WW2 Seabee stories

[Thurman]

An emergency repair crew of the 75th Battalion kept an uninterrupted supply of vitally-needed aviation gas flowing to the tanks of gas-hungry bombers and fighters at an advanced South Pacific base despite heavy enemy shelling which scored numerous shrapnel hits on pipelines, tanks and pump houses.

The aviation gas tank farm system, operated and maintained. by the 75th, was situated in an area often under comparatively heavy enemy fire and the repair crew was kept busy repairing damage caused by near-misses. An official report noted that in no instance was the delivery of aviation fuel affected.

[Thurman]

ROI, MARSHALL ISLANDS - FEB. 12, 1944.

On February 12, most of the 4th Marine Marine Division had departed and the remainder, with the 121st Seabee Battalion, were preparing to leave. Japanese bombers launched a heavy attack against Roi, setting fire to a bomb dump. In the resulting destruction, the 109th Seabee Battalion suffered 102 casualties and lost 75 per cent of its material and 35 percent of its equipment. The 121st’s losses were 55 casualties, equipment was transferred to the 109th to help replace losses from the attack.

On February 12, the Japanese hit the jackpot. A small group of planes, flying high, dropped a few incendi-ary bombs on Roi Island. One of them struck the ammunition dump and a moment later the whole island was an exploding inferno. To elements of the Twentieth Engineers and Seabees, who were still on Roi, the holocaust was more terrible than anything they had gone through in capturing the island. Combat Correspondent Bernard Redmond, attached to the Engineers, described "solid sheets of flame" that resulted from the explosions of our own ammunition and TNT. The raid lasted only five minutes, but the bombardment from the ammunition dump continued for four hours.

"Tracer ammunition lit up the sky as far as we could see," Redmond wrote, "and for a full half hour red-hot fragments rained from the sky like so many hailstones, burning and piercing the flesh when they hit.... A jeep exploded. Yet half an hour after the first bomb hit, several hospitals and first aid stations were functioning with all the efficiency of urban medical centers."

Casualties were numerous, and it was later estimated that damage to the supplies and equipment amounted to one million dollars. Many of the troops had previously embarked on the transports that were to take them back to the Fourth's base on Maui. Some of the ships were still in the lagoon, and the men came topside to watch the grim spectacle.

[Thurman]

"Seabee tells of harrowing experiences at Iwo Jima"

 

It wasn’t until Bill Konop started going to reunions of the 133rd Naval Construction Battalion that he began to speak about his experiences in World War II.

 

The Elk River man was a runner on the beaches of Iwo Jima while American troops made their third wave on Feb. 19, 1945, which became known as D-Day to the troops there. This Navy Seabee’s job was to take messages to the platoon leaders on his right flank in what became the bloodiest battle ever waged in the history of the Navy Seabees.

 

They had a false sense of security as they landed on the beaches with their land cruisers. The blood bath started immediately. The American troops — a combination of Navy Seabees who were assigned to land with several Marine divisions — began their invasion about 9 a.m. on Feb. 19, 1945. Konop was part of the third, which entered the fray about noon.

“We went in and the ramp to our boat wouldn’t go down,” Konop told the Star News. “It was stuck. So Marines started going over the right side. They either fell in the water or fell back in the boat, shot.”

Hysteria was a clear option, but everyone started going over the left side the boat, including Konop. These men braved the fury and made it ashore, but the rain of Japanese firepower did not cease. “They had every bit of the beach zeroed in,”

Mount Surabachi was on their left and a high bluff could be seen on the right. Both directions were heavily armed.

This was despite the fact that Allied Forces had bombed the island for 72 consecutive days and shelled it from battle ships and cruisers for three or four days before the land attack.

 

“We thought it would be a piece of cake to walk on that island,” Konop said on camera. “But, boy were we wrong.” Getting set up on the beaches was nearly impossible.

“Trying to dig a fox hole in the volcanic ash was like trying to dig into wheat or grain,” Konop said. “It just kept caving in on you.”

Even the best foxhole, however, would not protect Konop on his mission. He had to get orders to the all the platoon leaders to his right. Another man’s job was to do the same to the left. Konop would make three, four or five runs. He can’t quite remember. But he vividly remembers his last run.

It was at 5:30 p.m. Troops were still being fired upon.

“It wasn’t like really running,” Konop recalls of the terrifying battle. “It was more like crawling, maybe running a couple steps and diving.”

His last message was a grim order for the troops to maintain their position.

“The troop leaders frowned upon this,” Konop said. “They wanted to move up. It was just a terrible place to be.”

Seconds after he delivered the last order, Konop was hit. He took shrapnel to the face and back and suffered a concussion. He was evacuated to the hospital ship about 6 p.m.

 

“That was a million dollar wound,” Konop said. “To not be wounded bad and just to get off the island.”

Konop does not believe he was a hero.

“I don’t consider myself a hero,” he said. “I was just a scared 19-year-old Seabee trying to do my job and trying to survive. “The real heroes are the ones that never came back.”

The Navy Seabees lost 42 men on this mission, including a Seabee named Phil Pittsner, who had become Konop’s best friend in the military. Konop was one of 370 wounded. The death of Pittsner weighed heavily on Konop. The Springfield, Colo. native was the same age as Konop and a good athlete.

“He was kind of an all-American kid,” Konop said. “He didn’t drink. He didn’t smoke.”

Konop talks easily of excursions the two made while on liberty together and games of basketball they played as teammates.

What played out on the beaches of the volcanic island of Iwo Jima, however, remained bottled up inside Konop for decades.

 

“I was pretty tight lipped,” he said. “I thought about it (the invasion) quite a bit, but I didn’t say anything about it.”

Not even to his wife.

 

The reunions, however, loosened him up, and gave his war experiences a voice.

 

He was only 15 years old when Pearl Harbor was attacked, and at first the country drafted 21-year-olds.

“I didn’t think I would ever be drafted, but then they lowered the age to 18,” Konop said.

When he got his induction notice he felt he was destined for the Army, but he liked the idea of the Navy better.

 

When he heard the Seabees were looking for young men, he reached out to them.

The Navy Seabees are the Navy’s construction force. They are mechanics, builders, engineers and equipment operators. With a wrench in one hand and a rifle in the other, their job was to provide support for the Marines in two ways. “We build, and we fight,” Navy Seabees like to say.

 

Konop went to boot camp at Camp Peary near Williamsburg, Va. and from there he went to Camp Holiday in Gulfport, Miss. That’s where he met Pittsner. The two of them clicked right away; they were inseparable by the time they were sent to the Port of Hueneme.

All of this Navy Seabee training led up to being shipped out to Oahu, Hawaii. The the time spent in Oahu included playing on the battalion’s basketball team. Konop’s team, aided by the skills of a 6-foot, 6-inch young man named Tom Paul, won all 13 games before getting shipped to Maui for the last bit of training that started on Jan. 1, 1945.

 

Once Konop’s group reached Maui, he and his buddies were assigned to the Fourth Marine Division stationed in Maui.

That’s also when he finally found out what his assignment would be on the island of Iwo Jima.

Nothing, however, fully prepared them for what they were about to encounter on the beaches at Iwo Jima.

 

The Allied Forces needed a resting place for broken down B-29 bombers, and this 5-mile-long, 2-mile-wide pile of volcanic rock was chosen as the site of a what would become an emergency runway. It was located half-way between the nearest Allied Forces-controlled runway and the mainland of Japan.

Konop watched the fourth wave enter the island from the hospital ship. Their fate was no better than many in his troop. He watched in bewilderment as many soldiers fell face down as they went ashore. He realized they were getting shot.

 

“I was the lucky one,” he said.

His friend Pittsner was not so lucky, and that weighed on Konop. He said felt like a coward at times for not visiting his family, but eventually he did make a stop out there.

 

He spoke to Pittsner’s sister, Peggy. Their mother had died by then.

“She told me she (her mother) had never gotten over it (her son’s death),” Konop said.

Sharing the stories helps ease the pain Konop has felt over the years. It also appears to help his soul to have the story of the Seabees’ ultimate success being told.

 

Four days after the invasion began — D-Day plus 4 — Marines with the help of the Seabees finally got a foothold on the island. That’s when a small group of Marines under the threat of enemy fire climbed the 556-foot Mount Surabachi and defiantly hoisted the U.S. flag when Konop was on the hospital ship.

That’s when the work of Seabees heated up, as they built a camp to house the troops and began to fix the bombed-out airstrips.

 

Seabees were under constant sniper and mortar attacks while working on the runway.

On Day 10, however, the first airstrip was completed and not long after that the first B-29 bomber landed.

It has been said that although more than 6,800 Marines were killed on the island, the lives of more than 27,000 airmen were believed saved because they were able to land crippled aircraft after raids on mainland Japan.

“I would say (the island) was well worth taking,” Konop said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Thurman]

Seabee reflects on WWII, Iwo Jima!

Often overlooked are those who were on the battle lines contributing in other ways.

So it is with the “Seabees,” the 133rd Naval Construction Battalion. Longtime Hudson and Greenport resident Wilfred “Bud” MacGiffert was a member of that battalion at the Battle of Iwo Jima.

There’s currently a campaign to upgrade the Navy Unit Commendation the 133rd received to a Presidential Unit Citation, which was awarded to 4th Pioneer Battalion, the marines the Seabees fought alongside at Iwo Jima.

