An amazing collection of stories by a member of our Greatest Generation.

1. A COLLECTION OF SEA STORIES
BY M. KENNETH MILLER
DEDICATION
To my wife Rosemary
and our sons
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
These memoirs of my Navy days began in 1997 when our son Chris was working in
China, and we communicated daily by email. Lacking noteworthy news at times, I began
to tell him about some of my experiences aboard ship. He looked forward to receiving
these stories, sent back interesting comments, and occasionally even questioned some of
the details.
I am grateful for Chris’s encouragement, which spurred me on to continue to write,
even after he returned to the States in 1998.
Meanwhile I joined the WWII Armed Guard Veterans, and my wife and I attended
their annual reunion in 1997 in Northern Virginia, combining the trip with visits to our
family in Georgia, Virginia and Maryland. At the reunion I was able to look up former
shipmates who were also members. Armed with their current addresses, I wrote them
and that started letters and emails back and forth, and occasional phone conversations.
I am grateful to my former shipmates for their input and insight, and for their
corrections when I was confused or mistaken about some of the details.
I appreciate the time, patience and expertise our sons Dennis, Blaise and Chris gave
me, which lessened my frustrations as I labored to write the stories on our computer, not

2. yet sufficiently mastered.
I appreciate the assistance given me by my brother-in-law Joe Birmingham when we
visited him and Peg in Albuquerque in November 1998, and again when they were our
guests in February.
Most of all, I want to thank Rosemary for the time she devoted to editing my
manuscript. Her invaluable suggestions, additions and corrections gave the memoirs the
literary touch they deserve.
We are grateful to our sons and daughters-in-law, Patty and Dina, and to Zhou Li for
arranging a dinner party in Baltimore for family and friends aboard the S. S. John W.
Brown to celebrate our 50th Wedding Anniversary in June. Looking forward to this
memorable weekend gave us the impetus to finalize the sea stories, now a recorded part
of our family history.
Martin Kenneth Miller
March 10, 1999
A Collection of Sea Stories
This story has its beginning during World War I. My father, Frank Miller, was drafted
and sent into the Army during that conflict. He was assigned to the Buckeye Division
and sent to France. Being quite small in stature he was made a company runner that
meant he had to deliver messages to battalion and regimental headquarters. He spent
almost seven months in the trenches and even as a child I remember his telling me if
there were ever another major conflict that I should join the Navy. His logic was that in

3. the Navy you always had a clean bed to sleep in, good food at all meals, the ability to
keep clean and the war was not as personal as it was on the ground. This proved to be
some of the best advice my father ever gave me.
I celebrated my twentieth birthday on December 12 just five days after Pearl Harbor
was attacked. I registered for the draft the next day and volunteered for the Navy
February 12, 1942. I was given a form to fill out and then had to go to our family doctor
for a physical and another form for permission from my parents for me to enlist for the
duration of the war in the U. S. Navy Reserves. I was told there would be a delay of a
few weeks before I would be called up for active service. I was assigned a service
number 602-15-20, and told the pay was $21.00 per month as an Apprentice Seaman.
Up until this time, my traveling, typical of most young men my age, was limited. On
occasion I made short trips to the nearby states of New Jersey, Delaware, Virginia and
Pennsylvania and a week’s trip to New York and Massachusetts. I recall that one of the
posters said “Join the Navy and see the world”… that I did.
I finally received orders to report for active duty on March 13, 1942. About 60 men
reported to the Navy Recruiting Office at the Federal Building in Baltimore that day. We
were sworn in and immediately marched to the Old Bay Line pier at Pratt and Light
Streets and went aboard for the trip to Norfolk, Virginia, where the next morning we
were sent to ‘Boot Camp’ at the Norfolk Naval Base. We spent six weeks in “boots”
learning the rudiments of marching and discipline. One day we were required to fill out a
form stating what ‘work related’ knowledge or training we had in civilian life. I
indicated that I had attended The Otmar Mergenthaler School of Printing and had been
employed for two and a half years as an apprentice compositor by Williams & Wilkins,
Waverly Press, a medical publishing house. I had grand ideas about being sent to the
printing office of the Navy. False hopes! The next week we were sent to the Armed
Guard Base at Little Creek, Virginia, except for one man, W. D. Belfield, who became a

4. water tender on Navy tankers, and served in the Pacific campaigns. Known as Bill to us,
he later married my younger sister while he was still on active duty.
We were transferred to Little Creek Armed Guard School late in April and were
broken up into ‘Gun Crews’ of ten to twelve men. We learned to load and fire dummy
4”50’s and 5”51 surface guns as well as various types of machine guns used for
antiaircraft fire. We were also instructed in a new antiaircraft gun, the 20mm, which was
to become the standard defense against low flying planes. The last week in training we
went aboard an old gun boat, the U.S.S. Paducah, for two days of surface gunnery
practice. We used the superstructure of an old hulk in the Chesapeake Bay as a target. A
few days later we went to a firing range for antiaircraft practice. On a beach area, we
fired out to sea using 50 caliber machine guns and 20mm cannons. That was it! We
were now qualified Armed Guard Gunners. On June 2 we were transferred to the Armed
Guard Center at 52nd St. and 1st Ave. in Brooklyn, New York.
About a week later the gun crew I was attached to was ordered to report aboard the S.
S. Ulua in Baltimore, Maryland. For the next three weeks I was just a streetcar ride from
home and all of my old friends. I was getting lucky!
We made three trips on the Ulua. The Ulua belonged to the United Fruit Company
and was used to carry passengers and freight, mainly bananas, between New Orleans and
Central America. She had refrigeration capability in the holds and could carry about 60
to 80 passengers. Built in England in 1916, she had twin screws and two reciprocating
engines. She could cruise at 14 knots and a flank speed of about 17+ knots. The twin
screws made her very maneuverable, which proved to be a saving factor several times.
Most of the Merchant Marine crew were original crew members from the cruise port of
New Orleans and included cooks and bakers who were used to preparing superb meals
for the passengers. Needless to say we really had good food aboard this ship. From a
former shipmate I learned the names of the following officers: Captain Rose, the 1st Mate

5. Patterson and the 2nd Mate Arthur Brown. The armament aboard included a 4”50 caliber
surface gun on the stern gun deck, two 20mm guns just forward of the rear gun deck and
two 30 caliber Colt machine guns on the flying bridge. The two 30 caliber Colts were
unique in that they did not have interchangeable parts and therefore could not be broken
down at the same time. The gun crew consisted of 13 men including a coxswain, who
was the only rated man. There was no commissioned officer.
There was one great personal revelation that came about during an early stage of this
trip. I got seasick! All we had to do was drop off the pilot and I would get sick and this
happened every time we cleared the harbor. What a sailor! The remarkable thing is I
never got seasick in very rough seas or bad storms, a little queasy but not really sick. I
was probably too afraid! This was a problem for the first two years of sea duty. To this
day I still get a little unsteady on a small boat.
The first trip was from Baltimore with supplies of all kinds including munitions for the
Navy Base in San Juan, Puerto Rico as well as supplying the new submarine training base
in St. Thomas, Virgin Islands. On that trip we were attacked one night about five miles
off Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic. The submarine caught us outlined by the lights of
the city. Lucky for us, someone on the bridge watch spotted the torpedoes approaching
the ship and sounded the general alarm. The captain, an older Norwegian, commanded
two turns that took us out of harm’s way and the torpedoes passed us by. The gun crew
on the old 4"50 on the stern spotted a light and got off two rounds, one of which caused
an explosion. I later made inquiries about the possibility of any reported sub losses
during that time period and found out that an Italian sub was lost in that area. I believe
we got credit for a possible sinking.
Standing watch was essential albeit boring and repetitive. Time is both one of the most
important and least important constants in the Navy, especially while on watch. During
the day in the tropics, the sun beams down and is a friend. It makes the sea visible and

