In one two-year hitch I served aboard the cutters Alert, Bramble, Chautauqua, Escanaba, Storis, and Taney. On all of the cutters except the Storis I was stationed on the West Coast; but in the summer of 1948 I shipped aboard the ice-breaker Storis in Baltimore (Curtis Bay, Coast Guard Yard), and she took me down the East Coast to Norfolk and Panama Canal and up the West Coast to San Francisco, Seattle, Ketchikan, and Alaska. It was the best trip I ever took. In February, 1949, I was discharged in Seattle, after a cruise down the Inside Passage on the luxury liner SS Baranof. First class accommodations.
I went aboard the CGC Alert in Eureka, California, on February 22, 1947, as second radio. Our job was air/sea rescue along the northern California coast. A Portuguese fishing fleet was using Humboldt Bay as a home base, and we spent most of our time inspecting and quarantining their boats. I left the Alert at Pier 5, San Francisco, on April 1, 1947 [I checked into the U. S. Marine Hospital, SF, with a case of claps.] On April 21 (three weeks later) I returned to the Alert and was transferred immediately.
On April 28, 1947, I shipped aboard the CGC Taney at Government Island, Alameda, California.I was one of six radio operators; and since the ship's main job was gathering weather information halfway between SF and Honolulu (Weather Station Fox), I put in a lot of time sending 5-digit code groups to NMC, 12th CG District Headquarters, in SF. Near the end of my stay on the Taney I borrowed the O.O.D Jeep one night and drove it to San Pable, to the Okie dance (Bob Wells and His Texas Playboys were doing the music). For this little trick I lost a stripe and spent some time in the laundry room. I partially redeemed myself one night, however (I was AWOL at the time), by assisting the Coast Guard Tug, tied up at Pier 43, Fisherman's Wharf, remove a Norwegian transport ship from its mooring (It was loaded with fertilizer and on fire). But on July 23, 1947, I received my transfer orders, without being told why I was leaving the ship.
This is the Taney's radio shack, but I never saw it this clean.
On July 23, 1947, the same day I left the Taney, I signed aboard the CGC Chautauqua (They were both tied up at the Government Island dock). My old buddy, Eugene Tuney Goodrich, had left his plus job at the Base Personnel and was on the Chautauqua as a yeoman. Good times lay ahead, I thought. While I was aboard this lovely cutter, we alternated with the Taney at sitting on Weather Station Fox and, on one occasion, cruised up to Seattle. Actually, we towed three WW2 wooden subchasers (identical to the one I served on in the Navy) to Seattle. I volunteered to ride one of them, the last one in the line, and the suffering was unforgettable. Goodrich would not volunteer to be on that subchaser with me, and, as it turned out, that was a very wise decision. I left the Chat on November 14, 1947, not altogether because I had been naughty. I was "needed" on another cutter that had no radioman at all.
That is me on the Chat's smoke stack with my butt stuck out. This was a demeaning little task for a Radioman but up there with me were two others.
On a dark and dreary day in the late fall of 1947 (It was November 14), I was picked up at the dock at Government Island by a swab from the lowly buoy tender CGC Bramble, and taken to Goat Island (Buena Vista, the little island in the center of the SF Bay, to which man-made Treasure Island is attached), where my new home was tied up. I was to be the Radioman-in-Charge, which meant that I would have to stand 7/24 radio watches (providing I could get the pile of junk in the radio shack to work. Our job was lifting buoys out of the water, scraping and painting them, and setting them back into the water, all the way from San Francisco Bay to Sand Point, on the Oregon state line. Of course, I did not have to work on the buoys, but I had to listen to the noise. While I was aboard this scow I had a run-in with the quartermaster, who turned out to be the featherweight boxing champion of the 12th District. Nevertheless, I stuck it out until April 23, 1948, Shakespeare's birthday.