“The 133rd is still looking for the Presidential Unit Citation,” MacGiffert said. “The Marines got it, and the ones we worked with got it, but we never got it. The Seabees seem to be an outfit nobody ever heard of. We never got much recognition.”

Although the main mission of the Seabees is to build roads, bases and engage in other construction projects, they are also trained in combat and carry guns.

MacGiffert left Hudson High School during his senior year when he was only 17 to enter the Navy in 1943. He chose to enter the Seabees “because you could work at your trade when you weren’t in battle,” he said.

Though he was just 17, he had a trade: After school, he’d work at Pulcher’s Garage, or the Ford Garage, or other garages, fixing cars.

To be a Seabee, “you had to be able to do two things,” MacGiffert said. In addition to being a mechanic, he learned how to operate a crane.

After going through boot camp at Camp Perry, Va., advanced training at Endicott, R.I., and other training at Camp Holiday, Gulfport, Miss., and Port Hueneme, Calif., he and fellow Seabees shipped out to Honolulu, Hawaii, where they stayed a few months.

MacGiffert arrived at Iwo Jima on D-Day, Feb. 19, 1945, as part of a 14-man Seabee unit, along with the Fourth Pioneer Battalion of Marines on the USS Loundes. One of the main goals of the invasion was to take the airstrips away from the Japanese.

“We were supposed to work our way to the first airstrip,” he said. “After we landed, we got shelled so bad they changed our orders — we stayed on the beach and worked with the Marines. They said to help out wherever we could.

The Japanese were heavily shelling the beach to keep supplies from coming in.

“The soil was volcanic, very soft,” MacGiffert said. “When amphibious trucks came in to bring supplies, they had to put steel mats down to run on to get up to the front. Also, sometimes they were so heavily loaded we had to unload them.”

There’s now a book out about the battle of Iwo Jima called “Black Hell,” because of the volcanic ash and the “terrific battle” there that lasted a few weeks, he said.

“We were on the beach quite some time,” he said. “They’d infiltrate through and kill some of our guys. They shelled us during the day with mortars and artillery; in the evening they shelled us; and we’d get air raids from Japan.

“We lost quite a few men,” MacGiffert said, “a little over a third of our outfit. We landed with 1,100; at the end of the first couple weeks, we only had 600 and some left. Not all killed — some were evacuated or other things; there were quite a few I never saw again.”

Of his 14-man Seabee unit, he only saw two or three again after those first few weeks.

“The hardest thing was trying to work jobs on the beach and ignore what was there,” MacGiffert said. “It was full of people that were wounded or dead, tore up so bad … To try to ignore that and do the jobs I had to do, something mechanical.

He recalled a crane the Allies had landed about the fifth day of the invasion that they shouldn’t have landed.

“It was too early to land,” he said. “I went down to get it running.” The Japanese, he said, “had landed mortar in the side of the radiator. It was in such bad shape; I managed to get it running temporarily by inching off the tubes in the radiator.

“The person that had been running it was laying halfway out of it, dead,” he said.

The battle lasted longer than expected.

“Every day was bad,” MacGiffert said. “When we landed, they said it was only going to be 10 days. It ended up about a month.”

After the battle ended, MacGiffert and other Seabees worked building airstrips, roads, a chow hall that would feed 1,000 men, and fixing all kinds of vehicles.

There’s a photo of him sitting in a confiscated Japanese tow truck full of bulletholes.

“We used it a lot,” he said. “Unlike American tow trucks, it had a boom on the side. We used it to take engines out — that came in pretty handy.”

MacGiffert arrived back in Hudson on Christmas night, 1945. Since his parents weren’t home, he had to walk from the rail station to their home, near the site of the Anshe Emeth Synagogue, and climb in an unlocked window.

[Thurman]

On Iwo Jima anniversary, one fight hasn't ended - "2/18/15"

Seventy years have passed. There isn’t much time left.

On the 70th anniversary of the battle of Iwo Jima, a Ventura veteran is fighting to have a little-known Navy Seabee unit honored for its valor in the invasion.

Only about 75 of the original 1,000-man Seabee Unit 133 remain. They’re in their late 80s and 90s, said Ken Bingham, who wrote a book about the unit’s role in the Battle of Iwo Jima.

“Those people deserve that award, and I’d like to get it to them while they’re still living,” said Bingham, who served with a different Navy unit in Vietnam, working as an electrician.

After the battle, the 133rd was awarded the Naval Unit Citation, but the Marine unit it fought with received the Presidential Unit Citation, a higher honor.

For much of the past decade, the Seabee unit’s veterans and their family members have been campaigning for the national medal, which likely wasn’t awarded to them initially because their unit was technically classified as a support unit, Bingham said.

They were also wearing Marine Corps uniforms because they had been called in to replace a Marine unit that had fallen ill — so they may have been mixed up with other troops.

“Part of the problem was they didn’t stand out,” Bingham said. “I think they got kind of lost in the confusion.”

In 2011, Bingham published “Black Hell,” a 440-page compilation of firsthand accounts of the battle, photos and historical chapters written by Bingham and other researchers. The book is available at the Seabee Museum store in Port Hueneme, and all proceeds benefit the Navy Civil Engineer Corps and Seabee Historical Foundation.

The 133rd camped for several months at the Seabee base that is now Naval Base Ventura County Port Hueneme before deploying to Pearl Harbor and later Iwo Jima.

On Feb. 19, 1945, the unit landed on the shore of the Japanese island and fought in the first wave of the battle — highly uncharacteristic for a “We Build, We Fight” Seabee unit.

Despite suffering 28 percent casualties, the unit built the first airstrips on Iwo Jima, allowing the U.S. to land planes that had been damaged in battles over Japan. Naval experts estimate the emergency landing area saved 25,000 lives, Bingham said.

The unit “wore its uniform proudly as Navy, and wore its uniform proudly as Marines,” wrote John Ratomski, whose father was a Seabee who served in World War II. “They served them both with great distinction. They earned and deserve the recognition that is still not theirs.”

Vicki Murdock, a New Jersey resident whose grandfather was a member of the 133rd, posted Ratomski’s words on change.org, an online petition site. The petition garnered 252 supporters.

Murdock and Bingham have worked together — on opposite coasts — to ask lawmakers to support the cause.

At least 10 U.S. senators have expressed support, including California’s Sen. Barbara Boxer, Bingham said. But he’s still waiting for someone to author legislation that would grant the unit the medal.

The remaining members of the original 133rd are scattered across the United States — all those who lived in the local area have died, Bingham said.

The unit has held reunions each year for the past several decades, but this September’s will be the last one because it’s getting difficult for the aging members to travel. The hope, Bingham said, is that the Seabees might get the award by then.

“Were not giving up,” he said. “We’re not going to go away. It’s a mistake that needs to be rectified.

[Thurman]

July 201943:

MM3c Richard M. Maurer of Naval Construction Battalion 63 was cited for the Navy Silver Star following an attack near Bairoka Harbor, Munda by the 1st Marine Raider Regiment. A resident of Seattle, Wash. before becoming a member of the 63rd Battalion, Maurer had made many friendships among the Marine Raiders when they were encamped close to the Seabees on Guadalcanal. When the Raiders embarked for their historic attack, Maurer slipped aboard without the permission of his superior officers. The gravity of his offense, for which he was ultimately brought to trial, was extenuated, however, by his gallant actions during the attack. From Marine sources, it was learned that Maurer, after attaching himself to a machine gun crew, had serviced and manned the gun with devastating effect upon the enemy when all other members of the crew had been killed or disabled by mortar fire. He continued by his gun until reinforcements arrived. The Marine officer in charge was enthusiastic in his praise of Maurer’s performance and it was he who instituted citation proceedings.

[Thurman]

The Battle of Okinawa April 1st, 1945

CBMU - 617, United States Navy CB’s attached to MAG 31.

The skipper of the USS Menard made a talk after we left the P. Islands & told us what to

expect & made it clear that our mission was to kill Japs & we were going all the way.

He told us that each man had his own life in his hands along with a great responsibility. That

we were sailing real close by Japanese. Truk and Wake islands which was held by the Japs &

could expect almost anything. We went through abandon ship drills, fire drills & etc.

several times. From there on I stayed on deck all I could. The night of Mar. 31st we got to our

destination. We maneuvered around & around the island. April 1st 1945 At day break we

were on deck wondering just what was on that island. No one seemed scared. But

still there was something funny about this Okinawa that we were so near to. We could

see towers smoke stacks, trees & every thing was so still & clear. At 8:30 thousands of big

guns went into action. You could see the shells burst on the beach & Youtan airfield &

our planes diving and dropping bombs. - At 7:00pm Japanese air attack all round us. Monday

April 2nd air attack at dawn . Japanese suicide plane dropped a bomb off our fantail. Missed

& then tried to smash our ship. But missed again & hit on the deck of K.A. #53 right along

side of us. 4 dead & 46 wounded. Some of our men went ashore as things were going

ahead of schedule & our job was at Yontan air field. We slept in cemetery on Yontan

with heavy artillery behind us. I would no sooner get to sleep when a shell from our

long toms would go over my head & wake me up. We got off ship at 4:15 P.M. & were on

beach at 5:PM. A Rhode Islander & I picked a bomb hole for our fox hole & done a lot of

digging in. The next morning we went to our camp area which was across the airstrip right

on the west end of the run way.