6. with binoculars details can be defined. On the other hand the sun becomes an enemy due
to the heat generated on the steel surrounding you, and causes any bare skin to burn.
Nights are just the opposite with visibility becoming restricted. However the night breeze
is cooling and stars light up the sky with thousands of glowing pinpoints. In the North
Atlantic there is one natural enemy that has to be fought: Cold! I can remember one
time sailing north after a long stay in the tropics. It was midwinter and our destination
was New York. The cold became noticeable after we left the Gulf Stream somewhere off
Cape Hatteras, North Carolina. We began to search for long winter underwear, then
heavy weather gear and finally when we neared New York, we resorted to wrapping
ourselves in blankets to ward off the bone chilling cold. When we anchored, there were
ice floes in the Hudson River.
While alone on watch regardless of the weather, one is compelled to think about God!
Early in my Navy career, a chaplain gave me a small daily missal. This little book
became my constant companion. I soon found myself praying on watch and putting my
life into God’s hands for safe deliverance from the war. Reading prayers and reflecting
on the words gave me insight that carried me through some difficult times. Thinking
about and relating to the constant presence of an Almighty Protector was, and still is, a
very reassuring feeling.
After discharging our cargo in San Juan and St. Thomas, we returned to Baltimore via
Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. I believe it was on this trip north that we encountered a
hurricane east of Miami. That was my first experience in a major storm at sea. I was
scared. While reloading in Baltimore, we had some new men come aboard including an
officer, Lt. Kassel, who had been with a news reel company, Pathe I believe, before the
war. There were also several new seamen and a signalman.
As I remember, our second trip was much like the first except for a stop we made at
Kingston, Jamaica. After unloading cargo and taking on some stalks of bananas, the

7. largest I had ever seen, we proceeded on to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. On our way we
stopped at Cape St. Nicholas Mole, Haiti, which is just across the Windward Passage
from Guantanamo Bay. The reason for anchoring there overnight was the extreme
activity of German submarines in the vicinity. The next day under air cover, we
proceeded to Guantanamo Bay where we waited for a convoy to assemble before going
north. A few days later we left in convoy. There were five or six merchant ships plus
three or four British corvettes. That afternoon we saw a fishing technique used by the
British. Their sonar must have detected a school of fish; they dropped a depth charge,
slowed down and put out a small boat to haul in the stunned fish! Early the next morning
while it was still dark, we literally ran into a south bound convoy. The Ulua was grazed
by one of the southbound merchant ships. The next morning just north of Havana, Cuba,
we saw a westbound convoy about six miles north of us under attack by submarines.
Three of the ships were hit. One went down in a matter of minutes; the second, a tanker,
was on fire; and the third remained afloat as long as we could see it. During the attack
some of the gunners were firing and several shots came our way. We could hear them
zooming overhead, sounding like a freight train passing by. That day I began to realize
that this was a real life drama and that men were dying on those ships. War then became
very personal and the next torpedo might be for me. I don’t remember if we went to New
York at the end of this trip but I do remember going into dry dock in Baltimore for
needed repairs.
The last trip I made on her began as the others but after discharging our cargo we
proceeded to Kingston, Jamaica, where we stayed for a few days. We went to Panama
without any problems and after a day in Colon, where I tried to look up an old friend who
was on a destroyer there but I had no luck. Then we went through the canal. I was very
impressed during this my first transit of the canal. From there we went to a small town,
Buenaventura, Columbia, which was up river about twenty miles. I remember having to
wait at the mouth of the river for the tide to rise so we could proceed. I also remember
fishing for sharks we saw swimming around the stern. We did hook one on a converted

8. meat hook from the galley. That shark was so big and heavy he actually straightened out
that hook before he got away!
We left Buenaventura and proceeded north to a small port, La Union in El Salvador.
The crew was not allowed ashore, however we had a natural phenomenon to observe.
We had anchored in the Gulf of Fonseca, which is bordered by El Salvador, Honduras
and Nicaragua. Surrounding the gulf were three or four active volcanoes, the first I had
ever seen! During the day there was a constant emission of smoke but at night a ring of
fire kept a constant red glow in the sky. An occasional flare up of the internal fire
illuminated the gulf. We loaded some coffee that had been sent out on lighters. This was
the first time I had seen loading from boats on open water, an interesting procedure to
watch.
After leaving La Union, El Salvador, we sailed for Long Beach, California, where we
found out the ship was being taken over by the Navy. The East Coast crew was relieved
in San Francisco and the Ulua was renamed the AK Canada. She remained under Navy
control until the end of the war and was scrapped in 1949. I am communicating with two
of my former shipmates from the Ulua, Irving Cohen, a radioman, now living in
Oceanside, California and Zigmund Birch, a signalman, now living in Buffalo, New
York.
Most of us received Delayed Orders for the Brooklyn Armed Guard Center, however a
few of the Armed Guard crew did remain on her. This meant three week’s leave, which
included the long train ride back to Baltimore. I had made some close friends on the
Ulua and two of us made the trip together via Chicago and Pittsburgh to Baltimore. The
stopover in Chicago was miserable because of the cold. We had been in the tropics for
almost a year and anything less than 60 degrees was cold but Chicago was below
freezing. We had to change trains, which meant a station change. Thank God we only
had a 4-hour wait. The friend I was traveling with was Don McAlister. I had first met

9. him while in boot camp. He had lived in Pittsburgh before moving to Baltimore. He still
had family in Pittsburgh, so we stopped over for a few days to clean up after the train trip.
We had a really good time there but decided to go on to Baltimore after two days.
We arrived just after the Christmas holidays so it was just like Christmas all over
again. I had some good times with old friends and remember going dancing as many
nights as possible. But it had to end so I called Don and we made arrangements to report
back to Brooklyn together. The name of another friend from that trip just popped into my
head, Charlie Ard from Forsyth, Georgia. I visited him in Forsyth after the war and at
that time it was a very small town. I kept in touch with both of them for years but lost
contact later. Neither one has joined the Armed Guard Veterans.
While I was on the Ulua I had noticed some blood in my stool and toward the end of
our final voyage there was some sign of blood in my shorts and dungarees. I didn't want
to report to sick bay in San Francisco because I knew that if I went into the hospital there
I would never return to the East Coast.
When I returned to the Brooklyn Armed Guard Center I reported to sick bay and on
January 29, 1943 I was sent to the Brooklyn Naval Hospital for a hemorrhoidectomy,
with a new anesthesia called a Caudal Block. I was awake during the whole time and
only once did I feel a tugging in my rectal area. The recuperative period was another
story. After that it was all up hill. Meantime the Navy had opened a new hospital, St.
Albans, on Long Island and for some reason I was transferred there to recuperate. I was
there about four weeks and almost every day my name was on the discharge list but
nothing happened. I began to inquire at the hospital about being discharged and found
out that there were no personnel records to be found. I could have stayed there forever if
I wanted! I went to my Brooklyn base and inquired about my records. They had my
Personnel File but only the Medical Records had been sent to the Brooklyn Naval
Hospital. The two got together and created a new set of Medical Records for me and in

