The following is an excerpt from a letter written by William V. Torner dated July 13, 2007. We are pleased to share Bill’s memories of Newport and his service during World War II. Bill is a longtime member of the Sons and Daughters of Pioneer Rivermen and has never lost his enthusiasm for waterways. His parents were Elsie and Hugo Torner; his grandparents were William V. and Jennie Greene Torner.
In civilian life in 1931 I was ferrying the U. S. mail across the Ohio River from the U. S. Post Office at Newport, Ohio, to the mail stop on the B&O Railroad at what had been Vaucluse, Virginia, and later West Virginia, five round trips a day six days a week. True to the postal tradition that the mail must go through, I was rowing a sixteen foot skiff in all weather and river conditions day and night. My grandfather, William V. Torner, and my Uncle Norris Torner had the contract for the mail ferry service and gladly let me furnish the muscle power. And so began my river life.
June 1934 my first steamboat job when I shipped on the side-wheel J. S., of the Streckfus Steamers Line of St. Louis, Missouri. The J. S. was built at Dubuque, Iowa, in 1896, as the QUINCY, a wooden hull side-wheel packet for the Diamond Jo Line operating on the Upper Mississippi River between St. Louis and Saint Paul. Streckful Steamers bought the Diamond Jo Line and converted the QUINCY to a deluxe excursion boat catering to the St. Louis carriage trade and named the boat J.S., for John Streckfus. I am now one of the very few living persons who has worked on a steamboat of the 1800s. I have heard through “the stern line telegraph” that a woman who was a purser on the J.S., when I was on the boat, lives in Quincy, Illinois, and remembers me; but we have not tried to contact each other directly.
From passenger vessel to towboat when I went to work as a deckhand on the wooden hull steam stern wheel RELIANCE of the Union Barge Line out of Pittsburgh towing gasoline tank barges on the Monongahela and Ohio Rivers. The RELIANCE was built in 1916 at Elizabeth, Penn., and sank in the Allegheny River near Pittsburgh in 1947. What I learned on the RELIANCE paid off well for me later.
I left the RELIANCE and went to work for the E. I. Du Pont de Nemours Co., at the Morgantown (W. Va.) Ordnance Plant in February, 1941, first in the blacksmith shop, then when the plant went into operation I was transferred to production and trained to assemble and operate high and low pressure compressors, pumps of many sizes and capacities and large air handling ventilation blowers becoming a stationary engineer. Desiring to get back on the water I declined war time deferment and volunteered for enlistment in the U. S. Navy.
At 5:00 PM civilian time, 1700 hours military time or two bells ships time at Clarksburg, W. Va., I was sworn into the U.S. Navy Seabees with a Petty Officer rating of Water Tender 2C, on September 15, 1943, and ordered to Camp Perry just outside historic Williamsburg, Virginia. My stationary engineer experience at the Morgantown Ordnance Plant qualified me for the WT2C rating bypassing enlistment as an apprentice seaman.
While at Camp Perry, I learned how to assemble pontoons into floating docks, barges, bridges and other structures. I also operated a pontoon flat deck barge equipped with a multi-fuel diesel engine on the York River. As in all boot camps there were hours of military history and discipline. Drawing from all ranks and ratings the 19th C. B. Special Battalion, a stevedoring battalion, was put together and shipped to Davisville, Rhode Island. All personnel were confined on a troop train that spent all day Christmas Day side-tracked in a Washington, D. C., railroad yard. The next day the train proceeded to Davisville and all personnel were assigned to barracks and Quonset huts. No Liberty or off base requests were granted. On New Year’s Day I ice skated in the recreational area of the base and have never been on ice skates since.
Davisville, Rhode Island, was and is the U. S. Navy Construction Battalion Equipment and Deployment Center. The name Seabees comes from the initials C B for Construction Battalion. Special denotes that battalion was or is for purposes other than construction. Being a stevedoring battalion we loaded our equipment and supplies to set up camp and provide stevedoring service on any beach or in any harbor we might be assigned to onboard the SS CAPE BON a new C-1 merchant ship of the Grace Line on charter to the U. S. Navy. With the cargo hatches battened down and all personnel below decks except battalion officers who were privileged to live with the ship’s officers the CAPE BON left Davisville in a freezing rain and steamed to New York Harbor to drop anchor near the Statue of Liberty.
After four days at anchor the CAPE BON weighed anchor and left the harbor to join a convoy at sea and steamed down the East Coast. A welcome change from the weather in New England; cause for concern as all ships in the convoy were aware of the possibility of attack by enemy submarines. Some ships were headed for Africa, some to destinations unknown, and the CAPE BON developed engine room trouble forcing it to drop out of the convoy and proceed alone to Guantanamo (Gitmo) Bay, Cuba. After a couple of days of repair work the CAPE BON steamed solo to Cristobal, Panama, for two more days of repair work.
The CAPE BON did not have a reciprocating steam engine for propulsion. It had a steam turbine powered shaft and propeller. A steam turbine has to have a condenser to operate efficiently and the condenser is what was failing.
Permission was granted for the 19th C. B. Special personnel to go ashore wearing undress blues and field boots. All dress uniforms were in our sea bags in the bottom hold of the ship. The post office was off limits and the shore patrol stationed at the post office prevented the mailing of letters by military personnel; but there are ways around such restrictions. A sailor who was stationed in Panama invited me to dinner at the Panama Canal Club restaurant where a glass of fresh milk sure tasted good with a real meal. While we were eating he asked me if I would like to send word home telling where I was and when. Of course I did, and he showed me how. The menu was on a single sheet of paper with the name of the restaurant, address, day and date. These menus were free to any service person who wanted them. Taking the menu with me my escort took me to a store where I could buy a gift to send home. The store owner would package the gift and menu and send it home for me. That is how my family knew I had been in Panama and when without me writing or violating the post office restriction.
