Ishmael
12-19-06, 03:17 AM
The Inadvertent Pacifist and The One-Ship Convoy
By Richard Scott © 2006 all rights reserved
Eternal Father, Strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who bids the mighty ocean deep,
It’s own appointed minutes keep,
Oh hear us when we cry to thee,
For those in peril on the sea.
In December, 1944, Ray was released from San Quentin with time off for good behavior and the still urgent need for seamen to man the supply ships of the war. As a result of this, early January, 1945 found him aboard yet another Liberty ship in Noumea, New Caledonia. It was here that Ray ran into his older, full-blood brother Emmett. Emmett was a Lieutenant Commander in the Naval Reserves and was assistant Harbor Master of Noumea at the time. After catching each other up on their exploits, Emmett let slip about a small convoy leaving in a few days to link up with a larger force in the West Central Pacific. Since the Philippines campaign was progressing this meant another island strike.
After returning to his ship, Ray told the mate on watch about his conversation with his brother who, in turn, relayed that information to the ship’s master. Now the captain was a retired Coast Guard flag officer who just missed being in the Great War. Heading into his 60’s and relegated to long tedious resupply missions to wayward outposts, He was salivating at a chance to actually get into the shooting war. When he heard the information, he made a beeline to the Convoy Routing Office. Using all the powers of persuasion at his command and reminding the Convoy Routing Officer of his previous Flag Rank, he left about an hour later with an envelope and a as broad a grin on his face as his sealed lips would allow.
Upon his return to his ship, the Captain ordered all liberty cancelled and preparations for getting underway the following morning. Since the previous plan was to lay to & unload cargo for a week before heading back stateside, this caused a stir among the crew. However, the following morning on the tide, The tub of a Liberty ship was fully lit off with a head of steam and, shipshape and Bristol-Fashion, weighed anchor to fall in line behind a Victory Ship and a Fletcher-class destroyer. As they passed the harbor master’s office, Ray’s Captain, as senior captain of the convoy, ordered the crew to hoist the Commodore’s flag. Upon seeing this the Captain of the Victory ship could be seen laughing out loud and, a few minutes later, the Vice-Commodore’s flag was seen flying from the Victory’s masthead.
Now, for those ignorant of ship types, a little information is in order.
Of the three ships in this plucky little convoy, the fastest was the Fletcher-class Destroyer, capable of a top speed of 35 knots, next the Victory ship which could sustain 17 knots top speed. This left our poor Liberty ship at 8 knots top speed the clear loser in any contest. The reason for telling this information will become clear as our tale progresses. On the second day at sea, the captain posted his orders for the crew. It was then that everybody started looking for charts and maps and asking,
“Where in the hell is Iwo Jimo?
As the convoy plodded it’s way north, the Escort captain was figuring in his new speed requirements. Since a convoy can only travel as fast as it’s slowest ship, the tagalong Commodore was slowing their speed down so much, they were going to miss the rendezvous point and have to travel all the way to Iwo Jima without the screening fleet’s anti-air & anti-submarine protection. About 4 days out, the Escort captain ordered a course change that was to impact the Tagalong Commodore even more. By turning on a more northwesterly course, the brave little ships would run head on into a Pacific Typhoon.
Twelve days out, the sky began darkening to the West and North. By the morning of the 15th day of the transit, the ships were heading northwest into a westerly swell of 35-40 feet with 65 knot+ winds blowing. This further reduced the Liberty’s speed to around 3 knots. By this time, the Escort captain was increasingly worried about enemy submarine attack and signaled a speed change to 12 knots. When Ray’s captain signaled back that he wasn’t capable of maintaining that speed, the Escort captain signaled back that he was detaching the Liberty from the convoy for “Independent Ship’s Exercises”. with that, the two other ships increased speed and disappeared into the storm leaving the Liberty captain as Commodore of a One-Ship Convoy, Commodore’s flag still proudly waving from the masthead.
As it turned out, the typhoon probably saved our hero. Since it reduced visibility and precluded any surface and most subsurface attack due to the large swells, the steadfast Liberty plodded on. She may have been slow, but she was reliable and quite seaworthy. Thus it was on the 24th of February, 1945, she steamed into the heart of the invasion force, 5 full days behind her convoy. Since she hadn’t been in the original operations order for the plan, there was some confusion about where to anchor her. So it was decided to place her on the north side of the island among the Bombardment Group. Thus it was that she dropped anchor inshore of USS North Carolina (BB-58) between her and Mount Surabachi.
So for the next month, my father had a ringside seat to the bloodiest battle of the Central Pacific. All of this combined with the battleships of the US Navy firing on Japanese shore batteries over the top of his ship while the shore batteries returned fire the same way. Whether it was the Hand of God or fate, not one round of enemy fire hit Ray’s ship and the Tagalong Commodore got all the action he would ever want. Now one might ask, what critical cargo essential to an invasion force would cause this type of effort and danger to keep stocked? For the Victory ship, her cargo manifest is unavailable. But my father, Ray, told me what his cargo was. Rubber Bathmats, Woman Marine Uniforms and Cocktail Glasses.