10. about a week I was released from the hospital for active duty.
When I reported for duty at the Armed Guard Station I found out that Lieutenant
Kassell from the Ulua had bridge duty, and several of my shipmates were working with
him. He offered me a job on the bridge mustering gun crews for ships needing new
crews. I also had to use the P.A. system to call them to the bridge and make sure there
was a full crew present. This was a real soft job with no extra duties and we generally
finished assembling crews before one or two o'clock in the afternoon. After that we were
on our own with leave almost every night. The nights we had to stay aboard, I used to go
swimming in the pool at the station. This proved to be my downfall. The game plan was
to look for a 'good ship' and for all of us to be assigned together. I was the odd man out,
for I got water in my ear and developed a middle ear infection. For five days I reported
to sick bay and every day a corpsman would look in and say, "Sure it's inflamed. Just use
a few drops of oil". On the sixth day when I woke up my pillowcase was covered with
blood and pus. I took the case with me when I went to sick bay that morning and I got
immediate attention and was again transferred to the U. S. Naval Hospital, St. Albans,
New York. Diagnosis: ruptured eardrum.
The new St. Albans Hospital near Hempstead, Long Island, had been a golf course
before the war. I was immediately put on sulfa, which had just recently been authorized
for use in other than open wounds. With the sulfa, some local probing and drops, the
infection was controlled and no apparent harm had been done. They did however
continue to give me frequent doses of sulfa. After about two weeks I began to hallucinate
and 'talk to myself'. The doctors checked the medical records and realized that I had been
overdosed on the sulfa. They immediately took me off the drug and began to force fluids
to clear out my system. After a few days I returned to normal and was looking forward to
being released. I was sent to the Brooklyn Naval Barracks at the Navy Yard because
there was no room for me at the Armed Guard Station. I stayed there about three weeks
and during that time I was assigned to Shore Patrol Duty. We had one day on and one

11. day off. What a snap job! My partner was a former policeman from Philadelphia and our
patrol area was downtown Brooklyn around the St. George Hotel. I soon learned that a
nearby bar was a local hot spot . . . where apparently some Marines, Army and Navy men
were trying to start a new front. Any time the Shore Patrol was called to investigate a
problem there, we would go in the opposite direction. I enjoyed this respite from
hospitals and sea duty but it was soon to end.
After being ill and working on the bridge at the Armed Guard Center, I completed and
passed the test for Gunner’s Mate Third Class. The appointment became effective June
4, 1943 and ten days later, I was assigned to the S. S. Robin Doncaster, a relatively new
C2 type cargo ship. I believe she was built about 1940. She was a good ship and fast, 16
knots cruising speed and capable of about 20 knots in good weather. I can't remember if
I caught her in New York or Baltimore. The new crew numbered about 20 men plus
signalman and radioman and a new lieutenant. I do not remember the lieutenant's name
but he was the son of a missionary who lived in China for many years and spoke Chinese
fluently. I could never figure why he wasn't used as an interpreter in China. Later, on the
Joshua B. Lippincott, I had a Coxswain that spoke Russian; in fact he had a slight accent
when he used English. I'll let you figure that one out.
As I remember the ship was armed with a 5”51 on the stern and eight 20mm guns, two
aft, four on the bridge and two on the bow as well as a 3”50 on the bow. The 5” gun was
very old and had been in front of a courthouse in upper New York before the war. I
understand that this type gun was used as the secondary batteries on heavy cruisers and
battleships in the early 1900's.
I was aboard her from June 14, 1943 to October 11, 1943. We loaded up with all types
of ammunition, guns, and food rations. On the deck were lashed down tanks and armored
vehicles as well as two Torpedo Boats. I had no idea where we were going when we left
the docks but found out soon enough that our discharge point was Capetown, South

12. Africa. We left port and headed for the Panama Canal, which was our first stopping
point. After going through the canal we headed south in the Pacific, never seeing land
until we passed Juan Fernandez Island belonging to Chile. This is the island that was
supposed to have been where George Selkirk (Robinson Crusoe) was stranded. We then
proceeded on to Cape Horn, which we rounded in two days. Yes, the Horn can really
blow! That was the roughest and coldest two days I can remember. After rounding the
Horn we headed Southeast toward the Antarctic and finally turned north to go into
Capetown.
We discharged our cargo in Capetown and then found out that all of it was being
reloaded onto other ships in the harbor to be sent to Egypt to resupply General
Montgomery for what was to be the battle of El Alimane later that year. We were in
Capetown about two weeks and except for minimum gun watch, we had shore leave. A
lot of us went to the local service club where I met a nice girl who showed me around the
area including Table Top Mountain and the local beach, which was very small and the
water extremely cold. I went to her home one evening for dinner. From the top of Table
Top Mountain, it was possible to see all of the city and the surrounding area including the
Cape of Good Hope. I will never forget her address; for the house had the name "Orange
Blossom" followed by a street name. None of the houses had numbers, just names. We
left Capetown and sailed to East London, about two or three hundred miles down the
coast toward Durban. Here we loaded dried blood and cow hides for our trip back to the
U. S.
The people in a neighboring town, King William’s Town, invited half our Navy crew
to visit each weekend and stay in private homes. I went with the first contingent by local
train. The trip, approximately 40 miles on a narrow gauge track loaded with switchbacks,
was an experience in itself. I stayed with a couple originally from northern England.
They owned and ran a local haberdashery. Although they were Anglicans, they made
arrangements with an Afrikans family, whom I had met the previous evening at a social,

13. to take me to Mass Sunday morning. The British couple was childless and couldn't do
enough for me. Their home was very nice and restful. They had a hot water heater that
had to be "fired up" with charcoal. At one meal we had mutton, which I had never tasted
before, and it was delicious! This was also my first experience with "High Tea" and all
other kinds of tea. We had a cup of tea first thing in the morning, tea at mid morning,
High Tea in the afternoon and tea before settling down at night. Served with these teas
were crackers or biscuits. High Tea was almost a meal in itself though we never skipped
a regular meal. All of us thoroughly enjoyed this "visit to the country". Later when I
returned home on leave, my mother showed me a letter they had written telling of my
visit, informing her that I was in excellent health and would be on my way home soon.
We left East London with a very light cargo heading to Buenos Aires, Argentina.
About two days out, we ran into the most severe storm I have ever encountered during
my naval career. For two or three days we wallowed in seas that continually broke over
the ship and caused us to roll 45 degrees or more. Our forward progress was reduced to a
snail’s pace. I believe I heard one of the mates say we were south and east of St. Helena
Island. We lived in quarters that had been built for carrying passengers in normal times.
The dining area was equipped with roll down windows, which we kept open slightly from
the top to allow fresh air to circulate. One time during that storm we rolled over so far
that we took on green water through the rolled down window. I knew then that the roll
was more than 45 degrees.
When the storm was over we checked out our guns and found them none the worse for
all of the blowing and drenching they had received. Except for a few gun and muzzle
covers lost and rust that had formed on the open metal parts where the grease had been
washed off, they were in relatively good shape. The ship itself came through relatively
unscathed. Needless to say we had secured all watches fore and aft but doubled up on the
bridge watches. To send men across the open decks in such weather would have been
suicidal.

