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The following diary by Howard Riley was received from his daughter, Mary Ann Osmoski, and was a welcome surprise.
At the time of this first writing we are passing through the Panama Canal. We were in Coco Solo last night and had about five hours of liberty. We took a bus over to Colon, and what a town that is. It is the most wide open place I have ever seen. There are apparently only two professions practiced there—bartenders and those who dwell in the red light district.
We have several tons of ammunition aboard as cargo and five LCT sections on deck. Also two Navy crews for the LCTs. We picked up the LCTs in New Orleans and the ammo in Mobile and then left the States. Prior to that we boarded the ship in Pittsburgh (which, incidentally is the best town anywhere, except New York of course). Had a very scenic trip down the rivers to New Orleans. From there to Panama City, Florida, for training and shake down and then back to New Orleans. Scuttlebutt is that we are going to San Diego and then to Pearl Harbor. Pearl Harbor is for sure, but Diego is, as I said, strictly scuttlebutt.
I might add a word about Stogie, our mascot. Stogie shipped in, in New Orleans after dark and under a gunner’s mate’s jumper. It seemed that she had belonged to the superintendent of the shipyard where we were tied up. She is a little, chubby, white soup hound, who stands about eight inches high at present. Poor little mutt got seasick on the way down, but she was all right after that.
I guess that brings us up to the present and the Canal again. We passed through the famous Gatun Locks late this afternoon, but it is dark now, as usual at 10:00 p.m. We can’t see much of the scenery. What we did see was very beautiful country, though. The foliage comes clear to the water’s edge and is so dense that you cannot see two feet inland. A lot of the trees are coconut palms, something we didn’t have in Greenland. This dense green growth, with the mountains rising in the background makes a beautiful picture. The waterfront at Coco Solo and Colon look like something out of a Dotty Lamour movie.
Quite a lot of water has gone under the fantail since the previous page was
written, more than I had intended to let go by. However, we did go up to San
Diego from Panama and had wonderful weather all of the way. In fact, we have
had good weather ever since we left Pittsburgh in September. It hasn’t
rained more than two or three times and no storms at all. The trip up from the
Canal Zone to Diego was uneventful, nothing but the seagulls, flying fish, and
one day a couple of water spouts. A couple of times you could see rainbows,
although it was not raining.
San Diego is not much of a liberty town, although it is better than one might
expect considering the thousands of service men there. While we were there some
of us went over to Mexico. We went to a little place named Tijuana, just over
the border. We didn’t have much time or money and although I intended to
pick up a couple of souvenirs, I didn’t. Neither did I get any in Panama.
After a few days in San Diego, we shoved off again and in company with the LSD
940, pointed our homely prow toward the fabled land of sunshine, grass skirts,
and Robert’s Committee investigations. We made the run without escort and
except for the carrier and the destroyer sighted the second day out we didn’t
see another ship the whole trip. Yes we did, too. About four days out of ’Dego,
another LST, the 756, fell in with us and the three ugly ducklings waddled into
Pearl Harbor on the 10th of December, just three years and three days after
the Japanese delivered their Irish upper cut. It was a Sunday morning, too.
The run from ’Dego to PH took us about twelve days—about 2300 miles.
There are very beautiful hills and mountains behind the city, but from what I hear of the place I hardly think it would be much use going ashore. The SPs are tough. Too many sailors with no place to go, and so forth. I haven’t been ashore yet, but I guess I will go in one of these days. It looks like we will be here at least a month, maybe longer.
We got rid of the LCT sections today and our cargo of ammunition goes next. Nobody is sorry to see that go. Just like riding around in a time bomb, wondering if and when it’s going to go off. All they have to do now is load us with high-octane gas and we will all go over the hill. Come to think of it, there are plenty of hills, but where would we go? It is a long way back to Jersey.
So here I am, in a place I always wanted to see, Hawaii, land of the hula girls. I haven’t believed that malarkey for a long time. But so far I haven’t seen a girl of any kind. In fact, I don’t even feel like going ashore. This war is sure going to knock hell out of the Cooks’ Tour business.
