THE CAPTURE OF JAMES DANGEROUS GIST.

THE CAPTURE OF James Dangerous Gist
and other things.

The Gunnery range was taking shape with
great instructors.

The SADs made their debut.  SAD stands
for Specialist Articifer Devices.  It was said
that the SADs were "washouts" from Navy
flight school--- scuttlebut.
They built the drone aircraft that were used
for targets on the shooting range.  We had
regular aircraft from the nearest Navy Air
bases tow targets normally.

The first students moved in in mamoth busses
carrying students from all the allied nations.

We had 50 mm and 40 mm guns on the line
and 3 inch and 5 inch guns to fire on the
towed targets.

AATC was equipped with all the bells and
whistles of a small hospital.

My steady job was Pharmacist.  I compounded
and dispensed all the medicine and anaethetics
used at sick bay and in surgery.

When I had the duty, it meant that I handled
all emergencies, held sick call in the morning
and looked after the patients in our little
hospital.
After a couple of months I took an examination
and made first class,  Pharmacist Mate 1/c .
Before I lef t the service I made Chief Pharmacist
Mate.   That rate was temporary for six months
and I left the service before the six months had
elapsed, so I never knew if I was considered, in
the record,  a Chief or a First Class.

Oh, yes.... James D. Gist returned to the base and
we became good friends.

There were numerous interesting adventures at
this base, some heroic and others slightly odorous.


Beverly eventually returned to her home in Long
Beach.   We had an Executive Officer whose name
I do not remember, but the enlisted men just
referred to him as "numb nuts".  He was discharged
before me and Beverly called to tell me that he had
come to their door and tried to get her to go out
with him and her father told him to get lost or hurt.

Finally we won the war and after 4 1/2 years I had
to go to work again.

Check the next segment and I`ll tell ya all about it.

Before the end I even became good friends with the
Doctor, Jocob Marks from Chicago.  He even
attended our wedding many years later.

----  John Crowley

BACK TO MARE ISLAND---- as a patient.

BACK TO MARE ISLAND
---THEN SOUTH DAKOTA
------AATC, PACIFIC BEACH WASHINGTON

Someone,somewhere accused me of changing
my name---- not so---- My name at birth
was Eugean John Crowley, in school it had
been shortened to Gene, then when the Navy
issued i.d. cards , it read: John Eugene Crowley.

I was pleased with my new name so never
bothered to correct the Navy.

BACK TO MARE ISLAND
This was the beginning of a long series of
physician`s examinations and a confusing
series of conflicting diagnoses.   After a certain
time with one diagnosis the Navy had a rule
that the patient had to be "Surveyed", that
is re-examined and possibly re-diagnosed.

First the survey recommended removal
of my apendics.   I refused--- then they
agreed,  error.  Then, they wanted my
gall bladder,  I objected , so they found
some sort of liver disease--- I would`nt
let them take that either.

I had been surveyed the maximum number
of times so the ward medical officer
offered me the following solution.
1--- Go on a 30 day leave, stay drunk
       and then take assignment to a
       cold climate. 
2----Take a medical discharge from the
        Navy.

Since I had never had any input as to my
duty in the service, had no problem with
the Navy, I decided to just take the offer
of getting drunk and let them send me
any damn place they saw fit.

I caught the train in Oakland, got off in
Lemmon , South Dakota, where I had
gone to high school.  

Then I received orders to the U. S. Navy
Receiving Station, Treasure Island , Ca.

At the time I finally was discharge from
the service, I had been through the
Receiving Station at Treasure Island
something like thirteen times.

At Treasure Island I received orders to
the Anti-Aircraft Training Center,
Pacific Beach , Washington.
--- A very cold place---- I was told.

At Chehalis, Washington I left the train
and transferred to a local bus for the
trip to Pacific Beach.   On the bus was
a Pharmacist Mate 3/c by the name of
James David Gist.   I was a 2/c which was
a higher ranking petty officer(satire).

We arrived at AATC to find that it was
more or less under construction and we
were the first hospital staff.   The next
morning Gist was gone.   It seems he
did`nt like the place and went A.W.O.L,
absent without leave.