Thursday 5th Apr. 3 night raids -Friday 6th 3 day air raids - A.P.A. 201 our ship was hit by

Zero at 11:00 noon - Friday night 3 raids - Saturday 1 air raid & 2 night raids - We Apr.

11th plane crashed near our tent & killed the Flight Surgeon 2nd Marine Div. Thursday

12th. A dog fight between a Japanese Zero & a Corsair the Zero came down in flames at the

time I was building the General’s tent for the 2nd Marine Air Wing. Sat. Apr. 14th a Hell

Cat crashed at 5:00 P. M. 100 yds or so from our camp. The plane was in flames the

minute it hit the ground. It hit the radar & the pilot was burned up. - Sunday April 15th.

At sun down two Zeros came in strafing. One went down in flames ½ mile before it got

to our area. The other came over head & crashed into a ship below us. This raid

lasted 3 ½ hours 2 of our planes burned on the ship south of our camp & 2 north.

May 24th. 9:P.M. 5 Japanese Bettys tried to land with troops aboard at Yontan air field. The

troops were heavy armed with mine explosives. All were shot down but one. This one

landed near the tower & they destroyed 6 planes including P54s & the gasoline dump.

C.B.s & Marines who were working near at the time killed ones that had the job burning

planes. One got into one of our planes & when some guys came in the next morning

pulled the pin out of a hand grenade & killed himself & two Marines. 3 of these planes

went directly over our camp & one crashed into a gun position at the same place where

the Hell Cat crashed a few days before. It fell over a dug out where 7 Marine gun crew

were. We worked for 3 hrs. to free them. 2 were dead -- at Yontan they came in every

five minutes all nite long. They draped a string of bombs before we could get out of the

tent. So I dove in the hole & hit flat on my belly with 3 other guys & on top of me. June

19th we moved C.B.M.U. #617 and Marine air Squadron #31 from Yontan to Chiun air

field a Kerr. (Kerama).

Thursday June 21th. 10:00A.M. we were at camp. Dog fight between two Corsairs &

Japanese plane. They were very low and it took only a few seconds for our Corsair to get him.

He burst into flames. Crashed into the water & exploded _____ All organized resistance on

Okinawa ceased. Worked on air strip all burning Japanese dead & cleaning wreckage. –

Thurs. June 8th Chief McMerriman died at 11:00 P.M. several others sick - Friday 9th 3:00

P.M. Johnny Grey died. Both were buried Sat. 10th at 1:00 P. M. in the Marine Cemetery

1 mile away.

Saturday June 17th Japanese plane shot down over of our camp at 2500 feet high. It came

down in a dive & “that’s all.” - Night raid Japanese bomber shot by big 90 gun which was

located almost in our camp. This plane came in once before that at 40,000 feet, the search

light picked him up directly over our head but he dove out of the light & at that time the only

gun that we had there on Yontan airfield that would reach him was the 90 & it wasn’t

accurate at 40,000 ft. He was gone about 3 minutes & slipped in again. This time they had

layed a smoke screen but our boys got a hit on him & he went into a dive. He was over

our camp area down with all the speed he had. It was so high when it started & got so fast

that it vibrated to pieces. Parts were scattered over a radius of at least ¾ mile one

engine, a battery, guns & magazines, clips, gasoline tanks, & the six Japs that were in

the plane fell in our tents & garage. The bodies were torn to bits. The gasoline tank & a

machine gun magazine fell by our fox hole. The parts & bodies flying over our heads

made a very funny sound. We had no way knowing just what was going on as what

was flying where. The smoke screen made it impossible to see any distance. We knew the

whole thing was coming straight at us but we didn’t know how many bombs & etc. the plane

had left to explode. The gasoline tank hit along side our fox hole. There was 7 of us in

the hole at the time. We had been expecting the Nips to use poison gas, so when we

smelled the gasoline we thought ---“Well a lot of things. My tent was about 3 long

jumps from the fox hole and I ran in the tent & got my gas mask & had it on before I got

back to the fox hole. I took pictures of all these Japs my self. One of them fell in our

water truck cab bending the steering wheel & windshield to pieces.

[Thurman]

Edward “Dick” Patrick

Seabees - Trinidad &

Okinawa WWII 1943-46.

by Ray Dickerson

On Sunday, March 25, 2012, my sisters Wilma

and Kathy and I traveled to Ashland, Kentucky to

visit with World War II Seabee, Edward Richard

Patrick, whom I had recently made contact by telephone.

I found his name on a CBMU 624 address

list I got from the Seabee Historical Foundation in

Gulfport, Mississippi. I sent him a letter on January

2, 2012, in response to the letter he had called me by

telephone. We are especially interested in former

members of CBMU 624 because our father, MMS

1/c Raymond E. Dickerson was with CBMU 624

also on Okinawa. Edward was the first former

CBMU 624 to contact me since I volunteered to host

the 2012 79th NCB and CBMU 624 Reunion which

will be held September 23-27 in Richmond, IN.

We arrived at Edward's home at a little after 10

a.m. He invited us in, we shook hands, I introduced

him to Wilma and Kathy, we all sat down and chatted

for a moment or two. Shortly, Jenny Patrick,

Edward's daughter-in-law arrived.

I took out my notebook and switched on my digital

tape recorder, telling everyone that I would be

taping our conversation (s) for the article. One of the

first things I learned was that Edward has been

known by all his family and friends as "Dick", which

derives from his middle name Richard. So from this

point on I have used the name everyone knows him

by, Dick Patrick.

Dick Patrick was born in 1926 in Ashland, Kentucky.

He started school there but didn't finish, when he was in

the 9th grade he quit school to join the Navy.

Dick's dad signed some papers so his son could

enlist in the Navy at the age of 16. He was mighty

proud of his son who was eager to serve his country.

The majority of young men didn't join the service

until they were seventeen, in fact those enlisting

under 17 were rare.

Dick said, "I turned 16 years of age in September

1942, enlisted in the Navy in November and was

called up by the Navy on January 1, 1943. I only

weighed 112 pounds at the time.

He added, "I volunteered for the Navy but when I

took their color blind test, I was color blind, so they

said they wouldn't take me into the regular Navy, but I

could go into the Seabees if I wanted to, so I said okay.

He was sent to Camp Bradford in Norfolk,

Virginia for better than a month of boot camp. While

at Camp Bradford Dick was assigned to the 83rd

Battalion which was formed at Norfolk on February

2, 1943. On March 16, 1943 the 83rd, including

Dick, moved to Gulfport, MS for amphibious landing

training by the United States Marine Corps.

I asked, "if they got their amphibious landing

training in the 'Higgins Boat,' the one that the ramp

dropped down in the front like the ones we have all

seen in the D-Day landing on Normandy."

He said, "no, not really, it was more like a small

yacht, it had a rail around the side of it and I remember

my scabbard got caught in the rail and I went into

the water head first." (He laughed.) He continued, "I

dropped that wooden rifle

that we were training

with, this Marine training

officer was up on the bow,

when I came up sputtering

out of the water

The Marine said, "Get

down there and get that

piece!" "I jumped back

down in the water feeling

around for that wooden

gun," Dick said. (He

laughed some more.)

I asked, "How long

were you at Gulfport?"

He replied, "I was

there until May of 1943,

then we shipped out to

Trinidad from there.

I asked him why they

went to Trinidad.

He replied, "we took

over a CEC (Civil

Engineer Corps)

Maintenance Unit. Our unit, the 83rd U.S. Naval

Construction Battalion (NCB) was building a Navy

base there on Trinidad. He added, "I turned 17 while

I was in Trinidad. I also got a "Dear John" letter

while there from my girl friend back home!"

I asked him, "Where did they send you to from

Trinidad?

Dick replied, "They sent us to Davisville, RI arriving

there on October 14, 1944. I was assigned to

CBMU 617 at Davisville, we shipped out for training

at Camp Parks, CA on October 28, 1944. We then left

Camp Parks November 9, 1944 arriving at Port

Hueneme on November 10, 1944, where I was put in

a replacement depot and then assigned to CBMU 624

in mid November 1944.

I asked him, "Did you go to Saipan?"

He replied, "No."

I said, "You went straight to Okinawa with

CBMU 624."

Dick replied, "Yes."

I said, Dad had mentioned that it took them 63

days to reach Okinawa, do you remember anything

that happened on the trip to Okinawa.

Dick replied, "Do I ever, when we hit the China

Sea after leaving Leyte in the Philippines, we got

into the darn'dest storm there ever was, it was a

dandy. Me and another Seabee went down into the

galley, guys were so sick they left their trays on the

tables. The trays were sliding back and forth as the

guys were up-chucking into them, what a sight. So

this fella' I was with, he and I withstood it pretty

well. So this ole' mess sergeant said, "You boys feeling

alright, well how about going down in the hold

and helping the cook down there?" We said, "Okay."

 

 

We went down there, this ole' cook started opening

those oven doors pulling them big ole' greasy pork

chops out. I took one look at them and said, "I got to

get out of here." I went to the 'head', but couldn't

even get in there, guys were laying all over the floor,

in the urinals, on the commodes - every place. That

was the only time I was ever sea sick."

