V1946G04RT.DOC

 

Webber biding Wycoff goodbye       Fred Wycoff,  back to camera 

Fred was only one left after others loaded on the trucks, none of us were to see each other again

            Some 150 of us 20thAF Engineering Officers “frozen in place” by MacArthur gathered when the 6x6 trucks arrived, we were released to go home. With mixed emotions Murrey Webber & I said good bye to Fred Wycoff, we’d been daily buddies for several months. Fred felt lonesome, he was the only one left behind. We knew he'd follow soon, it was like parting with family.

  

Our Transport, APU  Assault Personnel Unit

90% were 20th AF Eng Officers with full or partial engineering degrees

            The string of 6x6 trucks halted where we could see our Transport Ship anchored in Agana harbor. Her gray blue structure rode high in the water. We carried our belongings from the trucks onto a motorized barge and were ferried to the ship. The ships iron stairway was lowered to the barge and the barge tied to the ship.

            Each of us had two large duffel bags. They were bulky and heavy. The first of us had a struggle making our way up the narrow ladder lifting one bag high ahead of us while balancing the other on our back. Periodically we'd snag on the outboard chain rail, rebalance and try again. It was a ridiculous way to load our baggage.

  

Carrying our own belongings       Almost all have gone aboard

            Piece of Rope  On deck I found a long piece of half inch rope and threw it over the side so fellows could tie on their bags. Others were soon helping, pulling the rope hand over hand, till we had every ones bags on board. Though strangers this soon broke the ice.  We were the younger ones, those more senior had long since gone home.

 

Lt "Fog Horn’s"  1st goodbye

            Lt Fog Horn  Someone called out an Air Corps officer was waving from a small Navy boat. We all waved and yelled back and forth. A shout went up, he was our old friend the Lt that connected the fog horn to Cletrack & had  fished with dynamite cracking the boat. For such actions he’d been busted from L/Col and decided to stay in so he could fly B-29's. As we pulled away from the harbor they veered off with a parting wave.   We would see him again on Johnson Island, when he arrived in a B-29 to say goodbye again.

 

 

 

Japanese Prisoners being taken to Saipan

            Japanese POW’s  These Japanese had lived in the cliffs at the north end of Guam during the war, I saw some 100 walk out on to the highway between 314 and 315 wing when driving back from 315 about 1.5 mo after the war ended.

            It was late afternoon as our ship left Agana harbor to open sea. Most gathered for a last look at the coral cliffs and tropical vegetation. One by one we went below deck.

  

Looking for Saipan                                       Saipan

  

Saipan was like an enormous hump backed whale with head and tail still submerged.

            We were on deck early the next morning. We faced a strong head wind as we pulled into the harbor at Saipan. The forward deck was crowded with Japanese POW's, it was the first we were aware of them. We docked, boarded trucks and were transported over a winding dusty road to a processing center high on the ridge in the center of the island.  Saipan was much different than Guam. It was long with a low mountain like center ridge who's sides flattened as they sloped to the sea. It was a fertile island but it seemed void of trees.

  

Arriving Dock at Saipan 

  

 

  

Saipan was barren as compared to vegetation, cliffs & disjointed shore line contours of Guam.  Lt X facing camera

  

Looking ahead        Looking to where we landed   Looking at where we were going

 

Inspection of medical records and belongings at Saipan.  Fire arms, etc were illegal w/o proper papers

 

Convoy returning back to the ship   Our ship ready for us to board again

  

 

 

Quarters were tight, no flash, guessed shutter time        I don’t recall   Lt X name

I made arrangements for Crew Chief Jim Parks and others to accompany Lt X, a new engineering officer assigned to Maj Keough at Group, to Japan to change an engine on a downed B-29.  Occupation forces had not yet arrived & they found it prudent to remove their 20th AF insignia, then were accepted as another soldier. Their highlight experience was taking a bath with a Japanese family – the Japanese custom of males, females and kids bathing as a group was quite an experience for them.   I did and didn’t know Lt X, it seemed everytime I looked about to take a photo or do something he was observing what I was doing.

  

Movie Screen up                                 Just waiting for dusk

  

Aircraft Carrier in sunset     We were not alone    One morning they we there, then out of sight

            The next day was uneventful. At dusk I took a picture of an Aircraft carrier silhouetted in the sunset. We soon accustomed ourselves to the hours of droning silence at sea. The ship was a living thing.  The interior machinery functioned like a heart beat and its blowers like a respiratory system as it plowed its way with slow rolling rocking motions, hour after hour.