I shipped aboard the Escanaba ("Esky") on April 23, 1948, at the Government Island dock (having been delivered there in a Jeep from Goat Island, where the Bramble hung out). Like the Chat it was an "Indian Cutter," and also like the Chat it was assigned to Weather Station Fox (my third "weather" ship). But I behaved myself and in only about three months I was rewarded with orders to return to the CGC Alert, in Eureka (The old skipper had retired and my VD sin had been forgiven). I left the Esky July 19, 1948, at the Government Island dock and went by bus to Eureka (Humboldt Bay).
Theoretically, I was assigned to the CGC Alert (a second time) on the same day I left the Esky, but it was early the next morning, July 20, 1948, that I made it and settled in as second radio. But the plan was for me to become the Sparks (Rm-in-Charge), as soon as the old chief retired. It never happened. One day I picked up a message from District Hdq asking for a volunteer radioman to ship aboard the buoy tender CGC Storis in Baltimore. The temptation (for adventure), was too great, and I applied. My orders showed up on August 11, 1948, and with them came a 15-day "interim" leave, just enough time for me to get married on my way!
On my way to the grand adventure aboard the CGC Storis (I had been told that it was headed for Alaska!), I stopped off in Ada, Oklahoma, and married Bonita Pursiville, who was 19 on August 19, the day after we were married. In the wee hours of September 5, 1948,I reported aboard the Storis, six hours over leave. I had hoped to turn over a new leaf starting with the Storis, but instead I was given my third or fourth Captain's Mast and restricted to ship for a week. My first day on this ship, even before the Captain's Mast, I had a run-in with one of the radiomen aboard, not knowing he was a radioman. I went into breakfast, seating myself all alone at one of the long tables. A swab came up with his tray, settled across from me, and when he finished, he burped noisily in my face. I threw what was left of my food into his chest! The swab was none other than Sturgis Hiller, RM2, who came to be the best friend I ever had. We rode the old Storis down the East Coast, across the Gulf of Mexico, through the Panama Canal, up the West Coast all the way to Juneau.
One night in 1948 in Old Baltimore
THE HOOLIGAN NAVY
by Wesley E. Hall
Publication date: July 5, 2001
Retail price: $26.95
Biographical fiction. Size: 6X9.
Length: 519 pages.
ISBN: 0-595-19017-0.
On-demand publishing (iUniverse).
Available: Barnes & Noble, Amazon.com, Borders, etc.
Photo by Bambi Fertswart. 
I went aboard the CGC Alert in Eureka, California, on February 22, 1947, as second radio. Our job was air/sea rescue along the northern California coast. A Portuguese fishing fleet was using Humboldt Bay as a home base, and we spent most of our time inspecting and quarantining their boats. I left the Alert at Pier 5, San Francisco, on April 1, 1947 [I checked into the U. S. Marine Hospital, SF, with a case of claps.] On April 21 (three weeks later) I returned to the Alert and was transferred immediately.
On April 28, 1947, I shipped aboard the CGC Taney at Government Island, Alameda, California.I was one of six radio operators; and since the ship's main job was gathering weather information halfway between SF and Honolulu (Weather Station Fox), I put in a lot of time sending 5-digit code groups to NMC, 12th CG District Headquarters, in SF. Near the end of my stay on the Taney I borrowed the O.O.D Jeep one night and drove it to San Pable, to the Okie dance (Bob Wells and His Texas Playboys were doing the music). For this little trick I lost a stripe and spent some time in the laundry room. I partially redeemed myself one night, however (I was AWOL at the time), by assisting the Coast Guard Tug, tied up at Pier 43, Fisherman's Wharf, remove a Norwegian transport ship from its mooring (It was loaded with fertilizer and on fire). But on July 23, 1947, I received my transfer orders, without being told why I was leaving the ship.
This is the Taney's radio shack, but I never saw it this clean.
