FLOYD REMEMBERING
Floyd - Sixteen Years Old
This memory begins at a time that I well remember. The year was 1907, when Mother died and Dad's poor health forced him to sell his family operated saw mill, our only source of income. Older members of the family left home to find employment and Dad was not able to support his children. Viola became a ward of Uncle John and Aunt Jane, while Roy found a temporary home with the Bromley family. I lived with the John Haskins family on Knob Creek and worked on his farm for subsistence
Although he had three teenage girls, we were not permitted to attend school regularly because of the work load on the farm. The years ahead didn't look very promising so I began searching for something better. A young friend who lived nearby was also searching for a paying job. On an impulse we slipped away and walked the railroad tracks some twenty miles to Florence, Alabama where we hoped to find work on the Wilson Dam project. At night we slept in the tall sage grass alongside the tracks and when we reached Florence, tired and hungry, we went to Uncle Morgan Matthews' general store, hoping he would be helpful. He asked us what we were doing in Florence. When we told him we were looking for a job, he fed us and told us there was little chance for sixteen year old kids to find work here.
Rested, fed and still hopeful we headed for town. But fate would intervene and steer us to a man tacking up a sign on a telephone pole - he was a U.S. Navy recruiter! After listening to his sales pitch, we decided we had found a job; "Join the Navy and see the world while serving your country. Unlimited opportunities to learn a trade while enjoying the comforts of life aboard ships, visiting ports around the world. Make the Navy a career and retire after twenty or thirty year’s service with a good pension and medical care for life".
We were sold. We signed some papers and were bussed to the Main Recruiting Station in Birmingham for a final examination. I passed the examination and enlisted for a four year term on May 21, 1919. My friend failed the exam and I lost track of him. Since he didn't return home, he probably joined the Army.
The recruiter listed my date of birth on the application for enlistment papers as February 3rd, the date I gave him, but he entered the year 1900, indicating I was 19 years old, eligible for enlistment without my parents consent. This date is also on my military I.D. card and driver's license. Maybe this is my century and I'm on the way to the twenty-first!
Our contingent of twelve recruits was bussed from Birmingham to the Naval Training Station, Gulfport, Mississippi. When we disembarked at the gate and marched to the mess hall, we were given a "welcome" by other recruits with a resounding yell "Y'all will like it. Y'all will like it!" We marched on to the mess hall and were fed beef stew left over from the evening meal. The food looked terrible but it was palatable. We learned later that it was nourishing, because we began to gain weight. We slept in hammocks and were issued a sea bag and a full outfit of uniform clothing the next day. Our basic training included military drills under arms,long marches, standing guard duty under the strict supervision of the Corporal of the Guard, military routine. Navy regulations, basic seamanship and a host of other activities, including personal hygiene and care of our uniforms were our normal days learning.
Reveille was sounded at 05:00 hours, taps at 2100 (9 pm). About ten minutes after we turned in one night, a man said aloud "Fall In" and "As You Were". The barracks lights were turned on immediately and the Corporal of the Guard ordered "All hands hit the deck and lash up hammocks". Because of a man's disobedience of orders to keep quiet after taps, all sixty recruits in the barracks had to double time around the drill field in their underwear for half an hour toting their hammocks. That was a good lesson in discipline. It never happened again.
My company completed recruits training on June 18th and was transferred by train to the Philadelphia Navy Yard. I was assigned duty on-board the Battle Cruiser USS Pueblo and advanced in rating to Seaman 2/c and on September 22, 1919 was transferred to the Battleship USS Kansas, a World War One "Battle wagon", one of the few still in service at that time. Most of the Navy's combat ships were being scrapped in compliance with a disarmament treaty.
It was on the USS Kansas that I first stood the test of becoming a sailor at sea; qualified in deck seamanship, handling ships boats under power, oars or sail; firing guns, splicing and care of ropes and mooring lines, maintenance of deck gear, painting and basic visual communication skills.
Our first cruise was from Philadelphia to American Samoa islands in the Southwest Pacific Ocean. Our mission was to transport a new Governor as a relief for the former Governor who had committed suicide, and to restore order under United States control.
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The run to Panama was more or less routine for experienced sailors, but many of us had never been to sea before. For us it was exciting as we learned shipboard routine at sea, standing watches and finding our way around in the big ship. But the greatest excitement was entering Gatun Locks in the Panama Canal. The ship enters the lock at sea level, the gate closed and the locks flooded, raising the ship to the Gatun Lake level, which is about 85 feet above sea level. This level is maintained for about 40 miles through the lake and Gillard Cut to the next two locks that lowers the ship back to sea level in the Pacific. The canal is about fifty miles from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Ships are towed through locks by electric "mules" on tracks alongside the locks, but use their own power through the canal. Land mass of the Canal Zone is about ten miles wide.
While in Balboa, the city on the Pacific side, the "All Hands" job of coaling the ship began. It took all day and up into the night to fill all the coal bunkers for the long cruise. We also stopped at San Diego and Pearl Harbor for more coal. Shoveling coal all day was a long, dirty job. Washing coal dust out of ears, hair and eyes was even tougher.
From Pearl Harbor the Kansas set her course for Samoa, which would take her across the International Date Line into Eastern Longitude and across the equator into Southern Latitude. When about five days out, the ship's Captain received permission to stop for a brief visit in the French held Marquises Islands.
When we arrived off shore the Captain eased the ship into within about 800 yards and anchored. That was our first glimpse of a real remote South Sea Island. We could see the lush green tropical trees, flowers and huge coconut palms all along the clean sandy beaches. As could be expected, there was no pier for landing boats. So the first job was to launch some boats and send carpenters ashore to build a temporary pier. The Captain sent a representative along to arrange a meeting w
ith some of the island's leaders and arrange for small groups of the crew to spend a few hours ashore.
The only non-natives on the island were a French missionary family of two adults and two children. The natives couldn't speak English, were a little shy but very friendly. We saw no means of life support on the island except fruits and fishing. Their lifestyle was very primitive but they appeared healthy and happy.
their interesting events of the cruise were crossing the equator, which put us in the South Pacific Ocean. In those days the equator crossing initiation for those who had never crossed, called "Polly-wogs", was more fearful than amusing. Conducting the initiation were the Royal "Shell-backs", who had crossed before. They served as Davy Jones' policemen under the supreme control of "King Neptune", who would, with great force, resent Polly-wogs from entering his Royal Domain. At the call to arms as we neared the equator the Royal Police would round up all Polly-wogs, trump up some evil charge and drag them before the Royal Judge. The punishment was always to the extent of the King's law. It wasn't funny to Polly-wogs, but Shell-backs had a royal fun day. More equator notes later
American Samoa is a group of seven islands in the South Pacific. The Kansas anchored in Pago-Pago Harbor off the island of Tutuila, where headquarters were located. We used ships boats under oars instead of gasoline engines when it was necessary to ferry anyone ashore. A landing party was sent ashore to parade the streets of Pago-Pago as a good-will gesture and to honor the Governor as he assumed control of the islands.
During our stay in Samoa we held sailing and rowing races. I pulled stroke oar in the winning 30 foot whaleboat race. Our mission in Samoa completed, the USS Kansas returned to the states via Hawaii and back through the Panama Canal. While in Hawaii we were granted shore leave and permitted to descend into the crater of an active volcano. The lava was bubbling like boiling water. We could get close enough to dip a coin into the hot lava on the end of a long pole. It would melt in seconds.
Our trip to the volcano was by a Stanley Steamer, a steam powered automobile. It was a fast trip. The driver said that no one had ever driven a Stanley at full throttle for more than a moment or so. They would just keep going faster and speed out of control.
As we mentioned earlier, we learned that many of the small southwestern Pacific Ocean islands were very primitive in those years. Even the Hawaiian Island was inhabited by natives of Polynesian descent. About 1778 the islands united under King Kamehameha and in 1887, the reigning King Kalakaua permitted the US Navy to occupy Pearl Harbor as a Naval Base. About 1893 a revolution led by US Marines abolished anarchy and in 1898 established the Republic of Hawaii. In 1959 the Hawaiian Islands became the 50th state.
During my naval career I had the pleasure of serving several tours of duty in the islands, beginning in 1929 and ranging through periods during WW II and into the mid 1940's serving in Submariner, Fleet Tugs and Salvage ships.
When the USS Kansas returned to the states she was ordered decommissioned and I was assigned duty on the USS Bobolink, a World One Minesweeper converted to a Fleet Tug. We operated along the east coast out of Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Norfolk, Charleston and on down to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. I was promoted to Boatswains Mate 3/c while on the Bobolink and on May 14, 1923 received an Honorable Discharge, ending my first enlistment. After spending about three months in Lawrence County Tennessee, visiting family members and doing odd jobs, I soon realized there was little chance of finding gainful employment. So I decided to make the Navy a career and re-enlisted for four more years and was assigned duty on board a new Battleship, the USS Colorado under construction in the Brooklyn Navy Yard, New York.
When the Colorado was commissioned, Watch Quarter and Station Bill posted, I find my name listed as Boatswains Mate of the Fourth Division and Pointer (gun layer) on turret four's 16 inch guns -1, was beginning to be pushed into leadership positions above that required for my rating.
Lieutenant Paul W. Fletcher, the Senior Watch Officer of the ship, ultimately became my "mentor" all the time I spent on board the Colorado. (I'll never forget him, but I don't even remember the names of my own division officers). My deck division included the entire port quarter of the ship above the engine spaces, consisting of berthing and messing spaces, the number four 16 inch gun turret and the port quarterdeck. So, Lt. Fletcher had his weather eye on this young deck Petty Officer day and night. He was a quiet, calculating, highly qualified deck officer, and he would tolerate no lack of attention to duty or daily routine.
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One weekend in New York I rated shore leave from Friday until eight o'clock Monday morning but I came back aboard about six-thirty on Sunday morning. Lt. Fletcher was pacing the quarterdeck getting his morning exercise while my men were washing down the deck. He looked at me and quietly uttered "Matthews, take two men and police the dock". It was his way of reminding me that Petty Officers in the Navy were on duty twenty-four hours a day. He didn't think a young sailor of my age should be wasting his time ashore. One morning while the crew was mustered for morning reports and exercises, I was exercising my division. The Navy called it calisthenics, normally a Junior Officer's job. Lt. Fletcher directed my division officer to send me atop the number four turret and lead the exercises for the other four divisions as well, about 165 men. Lieutenant Fletcher was molding this young man into becoming a sailor.
