surgery. I was chosen to replace him until he was again fit for duty. The job consisted of a lot of paper work, writing reports, requisitioning equipment and supervising installation by electronic technicians. The officer in charge was a Lieutenant, senior grade named Hotchkiss, another retired regular navy who had been called to active duty. The other officers were a Lieutenant (jg) named Bill Richardson and a Chief Warrant Officer named Berberich. He had served in the army during WW 1 then joined the regular navy, retired and was recalled during WW 2. I think that my previous experience as a yeoman in various assignments was a plus because I had no problem in getting into the routine and learning the job. I was living at the BOQ in Balboa Park and taking the navy bus to and from the office until I could find a place for the three of us to live. I saw an ad in the newspaper for a house for rent in Chula Vista and rented it then took a train to San Leandro, picked up my car and drove back with Ethel and Dick.

I like to think that I was doing a better job than the guy that had been sent to the hospital because when he was discharged, he was given another assignment and I stayed on the job. As we got busier, others were added until we had to move to a larger office. Richardson and Berberich were given new assignments. I and two new officers were given supervisor assignments in the office. One Ensign was assigned to Sonar, a Lieutenant (jg) to Radar and I was in charge of Radio. We each had officer assistants and women as civil service typists and clerks. When the workload increased, more personnel were added, including two WAVE officers, a Lieutenant and an Ensign, until we had about 30 people. One day McCaffrey came into the office to say goodbye. He had been transferred to some base in the Pacific. I never saw him again. In the summer of 1944, I was promoted to Lieutenant (jg).

The war was going our way and winding down in Europe so it was time to concentrate more on the war in the Pacific. Ships were coming in that had been in the European theater and had to be overhauled and their equipment updated. Communication frequencies used there were not compatible with those used in the Pacific so ships electronic equipment had to be converted. The San Diego base had the capacity for small boats but larger ships such as cruisers, destroyers and destroyer-escorts couldn't be handled in San Diego so they were sent to Terminal Island in Long Beach or Hunters Point in San Francisco. Carriers were sent to Bremerton, Washington. With the heavier workload at Terminal Island, in the fall of 1944 it was decided to move our office and leave only a small group in San Diego. Ethel and I spent a weekend in the Long Beach area looking for a place to rent with no luck. There was a new subdivision under construction in an area of Long Beach near the Virginia Country Club one of the nicer residential areas. We bought a nice new three bedroom, one bath home for somewhere in the neighborhood of $5,300 as I recall. We got an FHA loan with only $500 down and payments that were about $50 a month. We bought a minimum amount of furniture because we couldn't afford much and moved in. Many of those who were transferred moved into the same subdivision so we felt right at home. The duty was pretty much the same as in San Diego. Our office was located on the second floor in an abandoned railroad depot in Wilmington. Some of us "car-pooled" it which made it convenient since we were living close to each other. Things were going well and then the US dropped the bomb on Hiroshima in mid August 1945 and the war over. A lot of ships came in from the Pacific and had to be decommissioned. One of my duties was to make sure that all of the classified electronics equipment was removed. Many of those ships were sold and converted for fishing or charter service with some given to foreign countries. I found out a few years ago that my old ship, the SC-506 had been turned over to the French Government in Marseilles in the spring of 1945.

The navy used a "point" system for determining when you would be released from active duty based on your time in service with bonuses for sea duty or foreign duty. I hadn't accumulate enough points so didn't get out until November. The area where we had bought a house was exclusively for civil employees of the base at Terminal Island. To qualify, I had Ethel apply for a civil service job as a file clerk. Once we had the certificate to buy the house, she quit. Now that the war was over those houses were in demand by people who couldn't qualify to buy them earlier. We put an ad in the paper and had a cash offer for our equity (which wasn't very large) within a few days, from a lady who was buying it for her son. He was getting out of the navy so she wanted early possession. We decided that Ethel and Dick could take the train to Connecticut until I went home. We had the navy store our furniture and I moved into the BOQ on the base. There wasn't much to do except wait. Once or twice a week someone would get their orders and there would be a send-off party at the officer's club. I decided to learn to fly, something that I had wanted to do for a long time. There was a small airstrip in Compton that had a school. Rental was $10 per hour with an additional $5 per hour for an instructor. If you bought a block of time for $100 you got 11 hours of flying time. They had a J-3, a Taylorcraft and a Fairchild PT-17 that I got checked out in, and some other surplus army planes which I didn't fly. With the long fall days and being free Saturdays and Sundays, I spent a lot of time at the airport so by the time I went home in November, I had my license. I received my separation papers on November 12, 1945 and was given 30 days terminal leave so was officially released from active duty on December 10th. I was promoted to Lieutenant, senior grade on December 1, 1945. I didn't join the reserve unit at Hayward airport until the early 1950s when it was established.