All kinds of merchandise not available or only in limited quantities through rationing in the United States was in abundant supply in Panama and could be sent to a United States address by business mail uncensored. Now back onboard the CAPE BON and ready to transit the Panama Canal. Those who drank too much rum and coke had to clean up the messes they made. Those who stayed sober were excused from clean up duty, and as mentioned earlier I drank fresh milk.
While transiting the canal the CAPE BON anchored in Gatun Lake while the ship’s crew jury-rigged showers on top side and pumped fresh water from the lake so all onboard could have a fresh water shower. The ship’s showers for troops were salt water. After all had showered tropical uniforms were issued, a comfortable relief from the wool undress blues.
After exiting the canal, the CAPE BON steamed solo heading southwest and the next event was crossing the equator and the traditional ceremony of transforming polliwogs into inhabitants of the realm of King Neptune. Continuing on a southwesterly course in due time crossed the international dateline. Then another condenser failure in the engine room and while that was being worked on the ship drifted back across the international dateline only to get under way and recross the dateline again. I would like to have seen the entries in the ship’s log as to how many days and dates the ship was in before resuming its southwesterly course. Some days later we saw the island of Rapa on the horizon; the ship kept its course and word was passed that we were going to Australia. Soon after entering Australian waters the CAPE BON was diverted to Milne Bay at Port Moresby, New Guinea, without every seeing Australia.
When the CAPE BON had set her anchor in Milne Bay a landing float was brought alongside at the foot of the gangway and all 19th C. B. Special personnel were to go down on the float to drink one can of beer and swim if they desired to. With simmers in the water naval regulations required a life boat to be manned and in the water. Based on my oarsmanship experience on the Ohio River at Newport, Ohio, I was assigned life boat duty. Wearing only swim trunks and sitting in the tropical sun I received the most severe sunburn of my life. From then on I wore shirt, pants, cap and thick soled shoes in day light all the time I was in the tropics. So much for rest and relaxation in Milne Bay.
The next day the CAPE BON weighed anchor and steamed out of Milne Bay east southeast in the Coral Sea, rounded the end of the eastern peninsula of Papua, New Guinea into the Solomon Sea, set a northwesterly course to Lae then east to Finschhafen and Langamac Bay where the U. S. Military and Australian Armed Forces were establishing a supply base. Entering Langamac Bay the CAPE BON docked at a newly built dock. Immediately unloading of equipment and materiel to build a base camp in the edge of the jungle began. The CAPE BON remained at that dock as a place for us Seabees to live until the camp was built and everybody moved ashore then left the harbor without cargo sixty-five days after steaming out of Davisville, Rhode Island, on her maiden voyage. In that sixty-five days the Seabee enlisted personnel ate C Rations while the officers ate excellent meals with the ship’s officers. One exception being a civilian meal when ashore in Panama and the only time off the ship on land.
The SS CAPE BON survived WWII and in the past year has been retrofitted with the latest maritime equipment as a training ship for a Maritime Institute in Massachusetts.
All members of the 19th C. B. Special Seabees worked together building the camp in the jungle near the shore line of Langamac Bay. Housing for the enlisted personnel of Headquarters Company, A, B, C and D companies were 16’ x 16’ pyramid tents on wood platforms. Officers Quarters, chow hall, latrines and rigging loft were prefabricated buildings or Quonset huts. With all of this put together and two 35’ x 16’ pontoon deck barges each with one Chrysler Sea Mule propulsion unit for lighters the 19th C. B. Special Stevedoring Battalion started working twenty-four hours a day unloading ships at the docks, anchored in the harbor or off shore at sea.
The two lighters had two man crews. One lighter had a man by the name of Quigley who was quickly nicknamed Uncle Wigley for the cartoon character of that name. He came from Boston, Massachusetts, experienced in sail boating in New England waters. The other man on that lighter was named Kline, a Great Lakes freighter wheelsman. On the other lighter was Donald Jenks Cushman who answered to Cush and was from Wellesley, Massachusetts, experienced in sail boating in New England waters and myself with towboating experience on the Ohio and Monongahela Rivers. In addition to transporting cargo the lighters also ferried stevedores and riggers to and from ships anchored in the harbor or off shore outside the harbor. The riggers and stevedores rotated on and off watches while the lighter crews were on full time watch duty. We set some sort of record when we all worked sixty-two hours without sleep.
Sleeping accommodations for enlisted personnel in the pyramid tents consisted of folding cots with framing for mosquito netting. The heat and humidity of the jungle made restful sleep difficult. The best relief was to pour water in your cot, get under the mosquito netting and try to sleep while the evaporating water produced some cooling. The company street and ground around the tents would be dry and dusty or ankle deep or deeper with mud during the tropical rains. With the never ending demand for lighter service and the above described living conditions Cush and I took our cots from the tent and put them on our lighter. Not having any deck space for the cots we rigged them one on each side of the Sea Mule over open water. Mosquitoes do not fly over salt water so we did away with the netting; but we did use pieces of canvas tarpaulin to keep off rain water. This kept us onboard for round the clock duty and a place to sleep as time would permit with no objection from our battalion officers.
When at the dock at meal time Cush and I would go to the chow hall to eat. If we were alongside a ship we were often invited to come onboard and eat with the ship’s crew and that was a pleasure as merchant ships served better food and meals than our chow hall. One time our chow hall cooks put Spam on the table twenty-two consecutive meals when food supplies were low. At first it was disgusting then became interesting to see how cooks prepared it differently each meal. Eggs that you could gag down with ketchup were considered to still be fresh. Usually eggs like potatoes and milk were powered. Kangaroo meat from Australia was better than some American meat.