14. About four or five days later, we arrived off of the Rio de la Plata. Two of the world’s
most pleasant and beautiful cities are located on this river: Montevideo, Uruguay and
Buenos Aires, Argentina. While steaming up the river we could see the remains of the
German pocket battleship, Graf Spee, that had been scuttled by the German crew after an
encounter with the British Navy in early 1940. We were warned that members of that
German crew was still in Montevideo and Buenos Aires and we should be cautious not to
pass on any information through conversation.
We had just arrived in Buenos Aires, the name literally meaning “good air” but it is
also known as the Paris of South America. When the Customs and Security people came
aboard, the first thing they did was to secure all arms. We put our side arms into the
main magazine, and then all of our magazines and ready boxes were sealed with wire and
lead stamped seals. They wanted us to wear civilian clothing ashore but relented when
we explained that only dungarees or uniforms were available, so we wore our dress blues
ashore. We spent about 12 days there and it certainly was a treat.
Quite a large British presence was evident in Buenos Aires at this time and they had an
active business group in that city. All of the members of the Armed Guard were invited
to join them for cocktails and dinner at their local club. It was very plush and we were
treated with the greatest respect. They recommended places to see and to eat and offered
us directions and maps of the city. Listening to conversations going on made it quite
clear that the British were the prime financial movers in Argentina. England imported
agricultural products, and exported manufactured products including transportation
equipment and entrepreneurial expertise. The dinner was exceptional with beef steaks
any size we wanted with all of the trimmings, including fried tomatoes that I had not
tasted since leaving home.
Inflation had not reached this area of the world yet and all of us went on shopping

15. sprees. I remember buying two wool blankets for my parents and socks and underwear
for myself. There was a restaurant, The London Grill, which was within walking
distance of our ship that had been recommended to us. Several mornings we went there
and had fried tomatoes, French fries and a pound sirloin steak with two fried eggs on top
for breakfast and the bill for each of us equaled about 65 cents in American money. Not
bad! One of my friends visited that the restaurant 12 years ago and we enjoyed
reminiscing about the menu one evening after dinner together.
One day several of us went to see the sights and when we got off the subway, a
gentleman approached us and introduced himself. He was a Polish national who had
been cut off in Argentina after the fall of Poland. He offered to guide us around and we
began the tour at the Plaza de Mayo and the handsome Casa Rosada, a rose hued building
that houses the President’s offices. This building, located on a broad boulevard lined
with trees and marble buildings, would stand out in any European capitol. We also
walked along the Avenida 9 de Julio, the city’s main thoroughfare and then went to the
nearby racetrack, which would have been an asset to any city. That was a day I will
never forget.
I remembered that the tango was the national dance of Argentina and made inquiries
where we could see and perhaps dance in a local ballroom. We found out where to go
and several of us got together and went out. I had imagined that the only music being
played would be tangos but to my surprise only about every third or fourth dance was a
tango. My wife and I can now do a tango after learning some steps from our ballroom
teacher but they are nothing like I remember from that experience.
My memories of Buenos Aries are ones I never want to forget. They were very
pleasant and the physical beauty of the buildings and the reception we received from all
of the people we met were very different from our first impressions from the customs
officials.

16. After loading more hides and dried blood, we took on at least one hold of flaxseed
used to make linseed oil. At that time it was the basic oil used in all oil paints. Finally
the day came when we had to leave and we retraced our way down the Rio de la Plata to
the South Atlantic for our trip back home.
We had an uneventful fast trip back to the States. When we arrived in New York, we
were informed that all the Armed Guard crew was being relieved on October 11, 1943,
after only four months aboard. I later found out that our ship was being taken over by the
Navy for duty in the South Pacific. I could never find out for sure what happened to the
Robin Doncaster. I did check out the list of ships lost during the war and that name was
not included.
According to the Armed Guard web pages, the German armed raider Michel was
operating in the South Atlantic from early 1942 until late 1943, and sank at least one
American tanker, S.S. Connecticut, on April 25, 1942. This was the same time frame that
the Robin Doncaster was in that area.
After two week’s leave, I reported back to the Armed Guard Center in Brooklyn, N. Y.
for reassignment. To my surprise I was sent to the Armed Guard Gunnery School at
Camp Shelton, Va. for advanced gunnery training, i.e. training on the 5"38 caliber duel
purpose gun. I was familiar with its maintenance and operation but never had formal
training on that piece of ordinance. I was a 2nd class Gunner’s Mate at this time and
should have had this training before but it just didn't work out that way. Camp Shelton
was one of those "quick fix" camps that were springing up all over that area. I was given
the additional assignment of barrack’s Master at Arms. Essentially this meant that I had
to make sure the place was kept clean. Because it was winter, one of my main concerns
was keeping the pot-bellied stove, manned and going during the night. All of the men in
this unit were raw recruits just out of boot camp. Most were easy to work with but there
were a few bad apples in the barrel. We had established evening and night guard duty,

17. which consisted mainly in fire watch, both in and out of the stove. There was a pile of
coal outside and several buckets for storage inside. Two problem areas were making sure
the guards understood about filling the buckets and keeping the fire going. I can't recount
how many times I would wake up freezing because the fire was out. One night I will
never forget involved a new man who wanted out and expressed his dislike of the Navy
every chance he got. Remember, almost all of the new men were drafted. One night this
guy decided he was going to do something about his problem and look for a Section 8
discharge. About midnight he jumped through a double hung glass window. Needless to
say he did not know how much damage glass and wood could do to a human body
clothed only in shorts. I called the Duty Officer and the psycho was hauled away in an
ambulance. I never saw or heard about the incident again. The training went well and I
remember we scored high in our practice firing on all types of ordinance. By this time
the Navy was using drones for practice which make firing much more realistic. I believe
the training lasted five weeks and as soon as it was over I was returned to Brooklyn.
On December 21, 1943 I was assigned to the S. S. Joshua B. Lippincott, a new Liberty
Ship fresh off the ways. We were the first crew aboard her. She was armed with a 5"38
on the stern, eight 20mm guns, two on the stern, four on the bridge and two on the bow
flanking a 3"50. I can't remember if we caught her in the New York area or in Baltimore.
We were loaded with food stuff and munitions and carried a deck cargo of tanks and
trucks. We joined a large convoy, the first large one I had ever been in, and proceeded to
England. I do not know exactly how many ships were in that convoy but there were two
British auxiliary carriers, called "Banana Boats" by the British, attached to the group.
These were both tankers that had flight decks constructed the length of the ship. They
flew old torpedo bombers, Fiery Swordfish, off these decks. I can remember vividly
these planes taking off and landing during our crossing. When the seas got very rough,
landing became quite a chore and several times I saw them smash their landing gear.
One crashed completely and was pushed over the side.