Later when I changed my rate from Boatswains Mate to Quartermaster, fate would put me with Lt. Fletcher again. I was Quartermaster of the watch during the same times he was Officer of the Deck at Sea. Under his supervision I was in charge of the bridge watch, the personnel operating the ship. As QM of the watch I was responsible for making entries in the QM's notebook covering every facet of activities and events and making entries in the Ship's Log Book, the official record of the ship.
Now I'm getting ahead of the story, so lets go back to early 1923 when the Colorado conducted her sea trials, an exercise required of all new ships to assure all equipment and machinery meets all specifications included in the contract with the builder. Most notable tests simultaneously and running the ship astern at full power for over fours, testing the engines and steering controls. The firing of all the big guns at once broadside shoved the ship sideways somewhat and was deafening.
Sea trials completed, the Colorado returned to the New York Navy Yard to prepare for her maiden cruise. During the short layover the USS West Virginia, sister ship to the Colorado, challenged the crew to a baseball game. The athletic officer put together a young team and accepted the challenge. I proudly carried the Colorado banner as we marched to the stadium. As could be expected our hastily put-together team was slaughtered. I folded the Colorado banner and we walked back to the ship through the streets of Brooklyn in defeat.
Captain Belknap soon received his sailing orders. It was a Shakedown/Goodwill cruise to European seaports. Our first port of call was Tangier, Morocco in the Strait of Gibraltar on the northwest coast of Africa. The crew was granted shore leave (liberty) and I joined a sightseeing party that visited the Sultan of Morocco's Palace. We were permitted to enter the entrance chamber, a large room lavishly decorated with beautiful silken lounges, pillows and draperies. We could only guess what was behind those large double doors into the inner sanctum.
From Tangier we cruised pass Gibraltar into the Mediterranean Sea and on to Naples, Italy and were granted liberty again. Some sailors choose to visit the city, others the active volcano Mt. Vesuvius and historic places, but I was assigned shore patrol (MP), which was like a paid vacation because we were provided food and lodging.
The next port was the Naval Base at Portsmouth, England. High ranking British Naval Officers inspected one of America's newest battleships while Captain R.R. Belknap, an old Destroyer Skipper, proudly gave the British a display of his ship handling. He got underway without the aid of tugboats, considered a must for battleships, and was on his way to Oslo, Norway, "Land of the Midnight Sun", and more liberty for the crew.
When the USS Colorado returned to the United States early in June, 1923 she was assigned a brief upkeep period in the New York Navy Yard before sailing south and transiting the Panama Canal en-route San Francisco, California where she joined the U.S. Pacific Fleet. I had earlier responded to a call for volunteers for submarine duty by submitting a request, which was granted, but lay on the Navigator's desk for several weeks before he finally let me go. The ship sailed the next day for that famous Australian cruise – I missed a cruise of a lifetime but probably made a wise choice by choosing submarine duty over battleships and duty on surface crafts because of a less formal routine, better chances of promotion and qualifying for extra pay for hazardous duty in submarines.
On June 30th I was transferred to the cruiser USS Raleigh for temporary duty and transportation to the Submarine School, New London, Connecticut. After completing school on September 30th I was assigned duty on board the new submarine USS S-44. After our shakedown cruise off the New England coast, the S-44 sailed to Panama and home ported at the Submarine Base, Coco Solo, Canal Zone. We would transit the Panama Canal three or four times a year for training in Panama Bay. This was a good duty station but the weather was hot and humid. Temperatures would be around 100 during our submerged torpedo firing runs.
The S-44 and her division of five other S Boats received orders for assignment on the west coast. But before they sailed I arranged for a swap with another Quartermaster and was transferred to the USS 0-6. I was advanced to QM2/C while on the 0-6 and was transferred to the submarine S-12 on August 15, 1928 and returned to the Submarine Base, New London where we operated in and out of that port training submarine school personnel. I advanced to QM l/C while on the S-12 and volunteered for duty as a member of the Submarine Experimental Unit and transferred to the USS S-4 on December 31, 1928. The S-4 had been sunk with the loss of her crew, but was salvaged and converted into an experimental ship. She was used as our headquarters and in testing the submarine escape devices we developed. The unit, all volunteers, consisted of two officers and eight enlisted. Lt. Charles B. Momsen was Officer-in-Charge and Lt. Norman S. Ives was Captain of the submarine.
After the submarine S-4 was raised and towed to the Navy Yard, Portsmouth, New Hampshire she was reconditioned as the Submarine Experimental Unit. The main engines, after battery, deck gun and other unnecessary machinery was removed. The forward battery, auxiliary power generator, sonar, ships radio and galley were retained. These items were necessary to provide the crew with the tools to dive and surface the sub, and for providing power for lights, cooking and operating the radio and sound gear. Since the sub had no main engines for propulsion, she was towed by a submarine rescue ship, which became part of the unit.
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While the Navy yard work was in progress, the crew was transferred to the deep sea diving school in the Washington, D.C. Navy Yard for instruction. After the many escape methods and devices were examined, Navy officials chose the underwater breathing device we had developed and had made. It was essentially a fabricated bag fitted with a mouth piece, an air escape valve and a canister containing a carbon dioxide absorbent, neck and waist straps. The escapee would don the bag, inflate it with air and escape from the sunken submarine through a specially designed escape hatch, easing his way to the surface on an ascending line, stopping for decompression at levels determined by the depth of the sub. The escape device was called the "Momsen Lung," named for the Officer-in-Charge of the experimental unit, Lt. Charles B. Momsen.
Another escape device for great depths or extreme cold water, was the McCann Submarine Rescue Chamber, named for the inventor and builder. Commander McCann, a Naval Engineer. It was often called the "diving bell," a pear shaped metal chamber fitted with air and electrical connections, an air engine and drum to which a down-haul cable was attached for pulling the bell down to the sunken submarine. The diving bell was designed for use in depths up to about 500 feet. Weighing about nine tons, the bell was carried on board a submarine rescue ship which would moor over the submarine, put the bell in the water so the divers could begin the rescue operation. It was used successfully to rescue 33 men from the USS Squalus, a submarine sunk off the New England coast in 240 feet of water. I was one of the crew tending divers from the deck of the USS Falcon, the rescue ship.
The submarine, on a training mission, was making a crash dive and the main induction valve 6, which supplied the diesel engines with air while on the surface failed to close properly allowing a large stream of water to pour into the engine room. Captain Naquin gave an emergency order to blow all ballast tanks in an effort to save the submarine, but his efforts were futile. The Squalus plunged to the bottom of the sea. The 27 men in the flooded engine room were lost. After the rescue operation, divers worked for three months raising the Squalus. She was then towed to the Navy Yard, Portsmouth, New Hampshire and reconditioned for service and renamed USS Sailfish. She joined the Pacific Fleet Submarines and made several successful war patrols in the fight against Japan in WW II.
After the rescue operation, most of the submarine escape training crew, of which I was a part, returned to the Submarine Base, New London, Connecticut and resumed our duties in the Submarine Escape Training Tank, a part of the submarine school. The tank was 18 feet in diameter and contained 100 feet of water. Escape locks were located at 18, 50 and 100 feet. Students would first be given a medical examination, oral instructions, enter the decompression chamber and air pressure built up to equal 100 feet of sea water, about 44 pounds per square inch . Then they would take the elevator to the top of the tank and learn to use the "Momsen Lung" in shallow water. The next step would be "escapes" from the 18 foot escape lock. Those qualified could then make escapes from the 50 and 100 foot levels.
As noted earlier, the tank crew was quartered on board the experimental submarine S-4. After we trained another crew to conduct submarine escape training, the S-4 was towed to the submarine base in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii where a new training tank was under construction. When the tank was completed the S-4 was no longer needed for escape and salvage training, so she was towed to sea and sunk. Her crew was transferred to the USS S-43 with additional duty as instructors in the new tank. After three years duty in Hawaii I was transferred back to New London and attached to the USS S-46 with additional duties as instructor in the escape training tank. I was back to my old duty station - the year was 1935. Note: I was advanced in rate to Chief Quartermaster on September 9, 1932 while on the S-46 at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.
In 1937 I was assigned recruiting duty and transferred to the Navy Recruiting School at Norfolk, Virginia. After completing the six week course I was ordered to proceed to Nashville, Tennessee and report to Lt. Hal C. Jones, Officer-in-Charge of the Main Station for assignment. After a brief refresher course in recruiting, I was assigned as Petty Officer in charge of the sub station in Knoxville. My assistant was Master Machinist Mate Ernest Wilcoxon, our area covered all of east Tennessee from Chattanooga to Bristol. During that period the Manhattan Project, development of the atomic bomb, was taking shape. The pilot doing an aerial survey over the Oak Ridge area would often visit our office in the Knoxville Post Office and discuss his work. He said he had no idea why they wanted pictures of those Tennessee woodlands. The atom bomb project was one of the best kept secrets of WW II. Little did I know that I would play a role in the atom bomb tests eight years later in Bikini Atoll in the Central Pacific Ocean.
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In late 1939 I was back at the Submarine Base in New London, Connecticut, attached to the USS R-13 and later the USS 0-4 and assigned duty at the escape training tank again. My boss, Lt. G.K. McKenzie was becoming alarmed about Hitler's aggressive moves in Europe. He predicted we would soon be drawn into war and suggested we "bone-up" on our navigation skills and be prepared to return to sea duty. I accepted his challenge and we began our navigation studies together. His prediction became a reality on December 7, 1941 when Japan bombed ships, planes and military installations in and around Pearl Harbor; the United States was at war.
