 |
(by John G. Cole, C. Sp. USCGR Coast Guard Combat Correspondent) A sea-going moving van. That's the way one of the crew described the ship. Another called her the South Pacific Slow Freight. Someone else said, with considerable affection, that it was a floating packing case...with booms. An officer claimed that serving on her was like being in the merchant marine... without hitting the State-side ports. Put all the description together, shake well with five thousand miles of Pacific Ocean and you have a 416-foot, 10,000-ton, cargo-packed, personnel-jammed ex-Liberty ship known as an Auxiliary Cargo Ship, called AK for short. An AK is probably one of the most unglamorous, least publicized military vessel in the war today. Chances are you won't hear much about her even after the shooting and shouting's over, and its doubtful if one will win the Presidential Unit Citation. But in her own quiet; lumbering way, the AK is doing one of the most important of all war jobs. She keeps supply lines – the life-lines of the war – running through the incredible expanses of the Pacific battle zones. An AK is a casual and cooperative ship. She carries cargo anywhere, any place, any time: ten thousand gallons of gasoline to bombers waiting on a freshly-leveled air strip in Bougainville; two thousand tons of high explosives, including bloc-busters, to a new-secured Southwest Pacific island base; war casualties evacuated to Australia or New Zealand; fifty jeeps or a hold full of K-rations to an ant-hill atoll. You name it and an AK will transport it. Although her principal job is cargo, the AK also carries some troops. Typical is the fact that she has accommodations for only twenty me, in addition to the crew, yet often transports three hundred or more on short hauls. Unlike the larger combatant ships – the Attack Transports (APA) and the Attack Cargo Ship (AKA) – the AK does not carry landing barges. She's not scheduled to steam into an enemy-held beachhead on D-Day, H-Hour, and disembark supplies and personnel under fire. This doesn't mean that an AK doesn't see action. She often does. But ordinarily her job is to keep the reserve supply lines running after the initial attack has begun. The particular AK we visited... call her AK-x for purposes of security... is one of about a dozen ships of this type completely manned by men of the United States Coast Guard or Navy, this AK is pretty typical of the slow-moving hard-working cargo ships doing a job in the Pacific. Like the rest of her kind, the AK-x makes no regular pre-determined runs. Once out, she rarely goes back to the States for cargo. She shuttles between bases on an erratic, unpredictable war-time schedule. The AK-x has been in the Southwest Pacific for more than a year. The first seven months she was on the go constantly. Her itinerary during the first two hundred and ten days indicates what a mad course the exigencies of war can plot for an unsuspecting cargo ship. The AK-x shoved off June, 1943 from San Diego, from there she sailed to New Caledonia. From New Caledonia to New Zealand, thence to the Fiji Islands, back to New Caledonia, to Guadalcanal, to New Zealand, to New Hebrides, to Tulagi, to the Russell Islands, to Guadalcanal, to Munda, to Bougainville to Guadalcanal to Eniwetok. When we a board her in Eniwetok she had been in the harbor about nineteen days. In twelve months, that's the longest she remained in any port. Like other AKs, the AK-x tied to make up her complement of men with as many cargo-wise, ex-merchant marine sailors as possible. The Coast Guard is manning dozens of large and small ships in the Atlantic and Pacific. The AK-x had to settle for only a twenty-percent experienced crew, and a sixty-percent ex-merchant marine officer personnel. Like the crew of every ship afloat today, the "treat" compliment of the AK-x is a cross section of young America itself. A bosun's mate is an ex-soda jerker from the middle west, a water tender is a former factory worker from Pittsburg. There's a farm hand from Kansas who hadn't been more than twenty-three miles from home until he enlisted. There's a milkman from upper New York, a dental student, a policeman, and a night club operator. In one the few experienced cargo experts on the AK-x have made real sailors out of these ex-civilians. In one year they've built a reputation for being one of the fastest loaders and unloaders in the Pacific, one of the smoothest-working cargo ships, and boats one of the snappiest gun crews. They've got a Japanese plane to their credit to prove the last fact. The atmosphere of the AK-x has the informality of a tramp steamer. As one of the officers explained: An AK couldn't do the job if she were tied down by the book. She operates too close to the frontline where the by-word is results, get 'em any way you can”. Besides its pretty tough to have the old snap and dash when your looks are piled up with Jeeps and stuff and troops are sprawled out all over topside. If the destroyer is the dungaree Navy, the AK is the shorts-and-sneakers Navy (or in this case, Coast Guard). Yet in spite of this free and easy atmosphere, there's no lack of discipline. Any member of the crew may come into the executives officer's cabin at any time of the day or night with his personal problems. But he knocks first before entering and waits with his hat off to be admitted. He sits down and speaks only when