After eight weeks of boot camp, I took a test to determine the type of work for which I was best suited. They found I could distinguish between a dot and a dash in radio waves. Consequently, I was assigned to sixteen weeks of Signal School to study visual communications i.e., flashing light by using International Morse Code, semaphore, and wig-wag.
When signal training was completed, we received orders to ship-out. It was necessary that all of our clothing fit into our seabags. Then our blankets were placed inside our hammocks, rolled and lashed around the seabag. Both together I suppose weighed about a hundred pounds. I lifted the gear onto a truck to be taken to a waiting ship, but when we arrived to board, I couldn't get it up the gangway of the ship without help. I was six feet tall and weighed 130 pounds. Somehow, I and five-thousand others boarded the S.S. President Monroe and sailed for Noumea, New Caledonia.
We sailed alone without an escort vessel for 30 days crossing the Pacific, stopping once at Suva, Fiji. All the land lubbers, and general “no gooders", those crossing the equator for the first time, were initiated by His Royal Highness, King Neptunis Rex and his Court. The ships garbage had been dumped into the ships swimming pool and then filled with water in which to soak pollywogs, for the pleasure of His Highness. They threw some of us pollywogs in that stinking slop. There were other punishments, like running the gauntlet, which was just as bad for those found guilty of invading the realm of His Majesty, Neptunis Rex.
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Forced Landing at Sea aboard A PBM Martin Mariner
In 1943, after graduating from boot camp and signal school I was shipped without escort to the South Pacific aboard the SS President Monroe. We stopped in Suva, Fiji for supplies and then proceeded to Noumea, New Caledonia. While in Noumea we lived in a tent city waiting for orders to go north to the fighting. Finally, we received orders to report to Efate Island, in the New Hebrides, (now Vanuatu) at a place called Havana Harbor on the other side of the Island from the city of Villa. Our assignment was to work on a signal tower providing visual communications between the fleet and the harbor facilities.
The names of the other men in my group were: Stanley Russell Monroe, Sands Point, Idaho; Donald James Owsley, Berkley California; Delmas Dee Thurmond, Dallas, Texas; Fleetwood Teague Turner, Los Angeles, California; and William Austin Wade, Mulga, Alabama.
We worked for the First Class Signalman in charge of the tower named, Dallas D. Detour, from Portland Oregon. Others who were already there were, Red Martin, Victor Tucho, and "Hollywood" Halamuda. They were all old salts who had served in the four-stacker, tin can navy with the Asiatic fleet. "Red" was the intellectual; Tucho, the artist; Halamuda, the fly-boy.
After we had been on the island for many months, we were told it was time for rotation and all could go to the states except two. Two would have to stay for a short time to train the new relief crew. The names of everyone were put in a hat. Two were drawn out: Mine and Stanley Russell Monroe. The rest caught a ship and left for the states.
When we trained our relief crew and the time came for us to go home, the Captain of the base arranged for air transportation for Stanley Monroe and me from Efate to Pearl Harbor. The plane was a huge PBM Martin Mariner sea plane with two engines, and gull shaped wings. It was loaded with people, mail, and cargo.
Near the Island of Canton, the plane experienced ignition trouble in the right engine. We lost altitude rapidly. The pilot landed the plane in open water. The bow of the plane took some pounding against the swells. There seemed to be several collisions, shudders, and then rolling and pitching over the waves before we stopped. The mechanical problem was minor and was repaired in a short time. The takeoff was much calmer than the landing and we made the rest of the flight to Honolulu without incident.
The names of the other men in my group were: Stanley Russell Monroe, Sands Point, Idaho; Donald James Owsley, Berkley California; Delmas Dee Thurmond, Dallas, Texas; Fleetwood Teague Turner, Los Angeles, California; and William Austin Wade, Mulga, Alabama.
We worked for the First Class Signalman in charge of the tower named, Dallas D. Detour, from Portland Oregon. Others who were already there were, Red Martin, Victor Tucho, and "Hollywood" Halamuda. They were all old salts who had served in the four-stacker, tin can navy with the Asiatic fleet. "Red" was the intellectual; Tucho, the artist; Halamuda, the fly-boy.
After we had been on the island for many months, we were told it was time for rotation and all could go to the states except two. Two would have to stay for a short time to train the new relief crew. The names of everyone were put in a hat. Two were drawn out: Mine and Stanley Russell Monroe. The rest caught a ship and left for the states.
When we trained our relief crew and the time came for us to go home, the Captain of the base arranged for air transportation for Stanley Monroe and me from Efate to Pearl Harbor. The plane was a huge PBM Martin Mariner sea plane with two engines, and gull shaped wings. It was loaded with people, mail, and cargo.
Near the Island of Canton, the plane experienced ignition trouble in the right engine. We lost altitude rapidly. The pilot landed the plane in open water. The bow of the plane took some pounding against the swells. There seemed to be several collisions, shudders, and then rolling and pitching over the waves before we stopped. The mechanical problem was minor and was repaired in a short time. The takeoff was much calmer than the landing and we made the rest of the flight to Honolulu without incident.
Copyright © 2005 Jim Thompson. All rights reserved.
Tags: PBM Martin Mariner, sea plane, Landing at Sea, US Navy, WW 2 Navy, world war 2 navy,Stanley Russell Monroe, Donald James Owsley, Delmas Dee Thurmond, Fleetwood Teague Turner, William Austin Wade, Efate Island, New Hebrides, Vanuatu
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Points! Points! Points!
When the Japanese surrendered ending World War ll, the Navy had a system in place to decide the order in which service men and women were to be discharged: There were so many points for the number of months in service; So many points for the number of months oversees; So many points for the number of battles; and, So many points for the number of children.
Here is a poem I wrote after the system came out and I found I was short on the sufficient number of points to go home. I was not discharged until January 16, 1946:
Points
By Jim Thompson
September 28, 1945
Points! Points! Points!
Are there enough for me?
A point in need, a point indeed
To leave this peaceful sea.
Points! Points! Points!
Afar and near to me,
Of them I’ll boast and drink a toast,
To them today that’s free.
Points! Points! Points!
To God above I pray.
For points two score, and plus four more
My flesh and blood betray.
Points! Points! Points!
This word has swept the land
From sprouting seed to men that lead
On lips and hearts of man.
Here is a poem I wrote after the system came out and I found I was short on the sufficient number of points to go home. I was not discharged until January 16, 1946:
Points
By Jim Thompson
September 28, 1945
Points! Points! Points!
Are there enough for me?
A point in need, a point indeed
To leave this peaceful sea.
Points! Points! Points!
Afar and near to me,
Of them I’ll boast and drink a toast,
To them today that’s free.
Points! Points! Points!
To God above I pray.
For points two score, and plus four more
My flesh and blood betray.
Points! Points! Points!
This word has swept the land
From sprouting seed to men that lead
On lips and hearts of man.
Copyright © 2005 Jim Thompson. All rights reserved.
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