NAVY

Perhaps I should write an account of my Navy years just for the record. I can claim no glory or award of any kind. Perhaps it was just a case of fate being very kind to me. Joining the Navy and seeing the world was a boyhood dream. If there was any real thought of service I was not conscious of it. I do (and did) love my country but I just wanted to be one of those men who sailed the seas and went ashore in distant ports. You see, I joined the peacetime Navy in 40. Boot training was at Great Lakes Naval Training Station, Wakegan, 111.; on the shores of Lake Michigan. When I first saw those breakers come rolling in from as far at sea as I could see; I was filled with a feeling of both awe and dread. What is it like out there, far from land? Had I made a mistake? On Sept. 30,1940 I took an oath that I would serve my country on land or sea under the colors of the U.S.A. and I would do so for six long years. No, it was not a mistake. I loved the sea when I came to know it. There was never a sense of fear. I became one of those men who were confident they could meet any situation head-on and come through it. Three long months at Great Lakes. The military drill and parade were something I liked to do. The Navy lore, I absorbed and looked for more. I often visited the Clear family at Lisle, 111. She, Dorothy was Lloyd Morgan's sister. Then came six months at Machinist's school at Ford's River Rouge plant at Dearborn, near Detroit. The school was set up just prior to WWII. I think the services were preparing for war, but remember this was a year before we entered it. I was one of the first draft of students to enter the Ford trade school. Henry Ford was strict. No smoking was allowed anywhere around the plant. Navy men could smoke in the barracks only. Ford was non union, I think. A strike, the first ever, occurred soon after we arrived. It was a messy business. I never went through the picket lines but a lot of the boys did. We were not bothered. When I hear a train whistle, especially at night, it still gives me a feeling that I cannot express. It seems like I took a lot of train rides. We would have several cars to ourselves and of course a man in charge of the draft. In the military the senior man was in charge. So the highest rated petty officer was always in charge. I do not recall ever being with a draft of men where a commissioned officer was in charge. Commissioned officers were on their own when they were to move from one place of duty to another. An enlisted man was always subject to regimentation and discipline except when on leave or liberty and even on liberty we were under the watchful eye of the 'Shore Patrol.' These served the same purpose as the Military Police in the Army. The big difference was that MP's were a regular Army unit and that is all they did. SP's were men who served aboard the ships and stations. This was not a permanent assignment. Any petty officer, if he were on the watch with the duty could be called upon to do Shore Patrol duty. Their main purpose was to keep the men on liberty out of trouble. Any time a ship came into port and granted liberty to part of the crew, they also sent some men ashore on Shore Patrol. All ships and stations divided the 'Ship's Company1 into port and starboard watches. Both watches, never, never left the ship at the same time. Some of the dates are a bit vague. I left the Ford trade school along in the spring of 1941, bound for San Pedro, California. We waited there for a while. I went on liberty a few times to Long Beach and Los Angeles (LA) in Navy jargon. Here I am a bit hazy but I know that I was at the Naval Base at San Diego also. I can remember seeing the Marines do bayonet practice both at Great Lakes and 'Dago as it was called. I did not care for that even though they used dummies. I believe it was early May 1941 when I went aboard the U.S.S. Kaskaskai, an oil tanker bound for Hawaii Territory. I was part of a draft of men bound for the fleet.