With Hitler's march through Europe and Japan's knock-out punch in Hawaii, America's men and women answered the call and flocked to recruiting stations in droves. Others would build ships, planes, tanks, guns and ammunition. There was no denying the American spirit to survive and preserve their freedoms. Lt. McKenzie went to sea, and on September 12, 1942 I was advanced to Boatswain and transferred to the USS Kalmia, ATO-23 and assigned duty as commissary, gunnery and Assistant Navigation Officer. The Kalmia, one of the old fleet tugs, was engaged in towing targets for gunnery practice by new ships bound for Europe in WW II. We had some close calls as they tested their new guns and radar equipment.
The new ships with new radars, new operators and new Captains would sometimes mistake the towing ship as the target when shooting. Shells would often fall all around us. A shell went through one of the tugs radio shack! The tugs USS Kalmia and USS Iuka operating out of Portland, Maine during 1942 would also be called out in emergencies, such as assisting and towing disabled ships to safety. On one occasion the Iuka was dispatched to a point in the North Atlantic to rescue a disabled U.S. cargo ship and Kalmia was ordered to assist. When we beached the ship at Halifax, Nova Scotia the Kalmia was ordered back to Portland under escort. On the way back when it was my turn to be Officer of the Deck we ran into a dense fog. Instead of trying to stay with the slow escort we hightailed it to Portland at best speed - Captain Baker didn't want to become a victim of a German U-Boat.
On September 12, 1942 I was advanced in rank to Ensign and on March 15, 1943 received orders to proceed to Napa, California and report for duty on-board the USS Diver, ARS-5, a new class of salvage ship under construction. I immediately departed Portland by car in temperatures about 40 below zero! With the family bundled up in our new Nash sedan we headed south until we ran out of snow and ice and headed west on highway 40. Arriving at the shipyard in Napa, I reported to Lieutenant Al T. Terrio, the Prospective Commanding Officer and was assigned Executive Officer and Assistant Navigator. Since the Diver was a new class of salvage ships. Captain Terrio put me to work writing the Ship's Organization Book and 'Watch Quarter and Station Bill, a guide to ships orders, routine at sea or in port covering every aspect of shipboard operations. Fortunately, the ship's writer was already on board, so we went to work and had the book completed in time for the commissioning of the ship. In my spare time I studied the Naval Communication Systems, learning to write secret codes and decipher coded messages.
When completed the Diver sailed down the Napa River to the Mare Island Navy Yard in San Francisco Bay where she was fueled, provisioned and prepared for sea. Upon completion of her sea trials she sailed down the west coast, through the Panama Canal and on to Norfolk, Virginia. Captain Terrio became ill and checked into the hospital, leaving me in command. That frightened me because I didn't feel qualified to command the Diver, a new ship with a new crew soon to be engaged in action against Hitler's Juggernaut. But fortunately Lt. Dan Hollier, a former Merchant Marine Officer, soon came on board and relieved me in time to join UK convoy 38 bound for Europe.
Our new skipper was truly a man of the sea. He had been sailing in merchant ships since his teen years and was called up by the Navy, like many other Merchant Marine Officers, to man the Navy's new ships being constructed for WW II duty. He had time to inspect the ship before we set sail to join the convoy already at sea. He conned the ship out of the harbor, set a course to intercept the convoy and turned the bridge watch over to me. I didn't see him again until about three o'clock the next morning when I reported we were now in our assigned position in the convoy. He came to the bridge, took a look at the size of the convoy (over 100 ships) and said "Matthews, you can go below now and get some sleep."
I shared a cabin with Boatswain Bill Askew from Texas. He later told me that I hit my bunk, let out one big sigh and was out like a light. This kind of routine would follow all the way across the North Atlantic to England. I would spend at least 18 hours a day on the bridge supervising the Officer of the Deck, none of whom Captain Hollier would trust with the safety of the ship.
I was called to the bridge about nine o'clock each morning, after he had taken a sun line to check our position and go to his cabin. He would come to the bridge at noon, local time, to get the noon position report and go below again, not to be seen until I would call him about three or four in the morning. He was an excellent ship handler and navigator but he had no interest in the Navy. As a regular Navy Officer and Executive Officer of the ship, he left the daily routine and operation of the ship to me. He would, however take a turn around the ship occasionally, presumably to get a bit of fresh air and exercise. His quite and casual manner, his demonstrated knowledge of ships and the sea intrigued me. We became good friends and kept in touch for years after the war ended. He went back to his old job as Captain of a Merchant Marine ship based in New York. I would often call his home in Greenwich Village, New York when I would be in the area on business with the VFW. Note: Before Captain Terrio left the Diver he wrote a letter stating that I was a qualified navigator, ship handler and recommended me for promotion and command of an A T Type ship. These notes will be included in the appendix.
The convoy was escorted by about six or eight destroyers under the Convoy Commander which would give the merchant ships some measure of protection against German submarine attacks. However, we learned later that several ships had been sunk during the Atlantic crossing.
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As the convoy passed near the Azores Islands the small craft, including tugs and salvage vessels were diverted to the Azores for refueling. The USS Diver was one of the 14 ships in that group. When we departed the next day on our trip to Europe we had no escort! We formed two columns of ships, set special watches to keep a sharp lookout for U-Boats and made a safe crossing. When we arrived in England the ships went on their various assignments. The Diver especially designed for salvage and related duties reported to Captain Edward Ellsburg, the famous salvage expert, for duty. He sent us to a salvage training base at Roseneath, Scotland where our salvage crew and demolition teams underwent special training in preparation for the build-up and invasion of Europe.
When we returned to our base at Portsmouth, England Captain Ellsburg assigned us to towing Phoenix units, large barge-like concrete hulls, to assembly areas along the coast. These units were to be used as portable breakwaters to give landing craft some protection from rough seas during the invasion. After several trips up the Thames River to pick up our tow, we received emergency orders to disregard our assignment, return immediately and report to Captain Ellsburg for a salvage job. A large Dutch tug picked up our tow, sailed down the river into the English Channel in the darkness of night and was never heard from again. She was probably a victim of a German "E" Boat attack. A few days later when the Diver returned from her assignment, a man on the dock, typically British called out "Here comes the bloody Diver, back from hell." Rumors had spread that the Diver was missing in action. The crew of the Diver was saddened by the loss of the Dutch tug and her crew - we realized that fate had spared us again. Now we would be preparing our ship and ourselves for the ordeal that lie ahead - the invasion of Europe!
The night of D-Day minus one the Diver was moored alongside a Phoenix unit we had pumped out. That day an observation plane passed high overhead, made a circle over the assembly area and hightailed it back over the channel. The pilot must have mistaken the Phoenix and us as an aircraft carrier because bombs dropped all around us about midnight close enough to splash water on us but did no damage. We moved to a safer anchorage for the night.
On D-Day, June 4, 1944 the largest armada of ships and planes ever assembled began crossing the English Channel for the assault on Hitler's fortress Europe. The Diver was held in reserve until the next day then joined the invasion forces still crossing the English Channel. Our immediate duty was extracting stranded vessels from landing beaches; salvage and repair would come later. We just patrolled landing beaches "Omaha" and "Utah" until they were secured. Then we were ordered back to England to tow a huge barge loaded with demolition equipment including highly explosive materials for delivery to Army units at Cherbourg, France.
We had been warned that Cherbourg harbor had not yet been cleared of enemy mines, so the Captain shortened the towline and entered the breakwater cautiously and sent a diver down to check the area for mines before he would anchor the ship. Had the barge struck a mine, our ship and everything near -would have been blown-up. 'We -were relieved when three small wooden Army tugs took the barge away. Mine sweepers were clearing the harbor and as soon as a way was cleared the Diver moved in and began salvage work on a sunken ship that blocked the docks. The harbor was soon opened to ships to off-load heavy equipment and machinery badly needed as the invasion forces fought their way inland.
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On August 22nd I was ordered detached from the USS Diver and transferred back to England on a P.T. Boat where I spent the night listening to German "Buzz" bombs raining down on London. The next day I boarded a Navy PBY for a flight back to the United States and on to Miami, Florida for instruction and preparation for command of an AT type ship.
The subjects covered in the Navy Schools, Miami, included refresher training in navigation, gunnery, communications, firefighting, damage control, supply and related shipboard duties. It was a welcome break from the long hours on the bridge at sea and our work in the hazardous build-up and invasion of Europe. We even had time for a bit of relaxation at night, and to add some excitement to the occasion, a category three hurricane hit Miami. We stocked up on sandwiches, drinks and candles and had hurricane parties in the old Roosevelt Hotel.
The good times ended when I was ordered to Leesburg, New Jersey where I took command of the USS ATR-59 under construction. She was commissioned on December 17, 1944 and began her shakedown in Chesapeake Bay and sea trials in route to the Navy Yard, Norfolk, Virginia, arriving on Christmas Eve. We expected a brief holiday for Christmas, but no such luck. We were ordered to pick-up ammunition for the three inch deck gun, take on fuel and provisions and proceed to Bermuda Island to pick up a tow.
We steamed out in our new ship with a new crew, some had never been to sea, into the stormy Atlantic. Rain and overcast skies prevented any chance of celestial navigation for keeping a running fix of our position. I had some experience of sea conditions in our area where the Gulf Stream, which we had to cross, runs at speeds up to five knots. Allowing for drift, uncertain speeds and steering, we made good our course and picked up Bermuda by radar almost on schedule. This new skipper was one happy sailor as we made our way into the harbor and reported to the port director for orders.
A Navy Lieutenant came aboard with our orders to tow a large dredge to San Diego. He told me that two other tugs had refused the tow. The way it was rigged, they considered it too dangerous to tow astern because the long dredge boom projected out several feet from the bow of the dredge. Should the tug lose power they feared the boom would ram the tug. I had some previous experience on Fleet Tugs, one as a deck hand and the other as an officer. This being my first command at sea I seriously considered the consequences. To disobey an official order could well determine my future as a Naval Officer. I accepted the challenge and took the tow.
The ATR (Auxiliary Tug Rescuer) was powered by a steam driven reciprocating engine and we had only four engineers qualified in steam powered ships; Tony Martin the engineering officer and three ratings. When we cleared the harbor, streamed the tow astern, set our course and speed the deck gang began securing for sea and scrubbing down the main deck. As they moved some deck gratings they accidentally closed a valve on the fuel line leading to the pipes under the boilers. We began to lose speed and control of the ship due to low steam pressure to the engines.