18. Recently we became acquainted with a couple from England, now living in the United
States. I found out the man was in the British Navy during WWII. He was in the air arm
of the Navy and served for a while on the carrier Illustrious. He gave me some insight on
how the Bismarck was lured out of hiding before being sunk. But the most interesting
thing was his reference to being on a "banana boat" that had its flight deck crumpled up
like a banana peal during a North Atlantic crossing. I was very confused by his reference
to a ship as a "banana boat" and asked him to define the term. Turns out that is what the
British referred to when they were talking about the jury rigged carriers used for convoy
duty in the Atlantic. He also confirmed my observation that in rough weather those old
torpedo bombers, that could become airborne at 100 mph, often went into the drink or
crashed on deck during take off and landing. It must have taken a lot of guts to fly one of
them. This gives me a lot more insight into how that aspect of convoy duty operated.
Part 2
One of my shipmates on this cruise was a Coxswain from the northeast section of
Pennsylvania where hard coal is mined. He spoke fluent Russian and I wondered why
the Navy didn’t use him as an interpreter. We used to stand bridge watch together every
morning and he would come up on the bridge with a raw bacon sandwich. With my
background of seasickness, this was a real test of endurance. Would I get sick first or
would he finish his sandwich? This contest lasted a few days until we ran into some
rough weather. He came up on watch as usual with his breakfast and started to eat away
when all of a sudden he ran from the bridge and disappeared for about five minutes.
When he returned he was as white as a ghost. That was the last time I can remember
seeing a raw bacon sandwich! This episode also helped me overcome my bouts of sea
sickness.
After a rather uneventful trip across the North Atlantic, we ran into some really rough
water in the Irish Sea. In fact it was so rough, with up to 30-foot waves, that we split our
main deck just forward and aft of the housing. We went into Glasgow, Scotland and after
unloading went into dry dock where they welded the cracks so that we could return to the

19. States. We had no problems on our way back but when we arrived in the States, I
thought all the crew was relieved and that was the extent of my time on her. The date on
my records shows February 26, 1944 as release date from that ship. Later on I asked
what happened to her and was told she was sent back to England where they used her as a
supply ship until the invasion of France. Then she was used as one of the 'breakwater'
ships off Omaha Beach. I tried to find out more a few years ago and ran up against a
brick wall. The one thing I did find out was that she was not one of the 'breakwater'
ships. I have been in contact with a former shipmate, Harry W. Sailer. He told me that
he stayed aboard the Lippincott and after repairs they returned to England and stayed tied
up in Manchester until D-Day. Then they shuttled supplies between Southampton and
France until mid August 1945.
On March 9, 1944, I reported aboard the S. S. Colorado, a C2 type gasoline tanker that
had been built in the Chester, Pennsylvania shipbuilding yards. They were known for
their construction of tankers using steam turbine engines. The Colorado was one of these
ships. She was constructed in late 1939 and was owned by the Texaco Oil Company.
She cruised at 16 knots and was capable of about 20+ knots top speed in good weather.
The armament consisted of a very old 5”50 that came from some junk yard. It resembled
a 5”51 and that was the type of ammunition issued for use. Inspection of the gun
revealed that the ‘lands and grooves’ just forward of the chamber were smooth for about
30”. During our trips we fired several rounds and you could observe the projectile
beginning to ‘tumble’ about 1000 yards out. We also had eight 20mm guns, two flanking
the stern gun, four on the bridge and two flanking a 3”50 on the bow. We had 26 men in
our crew including two Gunner’s Mates and a Coxswain. The officer in charge was Lt.
Holbrook, who before the war had been a professor at Harvard University. I remember
him very well! When we reported aboard he called me up to his quarters and informed
me that I was responsible for running the gun crew and that he would back me up in any
decisions and actions that I made. However he had one admonition, “Make sure you are
always right.” Of all the ships on which I served, I have to say the Colorado was the ship

20. on which I enjoyed the crew, the places we visited and the general good feeling of
belonging to a close knit group.
This past year I have been in contact with two of my former shipmates: Milton
Kremer, a Radioman 3rd Class and Donald Yentes, 1st Class Seaman. Milton, now
retired from a Navy career, lives in Hatboro, Pennsylvania, and Don lives in Pekin,
Illinois. I want to thank Milton for much of the material about the ports visited, sequence
of the stops and picture of the Colorado. I didn’t realize just how much I had forgotten in
the last 57 years.
We boarded the Colorado in Bayonne, New Jersey, and at that time I first realized that
tanker docks are always as far as possible from any form of habitation and their
turnaround time is incredibly short. One of the jokes passed around very early in the
cruise was “we would be issued parachutes instead of life jackets on this ship.” We
sailed from Bayonne a few days later for Curacao, in the Dutch West Indies. There are
three islands in this group lying just north of Venezuela. Curacao is the capital and was
the base of operations and refinery for Dutch Shell; Aruba was the refinery and base of
operations in that area for Standard Oil and Bonaire was more or less a deserted island.
We arrived in Curacao in about five days, running by ourselves without any problems
but with many learning experiences. I now knew that a tanker was just a floating storage
system with many compartments, but on this ship, they could be loaded and unloaded
independently. We carried all grades of refined fuel from kerosene to high-octane
aviation gas. I also learned that ‘steaming the tanks’ meant using live steam to clean out
the residual volatile fuel from the tanks so that we would be less likely to go up in a ball
of fire. The empty tanks with residual fuel are much more likely to blow up than steamed
ones filled with fresh or sea water.
The main and only city on Curacao was Willemstad. It straddles a canal-like passage

21. that is the entrance to the inner bay. A floating bridge joins both sides of the city and the
bridge must be opened and closed by a small tug each time a ship arrives or departs and
this occurs many times each day. The buildings on both sides of the channel were
constructed to look exactly like ones in Holland. We proceeded through the channel to
the inner bay where we immediately began to load our cargo of gasoline. There were
about six eight-inch hoses feeding fuel into our ship. We were told that we would be
loaded in about eight to ten hours then we would be off to the races. All of the refinery
and oil storage facilities were owned by Dutch Shell. During the next 13 months we
made nine trips to Africa, two to New York, one to Brazil and many places in between.
The next day we departed for Africa and the task of refueling air bases utilized by the
Allied Transport Service, ATS.
During the time I was aboard the Colorado, we made stops in the same cities more
than once, so instead of trying to give a running account of each trip I decided to give my
impressions, reactions and stories from each area. One of the first cities we visited was
Dakar, French West Africa now known as the independent nation of Senegal. At that
time Dakar, the northernmost city we visited in Africa, was a major French fleet base. A
breakwater protected the harbor and we were required to tie up at the breakwater just
inside the harbor. To go to town we had to walk almost the whole length of the
breakwater, which was about 300 yards long. Quite a trick to navigate if you had a few
too many beers or glasses of wine! The city was comparable to any medium sized port
city in the States with fairly modern buildings but the lack of maintenance was quite
evident. We stopped here only one time for about 48 hours, just enough time to allow
shore leave once each watch. There were many French sailors in town and we could see
some of the French Fleet at anchor further in the harbor.
We were given orders to leave Dakar and to proceed to Bathurst, Gambia. We were
also informed that German subs were very active in this coastal zone so two French
destroyers were ordered to convoy us to Bathurst. As we left the harbor, the destroyers