asked. The men on the AK-x never mistake informality for disregard of military procedure. This fine combination of discipline and informality springs from one of the precious possessions a ship's crew can have; mutual respect between officers and men. With it you have smooth easy sailing. Without it, you have an unhappy ship. The AK-x has it. When we visited the AK-x, her hold was loaded with her usual cargo of gasoline, explosives and general supplies. In addition, she carried secured to her upper decks more that fifty jeeps and trucks plus a troop complement of over two hundred Seabees and Marines. Although far in excess of her capacity, we gather that this was about an average load. Looking down from the bridge, the forward part of the ship resembled a floating trailer camp. The vehicles were lined up along the weather decks, port and starboard like cars on a ferry boat. There was barely enough room to walk between the rail and the sides of the jeeps. Most of the troops who were being transported with their vehicles had rigged up a strange, Arabic sort of living quarters on top of the big square hatches, which cover the holds. They've strung canvas coverings over the hatches, which keeps off the sun and rain, and set up their cots underneath. Some of the men preferred to sleep in their own vehicles and there are a number of intricate devices to make a shelter out of a front seat. The troops not only sleep under their own open-air "circus" quarters, but they make it their home for the duration of the cruise. They play cards, read, write letters, clean rifles, hang pin-up pictures and shoot the breeze. The go below only for meals. Although the average AK is not often under fire, the AK-x has three “actions” to her credit: the original invasion of Bougainville in February, 1944 when the crew got their baptism in fire, the re-turn to that Jap-infested island a few weeks later when they were again under bombing attack and the bloodless but strategic invasion of Emirau last May. On February 10, 1944, the AK-x pulled into the Empress Augusta Bay in Bougainville. Only a three-by-ten mile peninsula had been secured at that time and the Japs were bombing the harbor systematically but ineffectually every night. During the eight days the AK-x remained in the harbor unloading, she underwent more that thirty air raids. As usual, they were loaded with high test gasoline and tons of bombs. A hit would have blown the AK-x into a million splinters. Every time the Japs came over, the ships in the harbor cut loose, but the anti-aircraft fire was as ineffective as the bombing. The Japs were flying too high. At least they were until the fourth night about eleven o’clock. An unusual daring Nipponese dove low to drop her load, the men on the forward three-inch gun cut loose. “We knew we had hit the minute the shell left the gun”, the crew said. “It was just right, that’s all.” The shell hit the plane squarely and the next instant the whirling mass of flame plummeted into the sea with a hissing roar. There was a second of awe-struck silence and the everyman on board began shouting like a beserk cheer leader. There was more restrained, but lasting enthusiasm when the hit was officially credited to the AK-x by the Army Air Corps Intelligence. The small Jap plane with the rising sun above it, painted on the barrel of the trusty three-incher and on the side of the bridge, is the proudest pin-up picture aboard. That’s quite a symbol for a sea-going van to display. During the second trek to Bougainville, the AK-x underwent the same constant, ineffective air attacks, eight nights of them this time. Again, the ship was loaded with gasoline and high explosives, but the Jap airmen’s aim was still high and wide and there were no hits. Although the Japs had not fortified Emirau, for reason best known to themselves, the AK-x still put in a rugged week. They were underway the entire time. There was danger of air attack from nearby Japanese bases, and the orders were to stay on the move. So from dawn to dusk, the AK-x unloaded her cargo into landing craft while she cruised in circles at a slow speed, a difficult and dangerous operation at best. Every night she continued her maneuvering in the outer harbor and at daybreak went back to her mobile unloading of cargo. This lasted for seven days and seven nights. Most of the men felt they’d rather meet the Japs to face than go thru another ordeal like that. Perhaps the casual salty personality of all AKs is well illustrated by the ranking officers on board, her skipper and her executive officer. When we first saw the exec he was shaking dice on an acey ducey table the officers had set up on the afterdeck. He wore khaki shorts, a shirt open at the neck and a bottle-green baseball cap, the kind that’s particularly popular with flyers in the Pacific. He was a sturdy man in his forties, of medium height with a tanned, weathered-lined face and direct blue eyes. He was smiling broadly as he came towards us, his hand extended. He introduced himself by his last name. In a later conversation, he had to be reminded by ode of his junior officers that he was no longer a Lieutenant, but he had been promoted Lieutenant Commander some weeks ago. He took us all to see the Captain, who we found working at his desk. The captain, we learned later, was a Commander, a graduate of the Coast Guard Academy in New London, and