With a full head of steam we were safely on our way to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba where we topped off our fuel tanks and proceeded to Panama, transited the Panama Canal and docked at Balboa, on the Pacific end of the canal. We spent two days in Balboa where we took on fresh provisions, refueled and granted liberty for the crew. When I went to the Port Director for onward routing to San Diego, I noticed he had not allowed any fueling stops. I explained that we had a difficult tow and what the consequences would be should we run out of fuel. I talked him into two fueling stops; one at Corinto, Nicaragua and one at Manzanilla, Mexico. The crew was granted a few hours ashore in Corinto but in Manzanilla the engineering officer logged a hot bearing on the propeller shaft that required two days to repair. Shore leave again - we were living the old tradition, "Join the Navy and see the world". Five ports in less than a month!
After we delivered our tow in San Diego and berthed at a downtown pier, I had a short visit with my brother Sharp. We went to Tijuana, Mexico for a night of fun. I also had a good visit with an old shipmate Garland Suggs, my former deep sea diving instructor, who at this writing (1996) and Carl Bryson are the only living shipmates who served with me back in the early 30's when we were instructors in submarine escape training and salvage work. We had a good visit with Bryson at his home in New London three years ago, but haven't seen Suggs since 1953 at a convention in Los Angeles.
We had two good days in San Diego then sailed to San Francisco for an overnight stay and was ordered to tow a large concrete barge loaded with heavy timbers and pilings for delivery to Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. Another ATR under the command of Lt. Author Wilde had an identical tow and we were expected to stay on a course that would take us out of the main shipping lanes to Pearl Harbor. On the second day out we received a radio message that enemy submarines were known to be in our area. Here we go again with a command decision - stay on our assigned route or take a direct route, which would put us some distance from the submarine and lessen our exposure at sea. I chose the shortest route, asked the Navigator to set the new course and asked the Chief Engineer to give us his best speed. We arrived in Pearl Harbor two days ahead of Lt. Wilde and his tow.
When we delivered the barge and reported to the Port Director, a former submarine officer, he asked me what happened to Lt. Wilde and his tow. I said "I don't know, Captain. I got lost." He just said "Very well, Matthews. You are excused." I had a feeling that he knew what I had done, but decided to let the matter rest.
We operated in and out of Pearl Harbor doing routine towing and harbor entrance guard duty. Our last job was retracting an LCT (Landing Craft Tank) off the beach on the Island of Maui, where she had been practicing landings, punched a hole in her bottom and was broached.
Early in September, 1945, the USS Chickasaw arrived from action in the Philippine Islands for Navy yard repairs. I was detached from the ATR and assigned duty as Commanding Officer of the Chickasaw on September 14, 1945 as a relief for Lieutenant Commander Olson, who was transferred back to the states for further assignment.
The USS Chickasaw, ATF-83, was one of the new type Fleet Tugs. She had a crew of 85 enlisted and five officers, most of whom had been on board since her commissioning in 1943. She had been in action in the war all that time and had earned eight battle stars. She was powered by four Cooper Besmer diesel engines that could drive her 10,000 miles on one fueling. She had a speed of 16 knots, had divers aboard and could do just about anything in the line of salvage, towing and repair. I loved my new ship!
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After the Navy yard completed the repair work and made some alterations the Chickasaw made some trial runs and was assigned similar duties as my former ship. Some notable jobs included locating and towing a disabled cargo ship from a position near Midway Island to Pearl Harbor, transferring fuel oil from our ship to another tug while she was towing a floating dry-dock, positioning and mooring aircraft targets close inshore near the Island of Maui, chasing and retrieving submarine torpedoes after their practice run. On December 4, 1945 I was advanced in rank to Lieutenant Commander U.S. Navy.
In June of 1946 the USS Chickasaw was placed under the control of Vice Admiral W.H.P. Blandy, Commander Joint Task Force One, Operation Crossroads, the atom bomb tests at Bikini Atoll in the central Pacific Ocean. Our first assignment was to proceed to San Diego, California and report to Captain Wade DeWeese, Commander, and Battleship Division Seven for a test towing exercise to determine whether a Fleet Tug could tow a group of ships at sea for one of the planned atom bomb tests. Upon our arrival at San Diego Chief Boatswain Harold Worrell and myself attended a conference on board the Battleship Arkansas for a strategy session. Ships to be towed were the Battleship Arkansas, Heavy Cruiser Pensacola, Transport Applying and Destroyer The Chickasaw would use her main tow wire, a two inch plow steel cable, connected to a bight of the Arkansas anchor chain. The other ships would use their anchor chains connected bow to stem allowing a distance of about two hundred yards between ships.
The next day the ships assembled off the coast for the exercise. The Chickasaw began slowly towing the Arkansas as the other ships moved into position and connecting their chains according to plan and the Chickasaw began to build up speed, reaching a sustained speed of four knots. By nightfall Captain DeWeese declared the exercise successful and the ships disconnected their tows and returned to port. Chickasaw received a letter of commendation from Commander, Battleship Division Seven for excellence in the performance of duties. The local news media learned about the secret test and took pictures from a blimp flying over the formation.
When we returned to the Naval Base at San Diego, reporters from local news papers and radio stations came aboard looking for a story. We declined to comment on the operation but news articles appeared in newspapers giving the reporters version, some of which was factual. News clipping of the story will appear in the appendix.
We prepared a summary of our part in the exercise for Captain DeWeese for his use in compiling a combine report for Admiral Blandy, Commander Joint Task Force One, who would be in charge of the atom bomb tests in Bikini.
When released from Commander Battleship Division Seven we sailed for Pear) Harbor, in route, a destroyer came steaming by, slowed and signaled, "Do you have ice cream?" We signaled "Yes”. “Do you have horseradish?" We swapped one gallon of ice cream for one gallon of horseradish by High-line like it was something important. We considered it a good trade and changed the menu to include corned beef the next day. Strange things happen to ships passing at sea, much of which never appears in the ships' log book.
After we arrived in Pearl Harbor we attended a reception for Admiral Blandy and a briefing by one of his aids about Operation Crossroads (the bomb tests), took on fuel and provisions for the long cruise to Bikini. After we cleared the harbor we joined the battleship Arkansas as her escort. The Arkansas would be one of three battleships to be used as targets for atom bomb tests. After eight days out Chickasaw had shown all of her movies, so we swapped with the Arkansas for different shows. Movies and the radio was the only entertainment we had at sea. Of course there were a few poker and dice games. But we can't report them - they were not permitted!
Chickasaw arrived in Bikini on May 31, 1946 and was assigned as support vessel for the salvage unit. Our duties included towing, salvage, firefighting and emergency repairs, among other things. Since I was Senior Commanding Officer of Fleet Tugs assigned to the unit, the Chickasaw became the "workhorse" of the unit. After we preformed some difficult tasks under the watchful eye of Rear Admiral Faharion, he assigned the Chickasaw as security vessel for the entire task force.
Following is a copy of a report of the USS Chickasaw's critical operations during the Atom Bomb Tests "Able" and "Baker" during Operation Crossroads at Bikini Atoll in 1946:
Chickasaw towed the largest target ships and placed them in their critical mooring positions in the target array for test "Able", the air shot, and test "Baker", the underwater shot. Test "Charlie" was canceled due to the extensive damage already done to the target ships and the increased danger of exposure of radiation to personnel. Chickasaw placed the five largest target ships in their moorings, including battleships Arkansas, Nevada and Pennsylvania, the aircraft carriers Saratoga and Independence. Chickasaw also placed in position the ship from which the atom bomb for shot "Baker" was lowered 90 feet and detonated. The Chickasaw was assigned duty as security vessel during the operation and was last ship to leave the lagoon and first to reenter after each shot. Her monitors would test the water for radio-active contamination before other ships could return to survey the damage to target ships and equipment. After shot "Baker" the Chickasaw was sent in to tow the carrier Saratoga into shallow water for inspection before she sank. But she was too "hot"! Chickasaw had to withdraw. The carrier sunk three hours later, as did many other damaged ships. We were also ordered to retrieve test instruments from the carrier Independence. Again we had to back off due to the high levels of radiation.
When officials considered it safe, Chickasaw took part in the wash down group, washing down contaminated ships with a strong solution of lye and other chemicals unknown to us. We would move in close enough to spray the ships with the mixture through fire hoses. This was a hazardous job, not only because of exposure to radiation, but also being "burned" by the chemical we were using.
Although we had monitors on board, we were never told much about the dangers of being exposed to high levels of radiation as we worked among the contaminated ships.
The Chickasaw, dubbed Admiral Faharion "workhorse" was awarded commendations from the four commands she worked under, including Vice Admiral Blandy, Rear Admiral Faharion, Rear Admiral Salzburg and Captain Manseau. Copies are included in the appendix.
The USS Chickasaw was detached from Operation Crossroads on September 7th and departed for Guam in the Marianas Islands, a group of islands in the Pacific west of the Philippines. The islands became a major staging base for the final assault on Japan during WW II. It was here that the famous Nola Gay launched the atom bomb attack that led to the end of the war.
Upon our arrival at the naval base on Guam, I reported to Rear Admiral Charles B. Momsen,
Commander Marianas for duty. The Admiral was an old acquaintance. He was my boss when we were engaged in submarine rescue and salvage experiments back in the thirties when he was a Lieutenant. He promised he would have my family sent out if I wanted to be stationed here for hile. I declined the offer, hoping the Chickasaw would soon be given a tow back to the states for a major overhaul.
Before we became operational again, we had to dismantle main engines, heat exchangers and pumps to flush out a much radioactive contamination as possible that we received at Bikini. We also had to dispose of some mooring lines and clothing as well. Our first job after the brief clean-up period was transferring some natives back to their home island of Tinian. When we cleared the harbor, seas began to get rough. The leader of the group asked me if I could find a comfortable place for his daughter to sleep. He suggested some place to spread her bedroll where she wouldn't get so sea sick, my cabin, perhaps. Well! What goes here? I was embarrassed. What would the officers and crew think? He said "Oh, she's just a kid". I agreed and went back to the bridge. When I came down to turn in, there she was on deck all wrapped up sound asleep. I couldn't sleep, got up early and went back to the bridge. I learned later she was a teenager. To this day I question the old man's motives.