Now I want to say that the island of Oahu, on which Honolulu is situated, is a very lovely place indeed. Oahu is the only island in the group we were able to visit. Our liberty was from 0830 to 1900, which in this case was a break because we could really see something. Everyone, civilians included, had to be off the streets by 2030. Things were not so bad ashore as we had been led to believe; that is, if we got out of town. Honolulu, as we had surmised, was very overcrowded. It was even an effort to walk along the streets.
However, Charbonnet and I found our spot the first day we were ashore. One look at the town, that is, the corner where we got off the bus, and we decided—no good. So we boarded another bus and in ten minutes we were surrounded by all of the fabled splendor of the renowned beach at Waikiki. It was truly a beautiful spot.
Kalakakua Avenue, the principal street, is a very wide boulevard, lined with coconut palms and walls and fences covered with flowering vines. After all of the crowded cities, navy yards, and many days at sea, it was a wonderful experience just to walk in such an enchanting atmosphere. Enchanting is really the word for it, or so it struck us. It didn’t seem like the same world at all. This state of mind may have been partially caused by the monotonous and very restricted life aboard ship, but not entirely. Waikiki has something that just lifts you right out of this world.
After walking around awhile, we rented some swimming trunks and went for a dip, after which we just lay on the beach basking in the sun with an eye out for any female who may appear to complete the picture. Somehow, it seems no situation is complete without them. In this, however, we were disappointed. No more than two or three appeared, and they were well convoyed by a full regiment of Army officers. While we are lying here in all of our bachelor glory, I will describe the beach.
Off to the left, Diamond Head, an extinct volcano, thrust out into the sea. A short distance off to the right is the famous Royal Hawaiian Hotel and closer is the Moana. As you wade out into the water it gets deep very fast and fifty feet off shore it is five or six feet deep. There it starts to get shallow again and you start breaking toes on the coral. This reef runs out a quarter of mile or so with only a couple of feet of water covering it. This accounts for the long rollers, which make the surfboards so popular here. In fact, they are almost a necessity if you want to save your feet. It is either get a surfboard or stay in the gully close to the beach.
We spent at least a part of each of our four liberties on the beach, but after one feeble attempt on the boards, we stayed in the gully. It takes an artist to navigate on the damn things. After the beach, we had lunch at the Waikiki Tavern. This was just like any other restaurant, except a couple of the sides were missing. A lot of business places in town are built like that. A couple of little birds came in and hopped around the floor eating crumbs.
Here too, was a character who might have come out of a novel about the islands. A man approaching middle age, mostly bald and slightly bleary-eyed, and with a very red complexion caused by the prolonged use of alcoholics—specially the nose, lined with broken veins. When we spoke to him, he talked like a very well educated and cultured person. Truly, the broken down intellectual type who had ended up in the islands, playing the piano for what ever he would get. “Eddy Manly at the piano from Noon to 5 daily.”
Before we leave the beach, a word about the Royal Hawaiian. If there is a more beautiful structure any where on earth, I would certainly like to see it. I don’t know just what type of architecture it is, but it appeared to me to be a cross of Moorish and Oriental. It is a sort of pinkish color, which may seem odd, but set as it is in its deep grove of palms, and rising above them, it looks like something out of Arabian Nights. The interior defies any description I could give it. The walls are all paneled and intricately designed in color. The hotel is used now by the Navy as a rehabilitation spot, I believe.
On a later liberty, we took a bus ride to Kailua. This took us to Nuuanu Pass. The road wound itself right up the side of the mountain—it seemed almost vertical. Looking out of the bus and straight down at some places you could see the road directly below, two or three sections of it, each heading in a different direction. Then came one of the many tight hairpin curves—and the road you had just traveled would be just overhead. At the highest points, the road was up in the clouds. Practically every turn brought some new delightful view. At one point you could see clear out to the ocean. The hills, trees, farms, the blue ocean’s white breakers, all in vivid colors, it hardly seems real. I guess the great heights and sheer drop beneath us added to the effect.