<wbr>

<wbr> THE END


Reflections:

As I think back, I've been very lucky. Sometimes I can't help but wonder why things happen like they do. You often come to times in your life when you have to make a decision and you can't help but wonder what might have happened if you had chosen the alternate route. Then there are things that just happen without you having a choice but they turn out well in the end.

I was disappointed when my mother and dad bought a house in San Leandro while I was in my senior year at Oakland Technical High School. Tech High had a radio club which I really enjoyed and San Leandro High didn't. Tech High had Army ROTC which I liked and San Leandro High didn't. I had progressed through the ranks as an enlisted man and had passed the exam for officer so would have been a second lieutenant in my senior year if I had stayed at Tech.

On the other hand, if we hadn't moved to San Leandro, I probably wouldn't have had the job in the Post Office. That was much better than a 9 to 5 because it gave me time to attend college. If I had a regular day job, I would have had to go to night school.

In late summer of 1941 I went to the FCC office in San Francisco and took the amateur radio exam. I didn't pass the code and there was a three month waiting period before you were allowed to take it again. Before that time expired, war was declared and amateur radio licenses weren't issued until after the war. if I had passed, I would probably have been in the group of radio operators at Treasure Island and wouldn't have been assigned to the sub chaser.

When the navy chose the crews for the two subchasers, I could have been assigned to the other one, the SC-505. Those officers didn't have the experience that Maxwell had and I probably wouldn't have gotten along with them as well as I did with Maxwell. Maxwell promoted me to second class before I left the ship which made a big difference in my pay.

if I didn't have a good knowledge of German and Spanish, I wouldn't have been in the Intelligence School and found that commissions were available for anyone with two years of college so I sent home for my transcript I found that I had enough credits to be awarded an engineering degree which made a difference in my training and assignments as an officer.

The Chief Yeoman in charge of the office at Intelligence School gave me a choice of duty in Mexico even though I had made him aware of my application for a commission. The duty in Mexico was a great experience in spite of my dislike for the conditions that existed but I was allowed to have my wife with me which is why the Chief had offered it to me.

The education that I received in advanced electronics courtesy of the navy would have cost a fortune as a civilian and I wouldn't have been able to afford it. Then the luck of being in the proper position in the alphabetical list of assignments after the sonar school resulted in a my being sent to San Diego where, because an officer had been sent to the hospital the day before I reported, I was chosen to replace him. Because the workload had increased, for the rest of the war I remained at that job and never returned to sea duty.

Selling the house so quickly was responsible for me moving to the BOQ, having the time to take flying lessons and get my license before I went home.

How lucky can you get? Well.........my luck is apparently still continuing because I have found a wonderful companion as a wife and a comfortable place to spend the rest of my days, thanks to her.

I must have done something good in my lifetime and have a guardian angel.

[aboutime]

Just wondering here. Let's see a show of hands. How many members actually have READ everything below???

[Robert A Whit]

Just wondering here. Let's see a show of hands. How many members actually have READ everything below???

I would expect that 15 read it. Must you worry over such things?

[aboutime]

I would expect that 15 read it. Must you worry over such things?


WORRY? That's funny.

[Robert A Whit]

http://www.debatepolicy.com/image.php?u=2272&dateline=1370215070

[aboutime]

http://www.debatepolicy.com/image.php?u=2272&dateline=1370215070

Wish you would take that advice. Stealing my avatar to prove how dumb you are...just never works.

[Robert A Whit]

Wish you would take that advice. Stealing my avatar to prove how dumb you are...just never works.

You show up to ruin threads.

[gabosaurus]

You show up to ruin threads.

You show to ruin the board by posting a lot of worthless that no one gives a shit about.
If you two elderly gentlemen want to discuss the merits of various brands of prune juice or adult diapers, do it on a park bench like the other retired folks. Or just meet to play dominoes.
Better yet, start a blog. That way, the rest of us don't have to look at it.

[tailfins]

You show to ruin the board by posting a lot of worthless that no one gives a shit about.
If you two elderly gentlemen want to discuss the merits of various brands of prune juice or adult diapers, do it on a park bench like the other retired folks. Or just meet to play dominoes.
Better yet, start a blog. That way, the rest of us don't have to look at it.

Pot, meet kettle!

[aboutime]

You show to ruin the board by posting a lot of worthless that no one gives a shit about.
If you two elderly gentlemen want to discuss the merits of various brands of prune juice or adult diapers, do it on a park bench like the other retired folks. Or just meet to play dominoes.
Better yet, start a blog. That way, the rest of us don't have to look at it.