No service man is idle during working hours unless the ship is under way and he is off watch. We were put to work chipping paint. It takes no skill or concentration. My detail worked up in the fo' castle. It is probably the roughest riding part of the ship. The compartment was hot, no air movement and I was mildly seasick - the only time. Seasickness is not easy to describe. Food does not smell or taste good and it is not likely to stay down if eaten. My destination was the U.S.S. (United States Ship) Trenton. U.S.S. always meant that she is a man-of-war. She was my home for the next three plus years. She was a 4 stack cruiser the CLII which meant that she was a light cruiser. A cruiser was either light or heavy depending on whether she carried 6 inch or 8 inch guns. I went aboard the USS Trenton in May 1941 at Pearl Harbor, Territory of Hawaii. She had a regular Navy crew and had only recently completed a round the world cruise. I was also regular Navy and she was a home in peacetime. Due to a paper Snafu I was assigned to the deck force. So much for machinists school training, it was invaluable in getting the hang of using a deck swab and chipping paint. It took a couple of months to convince the powers that be that I should be assigned to the black gang, a label applied to the men who manned the engineering spaces. I was assigned to B division and # 3 fireroom. The fireroom gang operated and maintained the boilers that made the steam to power the ship. We operated out of Pearl Harbor until October. We may have been into San Diego during that time. I seem to recall being the engineer on a whaleboat in San Diego harbor. We were in a floating dry dock in Pearl Harbor, for what reason I am not sure. They were always adding special equipment to the ship. We left Pearl Harbor in October 1941. We were assigned to the South East Pacific force operating out of Balboa, Canal Zone. We patrolled south to Cape Horn and sometimes through the Magellan Straights. That is extremely rough water. Ninety foot waves were common. One could stand topside and look up to see the crest of the big ones. If you have stood, perhaps across the street from a five to ten story building and looked up to the roof you have some idea of how it looked. It was no place for the faint of heart. Sometimes we would go to the society islands far to the west. Crossing the equator was routine. The Gallapagos islands were often seen. Guigkel, Ecuador - Calloa (Port of Lima), Peru and Santiago, Chile in addition to Panama City were the main points of liberty. The engineering spaces were very hot. There was no air conditioning in those days. Some time after coming to the South East Pacific I was transferred to M division and assigned to the Forward engine room. The Trenton was a four stack cruiser. So called because she had four firerooms and a stack for each one. She also had two engine rooms with two main engines in each. It was quite a bit of machinery when it was all operating. That only happened when we made a full power run for a few hours. When that happened we were busy. In normal operation one or two firerooms and perhaps one engine room were in operation. All other sources of power were in a standby condition. They could be brought on line rather quickly. Normally a fireroom or engine room required a three to four hour warm up before they supplied power. She was a sleek lined ship built for higher cruising speeds. Over three hundred feet from bow to stern with a forty foot beam. I suppose she was capable of 35 knots or a little more. That was impressive when she was launched in 1921. I still think of her as home but after forty years she is only a memory.
I became a Machinists Mate 1/C aboard her. In August 1944 I left her in San Francisco Bay. She was bound for the Aluetion Islands where I believe she saw some minor action. I was bound for Newport, R.I. under delayed orders. I was to report for duty after 30 days. In other words I had 30 days leave. This was getting along to four years since I had been away from duty. Sometimes we would get a weekend liberty but 48 hours was the longest I recall. Payday came every two weeks. We could draw any amount up to the amount we had coming. We were paid in greenbacks. Ah, it was simple in those days. No social security no workman's comp. There was one fringe. That was a government paid life ins. policy. I dropped mine when I was paid of. The pay was good. A bunk and chow and $21 a month for an Apprentice Seaman. After four months and automatic advance to Seaman 2/C at $36 or fireman 3/C at the same pay. Then Seaman 1/C or fireman 2/C at $54. Then to petty officer 3/C or fireman 1/C with a raise in pay. I become hazy at this point and the pay was raised a few times during the war. I was paid of as a CMM acting appointment. I think that my pay was about $ 199 per month and after one made chief there was a charge for food because we had our own mess and it was a bit better than the crew's mess. There were at that time 7 enlisted rates. They went like this: A.S.