the former skipper of Coast Guard Cutters and Destroyer Escorts. Like the executive officer, he was informal and cordial. As far as the story of the AKs were concerned he wanted it plainly understood that A) he had the best damn crew of any ship afloat and that B) this was no snap. “Everyone thinks because this was a slow-moving old cargo barge” he explained with considerable emphasis, that we’re never in any danger. Well, you figure it this way. A oiler carries a half a dozen bombs over enemy territory at around 30 miles an hour, and he’s got a dangerous job. But on an AK we take 2,000 tons of bombs right into the Jap’s back yard and were only going 9.5 knots an hour. If a bomb or torpedo ever gets this floating mine, there wouldn’t be enough left of us to put in your eye! Although both man’s personalities reflect the spirit of the ship, the executive officer’s broader and experienced background is more typical than the captain’s formal training. During the last war, the exec served overseas with the U.S. Marine Corps. He was sixteen at the time. At 18, he entered the merchant service and for the next twelve years he sailed most of the seven seas. He spent four years on the China coast, witnessed the coronation of Emperor Hirohito and the Yokohama earthquake. In 1930, he joined the Coast Guard and has been on lightships and cutters ever since. Between the exec and the crew there is a strong bond of friendship and understanding. He knows everyone of the 150-odd Coast Guardsmen by his first name and in many instances he is familiar with his background, or service record. If a junior officer finds a peculiarly vehement grips in one of the man’s letters, he shows it to the exec who in turn asks the man to come up to his cabin and talk things over. That’s good enough for the officers is good enough for the men and vice versa seems to be one of the AK-x’s unwritten laws. Last goes for liberties, smoking privileges, and “beach parties”, etc. The officers even took over an unloading detail once when they were at Bougainville. While the crew rested, the officers to a man filled the cargo nets, ran the winches and lowered the stuff in the barges below. The officers called themselves “the million dollar stevedore gang” and got a big kick out of the whole business. The crew wasn’t exactly peeved about the idea either. The lack of restrictions barely makes up for the arduous monotonous life of an AK. Unlike a merchant ship, she rarely gets back to the States and often doesn’t hit a sizable civilized port for months on end. The AK-x, for instance, hasn’t had a liberty since last January, seven months without a drink, a feminine fact and figure to look at or green solid earth to walk on. They haven’t seen the States in twelve months and haven’t the slightest idea whether they’ll see in another twelve. The tedious days of slow cruising is broken only by an occasional air raid in some atoll harbor and the rugged work of loading and unloading ship. The heat, particularly in the Southwest Pacific where the AK-x has been operating most of the time is intense. Everyone has one or more forms of heat rash, prickly heat or ring worm, disease which are known by a variety of exotic names: Oriental Crud, South Seas Scabies, Jungle Rot of the Asiatic Itch. No matter how bizarrely or scantily the crew dress, they must keep themselves and their cloths clean. Yet fresh water is rationed sparingly of necessity. There is only a small laundry which can accommodate a few khaki trousers and shirts, no dungarees. What pressing there is, is done with a second hand iron. Mail is slow catching up to the AK-x on merry-go-round schedule. Most of the men received the Christmas packages in June. To add to their travails, the crew of the AK-x has had an epidemic of heat trouble. The call themselves the most popular ex-darling club in the Pacific, or the You-Went-Away-And-Stayed-Away-Too-Long-Association, Inc., Ltd. Ever since the men have been out they’ve been losing sweethearts right and left. They’re only explanation is the fact that they can’t make any promises (or even any good guesses) as to when they’ll return to their heart’s desires. There were also some rather pointed remarks about smerous war-workers but on the whole the men take their jilts good-naturedly. At one point, a few moths ago, all the unlucky lovers got together, a veritable hoard according to their description. Each carried a picture of his ex-girl with him. At a given signal, they slowly and in unison, ripped the pictures to shreds. Then, one after the other they repeated the girl’s last words to them, and adding their own colorful unprintable postscripts, tossed the pieces into the deep blue Pacific. The broken romances, the heat, the monotony, the lack of liberty and mail (the two greatest morale factors in the sea-going services) are all on the debit side of life on an AK. There are many things to be listed on the credit side. First, of course, is the aforementioned informal and congenial spirit. Running neck and neck is the excellent chow. The AK-x claims they’ve never had a passenger who hasn’t complimented them on their exceptionally good meals. If the lunch we were served aboard the AK-x is typical of the meals that’s a very understandable fact. Our menu consisted of a thick steak, creamy mashed potatoes, green peas, and assortment of olives, radishes and celery, iced tea