A Royal Australian Navy corvette operated out of Langamac Bay and took on supplies there. They did it the hard way with a longboat and oarsmen transporting the supplies from the dock to the corvette at anchor in the harbor. Cush and I told the officer-in-charge we would take all the supplies in one load if his men would put them on our lighter. He did and we did. It became a routine thing when the corvette was in the harbor about once a week to ten days and a friendship developed between us. After many conversations with this officer he invited me to come to Australia after the war and help upgrade river transportation. There have been times since WWII that I have wondered what my life would have become had I accepted that invitation.
Langamac Bay was large enough that tankers tied up at the fuel docks and pumped aviation gasoline, regular gasoline and diesel fuel into huge bulk storage tanks. In another area fresh water tankers were filling big storage tanks. There were docks for dry cargo warehouses and refrigerated storage facilities. A wide range of war materiel was arriving that would be reshipped as the war progressed. Over the mountains behind the bay were Japanese forces so we were in a combat zone and worked under enemy fire. The push was on to move more cargo and supplies; that brought the order to Cush and me to go across the harbor and bring back the 70’ x 32.5’ pontoon deck barge that we would find at the fuel dock. It was that order that brought river style push towing to the U. S. navy and Royal Australian Navy. See and read the story I wrote and was published in the January 14, 1984, issue of The Waterways Journal.
With the large pontoon barge to work with space was kept open at the dock for it and the two lighters to use. When the large barge was being loaded or unloaded the two lighters were busy with their usual trips and when the large barge had to be moved it was Cush and me that towed it. I asked for towknees to be put on our lighter but was refused. Longer lines for the large barge were brought from the rigging loft and placed on our lighter. Cush and I were now in the towing business and remained so through the end of the war and into occupation duty after the war in the Philippine Islands.
Late one afternoon a ship arrived outside the harbor and called for a harbor pilot. There were no harbor pilots in Langamac Bay, but the captain of the ship insisted on having one. Commander Arthur of the 19th C. B. Special was also harbor master and he ordered Cush and me to go see what we could do for the captain. As we came alongside the ship a Jacob’s ladder was lowered and Cush said he would keep the lighter close by while I was onboard the ship. When I climbed the ladder to the main deck I was immediately escorted to the bridge where the captain asked me if I was the harbor pilot. I told him I was not but knew the harbor and the harbor master sent me to see if I could be of help. I asked him if he wanted dock space or to anchor in the line of ships waiting for dock space. He replied that he could not dock or anchor in line with or near other ships. Then I asked him what his cargo as. He said ammunition and he could not anchor near shore installations or other ships, but needed to get into a harbor for the night due to Japanese submarines operating along the coast line at night. I directed him into the harbor and an area with no shore installations and as far from anchored ships as possible. Cush followed and came alongside. When the captain dropped his anchor I asked him if he wanted me to take him out of the harbor in the morning. He said that would not be necessary as he would go out the way I had brought him in. I climbed down the Jacob’s ladder onto the deck of the lighter and we went back to our dock and reported to Commander Arthur. The next morning the ammunition ship left the harbor at first light. I now had one more experience in my Seabee life, harbor pilot.
One day much to the surprise of everyone working in the harbor a German liner flying an American flag entered the harbor with a U. S. navy crew onboard. It was a prize of war and the crew invited all who wanted to a tour of the ship. After taking on fuel and supplies the ship left the harbor the next day.
A few days later a ship we were working alongside of cleared a lot of dunnage out of a cargo hold and put the dunnage on our lighter to be taken ashore for disposal. Cush and I salvaged enough lumber out of that dunnage to build a deck above the Sea Mule and a shelter over that deck that we moved out cots up to. Now we had protection from sun heat and weather when operating the lighter and a safer more comfortable place to sleep and stow our seabags and carbines. We were now moved completely out of the pyramid tent in the jungle. When Kline and Uncle Wigley saw what we had done Uncle Wigley said it looked like a blivy to him. I asked him what a blivy was and he answered, “Two pounds of fresh dung in a one pound paper bag.” The name stuck and a few days later a sign painter presented Cush and me with a pair of nameboards BLIVY which we put one on each side. If you put a couple of periods in the right places you have B. L. Ivy a more polite name. Kline and Uncle Wigley kept their lighter as it was and continued to live in the tent in the jungle.
The war was now advancing toward the Philippine Islands, and new supply bases had to be established. One of them would be in the Schouten Islands group. Mios Woendi had a very large lagoon surrounded by a coral reef with only one deep water opening to the sea. The reef provided calm water in the lagoon and protection from submarine attacks, Mios Woendi became known to all people working there as Windy Island.
The 19th C. B. Special in Langamac Bay in Finschhafen, New Guinea, was split in two and one half stayed there under Commander Arthur and the other half under the command of Lt. Michael Tenuto loaded themselves and equipment including the lighter BLIVY on the Liberty ship and steamed to the Schouten Islands north of central New Guinea. When the ship dropped anchor in Windy lagoon the lighter BLIVY was lowered into the water beside the ship and Cush and I were immediately busy lightering all the equipment and personnel to a designated place on the beach where the battalion camp would be set up. Such was our introduction to Windy Island and its lagoon that would develop into a harbor of many uses and interesting activities.