Gabby. It's all your fault. You talk about shit, and suddenly. Your name comes to mind.
If you didn't talk so much shit. You wouldn't have anything to complain about.

Here's lookin' at ya.....5136, you and Obama come from the same ANAL Orifice.

[Robert A Whit]

http://www.debatepolicy.com/images/debate_policy/misc/quote_icon.png Originally Posted by gabosaurus http://www.debatepolicy.com/images/debate_policy/buttons/viewpost-right.png (http://www.debatepolicy.com/showthread.php?p=646559#post646559)
You show to ruin the board by posting a lot of worthless that no one gives a shit about.
If you two elderly gentlemen want to discuss the merits of various brands of prune juice or adult diapers, do it on a park bench like the other retired folks. Or just meet to play dominoes.
Better yet, start a blog. That way, the rest of us don't have to look at it.


Gabby. It's all your fault. You talk about shit, and suddenly. Your name comes to mind.
If you didn't talk so much shit. You wouldn't have anything to complain about.

Here's lookin' at ya.....5136, you and Obama come from the same ANAL Orifice.

Two pots boiling on the same stove having a chat.^:slap:^


Look, I told the forum that if Al's story is not appealing to you, don't read the story.

No need to be snotty to a man of 93 who was part of WWII.

You two inhibit others paying homage to our vets.

[logroller]

So Bobby, (That's my pet name for RW as if he was clueless. Brain fart. He may be just that clueless, but I'll give him the benefit of doubt.) you have a story about someone you barely remember and likely wouldn't remember you. You pass this off as worthy of discussion.

Enlisted, officer, etc. No clue. You kinda make it up as you go along. Diminishing in all likelihood those that should be given thanks. However, you use them as tools, in ways that don't work.
I didn't read through all the posts, so if I repeat another's clarification, my bad.
An ensign is a commissioned officer: O-1, the lowest ranking officer, but an officer nonetheless. Hope that helps clear up any confusion. Read more at : http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Navy_officer_rank_insignia

[gabosaurus]

No need to be snotty to a man of 93 who was part of WWII.

You two inhibit others paying homage to our vets.

I have relatives who fought in WWII on both sides. You don't have to tell me any of this.
So tell me Robert, why didn't you serve in WWII or Korea?

[Robert A Whit]

I didn't read through all the posts, so if I repeat another's clarification, my bad.
An ensign is a commissioned officer: O-1, the lowest ranking officer, but an officer nonetheless. Hope that helps clear up any confusion. Read more at : http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Navy_officer_rank_insignia

She had it wrong anyway.

Al as his final chapter stated, got out of the Navy as a Lt. JG aka Captain in the Air force, Army and Marines. When he decided to go into the Navy reserves, his rank blossomed to Lt. Commander or one rank higher than he was at the end of WWII.

Al as he also stated began as an enlisted man who was qualified to be an officer. He decided once in Mexico to take the Officer route.

Why can't we all be humble about our Vets who served in this nations combat periods? Why not, in fact, just honor all vets with their due. While the rest of us had fun, I and many who spent time on duty did so at a cost of our rights and were treated like we were military property. (I only had to put up with the Army for a tad under 2 years.

[Robert A Whit]

I have relatives who fought in WWII on both sides. You don't have to tell me any of this.
So tell me Robert, why didn't you serve in WWII or Korea?

Wow, right back atcha.

I was a child during WWII and had not graduated High school yet during Korea. I served in the Army in the USA plus in Germany. I can't explain why we were not at war when I served but I feel I am lucky.

[aboutime]

I didn't read through all the posts, so if I repeat another's clarification, my bad.
An ensign is a commissioned officer: O-1, the lowest ranking officer, but an officer nonetheless. Hope that helps clear up any confusion. Read more at : http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Navy_officer_rank_insignia


Just thought you'd like to know. Warrant Officers are the Lowest ranking officers. In fact. Many of them were called MUSTANGS because they started their career as Enlisted.

[Robert A Whit]

Just thought you'd like to know. Warrant Officers are the Lowest ranking officers. In fact. Many of them were called MUSTANGS because they started their career as Enlisted.

Using that definition, actually non commissioned officers come first, then warrants then the Commissioned officers starting with O-1. Warrants are warrants and are not commissioned.

Maybe your Navy was different.

[logroller]

Just thought you'd like to know. Warrant Officers are the Lowest ranking officers. In fact. Many of them were called MUSTANGS because they started their career as Enlisted.
Cool. I didn't know that. I knew they were above petty officers by had thought they were still an enlisted rating-- i guess not. I was speaking in regards to kathianne's confusion of how an ensign could rise to the rank of commander. I think she didn't realize an ensign is a commissioned rank.
not to confuse what i said earlier, but technically, an ensign outranks a midshipman (which is solely a rank for those at Annapolis, ie an officer in training) So does a warrant officer outrank a midshipman?