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Although he had three teenage girls, we were not permitted to attend school regularly because of the work load on the farm. The years ahead didn't look very promising so I began searching for something better. A young friend who lived nearby was also searching for a paying job. On an impulse we slipped away and walked the railroad tracks some twenty miles to Florence, Alabama where we hoped to find work on the Wilson Dam project. At night we slept in the tall sage grass alongside the tracks and when we reached Florence, tired and hungry, we went to Uncle Morgan Matthews' general store, hoping he would be helpful. He asked us what we were doing in Florence. When we told him we were looking for a job, he fed us and told us there was little chance for sixteen year old kids to find work here.
Rested, fed and still hopeful we headed for town. But fate would intervene and steer us to a man tacking up a sign on a telephone pole - he was a U.S. Navy recruiter! After listening to his sales pitch, we decided we had found a job; "Join the Navy and see the world while serving your country. Unlimited opportunities to learn a trade while enjoying the comforts of life aboard ships, visiting ports around the world. Make the Navy a career and retire after twenty or thirty year’s service with a good pension and medical care for life".
We were sold. We signed some papers and were bussed to the Main Recruiting Station in Birmingham for a final examination. I passed the examination and enlisted for a four year term on May 21, 1919. My friend failed the exam and I lost track of him. Since he didn't return home, he probably joined the Army.
The recruiter listed my date of birth on the application for enlistment papers as February 3rd, the date I gave him, but he entered the year 1900, indicating I was 19 years old, eligible for enlistment without my parents consent. This date is also on my military I.D. card and driver's license. Maybe this is my century and I'm on the way to the twenty-first!
Our contingent of twelve recruits was bussed from Birmingham to the Naval Training Station, Gulfport, Mississippi. When we disembarked at the gate and marched to the mess hall, we were given a "welcome" by other recruits with a resounding yell "Y'all will like it. Y'all will like it!" We marched on to the mess hall and were fed beef stew left over from the evening meal. The food looked terrible but it was palatable. We learned later that it was nourishing, because we began to gain weight. We slept in hammocks and were issued a sea bag and a full outfit of uniform clothing the next day. Our basic training included military drills under arms,long marches, standing guard duty under the strict supervision of the Corporal of the Guard, military routine. Navy regulations, basic seamanship and a host of other activities, including personal hygiene and care of our uniforms were our normal days learning.
Reveille was sounded at 05:00 hours, taps at 2100 (9 pm). About ten minutes after we turned in one night, a man said aloud "Fall In" and "As You Were". The barracks lights were turned on immediately and the Corporal of the Guard ordered "All hands hit the deck and lash up hammocks". Because of a man's disobedience of orders to keep quiet after taps, all sixty recruits in the barracks had to double time around the drill field in their underwear for half an hour toting their hammocks. That was a good lesson in discipline. It never happened again.
My company completed recruits training on June 18th and was transferred by train to the Philadelphia Navy Yard. I was assigned duty on-board the Battle Cruiser USS Pueblo and advanced in rating to Seaman 2/c and on September 22, 1919 was transferred to the Battleship USS Kansas, a World War One "Battle wagon", one of the few still in service at that time. Most of the Navy's combat ships were being scrapped in compliance with a disarmament treaty.
It was on the USS Kansas that I first stood the test of becoming a sailor at sea; qualified in deck seamanship, handling ships boats under power, oars or sail; firing guns, splicing and care of ropes and mooring lines, maintenance of deck gear, painting and basic visual communication skills.
Our first cruise was from Philadelphia to American Samoa islands in the Southwest Pacific Ocean. Our mission was to transport a new Governor as a relief for the former Governor who had committed suicide, and to restore order under United States control.
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The run to Panama was more or less routine for experienced sailors, but many of us had never been to sea before. For us it was exciting as we learned shipboard routine at sea, standing watches and finding our way around in the big ship. But the greatest excitement was entering Gatun Locks in the Panama Canal. The ship enters the lock at sea level, the gate closed and the locks flooded, raising the ship to the Gatun Lake level, which is about 85 feet above sea level. This level is maintained for about 40 miles through the lake and Gillard Cut to the next two locks that lowers the ship back to sea level in the Pacific. The canal is about fifty miles from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Ships are towed through locks by electric "mules" on tracks alongside the locks, but use their own power through the canal. Land mass of the Canal Zone is about ten miles wide.
While in Balboa, the city on the Pacific side, the "All Hands" job of coaling the ship began. It took all day and up into the night to fill all the coal bunkers for the long cruise. We also stopped at San Diego and Pearl Harbor for more coal. Shoveling coal all day was a long, dirty job. Washing coal dust out of ears, hair and eyes was even tougher.
From Pearl Harbor the Kansas set her course for Samoa, which would take her across the International Date Line into Eastern Longitude and across the equator into Southern Latitude. When about five days out, the ship's Captain received permission to stop for a brief visit in the French held Marquises Islands.
When we arrived off shore the Captain eased the ship into within about 800 yards and anchored. That was our first glimpse of a real remote South Sea Island. We could see the lush green tropical trees, flowers and huge coconut palms all along the clean sandy beaches. As could be expected, there was no pier for landing boats. So the first job was to launch some boats and send carpenters ashore to build a temporary pier. The Captain sent a representative along to arrange a meeting w
ith some of the island's leaders and arrange for small groups of the crew to spend a few hours ashore.
The only non-natives on the island were a French missionary family of two adults and two children. The natives couldn't speak English, were a little shy but very friendly. We saw no means of life support on the island except fruits and fishing. Their lifestyle was very primitive but they appeared healthy and happy.
their interesting events of the cruise were crossing the equator, which put us in the South Pacific Ocean. In those days the equator crossing initiation for those who had never crossed, called "Polly-wogs", was more fearful than amusing. Conducting the initiation were the Royal "Shell-backs", who had crossed before. They served as Davy Jones' policemen under the supreme control of "King Neptune", who would, with great force, resent Polly-wogs from entering his Royal Domain. At the call to arms as we neared the equator the Royal Police would round up all Polly-wogs, trump up some evil charge and drag them before the Royal Judge. The punishment was always to the extent of the King's law. It wasn't funny to Polly-wogs, but Shell-backs had a royal fun day. More equator notes later
American Samoa is a group of seven islands in the South Pacific. The Kansas anchored in Pago-Pago Harbor off the island of Tutuila, where headquarters were located. We used ships boats under oars instead of gasoline engines when it was necessary to ferry anyone ashore. A landing party was sent ashore to parade the streets of Pago-Pago as a good-will gesture and to honor the Governor as he assumed control of the islands.
During our stay in Samoa we held sailing and rowing races. I pulled stroke oar in the winning 30 foot whaleboat race. Our mission in Samoa completed, the USS Kansas returned to the states via Hawaii and back through the Panama Canal. While in Hawaii we were granted shore leave and permitted to descend into the crater of an active volcano. The lava was bubbling like boiling water. We could get close enough to dip a coin into the hot lava on the end of a long pole. It would melt in seconds.
Our trip to the volcano was by a Stanley Steamer, a steam powered automobile. It was a fast trip. The driver said that no one had ever driven a Stanley at full throttle for more than a moment or so. They would just keep going faster and speed out of control.
As we mentioned earlier, we learned that many of the small southwestern Pacific Ocean islands were very primitive in those years. Even the Hawaiian Island was inhabited by natives of Polynesian descent. About 1778 the islands united under King Kamehameha and in 1887, the reigning King Kalakaua permitted the US Navy to occupy Pearl Harbor as a Naval Base. About 1893 a revolution led by US Marines abolished anarchy and in 1898 established the Republic of Hawaii. In 1959 the Hawaiian Islands became the 50th state.
During my naval career I had the pleasure of serving several tours of duty in the islands, beginning in 1929 and ranging through periods during WW II and into the mid 1940's serving in Submariner, Fleet Tugs and Salvage ships.
When the USS Kansas returned to the states she was ordered decommissioned and I was assigned duty on the USS Bobolink, a World One Minesweeper converted to a Fleet Tug. We operated along the east coast out of Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Norfolk, Charleston and on down to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. I was promoted to Boatswains Mate 3/c while on the Bobolink and on May 14, 1923 received an Honorable Discharge, ending my first enlistment. After spending about three months in Lawrence County Tennessee, visiting family members and doing odd jobs, I soon realized there was little chance of finding gainful employment. So I decided to make the Navy a career and re-enlisted for four more years and was assigned duty on board a new Battleship, the USS Colorado under construction in the Brooklyn Navy Yard, New York.
When the Colorado was commissioned, Watch Quarter and Station Bill posted, I find my name listed as Boatswains Mate of the Fourth Division and Pointer (gun layer) on turret four's 16 inch guns -1, was beginning to be pushed into leadership positions above that required for my rating.
Lieutenant Paul W. Fletcher, the Senior Watch Officer of the ship, ultimately became my "mentor" all the time I spent on board the Colorado. (I'll never forget him, but I don't even remember the names of my own division officers). My deck division included the entire port quarter of the ship above the engine spaces, consisting of berthing and messing spaces, the number four 16 inch gun turret and the port quarterdeck. So, Lt. Fletcher had his weather eye on this young deck Petty Officer day and night. He was a quiet, calculating, highly qualified deck officer, and he would tolerate no lack of attention to duty or daily routine.
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One weekend in New York I rated shore leave from Friday until eight o'clock Monday morning but I came back aboard about six-thirty on Sunday morning. Lt. Fletcher was pacing the quarterdeck getting his morning exercise while my men were washing down the deck. He looked at me and quietly uttered "Matthews, take two men and police the dock". It was his way of reminding me that Petty Officers in the Navy were on duty twenty-four hours a day. He didn't think a young sailor of my age should be wasting his time ashore. One morning while the crew was mustered for morning reports and exercises, I was exercising my division. The Navy called it calisthenics, normally a Junior Officer's job. Lt. Fletcher directed my division officer to send me atop the number four turret and lead the exercises for the other four divisions as well, about 165 men. Lieutenant Fletcher was molding this young man into becoming a sailor.