Other ships and landing craft arrived with building and military materiel. Landing craft went right to the beach with their cargo and personnel while merchant ships required lighters. High priority was given to building a dock; but at the same time shore installations were taking shape, one of them being a military hospital. As the dock was nearing completion Tokyo Rose on the Armed Forces radio informed all personnel that when the first ship docked at that dock everything on the island and in the harbor would be wiped out. A few days later a ship did dock there and that night a Japanese air raid tried to fulfill Tokyo Rose’s promise. Mother Nature also had plans for that night as a tropical storm of typhoon intensity blew over the islands and lagoon taking the Japanese aircraft off course and they bombed another island nearby.
Reconnaissance the next day revealed that all of the coconut palm trees on that island had been flattened. The entire island was a coconut plantation for a company that processed coconut into copra and coconut oil for making soap. Even the processing buildings were completely destroyed. While the Japanese did obliterate everything on that island Windy Island had only some storm damage that was repaired along with the building of new facilities.
One such facility was a hangar and repair shop for PBY Catalina Flying Boats known as Black Cats because the entire aircraft was painted flat black. They were amphibious and landed and took off from the water. They had wheels retracted in the hull that were lowered so they could run up and down a ramp from the hanger to the water. The Black Cats were used for hunting submarines.
Anchored in the harbor was the submarine tender USS ORION that serviced submarines with fuel, supplies and torpedoes. When torpedoes were unloaded from navy supply ships they were placed in inflatable rubber boats with a 50 HP outboard motor and taken to the tender one torpedo to a boat at a time.
One day the submarine USS NAUTILUS was alongside the USS ORION and Cush and I were invited aboard the submarine for a tour of the vessel. It was interesting, informative and the air conditioning a welcome relief from the sun heat on the steel deck of the BLIVY.
PT (Patrol Torpedo) boat tenders anchored in the harbor with their flotillas of PT boats. The tenders serviced the PT boats in the calm water of the harbor with fuel, supplies, repairs, torpedoes and depth charges, then went to sea with them when they were on patrol. The number of tenders and PT boats would vary from time to time. Cush and I had daily contact with them and did go aboard some of the PT boats. We saw battle damage scars from enemy fire and from firing on the enemy when sinking a Japanese landing craft.
The merchant ships used the dock where the 19th C.B. Special stevedores worked, landing craft went directly to the beach and navy supply ships transferred cargo directly ship to ship or with tenders. With little lightering to do Cush and I had a new assignment that took all of our time and became very interesting. The BLIVY became the harbor trash scavenger barge.
The Black Cats had thin hulls and the PT boats were plywood. Neither the Black Cats nor the PT boats wanted the risk of hitting any floating trash no matter how small it might be. The lagoon being surrounded by a coral reef could become a cesspool, so Cush and I made daily rounds to all ships, boats and aircraft in the harbor as well as picking up out of the water any floating debris we saw such as boxes, crates and bits and pieces of lumber. When our deck was filled we put out to sea and around the reef where the tide would not bring anything back into the lagoon to clear out deck.
We had plenty of help clearing the deck which was fine with us. The natives were not allowed in the harbor with their outrigger canoes so they waited outside the entrance to the harbor. When we brought the BLIVY out through the entrance we would slow to a speed where they could grab a hand hold or use a fish spear to stay alongside while they came aboard and picked through the trash. Anything they did not put in a canoe was thrown into the sea. That left very little for Cush and me to push or wash overboard.
In addition to watching for ship movement in the harbor we had PT boats that moved faster and would come out from behind or from between ships and we always kept a sharp lookout for Black Cats landing, taxiing or taking off. Then there were the good things like some ships providing tasty meals and sometimes somebody in the galley crew on the USS ORION would hand us an ice cream treat. When things get good or an area seems to be secure it is time to move on.
The 19th C. B. Special broke camp and loaded themselves onboard the C-2 merchant ship with the BLIVY on a forward hatch cover. A westward course brought the ship to the island of Biak for a brief sojourn while those of us fortunate enough to be dispatched ashore to get bags of long overdue mail also found an American Red Cross lemonade stand dispensing ice cold lemonade of which we drank all we could.
Leaving Biak the ship took a northerly course and all hands were busy sorting and reading mail from home, a wonderful morale booster. Then lying on a hatch cover watching the masthead sweep across the stars, listening to the swish of the bow wave and hearing the moan in the rigging everything was so peaceful you forgot you were in a war. The rest and relaxation was well deserved and prepared us for what was about to take place.
It is October 1944 and the Battle of Leyte Gulf, the biggest naval battle in recorded history, was taking place and we sailed into it and a harbor full of sunken ships, American, Japanese, military and merchant. It was good to see a line of U.S. Navy battleships afloat.
The C-2 proceeded through the maritime devastation to the merchant ship anchorage area at the south end of the narrow ship channel in the strait between the islands of Samar and Leyte. The BLIVY was lifted off the hatch cover and lowered into the water. The hatch cover was taken off and our own stevedores began removing the equipment and supplies they had loaded in Windy lagoon. Cush and I were lightering ashore with the BLIVY and the 19th C. B. Special was setting up camp on the shore line of a little village on the island of Samar that would be different from any previous camp sites in that it adjoined civilians and officers and operation headquarters were all in tents. The village itself was off-limits to military personnel and Shore Patrol and Military Police were there to enforce the off-limits order. Civilians could and did come to the shore but were prohibited from boarding any military vessels. Spanish was the language of the Philippines and spoken in many dialects throughout the islands, a communications barrier of sorts, but not insurmountable. More about that later.