  

normal view afar           normal view close        Sun rise or sun set

As I watched the wake produced by the ships propellers, I thought of ancestors dependent on wind of unpredictable direction and magnitude.  We progressed at 16 to 18 knots, over 20 mph, not fast but in 24 hours with no stop signs or cross roads you part a lot of water.  I spent 9 weeks on the water from departure to returned to the states, time to appreciate the vastness of Earth’s watery surface.

  

looking down on wake from fantail       late afternoon sun, moonlight looked similar    Bow waves

Propeller capitation creates bubbles which rise

We spent hours at night watching the sea fluoresce as the bow parted the sea.  Flying fish came out of the water, flying several yards ahead of the bow wave before plunging out of sight.  We wondered if this was how they escaped a predator fish.  I’m glad I didn't fly back, I would have missed the wonderful experience of travel by sea.

   

Albatross came up from low behind, glide up on winds in ships wake then peal off out around and back again.

 

Albatross were there then gone                We never saw them flap a wing

            Albatross In evenings we would climb on a high deck and watch Albatross. They'd glide up along side the ship then veer far out to the left dropping off sweeping around low behind the ship to again catch the rising air current generated by the wind and ship. By instinct they knew how to detect and ride the rising air currents. We marveled at the grace and aerodynamic beauty of these birds, they were masterful gliders. They look us over as they'd glide past within 20 feet. Their control seemed by wing tip feathers and slight tail motion for balance. We took snapshots but wished we had motion picture equipment. They stayed near us for many days. They'd come from no where and disappear into the vast expanse only to appear again a few days later. They seemed to have the ability to rest on the water and sleep. They may or may not have been the same birds.

  

The anchor wench below gun decks

            Several days out I was awakened by the ships abnormal behavior. We were accustomed to the continuous lazy roll and pitch motions, a normal state for our floating world.  Something had changed, our ship was laboring, the sea was alive and pushing back, reminding all of her power.   From inside we could hear her groan, creak and then shudder. Like inhaling, straining and exhaling.

            Shudder & Shake  We could feel the bow lift, hold and then plunge. The structure would tremble and vibrate while balanced on the crest of a wave, then trembling would subside as she slid down the slope to the valley of the wave. She would thrust her bow to breast a wave taking water over her deck then level off.  When the crest reached her mid section the nose would fall into the trough and her propeller shaft come out of the water. The heavy propeller relieved of it's load would rev up sending vibrations through the ship until propeller slowed when blades hit water.  Once I comprehended what I could hear and feel, I wanted to see.  I dressed and went topside, prepared to see wild waves and was surprised to see only large swells with wind blown white caps. The length of ship and length of swell caused our cycle of climbing up hill and propelling down hill. We were heading into the strong wind generating rolling sea. The swells seemed designed to taunt the ship. With effortless ease the sea was showing our ship the power of her elements.

Stay Below Deck  I was awakened from these observations by the ships speaker emitting three shrill rising whistles followed by a voice saying "Now Hear This.......Now Hear This". We were conditioned to the three whistles and subconsciously joined the voice in saying "Now Hear This". The announcement was for all passengers to stay below deck. The present weather conditions were expected to get a bit worse and then clear by late afternoon. I went below to breakfast.

            I became possessed with the idea of going topside and forward to get pictures as the bow cut its way into the swells; none of the others expressed a desire to go topside.

  

This was intended to show ships roll; but sky line was too faint.

            No one was on deck as I made my way forward. The deck was wet and ropes had been strung as hand holds for the crew. I worked my way foreward hanging on to ropes to where I could see the gun decks. After a plunge I ran for the ladder to the left gun platform which extended forward of the bow about 15 feet above the main deck. The normal attitude of the ship placed these platforms high above the water. Now it was like standing on the end of a large teeter-totter. I was above the anchor chain and winch. I looked back toward the bridge and watched the superstructure roll against the horizon as an index. The ship seemed abandoned.

  

Forward Gun Decks

            Taking Photos  I was having trouble keeping my balance when I release my grip on the rail to lean out and snap a picture.  It required two hands to hold and click the camera while trying to read the depth scale. I was alternately being shoved into the deck or being left behind.  My mind was having difficulty getting matter to adhere to purpose. I'd lean out over the platform to catch the maximum amount of bow coming out of the water, snapped the camera and grab for the rail as the deck fell out from under me, it was an odd feeling to be up in the air.  Then in moments I had to turn my back to keep the camera dry as a big plunge threw water into the turret. I tried to snap pictures of the coming rush of ocean over the decks but it clouded the lens with spray.  With repeated trys I caught the beginning. The camera, a 35mm Mercury II, still shows the corrosive effects of being wet from the salt spray although I cleaned it right away.