-Seaman 2/C and Fireman 3/C -Sl/C and F 1/C. Petty officer 3/C and F 1/C - P.O. 2/C - P.O/ 1/C - Chief Petty Office acting appointment (it was permanent after 1 year of service). The day I was separated I was eligible for Chief Machinist Mate P.A. but of course I didn't take it. Many officers came up through the ranks during the war. I knew several who became lieutenant which would be the third rung on the officer ladder. They were called mustangs. The service was and I believe still is very class conscience. I think that it needs to be to maintain discipline which is the very core of a military unit. The three non-rated grades and the first, second and third class petty officers all bunked and shared the same mess facilities together. Chiefs had their own quarters and mess. No one entered the chiefs quarters unauthorized. There were two grades of Warrant officers. They were the next in the chain of command. Warrant rank was usually as high as an enlisted man ever went. They too had their own quarters and mess. They were commissioned officers but not academy graduates. Usually they were men with many years of service and were usually in charge of divisions where a great deal of technical knowledge was necessary. In any rate, where a petty officer's rate ended with mate there would be a warrant rank. I once considered trying for Machinist (warrant rank) but did not. The commissioned officers were usually academy graduates. There were a few mustangs around. These were men who came up through the ranks. The Marines had a lot of them. The Marines operated an officer's candidate school. I never heard of one in the Navy. Officer grades went as follows: 1 gold bar ensign A 1" gold band on coat cuff Isilver bar Lieutenant/Jr. grade 1" & 1/2" band on coat cuff 2 silver bars Lieutenant 2-1" gold bands on coat cuff gold oak leaf Lieutenant Commander l"-l/2"-l" bands on coat cuff silver oak leaf Commander 3" bands on coat cuff silver eagle Captain 4" band on coat cuff 1 star Commodore A 2" band on coat cuff 2 stars Rear Admiral 2-2" bands on coat cuff 3 stars Vice Admiral 3-2" bands on coat cuff 4 stars Admiral 4-2" bands on coat cuff 5 stars Fleet Admiral 5-2" bands on coat cuff
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I believe that all the services had the same ranks and rate scales. They just used different terms. For instance. ARMY Private P.F.C. Corporal Sergeant First Sergeant Top Sergeant Master Sergeant Warrant Officer Chief Warrant 2nd Lieutenant 1st Lieutenant Captain Major Lt. Colonel Colonel Brigadier Gen Major Gen. Lt. Gen. Gen. General of the Army NAVY A.S. S2/C Sl/C P.O. 3/C P.O. 2/C P.O. 1/C Chief P.O. Warrant Chief Warrant Ensign Lt.J. G. Lt. Lt. Commander Commander Captain Commodore Rear Adm. Vice Adm. Admiral Fleet Admiral MARINES Private P.F.C. Corporal Sergeant First sergeant Top Sergeant Master Sergeant Warrant Chief Warrant 2nd Lieutenant IstLt. Captain Major Lt. Colonel Colonel Brig Gen Major Gen. Lt. Gen. Gen. The rank designation (insignia) that were worn by officers was the same throughout the service; gold bars - silver bars - leaf clusters - eagles. It is worthy of note that silver outranked gold thus a silver bar outranked a gold. Silver oak leaf outranked
A senior colonel in the Army was sometimes called a bird colonel (slang).
Winter of '44 at Quanset Point, Newport, R. I.:
I joined the crew of the U.S.S. Dutchess APA98 in September. We were being assembled and given training at the Newport, R.I. (N.T.S.) Naval Training Station. The ship was being built at Baltimore. A skeleton crew was aboard as she was being built. I was not one of them. After her shakedown in the spring the rest of us came aboard. I was placed in charge of the evaporators. They make the fresh water for the ship. We had an old mustang Lieutenant for an engineering officer. He was a pure headache. We spent some time in the Atlantic. Went to sea in a hurry to ride out a hurricane and soon headed for the canal. Our job was to ferry troops. The APA was short for Amphibious Personnel Attack. We took men into Okinawa when the battle was on. I saw my first kamikaze planes there. We were a low priority target. I spent about a year aboard her. We anchored in Pearl Harbor at least once and dropped anchor once in Nagoya, Japan. Also picked up some troops in the Philippines and brought them back to the States. She was never a home like the Trenton. I made chief aboard her. Victory in Japan - VJ Day was celebrated in San Francisco, I think. It was a wild celebration. It ended those years of wondering where the fleet was, and yes, we even asked ourselves how we were going to lick those Japs. There were some mighty dark days following Dec. 7, 1941.