and a succulent pie of real apple pie. A navy officer, being transported to a Southwest Pacific base made wild excuses to his commanding officer to stay aboard three extra days. “This is the nearest I’ve come to home-cooking since I left Savannah” he told the AKers. “When the AK-x pulls into port, the Supply Officer, a man of extra ordinary talents, see to it that fresh supplies are stocking the ship’s larder as well as her hold. After leaving Auckland, New Zealand, the men had all they wanted of fresh milk (a real rarity at sea) fresh vegetables and eggs. “It’s tough to get what you need in some of these ports”’ the Supply Officer explained, “ But after you’ve been outer here a while you learn to “acquire” some of the things you need. It’s quite an art, he grinned mysteriously. Movies help a lot to break the routine. Like every other ship large enough to rig up a movie screen, the AK-x shows motion pictures whenever they’re not underway. They’re on their two hundredth movie now. The men sit through them in the rain or in a gale. They even watched a movie once while they were under fire. The second time they were at Bougainville, the Japs staged an unexpected counter-attack just after dark. They were lying in the harbor with the other transports waiting for dawn to unload, when shells began to dropping the water around them. The men were very reluctant to stop the movie to pull out of the harbor. Coincidently enough, the feature playing at the time was a gangster picture. No one realized it was a counter attack at first. They didn’t actually come to until the shells began dropping all around them. “There was a lot of shooting on the screen”’ one of the crew said, “But hell, after a while we knew that even a Hollywood gangster’s gun doesn’t sound that loud”. For diversion, the men have also fallen back on their own ingenuity and imagination. They have already written and produced two “plays” for the entertainment of all hands and are working on a third. The plays are staged on the forward hatch where the men attend the movie. The AK-x’s last dramatic effort may never get a Broadway showing, but it was immensely enjoyed by all. The plot, using the word in the loosest meaning, seemed to be a two-act elaboration of an extremely funny and extraordinarily risqué joke. The cast consisted of two news paper reporters, a husband and wife. The “wife” is muscular tattooed member of the black gang, was dressed tastefully in a loose, sarong-like creation, and made up with cosmetics with the crew had brought with them to use as barter with the natives. “Just to give you an idea how long we’ve been away from the States”, one of the first-nighters said, “when that palooks got done up like a dame, he looked OK to us. From the back row, he really looked good! Other minor diversions include growing beards, collecting sea shells and taking care of the Ship’s pets. The beards, which are strictly taboo on many ships in the war zone, are few, due to the heat. But those that are grown are long and luxurious. The most highly-prized sea shells are called “cat’s eyes”. The shell is about as big as your finger nail and when polished looks exactly its name. There is some spirited trading and highly-prized “cat’s eye” bracelets and necklaces aboard the AK-x. During our visit to the ship, the menagerie consisted only of one yellowish-brown Japanese mongrel with a worried expression called Tojo whose origin wasn’t so clear, and a large cat. The ship’s pets have included rabbits and pigs as well as dogs and cats and a large litter of kittens. Like most ships of her size and type, the AK-x doesn’t have a Chaplain of her own. Yet religious services play an important part of shipboard life whenever she’s in port. The smaller ships merely use the lend-lease system from larger ships. Like a small town community, the available chaplain goes from ship to ship on Sunday, sometimes performing as many as six or seven services in the harbor is particularly full. With as many months between shore leave, there’s a real opportunity for AKers to save money. There’s practically nothing to spend it for aboard, and the heavy gambling season lasts only a few days after pay-day. In one month, the AK-x paid out $14,000 and the next day $11,000 in money orders were mailed home. Much of the remainder was allotted to War Bonds. Although the crew is as colorful and chronic a bunch of gripers as any sailors afloat, their beefs boil down to only two real complaints. The first is universal with servicemen: They want to get the hell of here and go home. Surrounded by Merchant Marine or Navy cargo ships on every side, they feel they’re losing their identity as Coast Guardsmen. They’re frank to admit this complaint doesn’t spring entirely from their devotion of the Coast Guard. There’s also the understandable fact that they don’t want to go home after a couple of years in the Pacific battling the heat and Japs, and have some uniformed individual ask them how the “beach pounding” is going these days. Otherwise, the men of the AK-x take things pretty much as they come. They don’t like the heat or the continuous tedious cruising and more than the next sailor. They’d give a six-month beard or a cat’s eye collection for a good 48-hour liberty, but by and large they thing the crowded, monotonous, congenial life aboard the sea going moving van is pretty good duty. - USCG - |
||
 |