We passengers had been told to stay below, since I was in plain sight from the Bridge I knew they were watching.  I expected to be told, via the bull horn, to get below deck.  They probably got a kick out of watching the crazy Air Corps guy out there getting wet taking photo's of something they experienced every trip.  They could see me leaning way out to snap a picture, and hang on when the deck fell away.  They were aware my center of gravity was kept inside the turret, thus not fall overboard.  The main deck was repeatedly immersed in waves that swept over the deck  The high gun decks provided an excellent observation platform.

   

Bow cycling from high to low; enough to appreciate the dynamics of a large storm

The sea itself was really quite calm, we were headed into strong winds which had caused large amplitude swells. The ship climbed up or traveled down these sea “hills”, a precursor to what the sea could have done if it became serious.  I thought of going aft to see if I could show the exposed propeller when it reved up, that must have made an interesting wake.  There were no observation decks at that end so I went below.

 

Day after day, lots of time to time to kill doing whatever            Typical sunset, rhythmic sound of bow wave

            Most of the time there was nothing to do and all took advantage of the opportunity to relax in the sun.  We were told we were stopping over at Johnson Island, probably to leave supplies.

            Johnson Island   We anchored at Johnson Island late in afternoon.  After being cooped up for days it was like having an off base pass. We dressed in clean suntans and caught rides in small boats to a shore dock.  We helped each other out of the boat onto the dock, walked to the road end of the dock and stopped while a truck passed.  We crossed the narrow road and stepped into the front door of a Quonset hut. We were startled to find this standard size Quonset hut spanned the width of the island. The Quonset hut was a club with a bar at the far end. We headed for the bar, now aware we'd crossed the island.  We watched the far side beach water lap against the other end of the Quonsets foundation.  If they turned the Quonset parallel with the beach they'd have room to park a Jeeps. But how much driving can you do on a small sized crescent three feet above sea level. Whow, what a place to be in a Typhoon!   

            There was nothing to do but relax and drink, so we did, drinking was not permitted onboard ship.  About 10:00 p.m. we returned to the ship in a small boat in the dark. The sky was clear as a bell and the heavens revealed their content in sharp focus. One of the fellows, a Navigator, inspired by the view gave his drinking buddy a most fascinating lecture on the names, constellations and navigation significance of these distant beacons. We all listened.  His knowledge surpassed navigation, it was evident he knew a great deal about astronomy.  I marveled at this random collection of persons. Most had various kinds of engineering training, diverse prewar backgrounds and interesting avocations. I appreciated & enjoyed their depth of knowledge and interest taking pleasure in their company. Few nations could field a random ship load of such talent.

            A time and place for meditation  After leaving Johnson Island I found myself meditating more often.  I'd caught up on sleep and would standing by the ships rail late at night staring across the expanse of starlit sea. It was the setting, the opportunity, and the time for reflection. Always awed by Gods creations I wondered why some survived the war while others did not.

Cousin Vincent, two weeks younger, classmate and like a brother, was now dead. He was a Navy fighter pilot shot down the last day of the war, why him, why then.  My close friend and college roommate, Bob Nelson, B-29 navigator had been shot down over Japan. He and another got out and were taken prisoner, he hadn't returned with other POW’s and was listed as missing?. I had flunked the cadet exam finding I was color blind. Why did he die and I live?  Such questions have been pondered through the ages. Men fight and died under the banner of many beliefs. Was there a creator of this universe with powers and scope beyond man's grasp that decided our individual fate? Did we survive and prosper based on being good vs bad.   What standard prevailed for the Japanese.  It seemed a random process, if you were at the wrong place at the wrong time you got hit. Our age group was selected by fate to serve our country. If foolhardy, you lessened your chance of survival, you tried not to be foolhardy.  If you did your job it all depended on how the mop floped.  I replaced a fellow killed in a test hop, I was not permitted to go on a mission but could and did fly test hops, feeling no fear.

            There was time to think of friends lost.  We the living had an obligation to the dead.  Societies is dependent on the living and I felt an obligation to not waste my life, so their sacrifice was not in vain.

            I debated my goals, purpose and capabilities.  If I was going to change fields now was the time to do it, by the time we landed I should have my goal in mind.  My need was to do something worth while.  Humbled by the view from the rail and war time experience, vanity and self acclaim seemed hollow.  At the ships rail I disposed of ego and inflated ambitions. It would be tough enough to please my inner self.

            Friends had said, you can do whatever you set your mind to.  I knew better, many were smarter, more talented and better suited to certain jobs than I.