When we got to Kailua, there was nothing but cross roads, so we hitched a ride in an Army truck to the camp, where they had a small USO. As we set there eating and looking at the palms and the beach, two songs kept running through my mind; Ebb Tide and Moonlight in Kailua. I can see now what inspired them, although once again, I didn’t have a girl as those fellows evidently did. Then again I wonder: chances are those writers had never seen the place and had never been out of Tin Pan Alley. We took other rides too, and saw the sugar and pineapple plantations and the papaya fields.
Later we took the ship to Kewalo basin and took on our present cargo, some more ammunition, Army trucks, jeeps, and armored cars. A unit of Seabees, part of an Army tank battalion, and some Army and Navy casuals came aboard as passengers.
We left Hawaii on the 28th of December and the next land we sighted was Kwajelein Atoll. We didn’t stop there but continued on to our present position at Eniwetok, arriving there yesterday. There is quite a lot of shipping lying here, mostly freighters and tankers, a couple of destroyers, and several more LSTs. We now have a whole LCT on deck and four other smaller landing crafts in and around it. Also, huge pontoons secured to our sides running about two thirds of the length of the ship. We are really an unwieldy looking craft now.
We heard today that Luzon had been invaded. We thought we might be in on that deal ourselves, although no one was over-anxious to be. I guess they are saving Formosa and the China coast for us.
Tomorrow I am going to try to get ashore and see what this place looks like at the close-up. It is plain from where we are anchored that they have had a battle here. Hardly any trees left standing, just a few stumps.
We have piled up quite a lot more mileage by now but I will start off again on Eniwetok.
I didn’t get ashore on the next day, but on the following day we went into the beach for a little recreation. We went swimming, had a ball game, and a few cans of beer. The island is nothing but an oversized sand bar with what is left of a few trees on it. There is an airstrip and a few huts on it, and that’s all.
The next day we shoved off again bound for Leyte, in the Philippines. We were expecting to run into trouble on this run, but the trip proved to be uneventful. We had one GQ in the middle of the night, but it was just a dummy run. I guess somebody on one of the other ships had an itchy trigger finger and started shooting. We stood at GQ for about twenty minutes and then hit the sack again.
Upon arrival at Leyte, we beached on Dulag Beach, where some of the initial landings were made in the invasion of the island. Some of the soldiers we had aboard had hit the beach in the same spot on the first day. They had been back to Pearl Harbor to the hospital and were now coming back to join their outfits.
There were still some Japanese around on the island, but they had them pretty well rounded up now. We had one alert while we were there, but if there was a raid it must have been way off, as we saw and heard nothing. We are all very much surprised at having come so far, right up into the middle of the Philippines without getting shot at. We haven’t so much as seen a Japanese yet.
Here at Dulag, there had been a small village. There was a fairly large church, but it had been wrecked by the bombs—although the front wall was nearly intact, and the cross at the peak was still there.
After we discharged our Army casuals and the Tank Battalion, we went down to Taclobin and put off the Navy casuals. We went ashore for an hour or so to look at the town. Such a hell hole for human beings to live in, I never saw before. All the streets looked and smelled just like the pig pens from back home. Just about ankle deep in mud and slime. There are a few pavements on the main drag but all streets are lined with ditches to carry off the sewage. You can smell it clear out to the ship. The houses are merely shacks and the only people who are not in rags, are those who have acquired some GI clothes.
There were a few who looked half-way decent, but not many. We saw about eight truck loads of American girls just in off a transport. If they are nurses, it may be necessary. But if they were WACs, it’s not only unnecessary but a God Damn Shame to send them to a place like this.
About the only humorous thing I saw was a sign in the City Hall. It read “NOTICE – do not pay more than two pesos for a Marriage License.” It struck me as funny, anyway.
Out on the ship again, the natives were paddling all around us in their outriggers, trading grass hats, knives, and so forth for some of our clothes or mattress covers. If you offer them money, they won’t take it. I guess that is no more good to them than it is to us. The next morning we shoved off again. We rather thought we would go up to Luzon from there. But instead we headed south to Guadalcanal and the Solomons.