I asked him, "When you landed on Okinawa, did

you go in with the Marines?"

He replied, "No, we went in with the third wave

on April 1, 1945, we unloaded everything from our

ship, APA #203, the Meriwether

Your Dad was probably on board that ship too."

I responded, "Yes, he was aboard the Meriwether

from Pearl to Okinawa, now it's all falling in place."

I asked him how he got from the Meriwether to

shore.

He said, "we transferred from the Meriwether to a

landing craft that took us to docks, constructed of

pontoons, from the pontoons we boarded a Army

Duck which took us to the shore. (An Army Duck

floats in the water and drives on land with wheels)

Before we reached the shore the Army driver hit a

reef at an angle and about capsized us. He was able

to back off of it and get us to shore safely."

I asked Dick if he was armed. He told me he had a M1

Carbine with one clip of ammo, 15 rounds. However

when they unloaded on the beach he said there was ammo

everywhere and he equipped himself with more.

He added, "All the time we were unloading from

the ship and getting to the beach, Japanese Zero's were

continuously making bombing runs over the airstrip,

beach and ships, along with Kamikaze's trying to

destroy as many Navy ships that they possibly could.

During all this firing, friendly fire damaged most of our

gear that had been placed at the Kadena Airstrip, which

was close to the beach. A lot of our clothing and gear

was riddled with holes from the "friendly fire! As the

enemy planes tried to bomb and strafe us I unloaded

my carbine on them. Everybody did.

Continuing he said, "a zero dropped a bomb near us

and I jumped into a shell crater nearby. Down in the

crater lay two mortar shells, one had the safety pin

removed. I saw two Marine MP's in a jeep and hailed

them to come over, I showed them the mortar shells.

About that same time another zero dropped its bomb

nearby, one of the Marines was wounded with shrapnel

- falling down on the sand. It was a close call for all of

us, one of many times, while we were on Okinawa.

I asked him, "Once you were unloaded and set up

in your camp, what did you do on Okinawa?"

He replied, "I was a truck driver." My rating was a

Carpenters Mate Third Class, but I never picked up a

hammer or saw, I drove trucks all the time I was there.

I mentioned that when we first talked back when

I had first sent the initial letters to the Seabees on

January 2, 2012, you said something in our conversation

about the possibility of meeting dad at Kadena

and something about a Beatty bomber crashing and

your truck getting damaged.

Dick replied, "No, it wasn't like that."

I asked him to tell it to me again, since I evidently

got it mixed up a bit.

He replied, "While we was at Kadena a buddy and

I went north to get a load of logs. The Japanese had

cut the logs in eight foot lengths and we went up

there to get them. In the process of coming back, we

heard a big "Boom," they had set off a charge in the

side of a hill and it went into the road. So we had to

stop, no gun with us, we heard this clankety, clank

coming - it was a Seabee on a dozer. He cleared the

road for us and we took off again. Those coral roads

we made over there were like ice when it rained on

them so I had chains on my front wheels of the truck.

In the process of getting out of there one of my

chains got cross-ways on the wheel and broke my

brake hose off, so I brought that load of logs in with

the hand brake!" (He laughed again.)

I asked, "Well you said something to me in your first

call that you may have met my Dad at Kadena when

you took your truck to the motor pool to get it fixed."

Dad worked in the motor pool at the Kadena Airfield,

so it's just possible the two of you met. I showed Dick

some photos I brought from home of Dad and what he

looked like back when he was on Okinawa.

Dick looked at the photos and replied, "Well he

could have, but I don't know for sure."

I asked him about something he said in our first

telephone conversation about dodging shrapnel and

getting into a pontoon or something like that.

He replied, "Well we went to the other side of the

island to pick up a bunch of pontoons. There was a

convoy of us, I think maybe six or eight trucks.

When we got over there on the west side of the island

there was a kamikaze attack underway and all the

ships around the shore was shooting at them. We

didn't have anyplace to go for protection, so I was

running around these pontoons, I found this one that

had the end cut out of it, so when I jumped inside that

pontoon, man it sounded like hail coming down on it,

with all the shrapnel from the enemy and friendly

fire, falling and hitting the pontoon.

I asked him, "is there anything else that stands out

in your mind that happened on Okinawa that you

would like to mention here?"

He said, "I remember about bringing a Chief back to

our camp one day and a enemy plane was strafing the

field when we got there. Everybody was shooting at it."

The Chief said, "stop Dick stop!"

I said, "we got to get to our camp to get into our

fox hole, as I was coming into the camp, he bailed

out on me!" (Dick laughed a lot)

Another time Dick said, "Me and a friend procured

(acquired) a jeep to go souvenir hunting. We

were stopped by a Marine MP who told us to get

back to base because we were hunting in front of the

"Front Line." Guess what, we didn't have a gun with

us that time either!"

Dick added, "There is an interesting story about

how my curiosity got me into trouble. It goes something

like this. Me and a good ole' boy from

Arkansas, in the process of unloading a new International

truck with a "A" Frame rig on it, decided to

give it a test run to try it out, so to speak (with the boom

in the upward position). When we got back and looked

behind us we had knocked down telephone lines and

scattered them all along the road. Someone said we

jerked the phone right out of the Major's hand. Well I

got 90 hours of extra duty for that test run!"

Dick was looking through some of his photos and

said, "Ray, here is a photo of that Beatty Bomber that

crash landed on Yonton Airfield, not too far from

Kadena. The Japs that got out of it alive were wearing

grenade belts, they'd jump in our planes parked on

the runway, pull the pin out of a grenade and blow

themselves along with our plane up at the same time."

I got some Okinawa photos from my brief case of

Dad's and compared some of them with the ones

Dick had, it was uncanny that many of the Seabees

who were on Okinawa had many of the same photos.

Dad had a photo of a Baka bomb (pilot guided suicide

bomb), Dick had a similar photo except it was

larger than Dad's. I got some other photos out of my

brief case that a Seabees' wife, Mrs. Maybelle

Mooney, who lives in Independence, KS, (she sent

me the photos for me to take to our September

reunion for all the attending Seabees to look at) I

wanted to show them to Dick.

A typhoon hit

Okinawa on October 9, 1945 demolishing buildings

and ships in the harbor, I knew that Dick was there

during that typhoon because in one of our earlier

telephone conversation he said he lost everything he

owned and some souvenirs in that typhoon. Mrs.

Mooney's photos showed quite a bit of the typhoon

damage on Okinawa, at the bottom of each photo it

read 79th NCB Photo - Okinawa.

I asked Dick where he got the photos we were

looking at, that he had. He told me he had no idea

where he got them, it is all a blur. He remembers

some things, but you have to remember we are talking

about 1945, sixty-seven years ago, we've all lived

a life-time of activities since then and Dick is 85

years old to boot.

I told him I assumed all these years that Dad had

taken the photos himself. I know I gave Dad credit

for a Marine photo of F4U Corsairs on an airfield,

probably Kadena, with the sky lit up with tracer fire

in a October 2010 Gad-a-bout, because I found the

photo in his scrap book. I have looked high and low

for a camera that he might have had overseas with

him, but haven't found one yet.

After the war ended and Dick got enough points

to go home, he left Okinawa on the Aircraft Carrier

U.S.S. Ticonderoga, disembarking

at Seattle, WA. He received his Honorable

Discharge at the Great Lakes Naval Station near

Chicago, Illinois on January 30, 1946.

[Thurman]

"HAIL TO THE SEABEES"

HAIL TO THE "SEABEES" BRAVE AND STRONG, THEY HAVE NO FEAR WHEN THINGS GO WRONG. THE BACK BONE OF THE NATION THEY ARE, HAIL TO THE "SEABEES" NEAR AND FAR.

HAIL TO THE "SEABEES" WARRIOR'S GREAT, PUSHING ONWARD, SEALING OUR ENEMIES FATE. THESE GREAT MEN OF OUR FIGHTING FORCE, HAIL TO THE "SEABEES" TO CLEAR OUR COURSE.

HAIL TO THE "SEABEES" OF THE U.S.N THIS OUTFIT OF OURS NEEDS FIGHTING MEN. MEN WHO CAN BUILD AS WELL AS FIGHT, AND PROVE THAT OUR MOTTO "CAN-DO" IS RIGHT.

WE COVER THE GLOBE SEA TO SEA, AND HAVE SEEN MUCH ACTION YOU MUST AGREE, SO IF THE WORLD YOU'D LIKE TO SEE JOIN THE NAVY NOW AND BECOME A SEABEE.

YOU'LL READ OF OUR DEEDS IN THE "HALL OF FAME" AND YOU COULD BE IN HERE DOING THE SAME, RED BLOODED MEN OF THE U.S.A. JOIN UP NOW AND DON'T DELAY.

JOHN A. HORVATH GM 1C. - WW2.

[Thurman]

"FLAME THROWER" CLEARS DITCHES

With machine cutting of drainage-ditch foliage in CBMU 563' s station area impossible because of the nature of the soil and the shape of the ditches, the unit developed a special "flame thrower" which burned out the vegetation.

Under the guidance of Chief Carpenter Louis R. Cranley, CEC, USNR, and CSF Harry L. Crouch, the men salvaged discarded gear to build the device and then, to give it mobility, mounted it on a jeep trailer.