Before college I didn't smoke or drink.  My father smoked cigars and in college I took up the habit, never being without one jutting from my jaw, so long as I could obtain them, I traded liquor ration for cigars.  I abruptly quit smoking at age 47, finding I was addicted, it had become ridiculous!   In service I acquired a taste for beer, I learned my limits on hard drink the hard way, but had a natural aversion to submitting to it's influence. I enjoyed a social drink but when alone had no desire to drink.

            Our military language had become grossly profane, we discussed the need to change.  We'd become crude, coarse and inarticulate. We'd lost the artistic skill of descriptive, quaint & colorful language.  I found renewed respect for the standards of my father. He revealed deep convictions of honesty, sincerity, integrity; courtesy and avoidance of profanity around women and children. I endorsed these qualities, and would need to set an example.

            Economic necessity required that I complete my education before considering marriage. There was no pleasure in the thought of 2 1/2 years of school before I could start a home. I'd already been side tracked for 3 1/2 years.  Girls my age were already married or in a hurry to get married. Waiting meant I'd need to seek a younger spouse.

            I started in engineering quite by chance finding the first 1 1/5 years far more difficult than anticipated.  Adult friends at home suggested that I go into law or politics.  I’d been on the first team in debate, and three times class president.  My father hoped I'd go into the Bank.   I had zero interest in litigation, did not like the “politics” of politics, and didn’t feel attracted to banking.  A grade school teacher asked what we'd like to do, I said I’d like to figure out how to do things. She said "that's what scientists do". The term seemed in appropriate then but proved a precursor to my natural interests in later life.

            I felt inclined to engineering, though I had an aversion to math. Could I overcome the math handicap?  Would engineering provide a sense of purpose? It was an engineers task to determine how to convert the earths natural state to the benefit of man.  Roads, cars, airplanes, household items were all fruits of such labors. All kinds of equipment and processes were designed by engineers, lasting things.  End of debate, I’d continuing with mechanical engineering. 

            The ship rail contemplations covered many things, when I got off the ship my game plan was in place.  I'm sure my thoughts were typical of the many leaving a past and looking into a future.   We were not the same persons who entered service, the return trip provided time for personal reappraisal.  I watched the fellow lower left in deep thought thinking of what’s ahead.

  

Thinking ahead              Iwo Jima Spare B-29 Eng Officer              Small boat that brought person to ships Dr

            Loan Camera  I met the engineer above center 4th from left, and loaned him by Browie camera.  He’d been on Iwo Jima assigned to the A-Bomb Backup B-29, on standby to carry the A-Bomb if something went wrong. The A-bombs were too large to fit in a conventional B-29. B-29’s were modified to connect the forward and aft bomb bay, making more room.  A special setup was built at Iwo for removing the bomb from one plane then installing it in the other.  I had purchased a newly available camera at the Guam PX and filled cartriges with bulk 35mm film.  He was able to buy film on ship.  Had we not been parted by circumstance we would have been lifetime friends. 

            Need a Dr  Half way from Johnson Island to Hawaii we came to a halt, all came on deck to look for the small boat bringing a passenger to the Dr we had on board. The other ship sent the patient in a small boat from far off, it was hard to see at first.  It was a civilian ship headed away from US and turned about to meet us.  We learned the passenger need their appendix removed.

We knew it was difficult to locate people in a rubber raft from the air, we had difficulty seeing this “small” though not too far away. That's why it was so important to have reflecting mirrors, flares, smoke; something to indicate location if lost at sea.

  

        We have Dr and will take patient          Small boat is white spot                  Small boat is white spot

  

   Small boat now clearly in sight    The patient had a bad appendix                 Everyone wanted to see

 

All watched                               until returning boat was out of sight

   

Sea Gulls, we must be getting close!

  

The Harbor Pilot came aboard to “drive” us into harbor and to the assigned dock.

Sea Gulls were reported and all came on deck to look.  The Sea Gulls ranged ahead of the Pilot Boat.  All eyes searched the horizon to catch the first view of the mainland. Finally dead ahead, right on target, we could make out the hills to the north and south of the Golden Gate Bridge! Shortly thereafter a large sail boat with inboard motor and sails furled came along side. The Harbor Pilot came aboard to guide our ship. A host of seagulls hovered about the Pilot boat and followed us to the mainland.

  

Everyone was looking to sight land     Land sighted way ahead         We knew they couldn't miss

 

  

    Golden Gate Bridge, the Pacific view                       South end                           Closer view of south end

   

There was a random clicking of cameras as the Golden Gate grew in size.    I took these shots

   

All were engrossed in the awesome feat of the bridges design and construction, they commented about such from afar but were silent when just looking/studying from up close, a view they didn't expect to see again.