22. met us. We inquired about the speed they wanted us to maintain. They signaled to
proceed at top speed and they would escort us to our destination. The captain ordered 18
knots, which meant we still had a reserve of about three or four knots. As we increased
our speed, the destroyers began to fall behind, and they started to signal frantically for us
to slow down. At about 12 knots they were able to keep on station with us. These ships
were beautiful in design and very graceful in appearance, however we figured out that
they probably had not been in dry dock for hull scraping and general maintenance since
before the war began in 1939.
We arrived in Bathurst, Gambia, with our escort without any problems. We visited
Bathurst twice during our trips to West Africa. I don’t remember ever going ashore in
this city. The reason may have been the distance involved getting to town and a lack of
transportation. This area was under British control and I can remember we were told not
to buy any diamonds here because they were probably stolen from the mines located in
the interior. I didn’t hear of any offers being made for sale of diamonds.
Moving south on the West Coast of Africa, our next port of discharged was Freetown,
Sierra Leone, which is located at the delta of the Bokel River. The oil docks were located
at the mouth of the river about five miles below Freetown. We stopped twice at
Freetown during out voyages to the West Coast of Africa. On the Colorado there was a
small work boat with an inboard motor that the captain gave us permission to use for
transportation to the city because there was no other means available to the crew. We put
the boat in the water and made several trips to the town but on the last trip the tide was
running out and the flow of the water made going up river so slow that the men waiting to
be picked up almost gave up on us.
The next stop going south is Marshall, Liberia where all oil and gas products are
discharged. This was strictly an anchorage about a mile off shore with no natural
protection and required around the clock gun watches for possible attack from the ocean

23. side. When we first arrived, I wondered where the discharge facilities were and had
pointed out to me a buoy floating near our lea side. The ship crew ‘fished’ the buoy onto
the deck. Attached to the buoy by a cable was an eight-inch flexible pipeline. This hose
was connected to one of our discharge lines and we immediately began to pump out our
cargo of gasoline. This is the most dangerous method of discharging volatile fuel,
especially during war conditions. We were there less than eight hours. This was our only
trip to Liberia.
Takoradi is located just a few miles north of the town of Sekondi in present day Ghana.
Takoradi was mainly a deep water port capable of docking tankers and ore carriers. We
stopped here five times during our trips to West Africa to discharge gasoline. At the
dock there was also a facility for loading bauxite, which was mined locally. The ‘town’
was one dirt street with makeshift wooden buildings on either side and some thatch huts
behind. There was at least one cafe that had beer in what looked like quart bottles and
had quite a kick. Down both sides of the street were ditches that served both for drainage
and use as a latrine. Some of the local people did wood carving and I purchased an
elephant carved from mahogany with a very rough finish. It was about 18 inches high, 30
inches long and 10 inches wide and weighed about 45 pounds. I figured sanding and
finishing the elephant would take up some of my leisure time. Little did I know that I
would finally finish it years later, and today it stands on the upstairs landing in our son’s
house in Columbia, Maryland. The one advantage Takoradi had was the nearness of the
oil docks to the town. I guess they figured the loss of property and life would be minimal
in case of fire or explosion. In all of the African towns and cities there were swarms of
men, women and children selling souvenirs made from wood, leather, ceramic, woven
materials and wild animal pelts. By the time I got back to the States I had two boxes of
“treasures” to send home.
About 100 miles down the coast of Ghana is the city of Accra. From all the accounts I
heard, Accra must have been a fairly large city but we only saw it from about two miles

24. out in the South Atlantic Ocean. We stopped here twice on our African journeys. It was
another stop where we had to ‘fish’ up the eight-inch discharge line to send our fuel
ashore. One interesting demonstration we saw was the discharge of heavy equipment via
lighters. Lighters are oversized row boats; at least that is the best description I can think
of at this time. These large rowboats would tie up to the side of the freighter to be
unloaded. Then the freight would be lowered onto the center of the boat. During the
process, there is a fairly heavy ground swell making both the anchored freighter and the
boats rise up and down. This was an operation that required exact timing and
coordination. After the freight was loaded, the lighter pulled away from the ship and the
crew of the boat rowed the freight to the shore. I had heard about this type of freight
handling but this was the first and only time I witnessed the operation. It took us about
24 hours to discharge fuel at Accra then we were on our way.
Lagos, located on the Bight of Benin, is the capital of Nigeria and the population now
is about 6 million. However when I was there in 1944, the figure was about 250,000.
Lagos was quite an interesting city. We were able to go into town even though it was a
long distance from our ship, which required some form of transportation. The oil dock
was just inside the harbor area with facilities to unload two ships at a time. The local
abattoir was located just beyond the land end of this dock and we could see and hear all
kinds of animals being slaughtered for local consumption. I saw sheep, goats, cattle,
camels and even a few horses being led into the holding pens. The animals were
slaughtered daily by means of a very sharp knife. Then they were skinned and cut up into
transportable size and immediately carted off. This sight made quite an impression on
me.
The city was not very impressive; having one and two story buildings made mostly of
wood. There were only a few paved streets and because of the dirt streets, everything
was either dusty or muddy. The local people were very talented carving ebony, which is
a very hard wood that had been immersed in the swamps for a certain length of time then

25. thoroughly dried before any carving is started. I watched a carver work on some
bookends one day and decided I wanted at least two pairs of the large busts. He started
with a piece of wood about three feet long and 12 inches in diameter. He estimated the
center of the length and marked this point, then he began to rough cut two busts from the
center toward the log end, one male and one female. Part of the time he used a very hot
piece of iron that looked like a paint scraper. Then he used a large knife that looked
something like a drawknife and progressed down to smaller and smaller knives as the
carving continued. The final finish was achieved by rubbing with what looked like sand
or pumice with a final shine with black shoe polish. I bought two pairs of bookends, one
of which is in the family room at my son’s home in Maryland. The second set I gave as a
wedding present to a cousin, whose wife treasured it through the years. She was living in
Homestead, Florida, when Hurricane Andrew in 1944 leveled her home. The only things
that survived were the bookends. I believe I paid about $20 for each set of large busts,
however most of the smaller carvings were procured by means of ‘change-for-change’
better known as the barter system. We traded mostly undershirts, cigarette lighters and
just about any article of clothing.
The local artisans also made beautiful leather articles. Most of them claimed the
leather was camel hide. They made purses, slippers, hats and large shopping bags,
decorated with colorful designs developed in the area. We stopped in Lagos four times
during our West African adventure.
The most southern port we visited in West Africa was Matadi, Belgium Congo. The
city is located just below the first falls on the Congo River and is the only port of entry
for the Belgium Congo. The Congo River is quite wide and deep where it enters the
Atlantic Ocean. Before you see land, the water flowing into the sea is dark brown and
fresh. To reach Matadi we had to steam up the river about 80 miles, but we were still
about eight miles below the city when we tied up at the oil docks. A road ran from the oil
docks into the city but there was no public transportation. However most cars and trucks