The Seabees report they used a Wisconsin air-cooled type A. B. washing machine gasoline engine, a gear type fuel pump, and a lO-gallon-per-hour fuel oil burner nozzle with connecting hose and handle assembly."

The supply tank is a 55-gallon oil drum. Distillate is used as the burning agent.

The device also has been valuable, says 563, as a power spray for mosquito control purposes.

[Thurman]

MUST'VE DUG DEEP"

"Seabee News Service Report" - Peleliu September 15, 1944.

CSF P. J. Parks and his stevedore detail of 15 men from the 73rd Battalion hit the beach on D-Day to unload ammunition, food and medical supplies.

The party landed late in the afternoon and as night drew on, dug in at a location near the front lines. All night the Seabees huddled in their foxholes and listened to rifle and machine gun bullets whine overhead.

Crawling out of their dugouts the next morning, the bleary-eyed men were greeted by an amazed group of front-line Marines. The Marines were no more amazed, however, than the Seabees were when they learned they had spent the night in "no man's land." In fact, at one time, after a series of attacks and counterattacks, their bivouac had been 50 yards behind the Japanese lines!

[Thurman]

On the morning of August 21, 1943, at Kokombono, Guadalcanal, a group of LST's moved out from the beach and headed northward at a lazy pace. It was an unpretentious looking convoy as it started out, but as the various landing craft began stringing out on the horizon and eight destroyer escorts took up intermittent positions to accompany them, it became apparent that this was no mission of routine business. They were bound for Vella lavella, carrying ammunition and fuel, along with detachments of army personnel for that newly invaded island. Though the campaign never reached Bougainville or Guam magnitude, it still offered much the same action, discomforts and danger to those participating. The interesting feature about this campaign was the fact that aboard one of the LST's were three volunteer Seabees (25th BN, 19th Marines, 3rd Marine Division). They were the first men of the 25th NCB to see action with the enemy. Added to this distinction, they had the honor of shooting down the first enemy planes, three in all, in the ultimately colorful history of the Third Marine Division. The weapon used was a 50 caliber machine gun mounted on one of their 6x6 cargo carriers. The same three men, a week later made another round trip to Vella Lavella, and again drove their truckloads of ammo from beach to front line dumps!

[Thurman]

"SEABEE NEWS SERVICE REPORT - APRIL 25, 1944.

Seabee - Marine lent to the Navy

A man's best friend is usually his mother but when that man is a hungry Marine on an enemy infested Pacific island, says Marine PFC Leroy Kennedy of Houston, Texas, veteran of the Bougainville campaign, his best friend' is a Seabee.

"The Seabees, kept us Marines from starving," Kennedy added, defining a Seabee as "a Marine who was lent to'the Navy. "

[Thurman]

On Sept. 29, 1943, Donald J. Waring reported for duty with the Navy at Camp Peary in Williamsburg, Va. After enduring boot camp, he joined the 122nd Naval Construction Battalion and headed for California. The Seabees trained at Port Hueneme until Feb. 22, 1944, until they shipped aboard the USS West Point for New Caledonia.

The 122nd ultimately landed at Gamadodo on Milne Bay, New Guinea. Near the equator, hot, humid, and bug-infested, New Guinea tested the Seabees, who built barracks on what had been jungle and “waited out 40 days of rain and suffered from dysentery and malnutrition for lack of proper food,” Waring recalled.

Most Seabees developed jungle rot, “which ate away the flesh. Mine was on top of my lefy foot; others had in their ears, nose, and groin,” he said. The sailors’ teeth started to loosen. Then the rains passed, and “life returned to normal.”

The local fauna included 20-foot pythons, 3- to 4-foot lizards, parrots, cockatoos, and bugs — plenty of bugs. Offshore, sharks and barracuda infested the waters, but the undeterred Seabees still insisted on diving with homemade equipment. Even the natives were unusual. As Waring recalled, the natives had “teeth filed to sharp points (and) reddened by the narcotic betel-nut juice.” The locals also “just happened to be cannibals when it suited them.”

The 122nd later moved to Hollandia aboard the Liberty ship Walter Williams. “We ran aground heading out of the bay, missed our convoy, and were sitting ducks for five days,” Waring said. An Australian tug later pulled the vessel off the reef. After undergoing temporary repairs, the Williams ran to Hollandia unescorted. “A lonely and scary sail,” Waring deadpanned.

At Hollandia, the Seabees explored Japanese defensive positions dug into solid rock and built a hospital. Then the 122nd went north to the Philippines, arriving off Samar in late December 1944.

That New Year’s Eve, “we were just a few hundred yards from shore when a Japanese dive bomber came in from the east, dropped its torpedo, and banked north,” Waring recalled. “Al Palese, Bob Byerly, and myself were topside, lying under a truck. We watched as the `fish’ bounced at us.

“I swear it didn’t miss our LST by more than a couple of yards,” he said. “Unfortunately, it hit out sister ship to port, killing 21 as both ships plowed into the beach.” The LSTs dropped their ramps, “and our trucks poured out, with us riding shotgun.” One sailor, Waring’s “cribbage buddy,” stood up too soon. A meat hook struck him, and he crashed to the deck. He was sent home on medical disability.

The Seabees stayed in the Philippines, helping to build a semipermanent base that later drew a WAC detachment; the sailors, of course, enjoyed mingling with American women.

Waring remembered that the 122nd was preparing to invade Japan when the atomic bombs ended the war. The Seabees sailed to Tsingtao, China, instead.

[Thurman]

The 3 day battle at Dong Xoai, 55 miles northeast of Saigon begins when 2,000 Viet Cong troops overrun a Special Forces camp containing ARVN troops, 11 Green Berets, and nine Seabees of Seabee Team 1104. Seven Seabees were wounded and two were killed. Marvin Shields (CMA-3) was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor for conspicuous gallantry in caring a critically wounded man to safety and in destroying a Viet Cong machine gun emplacement. He was the first Navy man and only Seabee to be so decorated for action in Vietnam.

Seabees Marvin Shields and William Hoover are killed at Dong Xoai

[Thurman]

WW II Vet turning 96, saw heavy combat in war

 

Last Sunday, the family and friends of Doug Mayo − who was born on August 22, 1920 in what was once Pilot Knob near Stephenville – celebrated his upcoming 96th birthday a little early. Given all that he went through as a Navy Sea Bee and Marine, it’s truly amazing that he’s survived and thrived for so long.

 

 

When he was born, his dad, Robert Nathan Mayo, was a long-time farmer and oversaw an experimental farm for Bane Peanut Company and his mother, Dartha Annie, played piano for the local church.

 

So Mayo was a farm kid who was probably going to follow in his father’s footsteps, but then along came World War ii.

“I enlisted in the Navy in 1942 and although I enlisted in as part of the 25th Naval Construction Battalion, after boot camp at Camp Pendleton, I got new uniforms – Marine greens − and spent almost my entire time in the service until 1945 in the 3rd Battalion, 19th Marines, 3rd Marine Division, and Fleet Marine Force, which had operational and administrative control,” Mayo says.

 

That shift from the Navy to the Marines was pivotal in Mayo’s life as he explains, “I saw action in New Caledonia, New Hebrides, Guadalcanal, Bougainville and was in the first wave landing on Guam.”

It was during the landing on Guam that he was hit with shrapnel in his eye. “During the landing, mortar shells were hitting all around us. I buried in close to a Caterpillar tractor that was being unloaded and a small piece of shrapnel popped into my eye. I didn’t get to see a doctor at the time, so I just adjusted and forgot about it.”

 

 

During his time in the Bougainville operation he was under the operational control of famous WWII General Douglas MacArthur of the US Army, so “my battalion had the unique distinction of having served under the Army, the Navy, and the Marine Corps.”

During the war, Mayo – who was a Master Sergeant in the Marines and a Carpenter’s Mate 1st Class in the Navy − was awarded two Bronze Stars. H could have applied for more medals he says, “But when I got back to the States, I was just so anxious to get home that I left as quickly as I could. Trains were so booked that it would take two weeks to get a ticket. But I lucked out and caught a ride with someone heading back in my direction and some other people jumped in and paid a portion of the gas. We were all just so eager to get home, so it worked out.”

[Thurman]

When Tommy Wright joined the Navy in 1944, he was too tall for pilot training and too claustrophobic for submarines.

But he was 18, and knew his own mind. After 12 weeks of basic training and a visit home to his parents at Sudan, he knew what he had to do.

“So, when I got back to San Diego, I asked for a transfer to the Seabees,” he said of the Navy’s Construction Battalion.

He was obliged and sent to Okinawa for the invasion and last big battle of the Pacific in World War II.

Wright tells his story with a touch of humor in a setting of danger accompanied by the reality of war.

The initial invasion of Okinawa began on April 1, 1945, and was in a northern part of the island, according to Wright.

He remembers his unit followed three or four days later in the southeastern portion of Okinawa.

“We got to Okinawa, and anchored about 3 a.m. Scared to death, 10,000 miles away from home, 18 years old. Didn’t figure we would ever come home.”

Infantry soldiers went in at approximately 4 a.m.

“We immediately followed them. Followed them right in, and set up a dynamo and a string of bulbs ever once in a while so we could see to unload the barges and equipment.”

He remembers they had been warned about the hazards awaiting them onshore.

“Our commander said, ‘There are Japanese on this island — lots of ’em. There are liable to be hand grenades.’”