Cush and I ferried riggers and stevedores to and from ships they worked on and lightered cargo to shore installations on both Leyte and Samar. Every day at noon we heard Japanese aircraft flying over the anchorage and harbor area no doubt taking photos of ship positions to use on their nightly air raids. Just as regularly in late afternoon and before dark there would be a shifting of ships to new anchorage positions. The BLIVY transported the stevedores and riggers back to camp then Cush and I would anchor the BLIVY far enough off shore it would not go aground with tide changes. There was no work at night due to the total blackout conditions. Some evenings we would run the BLIVY up against the shore and visit with civilians who could speak English before going to our anchorage to watch the fireworks of air raid and have seen and heard red hot anti-aircraft flak fall on our deck like hail. We usually fell asleep before the air raid was over and the next morning checked with each other to see if either one of us had been hit or knew of something the other one should know about.
Always during the air raid a light could be seen on a mountain on Leyte and everyone who saw it asked the same question, “Why isn’t it investigated and something done about it?” U.S. Air Force flew nightly patrols around the perimeter of the area and never made any interception of enemy aircraft. Then one day or night somebody discovered a camouflaged Japanese airstrip in the mountains of Leyte inside the perimeter which accounted for why never interceptions. The U.S. Marines obliterated that airstrip and that ended the nightly air raids and the mystery light on the mountain.
Now another disturbance one night of a different kind. An LST (Landing Ship Tank) had nosed up to the shore near where Cush and I anchored the BLIVY. That night a typhoon hit and during the night at frequent intervals the LST would turn its searchlight on the BLIVY. The next morning Cush and I thanked the LST for being concerned about us, and the LST crew said they were using us for a reference to see if they were drifting or holding position.
Back to pleasant evenings on the beach which was common ground for the villagers and GIs in American uniforms. Kids learned enough English to beg for candy. “Give me chocolate candy” was usually pronounced, “Gimme chocklit candy,” and some were more emphatic when they discovered that when they said, “Japanese no ------’
good, gimme me chocklit candy” would get an increase in the amount of candy handed out. Some older children and some adults became entrepreneurs and brought home prepared food to the beach. The general order that GIs were prohibited from eating Philippine food was conveniently ignored. My favorite was chicken cooked in coconut oil. Cush and I would each give one boy twenty-five cents and he would leave the beach, steal a live chicken from his father’s chicken roost, take it to his uncle to be dressed and cooked and bring it to us just before we backed away from the beach to anchor the BLIVY and eat hot chicken not once but many times. There was a girl who baked excellent sweet rolls. Some people provided services such as laundry and got my clothes cleaner than I did using an empty powdered potato can for a laundry tub. Incidentally, powdered potato cans became standard laundry equipment for American troops everywhere. Then there was Jose Menoria who was the village blacksmith that made bolo knives for his customers and souvenir knives for American service men. Having become friends with him and his family I told him I wanted a knife like he made for his customers. He made a genuine Philippine bolo knife with a wooden scabbard for me. In the Philippines bolo knives are used for harvesting crops and as weapons.
Bolo knives differ from machete knives used in Central and South American countries. Bolo knives have a straight edge curving from the handle to the tip of the blade forming a point. Machetes have a straight back and straight sharp edge with a square blade end. I used a machete when helping to clear jumble space for the 19th C. B. Special base camp at Langamac Bay in Papua, New Guinea.
Philippine tuba is not a musical instrument. Tuba is fermented palm frond juice. Watching men and boys climb palm trees bare hand and bare foot with their bamboo containers to collect the juice was entertaining and better than the product they procured.
The 19th C. B. Special received orders to move to Guiuan, Samar, a town at the southeastern tip of the island with a massive harbor opening directly to the Philippine Sea and Pacific Ocean. Everything was loaded on a military transport ship except the BLIVY which was towed on a hawser astern of the ship through Leyte Gulf to the Philippine Sea and into Guiuan Harbor. There were many military installations in the harbor and as soon as camp was set up stevedoring began on ships anchored in the harbor and at dock side and expanded into interaction with some of the other U. S. military units based at Guiuan. It was the expansion of stevedoring work and related services that brought about the replacement of the BLIVY with the tug-towboat pictured and described in my story, “River Style Towing Introduced to U.S. Navy,” published in the January 14, 1984, issue of The Waterways Journal.
It was with the tug-towboat described in the story that Cush and I with deckhands William Earl Boggs and “Smitty” Smith got into marine salvage work when assigned to tow the U. S. Navy Yards and Docks 127 (YD-127) 100 ton lift capacity floating crane brought into the harbor by a seagoing tug and left there. The tug then went back to sea. The crane had its own live aboard crew, but no small boat to get to and from shore. YD-127 was always anchored out in the harbor and moved to and from its work by the tug-towboat I was in command of.
One night a U.S. Coast Guard submarine chaser cutter entered the harbor and ran up onto a reef. The next morning I took YD-127 to where the Coast Guard cutter was and YD-127 lifted it off of the reef and I moved YD-127 and the cutter to deep water refloating the cutter. No serious damage to the cutter and it went out to sea.
Another heavy lift salvage when the 50 ton jumbo boom on a merchant ship at the dock buckled when it was lifting a crawler tread crane and swinging to put the crane on the dock and dropped it through the dock. I brought YD-127 alongside the ship, it boomed over the ship, lifted the 50 ton jumbo boom and placed it over the hatches. Then lifted the crawler crane and held it while I moved YD-127 enough that it could put the crawler crane on an undamaged place on the dock.
The above are a couple of the most memorable incidents with YD-127. Most of its work was routine loading and unloading cargo on merchant ships. When it was not at work it remained at its anchorage and the tug-towboat was busy with other assignments.
YD-127 survived WWII and became part of the U.S. Navy salvage fleet in Vietnam when it was used to salvage the BATON ROUGE VICTORY when it was mined in the Long Tau River.
