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I graduated from Fresno State College in 1940. My first teaching job was in Tulare County, teaching instrumental music for a half day in each of 10 rural elementary schools. Each school paid $200.00 for the year. I continued to supplement my teaching pay by playing in bands. I moved to the San Francisco Bay area and spent the last two weeks before joining the U.S. Coast Guard playing with the famous Lu Watters Yerba Buena Jazz Band, performing at the Dawn Club in downtown San Francisco.
On June 16, 1942 I enlisted in the Coast Guard, to join a band being formed at Government Island in Alameda, California.
The Coast Guard Band had the pick of the crop of musicians from major symphonies and big bands. I could have remained with the band for the duration, but in 1943 I applied for admission to the USCG Academy at New London, Connecticut. Four months later, I was commissioned an Ensign in the class of 3/43.
I will never forget the final month at the Academy, training and sailing on the square-rigged sailing ship, Danmark (you'll read more about the Danmark later!).
My first assignment in August 1943 was aboard the Arbutus, a buoy tender moored at Newport, Rhode Island, tending buoys and anti-submarine nets in Narragansett Bay. This assignment presented a good opportunity to learn the basics of seamanship, navigation, and work on the deck.
Nearby Boston provided great weekend liberty for Executive Officer Wendell Holbert and myself. His favorite drink was port wine and ginger ale.
In March 1944, I was transferred to the 165-foot Coast Guard Cutter Mohawk, headed from Boston for the Greenland Patrol.
After escorting ships as far east as Greenland, the ship proceeded to a point south of Greenland and gave weather reports in preparation for the invasion of Normandy.
The storms and seas were awesome, along with ice fields that were always present.
We sometimes retrieved ice from alongside and made ice cream, using an ice cream freezer someone had brought aboard.
In June 1944, after the Normandy landing, Lt. Lester W. Newton, Lt. (jg) David L. Russell, Ens. George T. Stoudenmire, and I were transferred from the Mohawk in Greenland to Camp Bradford in Norfolk, Virginia for training as crews to man LSTs headed for the Pacific. It was here that we first met the boys who would become the men of LST 791. Most were just out of boot camp, but we were fortunate that there were enough excellent petty officers with sea duty experience to develop an outstanding crew in time to carry out our mission.
LST 791 Log Wednesday, 27 September, 1944
Commissioning ceremonies were held this date. LT CDR J. Wildman, the Commandant's representative, read his directive and caused the National Ensign and the Commission Pennant to be hoisted. The Commandant's Representative then turned the vessel over to LT Andrew Duncan Jr., USCGR who then read his orders to assume command of this vessel. The Commanding Officer ordered the Executive Officer to set the watch. The officers and enlisted personnel attached to this vessel on date of commissioning are as follows:
[See Appendix B for the complete list of personnel.]
While in training at Camp Bradford, another student in the First Lieutenants' class discovered that some army-surplus Indian motorcycles were for sale in Philadelphia, and we thought it would be a good idea to buy one to have aboard ship. With Commanding Officer Lt. Andrew Duncan's permission, I purchased one of the motorcycles, which was delivered to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where we boarded the 791. BM 1/c Dick Schlernitzauer picked it up, and we were surprised to discover that it had arrived disassembled-Dick ended up assembling it on board! I had never owned a motorcycle, so learned to ride it on the tank deck while we sailed down the Ohio and Mississippi rivers. Dick used it at times to pick up the ship's mail. The ship was fortunate to have Dick in charge of the deck division. He set an example as a leader that all hands admired and contributed greatly to the success of our mission.
Before departing New Orleans, and anticipating Wendell Holbert's and my paths might cross in the Pacific Area, I purchased a bottle of port wine (his favorite drink) and ginger ale for him. Finally caught up with him when LST 791 arrived in Tokyo in the occupation of Japan. Wendell had been Commanding Officer of LST 66 and was presently Coast Guard Laison Officer in Tokyo. Imagine his surprise when I arrived at his office and placed the bottles of port wine and ginger ale on his desk.