He remembers it was cool and misting rain.

“They had said, ‘If you hear a thud in the sand, hit the deck because a hand grenade will blow every direction. If you’re down, you’ve got a better chance of surviving.’

Warning was prophetic

“We got everything unloaded, but we had to hit the deck several times. One kid — about two people from me — one landed right close to him, and he said, “Hit the deck!’ And about the time he said that, it blew up and got his leg.”

That severe wound, and a sailor who was killed by a grenade, were the memorable casualties among Wright’s crew as they went ashore.

They were on land near an area they knew as Buckner Bay.

“Buckner Bay was probably more than a block long. It’s natural, but it went back into a bunch of rocks and to a cliff that is 600 feet high. The road over there — if you could call it a road — wound around up that hill.

“We built our temporary camp about 100 yards from the cliff’s edge. It was just pup tents at the beginning.”

Wright was assigned guard duty at night.

“Our camp was approximately 300 yards from the main road that came up from Buckner Bay, and we had to position a guard on that road that goes up to our camp.

“I thought I had been scared in my life, but I found out that I hadn’t really been scared before.”

He recalls, “You’ve got this rifle, and you’re walking back and forth across this road, but you can’t hardly see where you’re walking. It’s just pitch black, and what’s going through your head, you know:

“We had heard of different places where the Japanese would sneak up on somebody and grab them and cut their throat. That goes through your mind on an eight-hour shift in a long night.

“Eight hours seemed like a week.”

Close shot

Wright was leaning against a tree waiting for his shift to begin at 6 p.m. one evening. “It was at dusk, the sun had gone down. I sat down in front of this tree for a few minutes before I was supposed to go on guard duty. I was lying up against this tree talking to this other guard, not paying much attention. My steel helmet was tipped up against that little old tree. All of a sudden, a light just blinded me — a streak — and I felt that tree shake.

“The bullet was about two inches above my helmet, and it just split that tree. It was a tracer bullet. We found out later it was an accident over at the Army camp.”

He also recalled guard duty in the middle of the day when two sailors approached.

“They came up and we were talking, you know. I don’t even remember what we were talking about. One was just looking around, just walking around.

“I said, ‘You can walk around and go up to that cave, but don’t go in it. Don’t go in the cave, because we don’t know what’s in there.’ He said ‘OK.’

“Well, me and this other kid were just talking, and all of a sudden we didn’t see the other guy. His buddy hollered at him, hollered his name, and he didn’t answer. In a little bit, we heard a scream.

“We found out there was a Japanese in that lower level of the cave. He had a ladder that he could use to climb up.

“He had killed the sailor with a knife.”

The military went into the cave and found that the Japanese had shot himself. They brought the sailor back for burial.

Heavy equipment

Wright eventually moved on to the heavy equipment work done by the Seabees. And he remembers there were dangers even in construction.

“They were running blades and smoothing off the ground for a permanent camp. And this pharmacists mate was the only one that we know about that was asleep in the camp at that time of day. He was the only doctor we had in our battalion. Wonderful guy. I think about it real often, how could something like this happen?

“The blade hit a land mine, and it blew a rock. The rock hit the pharmacists mate in the head and killed him. He was the only one in camp. How in the world could something like that happen?”

Wright was learning to use the heavy equipment that he had a familiarity with before military service. “After you get used to it, it’s fine,” he said.

There were memories that stay with him, such as the time when Big Red from Tulia used his bucket loader to keep a Caterpillar from toppling down a cliff, saving the life of a young operator.

“Little things like that, you remember always.”

And unpleasant duty at Suicide Cliff, where they covered up Japanese soldiers who had killed themselves by jumping to the rocks below.

Natural disasters, Wright found, could be as serious as combat.

He had been working at night, hauling coral to build roads. “I got off work at 7 or 8 in the morning. I just got in my tent and pulled my shirt off, and pulled my shoes off — and had rubber boots sitting right by my bunk — and lay down and went to sleep.

“About 11:30, a buddy said, ‘Get up, there’s a typhoon coming, we’ve got to get out of here!’ I could hear the wind flapping the tent. I jumped up, and it looked like the tent was going to go at any time. I couldn’t find my shoes, so I put on the rubber boots and a shirt, and grabbed by light jacket and ran out.

“The wind was blowing so hard you could almost see it. There were a bunch of us holding the tent ropes to try to save our tent.”

Tents anchored

The tents were anchored to crossties, but it wasn’t enough. “We were holding on to those ropes, and all of a sudden one of the ropes broke, and it threw a guy across two rows of tents. He got up and said, ‘Let’s go.’

“Out west of our camp there was a sloping hill. There were five of us, don’t know where the rest of the guys went. Five of us were there and we were lying down to keep the wind from getting under us. It got to blowing so hard it scared us.”

He remembers, “We had built a beautiful little church, kind of up on a hill, and had a rock walk going up to it. A bunch of guys had decorated it. It had flowers put out, and it was a pretty church. It wasn’t real big, but it was big enough that you could go in and pray, and we were proud of it.

“I said to a buddy of mine, ‘Look at the church — it’s just sitting there and nothing is happening to it.’ Then, all of a sudden, in the blink of an eye, it was gone. It was like it just vanished. The wind just blew it up and scattered it all over.”

He said, “Our camp ... you wouldn’t believe it. All that was left were the four posts for each tent. Even the floor itself and everything else was gone. It took up our chow hall, completely gone, all that equipment scattered everywhere.

“By noon, we were lying over there on the side of that hill. We laid there until 5:30. About 5 o’clock, this friend had said, ‘I believe I can get up.’ I said, ‘I don’t think you can.’ He got up on his hands and knees and was fixing to stand up, and all of a sudden that wind got him and threw him about 30 feet down the side of the hill. He rolled quite a ways. It took 30 minutes for him to crawl back, all skinned up.”

The aftermath showed the scope of the disaster. “There were sailors ... death was just everywhere .. people killed all over that place. Later, we were working on the buildings, and a body would come up in the water two weeks after the typhoon.”

War’s end

The war ended with the atomic bomb strikes upon Hiroshima and Nagasaki. “We were watching some old movie — some of the guys had put us up a screen outdoors. They announced that the war with Japan had ended. Then guns started going off, everybody in camp was shooting.

“I said, ‘We’re 200 yards from our tents, do you think we could make it back up there without getting shot?’

“We crawled back to camp.”

When Wright could leave Okinawa, and after a subsequent assignment to Manus Island, he and his friends came back to California. After months of military rations, they had come home to America, a land flowing with milk and hamburgers.

It’s one of his vivid memories, still:

“We were back to the United States. We were going to get us some milk and a hamburger.”

[Thurman]

April 1, 1945: One of the largest Seabee stevedore assault operations in the Second World War was handled by 11th Special NCB at the invasion of Okinawa. The assignment began in February 1945 when the battalion was joined by two base companies of untrained personnel. Indoctrination of these recruits in the Seabee stevedore tradition, “keep the hook moving,” was started immediately. The big battalion was split into two divisions of nine nine-man teams each. The divisions separated, each going to a different staging area where the 18 teams were assigned to 18 different assault ships. Once at the staging area, each team loaded its assigned vessel and then rode that vessel to Okinawa. When the ships arrived off the coast of Okinawa on April 1, 1945, they were spread the entire length of the northern beaches. These were the beaches hit by the Third Amphibious Marines. Once landed, the Seabees unloaded on a 24-hour basis. Unloading was performed under extremely hazardous conditions. Enemy air raids persistently hammered at the shipping. Fourteen casualties were suffered by the 11th Special NCB during the early stages of the campaign. On the day after the invasion, April 2, 1945, six cranes, five bulldozers and a number of flood light trailers were on the beaches as far north as Nago on the still bitterly contested Motobu peninsula. When the discharge of assault cargo was completed, the Seabee stevedores had a lull of about a week before the second echelon of supply ships arrived. However, during this week the men were not idle. They did excavation and construction work, roughed in roads and helped install anti-aircraft emplacements. Despite the week-long pause in stevedoring and the reduction of working time due to air raids, the end of April saw more than 70,000 tons of ammunition, guns, vehicles and supplies safely ashore and in the hands of the swift-moving assault forces.

[Thurman]

Seabee helped extend runways in Alaska during World War II.

 

Lester De Jonge was working in a machine shop in his hometown of Allendale, Mich., when he was drafted into the Navy in 1943. He became a Seabee with the 8th Special Battalion, known as "Grimslid's Gang," during World War II, and traveled to Alaska on a troop transport ship. For two years on Attu Island, De Jonge and his unit lived in Quonset huts and helped develop a base. After he was discharged in early 1946, De Jonge started a company called De Jonge Excavating, which his son, Henry, currently runs. Now 90, he lives in Nokomis with his wife of 64 years, Mildred.

 

I arrived in Attu with 500 of our men in the latter part of August. Attu had been taken back from the Japanese in May. Our forces were very powerful and had wiped them out in no time, so the work of establishing a base there began immediately. The Army was not interested in developing the base, so that was left to the Navy Seabees.

 

It was very crude there. We stayed in tents and the mess hall was just a long tent. There was a lot of confusion in those days. For one thing, the butter on our tables contained a large amount of beeswax because that butter was intended to be shipped to the South Pacific, but we got a hold of it. I can remember that they used that butter to grease the skids of the pile drivers; that's how they used it up.