YD-127 was not involved in a rigging failure that hit me personally, and I do mean hit me. The 19th C.B. Special riggers and stevedores were unloading cargo from a ship at a dock in Guiuan with some cargo going onto the dock and some onto a barge alongside the ship that I was tending with a tug-towboat. I was checking the tow-tugboat gear when the ships rigging failed and a broken shackle flew and hit my hand breaking my right thumb and a swinging cargo hook hit me in the face knocking out four upper front teeth and my prescription glasses overboard. I stayed with the tug-towboat while towing the barge to the dock where it was to be unloaded then to the dock where the tug-towboat had designated dock space day and night. Actual base of operations for the tug-towboat.
A couple of medics showed up and took me to the military hospital where my mouth was cleaned up and a cast put on my hand with a needle through my thumb to hold it in line for healing and I was kept over night for observation of possible shock. The next morning I was released to go back to the tug-towboat with a no work order. Before leaving I asked to be seen by an optician for new glasses. I was denied by someone who would not believe Ray-Ban #3 glasses were prescription glasses and not just sunglasses.
Every time I went to the hospital to have the cast on my hand checked I would be asked how the cast could be so dirty when I was on a no work order and I would ask them could I see an optician. It was obvious that I was doing my usual work, but not saying so. It was equally obvious that no consideration was being given about my vision. The day came when the cast was removed and I was permitted to resume my duties. With the use of my hand restored I was able to write a letter that passed through censorship to my dad telling him about my situation. Dad knew Senator Jennings Randolph, a U. S. Senator from West Virginia and contacted him. In a reasonable time after mailing my letter a navy officer came to the dock where the tug-towboat was moored and called me on the dock and in a sarcastic manner told me I was going to see an optician and escorted me to the hospital. My eyes were examined and in a few days the navy issued prescription glasses with clear lenses to me. My vision was corrected, but no UV ray protection. I wore these glasses until I returned to civilian life then saw an ophthalmologist and was fitted with prescription glasses with Ray-Ban #3 lenses.
Christmas 1944 was only a few days away and the cooks and bakers in various military units based in Guiuan Harbor were busy making Christmas goodies for the Christmas Eve party to be held in the large mess hall of one of the units for all military personnel who could attend. The beach was lined with an assortment of landing craft, the mess hall crowded with people enjoying Christmas music and the goodies around a Christmas tree. At midnight the traditional time for Santa Claus to arrive he traded his sleigh for Japanese aircraft and delivered unwelcome presents. The mess hall went immediately black then people running on the beach to their boats with anti-aircraft guns firing over their heads. Boats backing away from the beach and scattering to their respective places in the harbor. A Christmas Eve never to be forgotten by many people who were there.
One day I was picked for a special mission in the harbor. There was an LCT (Landing Craft Tank) in the boat pool that was low on fuel and the cooks in the 19th C. B. Special chow hall needed a large order of groceries and supplies. I was to take the cooks and a truck across the harbor to a supply depot and go to the fuel dock and fuel the LCT while the grocery truck was being loaded then bring them back. All went well until I was fueling the LCT and I heard rushing water. Raising the hatch to the engine compartment I saw the water was coming in the exhaust port of the hull. I shut off the fuel hose, started the engine and headed for a reef that I could see ahead of me and ran the LCT on the reef to keep it from sinking. Somebody at the fuel dock contacted the boat pool to send another boat to get the grocery truck and me. Three days later I took men from the boat pool and a portable pump to the tug-towboat and went to the LCT. A patch was put over the exhaust port, the engine compartment pumped out and I towed the LCT back to the boat pool. The LCT was overhauled and put back in service. I have now had a boat sunk under me and salvaged it.
The war goes on in the Pacific Ocean and Guiuan harbor is busy twenty-four hours a day. Cush, Boggs, Smitty and I all have noticed an increase in the number of ships more heavily encrusted with barnacles coming into the harbor. These ships have all been in Atlantic Ocean service. All merchant ships regardless of their areas of service had two things in common, good meals and crew members personal gear with liquor for sale. Seagram’s 7-Crown at $35.00 a bottle. After purchase by GIs the price often went up or it was worth more when making trades for unauthorized materiel and supplies.
Easter season, Palm Sunday 1945 in particular the most impressive Palm Sunday I have ever known. The Roman Catholic Church in Guiuan was within close walking distance of the dock where the tug-towboat was based. It was estimated that church was about 300 years old. It was built of stone, had translucent windows made of sea shells, tile floor and the pews were palm logs, no backs. Around the church lot was a high stone wall, ten feet or more high with only one entrance. From this entrance to the front door of the church was a wide walkway. Parishioners lined both sides of the walkway with live palm fronds that they placed on the walkway as a priest rode a burro from the entrance to the church door. I witnessed this and attended the Mass that followed. The stone wall had another use besides protecting the church property; it is against this wall that criminals are executed in public.
Back to business in the harbor and all the interesting things that happen there. One afternoon a wind storm made the water so rough that harbor was closed to traffic. An anchored merchant ship had a barge loaded with bulldozers and road graders pounding against its side. The ship’s crew turned the barge loose making it a drifting menace to everything in the harbor or be taken out to sea with the time. Time for action with the tug-towboat that left its dock and went after the barge. After repeated attempts Cush and I brought the boat close beside the barge and when the barge and boat both dipped from the same wave Smitty jumped onto the barge taking the end of a new towline with him and putting the eye of the line on a timberhead. Boggs played out the line which was 1,200 feet in length and near the end of the line he took turns on the towing bitt on the stern of the boat. Counting on the stretch in a new line Cush and I came ahead with the boat until the line became taut then letting the stretch absorb the shock caused by the rough water the barge was under control and we towed it to a dock where there was room for it. As we approached the dock, Boggs pulled in the towline keeping it above water. Holding the barge against the dock with the boat a crew on the dock put lines on the barge and Smitty came back onboard the tug-towboat and we went to our own dock space.