Tales of the Inadvertent Pacifist part 5
By Richard Scott
All rights reserved
By Richard Scott © 2006 all rights reserved
Eternal Father, Strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who bids the mighty ocean deep,
It’s own appointed minutes keep,
Oh hear us when we cry to thee,
For those in peril on the sea.
In December, 1944, Ray was released from San Quentin with time off for good behavior and the still urgent need for seamen to man the supply ships of the war. As a result of this, early January, 1945 found him aboard yet another Liberty ship in Noumea, New Caledonia. It was here that Ray ran into his older, full-blood brother Emmett. Emmett was a Lieutenant Commander in the Naval Reserves and was assistant Harbor Master of Noumea at the time. After catching each other up on their exploits, Emmett let slip about a small convoy leaving in a few days to link up with a larger force in the West Central Pacific. Since the Philippines campaign was progressing this meant another island strike.
After returning to his ship, Ray told the mate on watch about his conversation with his brother who, in turn, relayed that information to the ship’s master. Now the captain was a retired Coast Guard flag officer who just missed being in the Great War. Heading into his 60’s and relegated to long tedious resupply missions to wayward outposts, He was salivating at a chance to actually get into the shooting war. When he heard the information, he made a beeline to the Convoy Routing Office. Using all the powers of persuasion at his command and reminding the Convoy Routing Officer of his previous Flag Rank, he left about an hour later with an envelope and a as broad a grin on his face as his sealed lips would allow.
Upon his return to his ship, the Captain ordered all liberty cancelled and preparations for getting underway the following morning. Since the previous plan was to lay to & unload cargo for a week before heading back stateside, this caused a stir among the crew. However, the following morning on the tide, The tub of a Liberty ship was fully lit off with a head of steam and, shipshape and Bristol-Fashion, weighed anchor to fall in line behind a Victory Ship and a Fletcher-class destroyer. As they passed the harbor master’s office, Ray’s Captain, as senior captain of the convoy, ordered the crew to hoist the Commodore’s flag. Upon seeing this the Captain of the Victory ship could be seen laughing out loud and, a few minutes later, the Vice-Commodore’s flag was seen flying from the Victory’s masthead.
Now, for those ignorant of ship types, a little information is in order.
Of the three ships in this plucky little convoy, the fastest was the Fletcher-class Destroyer, capable of a top speed of 35 knots, next the Victory ship which could sustain 17 knots top speed. This left our poor Liberty ship at 8 knots top speed the clear loser in any contest. The reason for telling this information will become clear as our tale progresses. On the second day at sea, the captain posted his orders for the crew. It was then that everybody started looking for charts and maps and asking,
“Where in the hell is Iwo Jimo?
As the convoy plodded it’s way north, the Escort captain was figuring in his new speed requirements. Since a convoy can only travel as fast as it’s slowest ship, the tagalong Commodore was slowing their speed down so much, they were going to miss the rendezvous point and have to travel all the way to Iwo Jima without the screening fleet’s anti-air & anti-submarine protection. About 4 days out, the Escort captain ordered a course change that was to impact the Tagalong Commodore even more. By turning on a more northwesterly course, the brave little ships would run head on into a Pacific Typhoon.
Twelve days out, the sky began darkening to the West and North. By the morning of the 15th day of the transit, the ships were heading northwest into a westerly swell of 35-40 feet with 65 knot+ winds blowing. This further reduced the Liberty’s speed to around 3 knots. By this time, the Escort captain was increasingly worried about enemy submarine attack and signaled a speed change to 12 knots. When Ray’s captain signaled back that he wasn’t capable of maintaining that speed, the Escort captain signaled back that he was detaching the Liberty from the convoy for “Independent Ship’s Exercises”. with that, the two other ships increased speed and disappeared into the storm leaving the Liberty captain as Commodore of a One-Ship Convoy, Commodore’s flag still proudly waving from the masthead.
As it turned out, the typhoon probably saved our hero. Since it reduced visibility and precluded any surface and most subsurface attack due to the large swells, the steadfast Liberty plodded on. She may have been slow, but she was reliable and quite seaworthy. Thus it was on the 24th of February, 1945, she steamed into the heart of the invasion force, 5 full days behind her convoy. Since she hadn’t been in the original operations order for the plan, there was some confusion about where to anchor her. So it was decided to place her on the north side of the island among the Bombardment Group. Thus it was that she dropped anchor inshore of USS North Carolina (BB-58) between her and Mount Surabachi.
So for the next month, my father had a ringside seat to the bloodiest battle of the Central Pacific. All of this combined with the battleships of the US Navy firing on Japanese shore batteries over the top of his ship while the shore batteries returned fire the same way. Whether it was the Hand of God or fate, not one round of enemy fire hit Ray’s ship and the Tagalong Commodore got all the action he would ever want. Now one might ask, what critical cargo essential to an invasion force would cause this type of effort and danger to keep stocked? For the Victory ship, her cargo manifest is unavailable. But my father, Ray, told me what his cargo was. Rubber Bathmats, Woman Marine Uniforms and Cocktail Glasses.
Tales of the Inadvertent Pacifist part 5
By Richard Scott
All rights reserved