Almost two years had passed since the Japanese devastated this island. We arrived in November, 1943 and the signs of the attack were still clearly present. There were partial remains of bombed out buildings and sunken ships. An eerie sensation seemed to linger throughout the city. The feeling of an unjust action still awaiting its vendetta. Spirits whispering in the wind words of abhorrence and antipathy. You could sense that the thousands of service men here were all having the same thoughts. We were all wanting to obtain our revenge as soon as possible.

     While awaiting my ship assignment I was chosen to help alphabetize the personnel cards. Each person in the navy had a card and it was boring as all hell to put them in order. I was filled with exhilaration the day I got my orders to board the U.S.S. Caperton-DD 650. This ship was a brand new Fletcher type destroyer coming into Pearl Harbor on its shakedown cruise. Just being part of a warship was great, even though I had to sleep in a hammock outside on the poop deck. When you are eighteen years old everything you do on a combat ship seems very exciting. However, trying to sleep in a hammock does not seem like much fun. I recall it now with the mixed emotions of excitement and fear.

     We cruised around the islands for a week or so, getting familiar with the ship. We practiced firing the guns, all sorts of alerts, and fire drills. Becoming comfortable with our new surroundings we returned to Pearl Harbor to pick up some high explosives and other supplies for the troops that were cleaning up the Gilbert Islands.

     The moral of the crew was high. My shipmates and I felt we could do this mission better than any other naval crew. The mission was to take a special forces team in under the cover of darkness. I do not recall all the details, but I know it was the first real possibility that we might undergo enemy fire, and we were a bunch of up tight young swabs. About two in the morning I was standing lookout watch on the flying bridge when our sonar picked up a Japanese submarine. We had strict orders not to take any aggressive action unless we were attacked. I was glad when we made an abrupt maneuver and kept on. I sure was relieved when we were able to get rid of our passengers and get on our way.



     Saturday November 27th, 1943. I was no longer a polliwog. In the navy this is like saying I am no longer a virgin. Sailors crossing the equator for the first time always engaged in a big ceremony. This tradition was simple and gave us a welcome relief to the days of tension we had been experiencing. Even the captain made this transformation from polliwog to shell back.