 

We got into our Quonset huts in about November 1943 and stayed there for two years.

 

 

The 8th Special Battalion was to receive the liberty ships carrying the cargo, and that included barrels of oil, equipment, metal, ammunition, torpedoes and lumber for building the base. We had ammunition and torpedoes to supply the submarines that were out in the Pacific.

 

 

The 68th Construction Battalion also was there, and they built the airport and the runways. They used a lot of dynamite, so we were handling dynamite and it was very dangerous work. Attu did not have a space long enough to operate a B-25 bomber, so we had to blast the foot of the mountain away. The goods taken out of those blasts were dumped into the bay to get the airport runway long enough. That work went on seven days a week and never stopped. We were on 12-hour shifts seven days a week.

 

 

When the bombers took off, they had fuel tanks fastened on the wings so they could make the trips.

I remember seeing one B-25 take off, and when it got only partway down the runway, it caught on fire and the pilot steered it off the runway and got out of the plane. He walked away from it.

 

 

One time, at our chow hall, in the morning, they announced by the PA system that one bomber came back on one engine from a raid. This pilot of that B-25 knew he was in serious trouble and put that thing into a dive and got all the speed he could and leveled off just above the ocean floor and made it back to Attu. Those were the kinds of things that happened there.

 

We only had one raid on Attu, and we were very fortunate in that way.

That happened about sundown. I remember, it had to be in 1944, and it was a rainy night. All of a sudden, we were under attack and I stepped out of the Quonset hut and the sky looked just like a Fourth of July celebration.

 

The report was that the Japanese did not drop any bombs. Some people disagreed with that, however, because they could point to holes in the ground big enough to bury a Jeep."

[Thurman]

Seabee recalls serving in WWII

 

World War II was already in progress when Ed Farr was a teenager.

He knew he would be drafted, so on his 18th birthday — May 3, 1945 — he enlisted in the Navy "for the duration of the war."

Farr was born in Ripley, Okla., his family moving frequently with his father's job. Farr finished his schooling at Hooper High School, where he quit high school his sophomore year. On his own at age 15, he worked as a hired man on farms in the Oakland area. In the fall of 1944, he went to Louisiana and worked as a roustabout in the oil fields.

After enlisting, he went to New Orleans to be sworn in and then was put on a train for San Diego for basic training.

"After six of the 10 weeks of training," Farr said, "a guy came into the barracks, there were about 250 of us in a company, looking for volunteers. I didn't even ask what for, I just stuck up my hand."

Farr said his motivation to get out of basic training wasn't the best, "I'd been on my own since I was 15. Lying there at night in those bunks, hearing the 18-19 year-olds, who had never been away from home, snickering and bawling at night. Darn, there's bound to be something better than this! So that's how I made the move to get out of there."

With a dozen other volunteers, Farr was sent to Camp Parks, 30 miles above Oakland, Calif., for Seabee training. The Seabees, attached to the Navy, are a construction and truck-driving outfit. They built airfields, roads, campsites and operated heavy equipment.

After a week's training, they had a two-week furlough, during which time Farr returned to see his family and girlfriend (and future wife) in Nebraska.

Upon returning to California, Seabee volunteers were taken to Treasure Island where they were loaded onto a converted cargo ship headed for Pearl Harbor. The second day at Pearl the same dozen volunteers were told to be out front of the barracks, with their gear, at 4 p.m.

"We put our gear in the back of a truck," Farr said, "jumped in and they took us down to the dock. Man, I said, I know we're leaving. What in the world are we going to get on? They stopped in front of an old LST (Landing Ship Tank). Thirty days later, we arrived in Okinawa. We never saw land in 30 days. Part of the time we had to skirt a typhoon. Those flat bottom things, I didn't think would hold together."

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In the spring of 1945, the Americans were in the final stages of recapturing Okinawa from the Japanese.

"We got to stay around while they were using flame throwers to empty out the caves," he said. "I was a transportation dispatcher, in the motor pool most of the time."

When his unit was disbanded, Farr once again was put on an LST for Guam. He stayed at Guam until he was able to come home.

"I came home on an APA, the USS Billy Mitchell," Farr said, "a big two stacker. It cut about 30 knots going across that water; she was moving! In July '46, we came in on a foggy morning, everyone was on the deck (it was so hot you couldn't stand it in the hole), it was so noisy you couldn't hear a hammer hit. The captain came on the horn and said ‘You guys got 30 seconds to be quiet or you're going back in the hold. That pilot boat is out there somewhere and I can't hear him.'

"One of the greatest sights in the world was when we broke out of the fog and there was the Golden Gate Bridge."

Farr was discharged in California, and returned to Kingsville, Texas where his family was living. He married his high school sweetheart, Rose Groeteke, of Hooper on Dec. 16, 1946. They moved around with his oil field jobs for a while until her father offered to set them up on a farm. They moved to a farm in the Cedar Bluffs area in 1953. The Farrs raised two daughters and now have five grandchildren. Farr has been active in the local and state American Legion and presently serves as the Cornhusker Boys State Corporation president.

Two of the latest high points in his life have been related to his time in the service. In 1999, the Veteran's Administration and the Nebraska Department of Education offered a high school diploma to any World War II veteran who had not completed high school. Farr applied and on Veteran's Day 1999, he received his diploma from Logan View High School.

The second was last summer when Farr represented Nebraska American Legionnaires at the World War II Memorial dedication.

"I always said this, ‘I wouldn't take a million dollars for that (World War II) experience,'" Farr said. "But I'd want to sit down and think about it before I'd do it again. It's a privilege to serve your country. The people who are in the service, if it weren't for them, where in the world would we be? Everyone would just run over us. It's those people wearing the uniforms that keep the wolf away from the door. It's the best way to put that. I am a real proud individual to have served."

[Thurman]

Town's former DPW director put engineering skills to good use in Vietnam

Former Plymouth DPW Director Lee Peck served with the U.S. Navy's Fighting Seabees in Vietnam from April 1968 to April 1969.

PLYMOUTH – Leighton “Lee” Peck ran Plymouth’s public works department for nearly two decades, but most people probably never knew he got his nickname in Vietnam.

Many probably never even knew he served in the war. It’s a memory Peck rarely allows himself to visit.

Named Leighton for his father, a former Falmouth fire chief, Peck was known as “Junior” or “Chief” growing up on the Cape. His nickname changed forever to Lee while Peck served with the Navy in Vietnam in 1968 and 1969.

A heavy equipment operator for the Fighting Seabees, Peck would spend Sundays volunteering, using his civil engineering skills to help villagers with public works projects.

“It seemed like every kid over there was named Ly, so that’s what they called me. They couldn’t pronounce my name. The name ‘Lee’ came from Nam,” Peck said.

A 1964 graduate of Lawrence High School in Falmouth, Peck earned an associate’s degree in civil engineering at Wentworth Institute in 1966. He enlisted in the Navy later that same year, with the understanding that he would be able to put his skills to good use in the Seabees.

Peck spent his first year building a golf course on Midway Island. Work took a more serious turn when he landed in Da Nang in April 1968.

Assigned to the maintenance unit of a construction battalion, Peck found himself in demand because of his ability to operate heavy equipment.

Licensed run cranes, bulldozers and earth movers, Peck spent months working on public works projects that years later, in peacetime, would become his life’s work.

“It was kind of a natural with my engineering degree. We did drainage and road projects. Not everyone understood about grades,” Peck said.

Based out of Dong Ha, about eight miles south of the demilitarized zone, Peck spent four or five months alone assigned to a giant crane.

“Once you’re assigned to something like that, you are the only one who runs it," he said. "So if they need to go 24 hours a day, you do that. If the machine was needed somewhere, you go with it.”

Peck primarily used the machine to offload supplies for the troops, but as the enemy shelling of Dong Ha intensified, commanders decided to move operations farther from the border and used Peck’s crane to lift huts onto trucks for the move south.

Peck’s ability to operate heavy equipment landed him in Khe Sanh after the 11-week siege of the outpost ended in March 1968.

Peck’s outfit was called in to help clean up the mess and dismantle the base.

The Seabees pulled up the aluminum airstrip and bulldozed bunkers in advance of the evacuation, all under harassing fire. “I buried a C-130 (airplane) there so the enemy couldn’t get it, because we couldn’t get it out of there. They blew the wings off it and we buried it. We did take a couple of engines but the idea was to destroy everything. All the bunkers, everything was blown up and filled in before we left,” Peck said. “It was heart breaking to think we were there defending the place and then we blow it up.”

By day, most Marines at the garrison stayed underground in bunkers while the Seabees did their work. At night, the Seabees would join Marines in protecting the base from attack.

“Up at Khe Sanh, every night we were on red alert, everyone was in the trenches,” Peck said. “Outside the wire you could see where the enemy was digging trenches to try to get to you. There were rats out there as big as cats, supposedly because they were eating the dead NVA.”

Thinking about it nearly 50 years later stills takes a toll on a man who went into the service with a goal of being constructive.

“Taking someone’s life is not normal. I’m a kind soul. I like people. It’s not me,” Peck said. “But sometimes you’re in a situation where you don’t have much choice. It’s either you or him.

Peck returned home in April 1969 and built on his public works experience. He earned a bachelor’s degree in civil engineering on the G.I. Bill, started a family and went to work.