One day all the ships in the harbor were blowing their whistles. It was VJ day and twenty-four hour a day duty came to an end. The war was over and now it was Philippine occupation duty, but harbor work is still harbor work only under different hours and priorities. That is pretty well covered in my “River Style Push Towing Introduced to the U. S. Navy” story. More ships arriving in the harbor all wanting to be unloaded so they could go home and anchorage areas became a little crowded. Such was the situation when two ships were anchored too close to each other and when the tide changed the current was swinging them so they would collide broadside.
Tug-towboat was called for assistance and Cush and I positioned the boat crosswise, like the cross bar in the letter H, between the ships and push one ship with the boat’s towknees and the other ship with the propeller wash. When the ship movement was stopped we held against the ship with our towknees while the other ship weighed anchor and moved to another anchorage.
Everybody makes mistakes and ship captains are no exception. One day tug-towboat got a call to assist undocking a ship. When we arrived at the ship I told the captain my plan was to pull the stern of his ship away from the dock so he could back into open water. Then I would move to his bow and push the bow farther out from the dock and other ships at the dock. The captain countermanded my plan and ordered me to pull his bow away from the dock. The ship being unloaded and no ballast it was riding high in the water. As I pulled the bow away from the dock the stern moved in over the dock until the rudder and propeller were against the dock. When the captain signaled to come ahead the bow line to the tug-towboat was dropped and Cush and I moved the tug-towboat clear of the ship. With the first turn of the ship’s propeller it hit the dock bending the blade in the propeller. Cush, Boggs, Smitty and I watched as the ship with an out of balance propeller limp passed us and out of the harbor. We knew we were not to blame for what happened and a captain had a slow uncomfortable voyage to wherever his destination.
It is now November 1945 and coming out of the chow hall after our noon meal Cush and I looked at the bulletin board and found our names on the transportation home list. No names of A, B, C & D people on the list, just some headquarters company personnel. The 19th C. B. Special Battalion had now been in Guiuan Harbor fifty-three weeks and with the exception of some headquarters people would continue on there.
Cush and I went to the tug-towboat and packed our seabags. Boggs was somewhere ashore and Smitty was on the boat. We turned the boat over to Smitty and returned to headquarters and the officer writing transportation orders and were disappointed that we would not be on the same ship. When we said good-by Cush said if I was ever in the Boston area the latch string at his house would be out for me. That was the last time I saw Cush or heard his voice. I do not know the name of the ship Cush was put on. I was put on the USS YUKON, a navy refrigerator ship built in 1919.
The YUKON’s holds were not usable for troop transport so home bound passengers were worked in wherever sleeping space on cots could be set up. My cot was the one and only cot in the library, a small triangular space under the main deck with port and starboard bulkheads joining at the bow stem. I got the full rise and fall as the ship pitched in a rough sea, but I never got seasick.
Food and supplies were minimal as the YUKON was headed for a scrap yard so our meals were sparse, but meager as they were they were delicious compared to C Rations. And there was the promise that we would be in Pearl Harbor for a big Thanksgiving dinner.
The YUKON was a rustbucket, but the captain had navy pride and wanted his ship to look as good as possible when arriving in Pearl Harbor so the crew spent a lot of time chipping, scraping and painting all the top side rails and deck fittings. Passengers were exempt from those work assignments.
Thanksgiving Day and the YUKON is one day out of Pearl Harbor. Thanksgiving dinner consisted of cold cuts of meat and cheese. The old ship did not make the time expected and was running out of food.
The next day as the YUKON was nearing Pearl Harbor all crew and passengers were ordered top side in dress uniform to enter the harbor. Out of the harbor came the garbage scow and all hands had to salute, not the vessel, but the flag on her stern. Entering the harbor and rounding Ford Island I saw the restored battleship WEST VIRGINIA leaving battleship row heading out to sea. I thought it might be nice to be on her if she was going state side. The YUKON docked and the passengers reported to the troop transportation offices for further orders.
Those orders were Liberty until 08:00 the next day then return to the troop transportation officers. Free shuttle bus service between Pearl Harbor and downtown Honolulu. I went to Honolulu and saw the Aloha Clock Tower, the stature of King Kameamea in front of the Iolani Palace, the only royal palace in the United States. Then browsing through a book store I came upon books with pictures and specifications of all U. S. Navy ships and how many there were of them. Quite a surprise for me having been under tight censorship and not allowed to keep a diary or any written record of ships. I went back to Pearl Harbor and found an empty bunk in the transient troop barracks and slept there until time to check in at the troop transportation offices. After the usual hurry-up-and-wait time I received orders to go aboard the USS SARATOGA for transportation to Treasure Island in San Francisco Bay.
All aircraft had been removed from the carrier and she had been converted to a troop transport by filling the hangar deck with canvas bunks in angle from frames welded to the steel deck.
The bunks were arranged two wide by four high and long enough to utilize center deck space with passage ways between the double rows and a wider area around them for hangar equipment that had to remain in place and where personal seabags were stowed. The bunk rows were numbered and the transient troops were called to their meals in the crew mess by row number. The cooks and bakers worked watches around the clock to feed crew and troops. Transient officers were quartered and fed with the ship’s officers.