Later when I changed my rate from Boatswains Mate to Quartermaster, fate would put me with Lt. Fletcher again. I was Quartermaster of the watch during the same times he was Officer of the Deck at Sea. Under his supervision I was in charge of the bridge watch, the personnel operating the ship. As QM of the watch I was responsible for making entries in the QM's notebook covering every facet of activities and events and making entries in the Ship's Log Book, the official record of the ship.
Now I'm getting ahead of the story, so lets go back to early 1923 when the Colorado conducted her sea trials, an exercise required of all new ships to assure all equipment and machinery meets all specifications included in the contract with the builder. Most notable tests simultaneously and running the ship astern at full power for over fours, testing the engines and steering controls. The firing of all the big guns at once broadside shoved the ship sideways somewhat and was deafening.
Sea trials completed, the Colorado returned to the New York Navy Yard to prepare for her maiden cruise. During the short layover the USS West Virginia, sister ship to the Colorado, challenged the crew to a baseball game. The athletic officer put together a young team and accepted the challenge. I proudly carried the Colorado banner as we marched to the stadium. As could be expected our hastily put-together team was slaughtered. I folded the Colorado banner and we walked back to the ship through the streets of Brooklyn in defeat.
Captain Belknap soon received his sailing orders. It was a Shakedown/Goodwill cruise to European seaports. Our first port of call was Tangier, Morocco in the Strait of Gibraltar on the northwest coast of Africa. The crew was granted shore leave (liberty) and I joined a sightseeing party that visited the Sultan of Morocco's Palace. We were permitted to enter the entrance chamber, a large room lavishly decorated with beautiful silken lounges, pillows and draperies. We could only guess what was behind those large double doors into the inner sanctum.
From Tangier we cruised pass Gibraltar into the Mediterranean Sea and on to Naples, Italy and were granted liberty again. Some sailors choose to visit the city, others the active volcano Mt. Vesuvius and historic places, but I was assigned shore patrol (MP), which was like a paid vacation because we were provided food and lodging.
The next port was the Naval Base at Portsmouth, England. High ranking British Naval Officers inspected one of America's newest battleships while Captain R.R. Belknap, an old Destroyer Skipper, proudly gave the British a display of his ship handling. He got underway without the aid of tugboats, considered a must for battleships, and was on his way to Oslo, Norway, "Land of the Midnight Sun", and more liberty for the crew.
When the USS Colorado returned to the United States early in June, 1923 she was assigned a brief upkeep period in the New York Navy Yard before sailing south and transiting the Panama Canal en-route San Francisco, California where she joined the U.S. Pacific Fleet. I had earlier responded to a call for volunteers for submarine duty by submitting a request, which was granted, but lay on the Navigator's desk for several weeks before he finally let me go. The ship sailed the next day for that famous Australian cruise – I missed a cruise of a lifetime but probably made a wise choice by choosing submarine duty over battleships and duty on surface crafts because of a less formal routine, better chances of promotion and qualifying for extra pay for hazardous duty in submarines.
On June 30th I was transferred to the cruiser USS Raleigh for temporary duty and transportation to the Submarine School, New London, Connecticut. After completing school on September 30th I was assigned duty on board the new submarine USS S-44. After our shakedown cruise off the New England coast, the S-44 sailed to Panama and home ported at the Submarine Base, Coco Solo, Canal Zone. We would transit the Panama Canal three or four times a year for training in Panama Bay. This was a good duty station but the weather was hot and humid. Temperatures would be around 100 during our submerged torpedo firing runs.
The S-44 and her division of five other S Boats received orders for assignment on the west coast. But before they sailed I arranged for a swap with another Quartermaster and was transferred to the USS 0-6. I was advanced to QM2/C while on the 0-6 and was transferred to the submarine S-12 on August 15, 1928 and returned to the Submarine Base, New London where we operated in and out of that port training submarine school personnel. I advanced to QM l/C while on the S-12 and volunteered for duty as a member of the Submarine Experimental Unit and transferred to the USS S-4 on December 31, 1928. The S-4 had been sunk with the loss of her crew, but was salvaged and converted into an experimental ship. She was used as our headquarters and in testing the submarine escape devices we developed. The unit, all volunteers, consisted of two officers and eight enlisted. Lt. Charles B. Momsen was Officer-in-Charge and Lt. Norman S. Ives was Captain of the submarine.
After the submarine S-4 was raised and towed to the Navy Yard, Portsmouth, New Hampshire she was reconditioned as the Submarine Experimental Unit. The main engines, after battery, deck gun and other unnecessary machinery was removed. The forward battery, auxiliary power generator, sonar, ships radio and galley were retained. These items were necessary to provide the crew with the tools to dive and surface the sub, and for providing power for lights, cooking and operating the radio and sound gear. Since the sub had no main engines for propulsion, she was towed by a submarine rescue ship, which became part of the unit.
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While the Navy yard work was in progress, the crew was transferred to the deep sea diving school in the Washington, D.C. Navy Yard for instruction. After the many escape methods and devices were examined, Navy officials chose the underwater breathing device we had developed and had made. It was essentially a fabricated bag fitted with a mouth piece, an air escape valve and a canister containing a carbon dioxide absorbent, neck and waist straps. The escapee would don the bag, inflate it with air and escape from the sunken submarine through a specially designed escape hatch, easing his way to the surface on an ascending line, stopping for decompression at levels determined by the depth of the sub. The escape device was called the "Momsen Lung," named for the Officer-in-Charge of the experimental unit, Lt. Charles B. Momsen.
Another escape device for great depths or extreme cold water, was the McCann Submarine Rescue Chamber, named for the inventor and builder. Commander McCann, a Naval Engineer. It was often called the "diving bell," a pear shaped metal chamber fitted with air and electrical connections, an air engine and drum to which a down-haul cable was attached for pulling the bell down to the sunken submarine. The diving bell was designed for use in depths up to about 500 feet. Weighing about nine tons, the bell was carried on board a submarine rescue ship which would moor over the submarine, put the bell in the water so the divers could begin the rescue operation. It was used successfully to rescue 33 men from the USS Squalus, a submarine sunk off the New England coast in 240 feet of water. I was one of the crew tending divers from the deck of the USS Falcon, the rescue ship.
The submarine, on a training mission, was making a crash dive and the main induction valve 6, which supplied the diesel engines with air while on the surface failed to close properly allowing a large stream of water to pour into the engine room. Captain Naquin gave an emergency order to blow all ballast tanks in an effort to save the submarine, but his efforts were futile. The Squalus plunged to the bottom of the sea. The 27 men in the flooded engine room were lost. After the rescue operation, divers worked for three months raising the Squalus. She was then towed to the Navy Yard, Portsmouth, New Hampshire and reconditioned for service and renamed USS Sailfish. She joined the Pacific Fleet Submarines and made several successful war patrols in the fight against Japan in WW II.
After the rescue operation, most of the submarine escape training crew, of which I was a part, returned to the Submarine Base, New London, Connecticut and resumed our duties in the Submarine Escape Training Tank, a part of the submarine school. The tank was 18 feet in diameter and contained 100 feet of water. Escape locks were located at 18, 50 and 100 feet. Students would first be given a medical examination, oral instructions, enter the decompression chamber and air pressure built up to equal 100 feet of sea water, about 44 pounds per square inch . Then they would take the elevator to the top of the tank and learn to use the "Momsen Lung" in shallow water. The next step would be "escapes" from the 18 foot escape lock. Those qualified could then make escapes from the 50 and 100 foot levels.
As noted earlier, the tank crew was quartered on board the experimental submarine S-4. After we trained another crew to conduct submarine escape training, the S-4 was towed to the submarine base in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii where a new training tank was under construction. When the tank was completed the S-4 was no longer needed for escape and salvage training, so she was towed to sea and sunk. Her crew was transferred to the USS S-43 with additional duty as instructors in the new tank. After three years duty in Hawaii I was transferred back to New London and attached to the USS S-46 with additional duties as instructor in the escape training tank. I was back to my old duty station - the year was 1935. Note: I was advanced in rate to Chief Quartermaster on September 9, 1932 while on the S-46 at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.
In 1937 I was assigned recruiting duty and transferred to the Navy Recruiting School at Norfolk, Virginia. After completing the six week course I was ordered to proceed to Nashville, Tennessee and report to Lt. Hal C. Jones, Officer-in-Charge of the Main Station for assignment. After a brief refresher course in recruiting, I was assigned as Petty Officer in charge of the sub station in Knoxville. My assistant was Master Machinist Mate Ernest Wilcoxon, our area covered all of east Tennessee from Chattanooga to Bristol. During that period the Manhattan Project, development of the atomic bomb, was taking shape. The pilot doing an aerial survey over the Oak Ridge area would often visit our office in the Knoxville Post Office and discuss his work. He said he had no idea why they wanted pictures of those Tennessee woodlands. The atom bomb project was one of the best kept secrets of WW II. Little did I know that I would play a role in the atom bomb tests eight years later in Bikini Atoll in the Central Pacific Ocean.
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In late 1939 I was back at the Submarine Base in New London, Connecticut, attached to the USS R-13 and later the USS 0-4 and assigned duty at the escape training tank again. My boss, Lt. G.K. McKenzie was becoming alarmed about Hitler's aggressive moves in Europe. He predicted we would soon be drawn into war and suggested we "bone-up" on our navigation skills and be prepared to return to sea duty. I accepted his challenge and we began our navigation studies together. His prediction became a reality on December 7, 1941 when Japan bombed ships, planes and military installations in and around Pearl Harbor; the United States was at war.
With Hitler's march through Europe and Japan's knock-out punch in Hawaii, America's men and women answered the call and flocked to recruiting stations in droves. Others would build ships, planes, tanks, guns and ammunition. There was no denying the American spirit to survive and preserve their freedoms. Lt. McKenzie went to sea, and on September 12, 1942 I was advanced to Boatswain and transferred to the USS Kalmia, ATO-23 and assigned duty as commissary, gunnery and Assistant Navigation Officer. The Kalmia, one of the old fleet tugs, was engaged in towing targets for gunnery practice by new ships bound for Europe in WW II. We had some close calls as they tested their new guns and radar equipment.