He served as superintendent of public works in Carver and Middleborough before taking over as director in Plymouth in 1986. He retired in 2003, but continues to work as a consultant.

Peck said he hasn’t talked about the war, even to his children, since his return from Vietnam. He kept his dog tags and the attached P-38 can opener, but threw away most of his gear and photos.

A publication chronicling his Seabee unit’s work in Vietnam offers the only glimpse of his service. Photos show Peck at the controls of his crane, not on guard in a trench.

“I went over there to do a job and did it the best I could,” Peck said. “It makes you think about life and how precious it is. I always think how fortunate I was to come back physically and mentally undamaged.

http://www.wickedlocal.com/news/20161010/welcome-home-towns-former-dpw-director-put-engineering-skills-to-good-use-in-vietnam

[Thurman]

Seabee helped establish airfields on Saipan and Tinian

 

Bob Stout enlisted in the Navy Seabees from his hometown of Bronxville, New York, in 1943, and was later attached to the 4th Marine Division, 3rd Battalion, 20th Regiment during World War II. In the Pacific campaign, Stout participated in the harrowing second wave at Saipan and helped set up airstrips on the island (which he also did on Tinian). Stout remained in the service for two years, eight months and 16 days, and enjoyed a post-military career as a sales representative. Now 91, Stout lives on Siesta Key with his wife of 54 years, Nancy.

‘I think it was June 15, 1944, that we arrived on Saipan. We were on a troop ship out of Maui, where we had been preparing for assault landing drills. We had no idea where we were going when we were on our way to Saipan. The ship was totally black at night and we weren’t even allowed to light a cigarette.

When we got there, we unloaded and climbed down big cargo nets with all of our heavy gear. We had to be careful coming down so we didn’t step on the head of the man underneath us. All of the troops got into their pre-assigned landing boats, peeled off and headed to the beach

 

The beach, at that time, was in flames. The Japanese had collected all these scrap tires and any junk they could find, and they had made patches of flames all along the beach. The idea was to funnel the landing craft between the burning areas of the beach so that they could get them with mortars. It was a scary time, for sure. There wasn’t a whole lot of room on the beach and the mortar barrage was almost constant. The best way to avoid the mortar hit was, when one landed and it created a crater, you would jump into that crater because the chances of a second hit in the exact same place were very unlikely. So we did that, and we set up our .50-caliber machineguns.

 

 

On the second morning, I got out my K-ration. I was sitting in my foxhole. I had just leaned forward to bite my chocolate bar and there was a stump of a palm tree right beside me. I heard a thump and the next thing I knew, I had four holes in the back of my collar. A bullet had gone right through my collar and missed me. It just missed my spinal column by probably less than an inch. I have been one of the luckiest guys on the planet so many times, it’s almost scary.

 

 

I was on the beach for about 30 hours and then we advanced. Our job there was to handle all of the logistics and some of that was making the airfield operable. They had bombed it, and it was full of craters and shrapnel. The shrapnel was as sharp as a razor. Some of our guys were the most amazingly innovative, capable people. They helped clean up the airfield in no time.

 

Within days, the first P-51 Mustang came in and we had American aircraft taking off. Once Saipan was secured and we got the airfield operable, our job was to protect the battalion perimeter because there were still a lot of snipers there. We also went ashore at Tinian to work on the airfield there. One of our most famous customers was the Enola Gay.

Doing that work and being there was altogether a fascinating experience. There were a lot of scary parts but we also had fun and enjoyed each other’s company. I’ll never forget it. It’s something that is with you all of your life and it never goes away.’

[Thurman]

I WAS ON LST 244. THERE WERE FOUR LST'S IN OUR GROUP AT THE INVASION OF GUAM. IN ADDITION, THERE WAS A TROOP SHIP THAT HAD JUST A FEW OF OUR MEN ABOARD. WE LEFT THE MARSHALL ISLANDS AHEAD OF TIME. ABOUT 30 DAYS, WE TURNED AROUND AND HEADED BACK IN A HURRY. I WAS A CHIEF MASTER CARPENTER AT THAT TIME AT CAMP PEARY. WE BUILT A HOUSING GALLEY, SHOW PLACE, TABLES AND BENCHES FOR THE CHOW HALL. DESKS, MONUMENTS, OFFICERS CLUB, CHAPEL, WE POURED CEMENT FOR THE KITCHEN FLOOR. JUST ABOUT ANYTHING YOU CAN THINK OF. YOU NAME IT, WE BUILT IT. WE ALSO WORKED ON THE SHIPS, SHORING UP DIFFERENT EQUIPMENT. ONCE A CALL CAME OUT FOR VOLUNTEERS FOR SNIPER PATROL. TWO OF MY MEN AND MYSELF WENT. THAT WAS A LITTLE UNCOMFORTABLE TO SAY THE LEAST. I TRIED TO TREAT ALL OF MY MEN EQUALLY. MY WORSE MEMORY IS WHILE WE WERE UNLOADING OUR LST UNDER MORTAR FIRE, WITHOUT ANY PROTECTION. THAT WAS AT AGANA BAY.

CHARLES W. FERBER. HEADQUARTERS CO. 13TH SPECIAL N.C.B.

[Thurman]

In a matter of two short months the campaign

again moved northward, this time to Bougainville,

the furtherest island of the Solomon Group. Our

ground forces were invading, and it suddenly became

necessary to build an air strip to allow for

both offensive and defensive air action. Again

the 36th Battalion was called upon to demonstrate

their "Can Do" spirit.

A hasty departure from Banika required that

equipment and other gear be stripped to a minimum.

Eveqthing that was not considered absolutely

essential was disposed of, and on November

24 the Battalion moved northward in foul'

LST's with every bit of eq uipment loaded into

trucks and trailers. Within two hours of the

time t he LST's hit the beach at Bougainville they

were away again-empty, and the 36th once again

rolled up their sleeves and went to work.

 

The proposed location of the bomber strip to

be built was still in enemy territory so slowly and

cautiously every piece of equipment was moved

through dense jungle. The very next morning

the enemy forces were somewhat chagrined and

mortified to find bulldozers roaring under their

very noses, punctuated occasionally by lhe explosion

of dynamite.

Work on the strip continued 24 hours a day, a

crew of mechanics stood by to repair any bulldozer

that faltered, while blasting crews removed

trees which were too obstinate for a 20-ton bull-

dozer to handle.

When the first 500 feet of the strip was completed

it was immediately put to use by the small

Piper Cub planes which acted as artillery observers;

on the nineteenth day a bomber made

the first major landing.

One month after work had been started, the

Piva strip was completed, and within another

fortnight all necessary facilities were added.

Thus was another link in the chain to Tokyo

secured.

 

During the first two months on Bougainville,

the 36th Battalion was subjected to nightly bombing

attacks-and in March of 1944 the enemy

ground forces counterattacked with everything at

their command.

 

Their aim was to knock out the

bomber strip, and they literally peppered it with

shells, but due to the efficiency of the repair crews,

at no time was the field out of operation for more

than a half hour.

 

As a result of this enemy action, during the month of March, 1944,

many men were decorated or extinguishing

fires caused by shells landing in a bomb

dump:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Thurman]

CAMP PARKS LOG, JULY 28, 1945.

"SEABEES GET LETTER OF COMMENDATION FOR REMOVAL OF BOMB"

15 SEABEES WHO VOLUNTARILY AIDED 12TH NAVAL DISTRICT BOMB DISPOSAL OFFICERS IN REMOVING A LIVE 500-POUND Japanese BOMB FROM THE HOLD OF THE SS JOSIAH SNELLING WERE GIVEN LETTERS OF COMMENDATION BY REAR ADMIRAL C.H. WRIGHT. COMMANDANT OF THE DISTRICT.

THE SNELLING STANDING OFF OKINAWA MAY 28, 1945 WAS A PRINCIPAL FIGURE IN A FREAK OF WAR. THE JAPANESE PLANE, IT'S PILOT ALREADY DEAD CRASHED INTO THE SHIP IN IT'S DEATH PLUNGE AND ENDED UP DEEP IN THE HOLD. WHEN DAMAGE INSPECTION OFFICERS BEGAN CLEARING THE PLANE WRECKAGE THEY DISCOVERED THE BOMB IMBEDDED IN TIMBERS WHICH WERE PART OF THE SHIPS CARGO.

LT. R.D. BARTLETT, DISTRICT BOMB DISPOSAL OFFICER CALLED FOR VOLUNTEERS TO HELP MOVE THE BULKY TIMBERS AND THE BOMB, AND THE SEABEES RESPONDED. USING HAND OPERATED TACKLE THEY REMOVED THE BOMB IN RECORD TIME. MEMBERS OF THE VOLUNTEER CREW UNDER CHIEF WARRANT OFFICER P.F. HENLEY ARE ALL PACIFIC WAR VETERANS.

 

 

 

 

THE NAVY & MARINE CORPS MEDAL HAS BEEN AWARDED TO LEONARD C. GLOVER, MOM2C, NOW OF CBMU 555. THE MEDAL IS FOR GLOVERS HEROISM IN RESCUING A DROWNING SEAMAN IN A MINE-STUDDED SEA. AT THE TIME, THE SEABEE WAS A MEMBER OF A MINE-SWEEPER.