26. would pick up walkers if they had room. The first day there, about eight of us walked
into town. That was a long hot hike! Matadi was a medium size city, well kept and very
clean with a mix of Belgium nationals, other Europeans, Americans and indigenous
people. The buildings were well constructed and European in appearance with all of the
amenities available in the States. All of the people were very friendly and went out of
their way to be helpful. We docked two times in Matadi during my sojourn on the
Colorado.
There were three ports where we loaded gasoline, Curacao and Aruba in the Dutch
West Indies and Port of Spain, Trinidad. Curacao was described earlier. At Port of Spain
we were never allowed to go ashore on liberty so I know nothing of that city. Aruba had
a uniqueness all its own. Imagine if you can, a filling station for tankers. That is perhaps
the best description I can draw of Aruba. There was a small island off the coast
surrounded on three sides by the larger island. In the protected areas between the large
and small islands were the oil docks. Tankers were continually arriving and departing
from these docks. The average length of time taken to fill our tanks with split cargo was
eight to ten hours and I think it took about six hours to load one grade of fuel. We would
often swim in the harbor area just beside the ship. The water was as clear as crystal! One
day several of us tried to dive to the bottom of the bay but it was just too deep. There
was a beautiful beach that we could visit at times but first we had to find transportation.
All of the refinery and oil facilities on Aruba were totally owned by Standard Oil. The
crude oil used in making the refined oils came from Lake Maracaibo in northwestern
Venezuela and was transported in small coastal type tankers.
One trip we made was especially exciting and interesting. We loaded up with high
octane gasoline in Curacao and much to our surprise we sailed for Brazil. On our way we
were about 100 miles off the coast when we noticed the water was a brown color. We
asked the second mate about this and he told us this was water from the Amazon River.
Still fresh water, it could be used for drinking. On our way to Recife, we passed the

27. remains of a mountaintop called Saint Paul’s Rock. I understand there were many ships
wrecked on that navigation hazard. It was about an acre or so in area and only about a
few feet above sea level. We proceeded on to Recife, or Pernambuco, which wasn’t
much of a city, where we discharged some of our cargo. Then we continued our voyage
on to San Salvador or Bahia, where we discharged more of our gasoline. My most vivid
impression of Salvador was the age and beauty of the older section of the city and also an
old Great White Fleet era battleship. I do not remember the name of the ship but it was
right out of the history books. I don’t think it had been to sea in years, but it was the
pride of the city. We left San Salvador and headed for Ascencion Island, located about
half way between South America and Africa.
Ascencion Island is a British possession that is an extinct volcano and a perfect cone.
The island rises from the floor of the South Atlantic and extends more than 2000 feet
above the sea. Except for the very top, the mountain is completely rust colored with a
crown of green capped with a perpetual cloud. Before the war the British kept weather,
radio, and navigation stations on the island. Early in the war an airfield was cut out of the
side of the mountain and the island was used as a refueling stop for planes flying from
Recife to Africa. Many of the planes used in the North African Campaign were ferried to
that area via Ascencion Island. This was another stop that required “fishing” for an eight-
inch pipe line before we could discharge fuel with the added problem of having to moor,
or anchor, in very deep water. I believe all the American personnel on the island were
Army Air Force. I don’t remember being allowed to go ashore but there was a cabin
cruiser that had a special detail that included providing fresh fish daily for the Army mess
and they did furnish us with fresh dolphin. Several members of the merchant marine
crew took out our small work boat one day for a sail. What a mistake that was! We were
anchored in the lea of the island and as long as they sailed between our ship and the
island they were safe, but they decided to venture further out to sea. Just a short distance
beyond our ship they were caught in a breeze and could not tack and return to the ship.
One of our lookouts spotted their plight and we signaled the shore station for help. The

28. ‘fishing detail’ went after them and towed them ignominiously back to our ship. That
was the last sailing from the Colorado.
During my duty on the Colorado we returned three times to New York and each time
we were loaded up with gasoline. During the loading process I noticed the deck engineer
adding various colored dyes to the tanks being filled by the same lines. I asked what the
difference was and found out that each color was consigned to a specific company. The
only difference was the color. So during the war there was no difference in the grades of
gas within the various companies.
During our transit of the South Atlantic we had several unique experiences. One time
during my watch, we heard the sound of airplanes and almost immediately a pair of Navy
Hellcat fighters began to buzz us. If they had been German we would have been goners.
There must have been an American carrier in the vicinity because we were too far out in
the ocean for land based planes. Another time we were cruising along at about 16 knots
when we began to see an old WWI cargo ship known as a ‘Hog Island’. We gradually
gained on them when suddenly that ‘old’ ship began to pickup speed and then started to
circle us. We figured out it was a “Q” ship! I understand there were several in the South
Atlantic area stationed there to watch out for German surface raiders. “Q” ships were
generally older and slower ships that had been completely rebuilt with new engines and
hidden naval guns with as large a caliber as the frame of the ship would allow. They
could out run a large armored raider and out gun an armed merchant raider.
May 7, 1945, was a very memorable day for us. We were in the South Atlantic when
the radio reported that the Germans had surrendered and at last there would be peace in
Europe. Since we were on our way back to Aruba for a refill, we still maintained a full
security watch as well as a blackout at night. We didn’t want to take any chances of
meeting an uninformed U Boat commander. Upon arrival in Aruba we loaded up a new
80 octane fuel that was to be tested on planes and Motor Torpedo Boats. As soon as we