We cruised the South Pacific except for brief times in port. Pacific meant peaceful. I know what it means. As a rule the sea was rather calm as the sea can be. Cape Horn and the Magellan Straits were never calm. I wonder if they ever were. Cruising the South Pacific is a haunting memory. I loved it and I hated it. Loved the peaceful nights topside for a brief time after watch. When the moon shone on the ocean swells, I could see a sea of tall grass back home. It was a welcome break and I wanted to see it alone. It was, and still is something I cannot and do not want to share. Some might brush it aside and say it was merely the homesick longing of a boy recently removed from the farm and the shelter of a home. I do not think so. Somehow it was much deeper and above all I was content. It was, I believe a time of communion, a special time and I look back with a strange sense of loss. A longing to go back and relive those quiet, peaceful, intermittent hours when the night, the sea and the boyhood days could blend into perfect harmony and I was alone in that special place. The words of the poet "of all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, it might have been." No, the past has been lived and we journey on. To where? I only know that for a few short years the sea was my home and I loved it, yet the time was and the memory is, bittersweet. I have a strong desire to visit Bora Bora once more but I know that it is a mistake. There is a gentle slope in the road that passes the place where I grew to manhood. I thought it was a hill. I was uprooted from there and went away and later when I returned it was a shock to discover that hill was just a gentle slope from the creek a half mile below to the crest of the hill where I lived. And so it is. The eyes of the beholder change. What was, can never again be the same. The seasons come and they go but we must go forward and we cannot go back. Nor do I really want to. The joy of anticipation is often greater than the realization. Going backward a bit, I left the Trenton on the west coast bound for Newport, R.I. and a new ship. I had thirty days time off. Enroute I stopped in Denver and spent a few days with my brother, Wallace. We rode the mountains looking for cattle. What a welcome change of pace it was. I spent a while at home with my mother and the folks that lived here. It seems strange, but I was ready to go back to sea. Why, I do not know. Remember it was 1944 and the war was far from over. Why would you want to go back into, you know not where. Why are the fortunes of war so fickle. I had no idea where I might go or what lay ahead. I never once thought that I would not come back. That was a wild time when the U.S.A. celebrated victory. The theme of the song "When the Lights Come on Again All Over the World" finally became a reality. We no longer darkened ship and ran without lights. The troops were coming home. We ferried some back but I am hazy on the details. I do remember taking aboard a draft of troops who had served in the Philippines. They were a sorry looking lot, recently from the jungles where any kind of personal hygiene was hard to come by. It was then I realized that the Navy had one advantage. We were at home wherever we were. Our bunks and food and water were always with us. With the troops in the field this was not always so. Truly the Navy was a home. I suspect that boredom was a bigger problem than military action. Of course I was lucky. My ship was never attacked. Victory over Japan or VJ Day as it was called was in August 1945,1 think. Germany had surrendered not very long before that. It was in June 1944 when the Allies crossed the English Channel and went ashore at Omaha Beach in France. I had no part in that but I know it was a bloody affair. They slowly fought their way into Germany and were joined by other allied troops who landed on the shores of the Mediterranean in Italy. They had been in the African campaign.
They spent a bloody summer and bitter winter in Europe and finally pushed the Germans back into Germany and in June 1945 it was over in Europe. Meanwhile we were slowly pushing the Japs into a corner but it looked like we would have a bloody time of it. Then we dropped the bombs that changed modern warfare. Two raids were enough. Hiroshima and Nagisaki were in shambles. You can debate the morality of the bomb, but I for one was glad that it was finally over. We took a good many civilian lives but many a soldier and sailor came back because they were spared the job of mopping up the islands and pushing the Japs back an island at a time. I will leave the morality of the issue to those who can idly speculate about what should have been. One thing I do know. We have fought only no-win wars since. No man or nation has released that awful power again. It is my hope that they never will. I might suggest that a person is just as dead when felled by a bullet as the A bomb. So let it be. Spring 1946 arrived. We brought the U.S.S. Dutchess APA 98, back around to the east coast. My memory grows dim but I think the port was Norfolk, Va. She had been in commission about 18 months. There she was decommissioned and I suspect cut up for scrap. I have no clear feelings concerning her. She just occupied about 18 months of my life. To the true sailor, ships are a living thing. Sort of like a home, they become a part of you. You probably either love them or