We were on shakedown training cruise in Panama City, Florida, when I received word that my mother, visiting in Eastern Texas, was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Captain Duncan granted me 10 days leave. Our LST was at anchor, so Chief Kenneth Chandler, using the ship's crane, loaded my motorcycle into an LCVP, beached the LCVP, went ashore, and I departed on the motorcycle for New Orleans.
Southern hospitality prevailed and I was able to get enough rationed gasoline to get to New Orleans, where I also sampled grits with breakfast for the first time. I parked the motorcycle at a Coast Guard facility and took a bus to Texas. My brother, Gayle, in the Marine Corps (and recuperating from action on Guadalcanal at Oak Knoll Hospital in Oakland, California) met me in Texas. Precious last hours were spent with Mom on the train ride back to California, where I received a message to return to the ship in New Orleans for an early departure. By the time we sailed through the Panama Canal and arrived in San Diego, my mother had died. I will forever be grateful to Captain Andrew Duncan for granting me emergency leave while on shakedown cruise.
The USCG-manned LST 791 made her first landing in the war zone at Taclobin in the Philippines on the same beach where MacArthur had waded ashore earlier.
We experienced some general quarters sessions due to suspected Japanese bogies in the area, but didn't get any gunnery practice.
We sailed 2500 miles to Guadalcanal where we again beached and waited for the Marines of the Second Battalion, 22nd Regiment to come aboard for practice landings. One evening while beached, our officers stepped off the ramp onto the sandy beach and departed for the Officers' Club. I remained aboard as Officer of the Deck. By the time they returned, the tide had come in, and they had to wade waist-deep in water to get aboard. Gunnery Officer Ralph Bohrer was the first aboard the ramp, so he helped Seabee Lt. N. E. McDougal get aboard, then "accidentally" brushed him back into the water. McDougal made it back onboard, but he was really soaked.
Upon loading the Marines' equipment, and after some practice landings, the 791 departed for the impending invasion of Okinawa.
We got to know the Marines' commanding officer, Col. Horatio Woodhouse, from visits in the wardroom. He was a wonderful gentleman and a fine officer. In spite of his anticipating a tough invasion of Okinawa, he took the time to write the ship's crew the following letter.
United States Marine Corps
Easter Sunday
1 April, 1945
To the Officers and Men of LST 791:
On behalf of the Marines whom you have safely brought to their target and whom
you have had crowded on your ship these last seven days, Id like to thank
you all for being such wonderful host to us.
It has been indeed a pleasure to have traveled with you, and to have known you
all. Your cooperation has been outstanding and we wish to thank you for all
you have done to make our stay with you enjoyable.
Best of luck to you allHappy Easter Bunny.
H. C. Woodhouse, Jr.,
Lt. Col., USMC
Two nights before arriving at Okinawa, we found ourselves in a hurricane type storm, so rough that the pontoons alongside the ship were breaking loose. We got permission from the convoy commander to secure the pontoons, practically welding them to the ship. The acetylene torches were so bright, it was almost like daytime. We breathed a sigh of relief that we had not been detected, and proceeded sailing without lights.
Only 13 of the 343 Marines we transported survived Okinawa. We made the trip with a heavily loaded LST 1800 miles to Ulithe where the Marines came aboard, and then another 1300 miles to Okinawa, arriving on Easter Sunday, April 1, 1945 along with hundreds of other ships-the second largest invasion in history, France being the largest. It was so warm and crowded below deck that many of the Marines slept topside under the LCT. They really appreciated the good, hot food served aboard ship.
Following is an account that appeared in The Readers Digest in December 1998 that details the activities of the Marines who were put ashore on Okinawa by the crew of LST 791 on Easter Sunday, April 1, 1945 (see box Readers Digest Story).
4 8
Anchored off Okinawa Island in twenty-eight (28) fathoms of water to six hundred
(600) feet of cable on the stern anchor.