On the sixth day out, we crossed the equator and were duly visited by his majesty Neptunus Rex and Davie Jones and the rest of the royal party. Those of us who were not Shellbacks, but only mere Pollywogs, were initiated in to the Solemn Mysteries Of The Deep and as a consequence there are only six men aboard who have all of their hair. This took place just yesterday, so as I write this, my head looks like an elongated cue ball. So, now we are all Shellbacks.
Guadalcanal is still four or five days off, but our escort left us yesterday and we are now carrying running lights, so I guess there isn’t much in these waters except flying fish—but plenty of those. We are, by the way, off the cost of New Guinea.
Arrived at Guadalcanal the day before yesterday. Stayed overnight, left for Tulagi, had our orders changed, and are now at Florida Island.
A couple of days out we found a water-logged dinghy that had been converted into a sort of raft. A couple of oars had been nailed upright and a makeshift sail had been rigged from scraps of cloth, a sugar sack, and a part of a pair of trousers. There were two big holes in the bottom, and there were at least a thousand tiny fish inside the dinghy. Many larger fish of various kinds were hovering about and three sharks, 6 to 8 feet long, were also on patrol. There was no sign of any bodies, so there is no telling of what happened to anyone who might have been in it.
The skipper just gave us a talk and it seems that we are due for an invasion in a couple of weeks. We are taking on some Marines and going on maneuvers for a few days and then what?
I worked all day yesterday and through 0900 this morning. It seems that they are going to pay us at last after two months, and we had to get the pay accounts up. After that I slept all day and it is now 2100 and I am getting hungry. Guess I’ll see if I can find some chow in the galley.
Speaking of chow reminds me of one day when we were going through the chow line and one boy looked at his tray, shook his head, and said “This chow is going to win the war, but how the hell are we going to get the Japanese to eat it?” It really wasn’t that bad, not quite.
We hung around Guadalcanal until the twelfth of this month, or rather bounced back and forth between there and Tulagi and the Florida Islands. They are just a few hours apart. We went on maneuvers and had a couple of rehearsals for this little surprise party we are planning for the Japanese. At least, we hope it will be a surprise. The Seabees and their pontoons are still aboard, as is the LCT and its crew. Also 17 LVTs and their Marine crews and a gang of Marine infantrymen. LVTs are landing vehicles, track. They are big steel monsters that can run off the end of our ramp and swim ashore. Then, with their caterpillar treads they can walk right up the beach like a tank. There is a four-man crew for each one. They are used to carry personnel and supplies.
One of the LVTs has a little black and white dog for a mascot—name is Tojo. He is a cross between a dog and a hand grenade. He is only a little fellow, but they have teased him so much that he wants to take a leg off of anybody who looks cross-eyed at him. He has a powerful voice for such a little mutt and he sure does use it. I have made friends with him though, and can pick him up without getting growled at. That’s three dogs we have aboard now, Sugie, USCG, LST791; Duke, USN, LCT828; and Tojo, USMC. Tojo used to bark like hell every time he saw a sailor, but he is used to them now.
A few days ago, one of our crew was taken sick and he really looked bad. Yesterday, we transferred him to another ship that has a doctor aboard. Late last night we received a message; “Rowland has malaria, condition serious.” We hope it is not contagious—he was in my bunk the last three days he was aboard.
Now that we are up to the present again we are in convoy and bound for Ulithi, in the Caroline Islands. That is to be the jumping off place for this little rumpus we are going into. The place we are going to hit is Okinawa Nansui Shoto, about 750 miles from Tokyo. I imagine that when that show starts, the landscape will be messed up for miles around. It not only has a large airstrip of its own but it is within easy flying time from Formosa, China, and Japan itself. Well, we’ll see about that later. Some of these Marines have already made a couple of invasions and this is to be their last and then back to the States. And I hope they make it.
Sunday, March 25, 1945
We arrived in Ulithi on the 21st after another uneventful cruse. We lay there until 1600 today getting squared away for the next lap. And this is it. We are on our way now to strike at an island that is closer to the Japanese mainland than any that have been struck yet by the Allies. Okinawa is one of the string of islands that runs off the lower end of the main islands of Japan.