hate them. I just don't ever think about the Dutchess. The Trenton was a home. I left her with, once again 30 days delayed orders. I was to report back to the Naval Air Station, Olathe, Kansas. I rode a bus across the mountains and stopped to see sister Rosa and family at Manchester, Tennessee and then home again. This was my second leave in five years. I went up to the Black Hills and I think Mother was along. I do remember arriving at brother Robert's house. It was May 1 and the opening day of the trout season. He said if I wanted to see him that day I must go fishing because that was where he was going. I did not go fishing. Off to Kansas City, then reporting in to Olathe; I found my billet and spent a terrible night. Next morning I went to sick call and they put me in isolation with the mumps. I was a short timer with four months to go. They really didn't know what to do with us. I was regular Navy and they were obligated to keep me until my enlistment was up. At that point I was sure that I was a career man. I could ship over, get my permanent appointment as Chief Mach. Mate and keep my nose clean for the next fourteen years and have it made. We marked time at Olathe. Let me tell you what that means. On the parade ground in some situations a group of men might be marching along and the order would be given to "mark time." Immediately the company would stop forward motion but would continue to move the feet up and down in cadence to the music. When you "marked time" you marched but did not go anywhere. It was a phrase that described keeping busy and doing nothing. Try it sometime. You will not like it very much. Actually I "marked time" until my enlistment was up on Sept.30,1946. While at Olathe the railroads were struck by the "Operating Engineers." There was scuttle butt that we engineers would be put to service running the trains. And why not, we were familiar with steam and diesel engines. I have no doubt we would have done the job if called upon but it did not happen. I don't remember the details but about the first of June I was in Norfolk for further s-^ transfer. A draft, of which I was a member, went to Key West, Florida. There I boarded a destroyer escort. It was the J.W. Wilkie. She was diesel electric powered, and she had
more Machinist's Mates than she needed. In fact it soon became clear to me that we were sort of hidden away until our enlistments were up. So much for active duty. We were spare gear. I have no strong feelings when I remember Key West and the D.E. It was an empty time for me. I wanted to go back to the fleet; back to sea. Somehow I wish that I could have done so, but one had little choice about where one might serve. The days went by and I was transferred to Jacksonville and the Naval Air Station. There I would receive my discharge and 60 days terminal leave. I spent a few days at the N.A.S. While we were there a team of fliers put on an air show. They were good. They were flying F6F Black Widows. If they were all married then there was another widow that afternoon. He went into a power dive and never pulled out. So much for the fortunes of war. Sept. 30,1946 finally came and I was given an honorable discharge and 60 days leave with pay. I had served exactly six years in the regular Navy. In retrospect I know why I left the Navy. Those last months were pure boredom of the highest order. How did we handle it? With alcohol. Now they have drugs and what else, I don't know. We tried to drown our frustration in drink. When I left the base I bought a fifth of whiskey and I never drank it. The words of a poet are forever with me. They somehow express a deep hunger that I often feel "Of all sad words for tongue and pen The saddest are these It might have been" What is life and what is its purpose? Only in these later years have I been able to struggle with that burden. If it is just an aimless journey, or perhaps just years of wandering from nowhere to nowhere then I have done well. That could accurately describe the passing years. I cannot accept that. Neither can I understand what life is truly all about. We beget children and try to make their road a little less rocky and we try to steer them around the pit falls. Yet finally we come to understand that each must make the trip alone, alone. Oh yes, there are fellow travelers and sometimes the way is crowded but we must find our own way and no one can do it for us. But the unanswered question is why do we have to make the trip. You see, the choice was not ours to make. We found ourselves on the road and there is a choice. We can choose to end the journey or continue, but where to? I have heard people say that when the end comes it is over and finished. I cannot accept that. A dear friend has died. Soon they will lay him in the grave. I regret that I did not help him find the way, because you see I have come to believe that there is a destination that is worth striving for. I did pray that he might find it but there is a deep regret that I did not do more. There is another poet who seems like a kindred soul. These are his words: Life is real, life is earnest And the grave is not the goal Dust thou art, to dust returneth Was not spoken of the soul. Yes, I believe that life does indeed have a purpose; but why, oh why, did I live almost a lifetime before I discovered that. Please dear reader, do not make the same mistake.
To my children, Willard F. Morgan