  

A last look at bridge

   

Looking at Alcatraz                                                                             Bay bridge far ahead

  

Looking back at the Golden Gate                 San Francisco dead ahead

  

We come to a halt         The last Photo, looking down on Warehouse, All eager to depart

We docked on the San Francisco side of the bay. Only the docking crew and gulls were aware of our return. The waving crowds and bands depicted in News reels were all a thing of the past. Our arrival was a none event to others.

            We were soon unloaded and again bouncing our rumps on 6x6 truck seats. We crossed the bay from San Francisco to Oakland and were quartered that night and the following day in a gymnasium size warehouse filled with rows of army cots. We were permitted out for a few hours the first night. Some of us rode streetcars back to San Francisco, had dinner and returned.

            Those who were married called home and talked with no regard to cost. Phone circuits were jammed. In deference to them most of us who were single wrote letters home telling that we'd disembarked but didn't know when or where we'd be discharged.

            We were soon listening to the clickity click of a "troop" train headed east, destination Fort Leavenworth Kansas. Whenever the train stopped a few would jump off, run into a bar and run back to the train carrying a case of beer; jumping back on as the train pulled out. Timing was tight but the train engineer was considerate knowing just how much time to allow. There was no rowdiness, everyone was enjoying the musical click and sway on rails leading home.

The refrain from my mother sheet music on the family piano came to mind: "Highways are happy ways when they lead the way to home. Highways are happy ways when it's never more to roam. And as you travel along those ribbons of gray, they all unravel and bring you home ward to stay. Cause high ways are happy ways when they lead the way to home."  The sheet music cover had picture that looked like Grand Mother with her hair made up in back, the automobile of 1920 vintage. Each of us had mental images of our home ahead.

            It was late when we arrived at Fort Leavenworth and assigned quarters. The next morning we cleaned up and caught a ride to Kansas City with one of the fellows who'd managed to obtain the family car. Three of us roamed the haunts of downtown KC. Dorothy my girl friend from airplane mechanics school days was now married to an Ensign, I felt happy for her.  Those of us from Guam remained together, we didn't know anyone else. The next morning we caught a bus to Fort Leavenworth and started our final processing.

            A final close out summary was made for our war time personal record and our discharge papers were prepared. We were given a briefing on the Reserve. I signed up. An officer was subject to recall, without being drafted, if hostilities broke out. By signing up, I'd be accumulating time in grade. It seemed the pragmatic thing to do. Since I was the youngest B-29 Engineering officer, then 22,  I reasoned they would call me in the event of future hostilities.  No point starting all over again at a 2nd Lt's pay. Many officers were boosted in rank before discharge, if they had enough time in grade. I needed ten months stateside (five overseas) time in grade to be eligible for the rank of captain.

1st Lt Silver bar, 20th AF pin, 7th Presidential Citation (predecorated with cluster), theater ribbons and good conduct medal.  The ribbon plus stars was “earned” swimming at Tumon Bay while assigned to 20th AF Hdqs! I pinned them on, for the train ride from Ft Leavenworth to home, then put them in a box with other such items.

            One of my last acts was to sign the pay voucher when I received my discharge pay. The man behind me needed a pen so I handed him mine and in my hurry to leave totally forgot the pen. It had our pet monkeys teeth marks in it and was the one I'd loaned to Generals Spaatz and LeMay at the 39th Bomb Groups club opening on Guam, I was unaware they were at the table behind be when one of them taped me on the shoulder and asked, "do you have a pen?" It was an inexpensive pen of no value to anyone else but I'd intended to keep it as a memento.

 

Discharge papers

            There was a feeling of finality when you sign your discharge papers – you knew you’d ended a significant chapter of your life.

            At Dads recommendation, I had photo copies made of my discharge papers and placed in plastic much the same as my military ID card. Many returning personnel did this. In seeking future employment they would show them as proof of prior military service. I carried mine for several years, then removed them to make room for more current identity.

            I'd shipped bulky things ahead. With limited personal belongings in hand I ran to catch a bus taking us to Grand Central station KC Mo. Shipping orders had passed me through it's portals many times. Everything was familiar, just the faces changed. I was the only one on the bus to catch my train west, not many people live in western Kansas. Boarding the train alone I felt detached from the military although still in uniform.

            A sailor and a girl, not together, were in seats nearby. After self introductions we visited to pass time. The girl was poised, attractive and from Jennings a small town near my home town.

            My parents met me at the train station in Norton, Kansas. We stopped to eat and visit before driving west to Oberlin.

            Home at last! It was wonderful yet anticlimactic. All prior interests had been erased.  It would be a while before start of the next semester – I would need to find something to do, doing nothing was not my nature.