0702 Commenced debarking troops.
8 12
Anchored as before.
0828 Debarkation completed. The following Marine officers and men of the
Second Battalion, 22nd Regiment departed, transportation completed.
[See Appendix C for complete list of personnel]
4 8
Underway as before. 0530 Went to general quarters. 0726- Anchored off
Okinawa Island in 33 fathoms of water to 325 feet of cable to the stern anchor.
0746- Launched port pontoon causeway.
8 12
Anchored as before. 0827 Launched starboard pontoon causeway.
Making preparations to launch LCT.
12 16
Anchored as before. 1200 Pontoon causeways towed away from ship.
LT. N. E. MacDougal, CEC, USNR, and the following Seabees departed, transportation
completed.
[See Appendix D for complete list of personnel]
0 - 4
Anchored off Okinawa Island, White Beach, in thirty-three fathoms of water with
325 feet of cable to stern anchor. 0015- Commenced fueling LCT-828.
0210 Completed fueling LCT-828, 3450 gallons of fuel transferred.
0215 LCT-828 departed with the following officers and men, transportation
completed.
[See Appendix E for complete list of personnel]
On April 10, LST 791 departed in a convoy to Saipan to pick up ammunition. I was Officer of the Deck as we approached Okinawa on our return. We had two radios on the bridge-one for the Convoy Commander, and another tuned to the Okinawa Command frequency. Several kamikaze planes were being reported on the Okinawa Command frequency, and about the time I thought one might be in our vicinity, the Convoy Commander sent a message: "Bogey bearing 090, 1000 yards." Each ship in the convoy then acknowledged.
I asked for his message to be repeated. His next message was: "Bogey bearing 270, 1000 yards." The kamikaze had passed right over our convoy, but a cloud cover luckily prevented his seeing us. Fortunately, someone was looking over us and we were able to deliver our badly needed cargo of ammunition to an Okinawa beach pontoon.
On May 31st, we received orders to depart Okinawa at first light for Ie Shima and report to the Island Government Command. We reported in upon arrival, but they didn't know why we were there, and we didn't either. We sat at anchor for ten days making smoke to screen the other ships present and we were almost constantly at general quarters-firing frequently at the kamikaze planes. The smoke machine would constantly catch on fire, so we rigged a fog nozzle right above it. A Marine airfield was nearby, and we proudly watched the P-38s return, rolling once for each plane they had shot down. On June 11, we departed for Kerama Rhetto, with Government Command personnel on board.
I am not sure how the letter got past the censors, but I received a letter from my brother Gayle, a Marine. He was now aboard a "baby carrier," the Cowpens, which was headed for Saipan, and was hoping by chance our paths would cross. On June 21, we received orders to depart for Saipan. There was a heavy air raid that day, and we were ordered to return to Okinawa. On June 22, our orders were changed to depart for Leyte. On June 27, we arrived in Leyte; imagine my surprise to find the Cowpens at anchor! The next day, one of our LCVP crews took me over, and we went aboard. Gayle was a cook, so we found him sitting in the mess deck. Gayle returned with us to the 791; we spent the night catching up on things at home, then returned to the Cowpens the next day.
The 791 was anchored off the coast of Luzon, Philippines, practicing landings for the anticipated invasion of Japan. I was Officer of the Deck and the crew was watching a movie in the tank deck. I was on the ship's bridge trying to tune in some news on the ship's radio, when I picked up a Reuters News Agency broadcast from Australia, announcing peace overtures were being forwarded by Japan to end the war. I'm not sure how other ships in the area got the word, but a lot of celebrating commenced. We were not aware of the atomic bombs having been dropped. Our beer supply was short, but I was able to have acquired two five-gallon cans of 180- proof grain alcohol on a supply trip. It was placed in the two large vats in the galley and mixed with grapefruit juice. We must have been lucky to have not lost a single man overboard. We departed the next morning for Manila, thankful we didn't have to invade Japan.