In fair weather and calm sea the troops spent considerable time on the flight deck. In foul weather time was spent in the hangar deck or in parts of the ship where permitted. One favorite place was the soda fountain where there was a larger than life photo of Shirley Temple. Navy ice cream was always good on any ship that had the facilities to make it. I had not had any ice cream since the USS ORIOIN at Windy Island.
I was on the flight deck level inside looking forward when a mountain of water came rushing at the ship and the SARATOGA took solid water on her flight foredeck, and that is sixty feet above the water line when the ship is level in calm water. The force of the water was so great it rolled the ship into the trough of the wave at a dangerous degree of list. The ship lay in this position for a long time struggling to right herself and slowly she did. When she was back on even keel it was announced that the list had been recorded on the inclinometer at 33 degrees; 35 degrees was the point-of-no-return. With the ship able to proceed on her own power and back on course it was time for damage assessment which ranged from minimal to very serious.
In the crew mess all the tables and benches were in a pile against a bulkhead. One man had a broken leg while other persons had cuts and bruises. In the galley the food was spilled out of kettles it was cooking in. The galley and mess room had to be cleaned up and more food put on to cook. In the mess room the tables and benches were left in the pile while the deck was scrubbed and salted to give better traction while standing to eat. Later the tables and benches were cleaned and put back in place. In the hangar deck everyone was thankful the bunks had been welded to the deck and that kept them in place. Personal belongings that had been on bunks were scattered, but mostly retrieved and returned to owners.
The USS SARATOGA has just passed under the Golden Gate Bridge and steaming to a dock at Treasure Island. Going through the troop transportation center was time consuming and to spread the flow of work and people Liberty was granted until the next day. I went to a movie in San Francisco, watched the movie then slept awhile. Took a shuttle bus back to Treasure Island and the transportation center to get my orders that would put me on a troop train to Bainbridge, Md., for discharge from the U. S. Navy. That was about 04:00 and I told the officer I wanted to file a hardship request and explained that I would have to pay civilian fare and ride a train half way back across the country to Waterloo, Iowa. He agreed that would be a hardship and a written request would keep me on Treasure Island until the request came up for review. Then he said, “I’m out of the navy at 08:00 and will be gone before the day people know what I have done.” Then he wrote orders for me for troop train transportation to Minneapolis, Minnesota, for discharge from service and train travel from Minneapolis to Waterloo, Iowa. Then I went to a telephone and called my Dad in Elkins, West Virginia, and told him I was at Treasure Island would be going to see Mother before returning to West Virginia.
Hand carried grips were available on Treasure Island for convenient troop travel so I requested one and checked my seabag through to Waterloo, Iowa. That afternoon I was on a troop train headed for Minneapolis. It was a long train of ten or more day coaches with heat only in the first three coaches behind the locomotive and I was in the first coach. That was fine while at sea level in California but became miserable in the unheated coaches as the train climbed up in mountains and it remained that way as it was December. No dining car, but lots of C Rations. If there was a restaurant or lunch room where the train stopped for water many troops made a quick run for sandwiches. By the time the train got to Omaha one man was so sick he had to be taken off the train and to a hospital.
December 14, 1945, U. S. Navy Personnel Separation Center at Minneapolis, Minnesota, where I received my Honorable Discharge and an order for train travel via the Rock Island Railroad to Waterloo, Iowa. Some dischargees could not wait until they got home to become civilians and bought civilian clothes in Minneapolis and changed into them. That night on the train when called to the dining car they had to pay for their meal. Those of us still in uniform were given complimentary meals courtesy of the Rock Island Railroad.
Arriving in Waterloo, I was met by my mother and other family members. A check of the depot baggage room and no seabag. I was taken to my mother’s home and welcomed home. Another check of the depot baggage room a few days later and picked up my seabag.
Sometime after the first of 1946, I received a letter directing me to see Dr. Hospers, a Waterloo dentist. He had an order from the Veterans Administration to examine my teeth and make a bridge with four porcelain teeth. It was a gold bridge that restored the natural shape of my mouth and comfortable eating.
In civilian life I became a member of the U. S. Coast Guard Auxiliary. After twenty-five years of active duty as a Flotilla Training Officer I was awarded permanent lifetime membership, retired status. I am now in my fifty-first year of membership. As a member of the Waterloo Boat Club I used my knowledge to supervise the building and installation of replica U. S. Coast Guard aids to navigation markers in the Cedar River between Waterloo and Cedar Falls.
Having obtained a pilot license and engineer license from the State of Iowa valid on all state owned waters and the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers where they border Iowa, I operated THE BARGE, a one hundred fifty passenger tour boat on the Cedar River for the Waterloo Riverfront Commission.
My interest in pontoons and heavy lift equipment carried over into civilian life and continues to this day. I have designed and built pontoon houseboats, bought used open deck pontoon boats and converted them into mini-houseboats that were nice for fishing in inclement weather on the Upper Mississippi River. That is also where I provided trip pilot service on private owned and charter boats.
The use of pontoons and heavy equipment for marine salvage work holds a high priority for my attention. Then there are the tugboats that tow and maneuver the floating cranes and derrick boats used in marine salvage and construction.
Tugboats are a subject unto themselves that I will mention briefly at this time. The day of the conventional tugboat is about over. Now there are many classes of tugboats each with its own characteristics for the special work it will do such as deep sea hawser towing, deep sea push towing, ship assist work in harbors with container ships and liquid natural gas tankers each requiring a different type tugboat. Yes, there are submarine tugboats. No they are not submerged but assist submarines on the surface.
I never got to accept Donald Jenks Cushman’s invitation to pull his latch string in Wellesley, Massachusetts. His widow Carol sent word that he died from a ruptured tumor in his brain after he returned home.
Sincerely,
Bill T.