29. were loaded, we sailed for Balboa, Panama Canal Zone where we discharged the fuel.
We headed back to Aruba, then to Bayonne, New Jersey, where I believe we tied up at
the same dock from which we had sailed over a year before.
After two weeks leave, I reported back to the Armed Guard Center in Brooklyn.
Almost immediately I was transferred to the Armed Guard Center, Treasure Island, San
Francisco, California for assignment. After a six week advanced gunnery school, I was
assigned to the S. S. Albert B. Cummins, in Vancouver, Washington. Vancouver is across
the Columbia River from Portland, Oregon. The Cummins was a general cargo carrier
that belonged to the Alaska Steamship Co. Scheduled to make a run to Alaska, we sailed
from Vancouver to Seattle, Washington to pick up our cargo.
This was my first time in Seattle, which I enjoyed because its seafood reminded me of
Baltimore. We were docked next to the ferry terminal and I can remember seeing people
fishing in the harbor for salmon and steelhead trout. Occasionally a good catch could be
seen aboard one of the small boats. I would go to the end of the dock and buy two large
crabs, steamed with spices, and a few bottles of beer. I enjoyed a private “crab feast” on
the stern of the ship. On August 15, 1945 Seattle, with the rest of the U.S., went wild
with the news of the Japanese surrender. We celebrated for two days. Most of us figured
we would be discharged and home within a few weeks. However we remained aboard
for a while longer before being transferred to Camp Shoemaker, California to await
discharge.
On September 25 I arrived at Camp Shoemaker needing just 1 1/2 points to be
discharged from the Navy. Shoemaker is located in the center of the state near Stockton
and 50 miles east of San Francisco. After reporting to the discharge area for a review of
my active duty record, I found out that at the end of the month I would need one more
point for discharge and would be held there for the time needed. The camp was located
in a forsaken area that was hot and dry in the day and cold at night. One of the evening

30. pastimes was collecting blankets from the men on leave to keep warm. Walking during
the day was a hazard because of the many deep cracks in the earth, some of which were
as deep as 18 to 24 inches and three to four inches wide, making walking at night in
unlighted areas a foolish thing to do. Every day I would check out the list to see if my
transfer for discharge to Bainbridge, Maryland had been posted. Surprise! On October 4
my name was posted for transfer to the U.S.N. Barracks (Embarkation), Treasure Island,
for assignment which meant overseas or ship board duty. I immediately began to try to
have my name removed from the list but that was to no avail. On October 6 I found
myself in San Francisco waiting for an assignment. Regardless of my pleas for a review
of status, the answer was NO. Two days later I was on a troop ship with several thousand
men bound for CNOB, Leyte Gulf, Philippine Islands. The next several weeks are a blur
of confusion with lines for everything: meals, salt water showers, permission to go on
deck, to use the head, etc. etc. etc. The bunks were stacked four high with just enough
room to get in and out of them. This was a new ship made for transporting troops. There
was always a card game going in our line of bunks and always another man waiting to get
in the game. Most of the men were new recruits going on to their first assignment. I
think I was one of the few rated men aboard.
When we arrived in the Philippines about thirty of us were put aboard a small landing
craft and two hours later six or seven of us were dropped off on a beach and shown an
open thatched roof shelter. We were given some C rations and told to make ourselves
comfortable and that a truck would pick us up some time later. We waited and waited
and no truck appeared so we decided it was time for lunch. This was our first experience
with C rations. Several of the guys just couldn’t handle them but I thought they were
edible even though they were cold. Some time later a truck did show up and we began to
drive through jungle by way of muddy dirt tracks. We passed through one town,
Tacloban; I will never forget that name! After driving through more jungle, we arrived at
PT Base #17 very late in the afternoon. I was given the duty assignment of Master-at-
Arms of the barracks housing part of the base maintenance personnel. We had cooks,

31. bakers, torpedo and ice machine repairmen. This was a very close knit group that I was
able to join without any problem. My job was an easy one because there was no one in
the barracks during the day to mess up and I had a crew of seamen in each morning to
clean. I had my own room at the end of the barracks and there was a pool table between
my room and the other sleeping quarters. Every afternoon three guys set up a dice game
on the pool table and soon the game began and the longer it lasted, the higher the stakes
became. Remember most of these men had been in the Pacific for years without leave
and with plenty of money so at times you would see several thousand dollars being bet
with the men running the game covering all uncovered bets. After the base crew got off,
they would gather in their part of the barracks and soon a party would begin. The cooks
brought food and various juices, the bakers came with desserts, the torpedo men had
canteens of 200 proof alcohol and the icemen came with their supply of ice. What else
could you ask for?
During the day I would explore the base to see what was going on and what was
available. The base was being decommissioned with all of the armament being removed
from the P T Boats and the torpedoes being secured for return to the States. I am not sure
what was done with the 20mm cannons and machine guns but the rest of the boats were
run out to the local reef, grounded and burned. What a waste! Every afternoon the
canteen was opened for a few hours selling just about anything you needed as well as
cold canned beer. This was the base John F. Kennedy operated from during the war but I
don’t believe he was aboard when I was there. I only stayed at P T Base #17 a few weeks
when my discharge papers caught up to me. I was returned to the Layte Gulf base for
transportation back to the States. From there I was sent aboard the carrier U. S. S.
Franklin for the return trip home.
The Franklin had been hit by a suicide plane during the battle for Okinawa and had
been repaired and returned to active duty just before the surrender. She was converted to
carry men home for discharge. The entire hangar deck was one huge sleeping area with

32. bunks stacked five high. There wasn’t a single airplane on the ship; the only cargo she
carried were happy men returning to the States. The food was good, several recreation
areas were available, movies were shown each night, and we could roam most of the ship
at will. The trip to San Francisco took less than two weeks. We were sent to Treasure
Island to arrange for transportation to the nearest separation center to homes or wherever
you wanted to be discharged. My center was designated as Bainbridge, Maryland.
After my third cross-country train trip, I arrived at the Bainbridge separation center on
December 15, 1945 and on the 17th I was given an Honorable Discharge from the U.S.
Navy. I was in the Navy exactly three years, ten months and five days. I took the short
train trip from Bainbridge to Baltimore on the 18th and was able to celebrate Christmas
with my family for the first time since 1941.
In 1991 I found out about the U.S. Navy Armed Guard WWII Veterans and signed up.
Two brothers, Charles A. Lloyd and L. D. Lloyd, living in Raleigh, North Carolina
founded this organization. C. A. Lloyd is the motivating force and publishes “The
Pointer” about four times a year which is sent to all registered members of the Armed
Guard Veterans. He has also established a network of computer users that keep track of
AG members and the ships on which they sailed allowing members to look up old
shipmates. The cross-reference includes listings of ships, AG members and dates served
on various ships and a list of members by zip code. That is the database I used to find the
former shipmates I have contacted.
“The Pointer” is a wonderful source of both old and new information and stories about
the exploits of the Armed Guard with pictures that bring back many memories of days
long gone. My wife of 50 years, Rosemary and I attended our first AG Reunion in
Arlington, Virginia in 1997 and hope to continue by attending the annual reunions in the
future.

33. About three years ago “The Pointer” reproduced a form to be used to inquire of the
Navy Department for a review of medals and commendations awarded to individuals
during WWII. I immediately filled out the form and sent it off. Some nine months later I
received an answer to my inquiry and looked it over. Someone had goofed! The material
I had was for a ‘fleet’ man who lives in California. I made copies of the forms and sent
the originals to him and the duplicates back to the Navy Archives Section in St. Louis,
Missouri with a note explaining the mix-up. Time marched on! Several times my wife
asked me write the Navy to find out about the delay but I persisted and continued to wait.
Eureka! After about a year I not only received a list of awards but also the five medals I
had earned:
American Campaign Medal
Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal
European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Medal
Navy Good Conduct Medal
World War II Victory Medal
Honorable Service Lapel Button.
Perseverance pays off. The Navy came through again!