The new ships with new radars, new operators and new Captains would sometimes mistake the towing ship as the target when shooting. Shells would often fall all around us. A shell went through one of the tugs radio shack! The tugs USS Kalmia and USS Iuka operating out of Portland, Maine during 1942 would also be called out in emergencies, such as assisting and towing disabled ships to safety. On one occasion the Iuka was dispatched to a point in the North Atlantic to rescue a disabled U.S. cargo ship and Kalmia was ordered to assist. When we beached the ship at Halifax, Nova Scotia the Kalmia was ordered back to Portland under escort. On the way back when it was my turn to be Officer of the Deck we ran into a dense fog. Instead of trying to stay with the slow escort we hightailed it to Portland at best speed - Captain Baker didn't want to become a victim of a German U-Boat.
On September 12, 1942 I was advanced in rank to Ensign and on March 15, 1943 received orders to proceed to Napa, California and report for duty on-board the USS Diver, ARS-5, a new class of salvage ship under construction. I immediately departed Portland by car in temperatures about 40 below zero! With the family bundled up in our new Nash sedan we headed south until we ran out of snow and ice and headed west on highway 40. Arriving at the shipyard in Napa, I reported to Lieutenant Al T. Terrio, the Prospective Commanding Officer and was assigned Executive Officer and Assistant Navigator. Since the Diver was a new class of salvage ships. Captain Terrio put me to work writing the Ship's Organization Book and 'Watch Quarter and Station Bill, a guide to ships orders, routine at sea or in port covering every aspect of shipboard operations. Fortunately, the ship's writer was already on board, so we went to work and had the book completed in time for the commissioning of the ship. In my spare time I studied the Naval Communication Systems, learning to write secret codes and decipher coded messages.
When completed the Diver sailed down the Napa River to the Mare Island Navy Yard in San Francisco Bay where she was fueled, provisioned and prepared for sea. Upon completion of her sea trials she sailed down the west coast, through the Panama Canal and on to Norfolk, Virginia. Captain Terrio became ill and checked into the hospital, leaving me in command. That frightened me because I didn't feel qualified to command the Diver, a new ship with a new crew soon to be engaged in action against Hitler's Juggernaut. But fortunately Lt. Dan Hollier, a former Merchant Marine Officer, soon came on board and relieved me in time to join UK convoy 38 bound for Europe.
Our new skipper was truly a man of the sea. He had been sailing in merchant ships since his teen years and was called up by the Navy, like many other Merchant Marine Officers, to man the Navy's new ships being constructed for WW II duty. He had time to inspect the ship before we set sail to join the convoy already at sea. He conned the ship out of the harbor, set a course to intercept the convoy and turned the bridge watch over to me. I didn't see him again until about three o'clock the next morning when I reported we were now in our assigned position in the convoy. He came to the bridge, took a look at the size of the convoy (over 100 ships) and said "Matthews, you can go below now and get some sleep."
I shared a cabin with Boatswain Bill Askew from Texas. He later told me that I hit my bunk, let out one big sigh and was out like a light. This kind of routine would follow all the way across the North Atlantic to England. I would spend at least 18 hours a day on the bridge supervising the Officer of the Deck, none of whom Captain Hollier would trust with the safety of the ship.
I was called to the bridge about nine o'clock each morning, after he had taken a sun line to check our position and go to his cabin. He would come to the bridge at noon, local time, to get the noon position report and go below again, not to be seen until I would call him about three or four in the morning. He was an excellent ship handler and navigator but he had no interest in the Navy. As a regular Navy Officer and Executive Officer of the ship, he left the daily routine and operation of the ship to me. He would, however take a turn around the ship occasionally, presumably to get a bit of fresh air and exercise. His quite and casual manner, his demonstrated knowledge of ships and the sea intrigued me. We became good friends and kept in touch for years after the war ended. He went back to his old job as Captain of a Merchant Marine ship based in New York. I would often call his home in Greenwich Village, New York when I would be in the area on business with the VFW. Note: Before Captain Terrio left the Diver he wrote a letter stating that I was a qualified navigator, ship handler and recommended me for promotion and command of an A T Type ship. These notes will be included in the appendix.
The convoy was escorted by about six or eight destroyers under the Convoy Commander which would give the merchant ships some measure of protection against German submarine attacks. However, we learned later that several ships had been sunk during the Atlantic crossing.
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As the convoy passed near the Azores Islands the small craft, including tugs and salvage vessels were diverted to the Azores for refueling. The USS Diver was one of the 14 ships in that group. When we departed the next day on our trip to Europe we had no escort! We formed two columns of ships, set special watches to keep a sharp lookout for U-Boats and made a safe crossing. When we arrived in England the ships went on their various assignments. The Diver especially designed for salvage and related duties reported to Captain Edward Ellsburg, the famous salvage expert, for duty. He sent us to a salvage training base at Roseneath, Scotland where our salvage crew and demolition teams underwent special training in preparation for the build-up and invasion of Europe.
When we returned to our base at Portsmouth, England Captain Ellsburg assigned us to towing Phoenix units, large barge-like concrete hulls, to assembly areas along the coast. These units were to be used as portable breakwaters to give landing craft some protection from rough seas during the invasion. After several trips up the Thames River to pick up our tow, we received emergency orders to disregard our assignment, return immediately and report to Captain Ellsburg for a salvage job. A large Dutch tug picked up our tow, sailed down the river into the English Channel in the darkness of night and was never heard from again. She was probably a victim of a German "E" Boat attack. A few days later when the Diver returned from her assignment, a man on the dock, typically British called out "Here comes the bloody Diver, back from hell." Rumors had spread that the Diver was missing in action. The crew of the Diver was saddened by the loss of the Dutch tug and her crew - we realized that fate had spared us again. Now we would be preparing our ship and ourselves for the ordeal that lie ahead - the invasion of Europe!
The night of D-Day minus one the Diver was moored alongside a Phoenix unit we had pumped out. That day an observation plane passed high overhead, made a circle over the assembly area and hightailed it back over the channel. The pilot must have mistaken the Phoenix and us as an aircraft carrier because bombs dropped all around us about midnight close enough to splash water on us but did no damage. We moved to a safer anchorage for the night.
On D-Day, June 4, 1944 the largest armada of ships and planes ever assembled began crossing the English Channel for the assault on Hitler's fortress Europe. The Diver was held in reserve until the next day then joined the invasion forces still crossing the English Channel. Our immediate duty was extracting stranded vessels from landing beaches; salvage and repair would come later. We just patrolled landing beaches "Omaha" and "Utah" until they were secured. Then we were ordered back to England to tow a huge barge loaded with demolition equipment including highly explosive materials for delivery to Army units at Cherbourg, France.
We had been warned that Cherbourg harbor had not yet been cleared of enemy mines, so the Captain shortened the towline and entered the breakwater cautiously and sent a diver down to check the area for mines before he would anchor the ship. Had the barge struck a mine, our ship and everything near -would have been blown-up. 'We -were relieved when three small wooden Army tugs took the barge away. Mine sweepers were clearing the harbor and as soon as a way was cleared the Diver moved in and began salvage work on a sunken ship that blocked the docks. The harbor was soon opened to ships to off-load heavy equipment and machinery badly needed as the invasion forces fought their way inland.
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On August 22nd I was ordered detached from the USS Diver and transferred back to England on a P.T. Boat where I spent the night listening to German "Buzz" bombs raining down on London. The next day I boarded a Navy PBY for a flight back to the United States and on to Miami, Florida for instruction and preparation for command of an AT type ship.
The subjects covered in the Navy Schools, Miami, included refresher training in navigation, gunnery, communications, firefighting, damage control, supply and related shipboard duties. It was a welcome break from the long hours on the bridge at sea and our work in the hazardous build-up and invasion of Europe. We even had time for a bit of relaxation at night, and to add some excitement to the occasion, a category three hurricane hit Miami. We stocked up on sandwiches, drinks and candles and had hurricane parties in the old Roosevelt Hotel.
The good times ended when I was ordered to Leesburg, New Jersey where I took command of the USS ATR-59 under construction. She was commissioned on December 17, 1944 and began her shakedown in Chesapeake Bay and sea trials in route to the Navy Yard, Norfolk, Virginia, arriving on Christmas Eve. We expected a brief holiday for Christmas, but no such luck. We were ordered to pick-up ammunition for the three inch deck gun, take on fuel and provisions and proceed to Bermuda Island to pick up a tow.
We steamed out in our new ship with a new crew, some had never been to sea, into the stormy Atlantic. Rain and overcast skies prevented any chance of celestial navigation for keeping a running fix of our position. I had some experience of sea conditions in our area where the Gulf Stream, which we had to cross, runs at speeds up to five knots. Allowing for drift, uncertain speeds and steering, we made good our course and picked up Bermuda by radar almost on schedule. This new skipper was one happy sailor as we made our way into the harbor and reported to the port director for orders.
A Navy Lieutenant came aboard with our orders to tow a large dredge to San Diego. He told me that two other tugs had refused the tow. The way it was rigged, they considered it too dangerous to tow astern because the long dredge boom projected out several feet from the bow of the dredge. Should the tug lose power they feared the boom would ram the tug. I had some previous experience on Fleet Tugs, one as a deck hand and the other as an officer. This being my first command at sea I seriously considered the consequences. To disobey an official order could well determine my future as a Naval Officer. I accepted the challenge and took the tow.
The ATR (Auxiliary Tug Rescuer) was powered by a steam driven reciprocating engine and we had only four engineers qualified in steam powered ships; Tony Martin the engineering officer and three ratings. When we cleared the harbor, streamed the tow astern, set our course and speed the deck gang began securing for sea and scrubbing down the main deck. As they moved some deck gratings they accidentally closed a valve on the fuel line leading to the pipes under the boilers. We began to lose speed and control of the ship due to low steam pressure to the engines.