[logroller]

She had it wrong anyway.

Al as his final chapter stated, got out of the Navy as a Lt. JG aka Captain in the Air force, Army and Marines. When he decided to go into the Navy reserves, his rank blossomed to Lt. Commander or one rank higher than he was at the end of WWII.

Al as he also stated began as an enlisted man who was qualified to be an officer. He decided once in Mexico to take the Officer route.

Why can't we all be humble about our Vets who served in this nations combat periods? Why not, in fact, just honor all vets with their due. While the rest of us had fun, I and many who spent time on duty did so at a cost of our rights and were treated like we were military property. (I only had to put up with the Army for a tad under 2 years.
I think I do. Paying attention the rank/rating of a soldier is testament to the merits of their service. It's great that we honor those who to do something heroic, some singular act that garners special recognition; but one's rank/rating shows that day-in and day-out they did what needed doing. When a guy has stripes, that means something, and even it just means they managed not to fuck up, that's still something great in a line of work where on any given day your life is in peril and mistakes not only risk more lives but compromise the entire mission. I especially like that, as AT mentioned, those who rise from enlisted to commissioned officer get some special recognition. I remember one time I was stringing pipe on a commercial job and I noticed some old guy working across from me and I asked my boss, "since when do inspectors modify the work" and he said, "that's the architect". This was a $20 million building and the guy who designed it knew the importance of a seemingly menial task done right. I'll never forget that.

[Robert A Whit]

http://www.debatepolicy.com/images/debate_policy/misc/quote_icon.png Originally Posted by Robert A Whit http://www.debatepolicy.com/images/debate_policy/buttons/viewpost-right.png (http://www.debatepolicy.com/showthread.php?p=646928#post646928)
She had it wrong anyway.

Al as his final chapter stated, got out of the Navy as a Lt. JG aka Captain in the Air force, Army and Marines. When he decided to go into the Navy reserves, his rank blossomed to Lt. Commander or one rank higher than he was at the end of WWII.

Al as he also stated began as an enlisted man who was qualified to be an officer. He decided once in Mexico to take the Officer route.

Why can't we all be humble about our Vets who served in this nations combat periods? Why not, in fact, just honor all vets with their due. While the rest of us had fun, I and many who spent time on duty did so at a cost of our rights and were treated like we were military property. (I only had to put up with the Army for a tad under 2 years.


I think I do. Paying attention the rank/rating of a soldier is testament to the merits of their service. It's great that we honor those who to do something heroic, some singular act that garners special recognition; but one's rank/rating shows that day-in and day-out they did what needed doing. When a guy has stripes, that means something, and even it just means they managed not to fuck up, that's still something great in a line of work where on any given day your life is in peril and mistakes not only risk more lives but compromise the entire mission. I especially like that, as AT mentioned, those who rise from enlisted to commissioned officer get some special recognition. I remember one time I was stringing pipe on a commercial job and I noticed some old guy working across from me and I asked my boss, "since when do inspectors modify the work" and he said, "that's the architect". This was a $20 million building and the guy who designed it knew the importance of a seemingly menial task done right. I'll never forget that.

I agree with your points. When I was on active duty, it was amazing how some of the old timers had low rank. Usually they had article 15s in their pasts or just did a job not that well.

Actually one of the worst cases I saw in the Army revolved around this Army Captain who was a pilot and was desperate to reach 20 years, much less be promoted to Major. Some of the officers told me he was able to hang on after being passed over by changing his Officer MOS. I was told he found some loophole and was on his second MOS. He closed the airfield I worked at one day due to fog. A General in Wurzburg had somebody call our field and was told the field was shut down. The Captain in question got on the phone to offer his services to fly the general to the field. The General was too smart for that and told him no way. How was he going to find the field when it was so foggy it was hard to see it on the ground? He tried to get brown nose points to impress the General but all he did was show poor judgment.

[aboutime]

Cool. I didn't know that. I knew they were above petty officers by had thought they were still an enlisted rating-- i guess not. I was speaking in regards to kathianne's confusion of how an ensign could rise to the rank of commander. I think she didn't realize an ensign is a commissioned rank.
not to confuse what i said earlier, but technically, an ensign outranks a midshipman (which is solely a rank for those at Annapolis, ie an officer in training) So does a warrant officer outrank a midshipman?


Yes! In fact. Midshipmen/women must Salute Warrant Officers...before they Graduate Annapolis as Ensign's, or if Marine grads...LT.