We are really crowded on here now. The ship has a complement of 122 officers and men; now there are 532 aboard. It won’t be for long, though. We expect to hit on the first of April, April Fools’ Day. I wonder who is going to get fooled.
There is a little swell out now and this god damn scow is rolling like a barrow in a mill race.
Well, we done it. On April 1, Easter Sunday, and April Fools’ Day, we participated in our first operation. I don’t know if the Japanese were surprised or not, but we certainly were. We didn’t even get shot at.
To start at the beginning, I’ll go back to the evening, “L minus 1.” We had been standing a GQ continuously for a day or two, with the gun crews and repair parties sleeping at their stations. My station is on the conn, and as I couldn’t very well stay up there 24 hours a day, I had been relieved for a couple of hours by a fellow whose station didn’t have to be manned until actual action occurred. Well I was pretty tired, so instead of flaking out on the deck someplace, I said, “the Hell with it” and went below and turned in. After a while somebody came along and shook me and said “Hey, GQ—they want you on the conn.” I got up and went up to the conn, but it was all over. One of our escorts had picked up a Japanese plane and shot it down. This ship didn’t get a chance to fire, but GQ had been sounded and I slept through the whole damn thing.
Early the next morning, we were at it again. This time we were closing in on the beach. We had entered the East China Sea the night before, passed the southern end of the Island of Okinawa, continued on toward China, and then doubled back in time to go to work just after breakfast.
This was the largest amphibious operation in the Pacific to date. Some 60 thousand men were put ashore on L-Day; more than went ashore on D-Day in Normandy, and the naval barrage was something terrific. As far as could be seen, there was a line of war ships: battle ships, cruisers, destroyers, DEs, LCTs, and so forth. They were blasting the beach with everything from 16-inchers to 20-mm. Overhead was an umbrella of planes, all American—strafing, bombing, and launching rockets.
All of a sudden a plane swooped down as if in attack and straightened out on a course just between the line of ships shelling the beach and the line of LSTs, LSMs, and LCIs fanning out for the operation. By that time, everybody within range was shooting at him. When they discovered it was an American plane, it was too late. He had crashed in flames into the China Sea. I’m only glad that we were not shooting at him. I hope his folks don’t find out how he died. It’s bad enough to go out when there is a good reason for it, but to die like that, so futilely—it just shouldn’t be.
Nothing much happened for the next few days. We had numerous GQs, but it wasn’t until the seventh day that anything came close enough for us to shoot at. We had so many carriers between us and Japan, and between us and Formosa and China, that the Japanese couldn’t get through in any number. They would send out 150 planes and maybe 6 or 8 would get to Okinawa. None of them ever got back.
During this particular attack, a Japanese plane came from over the island and started down in a suicide dive. Just like a Japanese, it picked a hospital ship as his target. He didn’t quite make it. For a minute it looked like he would, but he started to wobble and crashed into the water close to the ship.
Ernie Pyle wrote that he had never seen such a concentration of anti-aircraft fire anywhere. As so far as we were concerned, that was the invasion of Okinawa.
After leaving Okinawa on April 11th we went to Saipan for repairs and then to Guam for our present cargo. This cargo, and I don’t like it, consists of about 1200 tons of ammunition. We went back to Saipan and are now on our way back to Okinawa. According to new reports, things are getting pretty warm up that way. The Japanese started raising Hell a couple of days after we left and are still at it. We are now about 28 hours out of Saipan, but we had a GQ just a few minutes ago. We secured after a few minutes, so I guess they decided the warning was for someplace else.
We have four new guns now, giving us a total of 22 guns: eight 40-mm, twelve 20-mm, and two 50-calibers, probably making us the best-armed LST afloat. We have two more 20s. I guess we are going to mount them too, if we can find room.
Now that the war is over in Europe and we can concentrate entirely on Japan, it shouldn’t take quite so long to finish them off. Maybe not this year, but by sometime next year we may all be home again.