With a full head of steam we were safely on our way to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba where we topped off our fuel tanks and proceeded to Panama, transited the Panama Canal and docked at Balboa, on the Pacific end of the canal. We spent two days in Balboa where we took on fresh provisions, refueled and granted liberty for the crew. When I went to the Port Director for onward routing to San Diego, I noticed he had not allowed any fueling stops. I explained that we had a difficult tow and what the consequences would be should we run out of fuel. I talked him into two fueling stops; one at Corinto, Nicaragua and one at Manzanilla, Mexico. The crew was granted a few hours ashore in Corinto but in Manzanilla the engineering officer logged a hot bearing on the propeller shaft that required two days to repair. Shore leave again - we were living the old tradition, "Join the Navy and see the world". Five ports in less than a month!
After we delivered our tow in San Diego and berthed at a downtown pier, I had a short visit with my brother Sharp. We went to Tijuana, Mexico for a night of fun. I also had a good visit with an old shipmate Garland Suggs, my former deep sea diving instructor, who at this writing (1996) and Carl Bryson are the only living shipmates who served with me back in the early 30's when we were instructors in submarine escape training and salvage work. We had a good visit with Bryson at his home in New London three years ago, but haven't seen Suggs since 1953 at a convention in Los Angeles.
We had two good days in San Diego then sailed to San Francisco for an overnight stay and was ordered to tow a large concrete barge loaded with heavy timbers and pilings for delivery to Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. Another ATR under the command of Lt. Author Wilde had an identical tow and we were expected to stay on a course that would take us out of the main shipping lanes to Pearl Harbor. On the second day out we received a radio message that enemy submarines were known to be in our area. Here we go again with a command decision - stay on our assigned route or take a direct route, which would put us some distance from the submarine and lessen our exposure at sea. I chose the shortest route, asked the Navigator to set the new course and asked the Chief Engineer to give us his best speed. We arrived in Pearl Harbor two days ahead of Lt. Wilde and his tow.
When we delivered the barge and reported to the Port Director, a former submarine officer, he asked me what happened to Lt. Wilde and his tow. I said "I don't know, Captain. I got lost." He just said "Very well, Matthews. You are excused." I had a feeling that he knew what I had done, but decided to let the matter rest.
We operated in and out of Pearl Harbor doing routine towing and harbor entrance guard duty. Our last job was retracting an LCT (Landing Craft Tank) off the beach on the Island of Maui, where she had been practicing landings, punched a hole in her bottom and was broached.
Early in September, 1945, the USS Chickasaw arrived from action in the Philippine Islands for Navy yard repairs. I was detached from the ATR and assigned duty as Commanding Officer of the Chickasaw on September 14, 1945 as a relief for Lieutenant Commander Olson, who was transferred back to the states for further assignment.
The USS Chickasaw, ATF-83, was one of the new type Fleet Tugs. She had a crew of 85 enlisted and five officers, most of whom had been on board since her commissioning in 1943. She had been in action in the war all that time and had earned eight battle stars. She was powered by four Cooper Besmer diesel engines that could drive her 10,000 miles on one fueling. She had a speed of 16 knots, had divers aboard and could do just about anything in the line of salvage, towing and repair. I loved my new ship!
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After the Navy yard completed the repair work and made some alterations the Chickasaw made some trial runs and was assigned similar duties as my former ship. Some notable jobs included locating and towing a disabled cargo ship from a position near Midway Island to Pearl Harbor, transferring fuel oil from our ship to another tug while she was towing a floating dry-dock, positioning and mooring aircraft targets close inshore near the Island of Maui, chasing and retrieving submarine torpedoes after their practice run. On December 4, 1945 I was advanced in rank to Lieutenant Commander U.S. Navy.
In June of 1946 the USS Chickasaw was placed under the control of Vice Admiral W.H.P. Blandy, Commander Joint Task Force One, Operation Crossroads, the atom bomb tests at Bikini Atoll in the central Pacific Ocean. Our first assignment was to proceed to San Diego, California and report to Captain Wade DeWeese, Commander, and Battleship Division Seven for a test towing exercise to determine whether a Fleet Tug could tow a group of ships at sea for one of the planned atom bomb tests. Upon our arrival at San Diego Chief Boatswain Harold Worrell and myself attended a conference on board the Battleship Arkansas for a strategy session. Ships to be towed were the Battleship Arkansas, Heavy Cruiser Pensacola, Transport Applying and Destroyer The Chickasaw would use her main tow wire, a two inch plow steel cable, connected to a bight of the Arkansas anchor chain. The other ships would use their anchor chains connected bow to stem allowing a distance of about two hundred yards between ships.
The next day the ships assembled off the coast for the exercise. The Chickasaw began slowly towing the Arkansas as the other ships moved into position and connecting their chains according to plan and the Chickasaw began to build up speed, reaching a sustained speed of four knots. By nightfall Captain DeWeese declared the exercise successful and the ships disconnected their tows and returned to port. Chickasaw received a letter of commendation from Commander, Battleship Division Seven for excellence in the performance of duties. The local news media learned about the secret test and took pictures from a blimp flying over the formation.
When we returned to the Naval Base at San Diego, reporters from local news papers and radio stations came aboard looking for a story. We declined to comment on the operation but news articles appeared in newspapers giving the reporters version, some of which was factual. News clipping of the story will appear in the appendix.
We prepared a summary of our part in the exercise for Captain DeWeese for his use in compiling a combine report for Admiral Blandy, Commander Joint Task Force One, who would be in charge of the atom bomb tests in Bikini.
When released from Commander Battleship Division Seven we sailed for Pear) Harbor, in route, a destroyer came steaming by, slowed and signaled, "Do you have ice cream?" We signaled "Yes”. “Do you have horseradish?" We swapped one gallon of ice cream for one gallon of horseradish by High-line like it was something important. We considered it a good trade and changed the menu to include corned beef the next day. Strange things happen to ships passing at sea, much of which never appears in the ships' log book.
After we arrived in Pearl Harbor we attended a reception for Admiral Blandy and a briefing by one of his aids about Operation Crossroads (the bomb tests), took on fuel and provisions for the long cruise to Bikini. After we cleared the harbor we joined the battleship Arkansas as her escort. The Arkansas would be one of three battleships to be used as targets for atom bomb tests. After eight days out Chickasaw had shown all of her movies, so we swapped with the Arkansas for different shows. Movies and the radio was the only entertainment we had at sea. Of course there were a few poker and dice games. But we can't report them - they were not permitted!
Chickasaw arrived in Bikini on May 31, 1946 and was assigned as support vessel for the salvage unit. Our duties included towing, salvage, firefighting and emergency repairs, among other things. Since I was Senior Commanding Officer of Fleet Tugs assigned to the unit, the Chickasaw became the "workhorse" of the unit. After we preformed some difficult tasks under the watchful eye of Rear Admiral Faharion, he assigned the Chickasaw as security vessel for the entire task force.
Following is a copy of a report of the USS Chickasaw's critical operations during the Atom Bomb Tests "Able" and "Baker" during Operation Crossroads at Bikini Atoll in 1946:
Chickasaw towed the largest target ships and placed them in their critical mooring positions in the target array for test "Able", the air shot, and test "Baker", the underwater shot. Test "Charlie" was canceled due to the extensive damage already done to the target ships and the increased danger of exposure of radiation to personnel. Chickasaw placed the five largest target ships in their moorings, including battleships Arkansas, Nevada and Pennsylvania, the aircraft carriers Saratoga and Independence. Chickasaw also placed in position the ship from which the atom bomb for shot "Baker" was lowered 90 feet and detonated. The Chickasaw was assigned duty as security vessel during the operation and was last ship to leave the lagoon and first to reenter after each shot. Her monitors would test the water for radio-active contamination before other ships could return to survey the damage to target ships and equipment. After shot "Baker" the Chickasaw was sent in to tow the carrier Saratoga into shallow water for inspection before she sank. But she was too "hot"! Chickasaw had to withdraw. The carrier sunk three hours later, as did many other damaged ships. We were also ordered to retrieve test instruments from the carrier Independence. Again we had to back off due to the high levels of radiation.
When officials considered it safe, Chickasaw took part in the wash down group, washing down contaminated ships with a strong solution of lye and other chemicals unknown to us. We would move in close enough to spray the ships with the mixture through fire hoses. This was a hazardous job, not only because of exposure to radiation, but also being "burned" by the chemical we were using.
Although we had monitors on board, we were never told much about the dangers of being exposed to high levels of radiation as we worked among the contaminated ships.
The Chickasaw, dubbed Admiral Faharion "workhorse" was awarded commendations from the four commands she worked under, including Vice Admiral Blandy, Rear Admiral Faharion, Rear Admiral Salzburg and Captain Manseau. Copies are included in the appendix.
The USS Chickasaw was detached from Operation Crossroads on September 7th and departed for Guam in the Marianas Islands, a group of islands in the Pacific west of the Philippines. The islands became a major staging base for the final assault on Japan during WW II. It was here that the famous Nola Gay launched the atom bomb attack that led to the end of the war.
Upon our arrival at the naval base on Guam, I reported to Rear Admiral Charles B. Momsen,
Commander Marianas for duty. The Admiral was an old acquaintance. He was my boss when we were engaged in submarine rescue and salvage experiments back in the thirties when he was a Lieutenant. He promised he would have my family sent out if I wanted to be stationed here for hile. I declined the offer, hoping the Chickasaw would soon be given a tow back to the states for a major overhaul.
Before we became operational again, we had to dismantle main engines, heat exchangers and pumps to flush out a much radioactive contamination as possible that we received at Bikini. We also had to dispose of some mooring lines and clothing as well. Our first job after the brief clean-up period was transferring some natives back to their home island of Tinian. When we cleared the harbor, seas began to get rough. The leader of the group asked me if I could find a comfortable place for his daughter to sleep. He suggested some place to spread her bedroll where she wouldn't get so sea sick, my cabin, perhaps. Well! What goes here? I was embarrassed. What would the officers and crew think? He said "Oh, she's just a kid". I agreed and went back to the bridge. When I came down to turn in, there she was on deck all wrapped up sound asleep. I couldn't sleep, got up early and went back to the bridge. I learned later she was a teenager. To this day I question the old man's motives.
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