On July 23, 1947, the same day I left the Taney, I signed aboard the CGC Chautauqua (They were both tied up at the Government Island dock). My old buddy, Eugene Tuney Goodrich, had left his plus job at the Base Personnel and was on the Chautauqua as a yeoman. Good times lay ahead, I thought. While I was aboard this lovely cutter, we alternated with the Taney at sitting on Weather Station Fox and, on one occasion, cruised up to Seattle. Actually, we towed three WW2 wooden subchasers (identical to the one I served on in the Navy) to Seattle. I volunteered to ride one of them, the last one in the line, and the suffering was unforgettable. Goodrich would not volunteer to be on that subchaser with me, and, as it turned out, that was a very wise decision. I left the Chat on November 14, 1947, not altogether because I had been naughty. I was "needed" on another cutter that had no radioman at all.
That is me on the Chat's smoke stack with my butt stuck out. This was a demeaning little task for a Radioman but up there with me were two others.
On a dark and dreary day in the late fall of 1947 (It was November 14), I was picked up at the dock at Government Island by a swab from the lowly buoy tender CGC Bramble, and taken to Goat Island (Buena Vista, the little island in the center of the SF Bay, to which man-made Treasure Island is attached), where my new home was tied up. I was to be the Radioman-in-Charge, which meant that I would have to stand 7/24 radio watches (providing I could get the pile of junk in the radio shack to work. Our job was lifting buoys out of the water, scraping and painting them, and setting them back into the water, all the way from San Francisco Bay to Sand Point, on the Oregon state line. Of course, I did not have to work on the buoys, but I had to listen to the noise. While I was aboard this scow I had a run-in with the quartermaster, who turned out to be the featherweight boxing champion of the 12th District. Nevertheless, I stuck it out until April 23, 1948, Shakespeare's birthday.
I shipped aboard the Escanaba ("Esky") on April 23, 1948, at the Government Island dock (having been delivered there in a Jeep from Goat Island, where the Bramble hung out). Like the Chat it was an "Indian Cutter," and also like the Chat it was assigned to Weather Station Fox (my third "weather" ship). But I behaved myself and in only about three months I was rewarded with orders to return to the CGC Alert, in Eureka (The old skipper had retired and my VD sin had been forgiven). I left the Esky July 19, 1948, at the Government Island dock and went by bus to Eureka (Humboldt Bay).
Theoretically, I was assigned to the CGC Alert (a second time) on the same day I left the Esky, but it was early the next morning, July 20, 1948, that I made it and settled in as second radio. But the plan was for me to become the Sparks (Rm-in-Charge), as soon as the old chief retired. It never happened. One day I picked up a message from District Hdq asking for a volunteer radioman to ship aboard the buoy tender CGC Storis in Baltimore. The temptation (for adventure), was too great, and I applied. My orders showed up on August 11, 1948, and with them came a 15-day "interim" leave, just enough time for me to get married on my way!
On my way to the grand adventure aboard the CGC Storis (I had been told that it was headed for Alaska!), I stopped off in Ada, Oklahoma, and married Bonita Pursiville, who was 19 on August 19, the day after we were married. In the wee hours of September 5, 1948,I reported aboard the Storis, six hours over leave. I had hoped to turn over a new leaf starting with the Storis, but instead I was given my third or fourth Captain's Mast and restricted to ship for a week. My first day on this ship, even before the Captain's Mast, I had a run-in with one of the radiomen aboard, not knowing he was a radioman. I went into breakfast, seating myself all alone at one of the long tables. A swab came up with his tray, settled across from me, and when he finished, he burped noisily in my face. I threw what was left of my food into his chest! The swab was none other than Sturgis Hiller, RM2, who came to be the best friend I ever had. We rode the old Storis down the East Coast, across the Gulf of Mexico, through the Panama Canal, up the West Coast all the way to Juneau.
| THE HOOLIGAN NAVY by Wesley E. Hall Publication date: July 5, 2001 Retail price: $26.95 Biographical fiction. Size: 6X9. Length: 519 pages. ISBN: 0-595-19017-0. On-demand publishing (iUniverse). Available: Barnes & Noble, Amazon.com, Borders, etc. Photo by Bambi Fertswart. | |