Beverly Jean McGee was not far behind.
Soon after my arrival along came Bev.
Just thought I would mention that .
We went to the Catholic priest in Aberdeen
Washington and asked him to marry us.
The priest talked to us, was very happy
to meet us and suggested we come back
after the war and he would marry us.

We found her a nice room with a great
family, the Devine`s in Aberdeen.

I discovered that Aberdeen (and Pacific
Beach) were colder than a sled dog`s feet.
It rained when it was not snowing or
sleeting and strangely my tropical fever
was gone.

I find this is beginning (still) rambling ,so
Aberdeen , Hoquiam and Pacific Beach
will be contnued at a later time,  together
with Humptulips, Moclips and Aloha.

----- John Crowley

ROCHAMBEAU (cont) ESPIRITO and NOUMEA

CONTINUING USS ROCHAMBEAU TO
ESPIRITO SANTOS and NOUMEA.




We approached many groups of small islands apparently deliberately as the Captain of the ship was trying to avoid submarines. By very slowly cruising through these shallow, coral infested waters, submarines could not follow and it would cut down on the chances of our being hit by a torpedo. We came so close to some small islands that natives paddled out to the ship and tried to climb aboard. It was so shallow in places the bottom was clearly visible, but astern the props were kicking up pure mud.




After thirty days we arrived in Espiritu Santos Bay in the New Hebrides islands, now known as Vanuatu. Our stay in the New Hebrides was only about ten days while Marines disembarked and there were other exchanges and landings of personnel. Several men were taken off the ship by hospital personnel from a hospital ship at anchor in the harbor. One of those men was my old friend from Napa, Ole Olson. I never saw him again and I have always wondered if he survived. Dengue was not long lasting like malaria, but it was much more severe at onset and many people died from it.



One of the most impressive incidents of the war occurred one morning. I awoke to the most loud and persistent droning which vibrated the ships and the waters. Going on deck I discovered the droning noise was caused by the entire Torpedo Boat fleet moving out of Espiritu Santos en route to new headquarters on Guadal Canal. The entire harbor was full of torpedo boats and they were strung out across the ocean all the way over the horizon. What an impressive sight! I had no idea we had that many torpedo boats in our fleet.



One morning, we heard a solitary plane coming out of the west. He was low and headed directly toward us. Of course, the Japanese Zeros were always a threat. General quarters was sounded and we all donned our helmets. The plane as it got closer was determined to be one of our own, he was dipping his wings from side to side as though in a salute and was directly over us and in an instant he hit the main mast of a tanker anchored next to us. The plane exploded and there was nothing found of most of the plane nor the pilot. Later it was determined that the young officer piloting that plane was the same young officer I had beaten up in the boxing match a short time earlier. It gives one pause. I have often thought of this. I nearly hated this man when we were aboard ship, now I was seriously deflated, maybe guilt ridden.



Soon after leaving the New Hebrides on a clear moonlit night with a sea as smooth as glass, our engines stopped. For three days and nights we sat marooned on this glassy sea, waiting for the periscope that would pop up out of the water, signaling a torpedo attack on us. Nothing happened to us, but we witnessed several air battles and one night an ammunition ship blew up and the air and sea were filled with fireworks. We didn't know it at the time, but we were sitting marooned in the middle of the Coral Sea Battle. We were way off our course, but the Captain had followed a zig zag course in order to avoid submarines which were reported to be plentiful in the area. The war went on.


This is a recitation of actual events.  It is
not considered interesting, it is not an
adventure--- it was boring as hell then and
I`m sure you will find it boring now.
Sorry about that, please bear with me.

Probably a week later we arrived in the
bay at NOUMEA , NEW CALEDONIA.
Thrill, thrill--- it llooked like any other
tropical flat place in the Pacific ocean.

We anchored at a pier in Noumea and
we spent a lot of time just sitting on deck
or lining the rail, watching natives work.

One of the great life lessons was learned
at this time.
A giant pole , like a great , large telephone
pole lay along the dock.   A contingent of
Balinese men, tiny little men, about 20 of
them came one day and spent an interminable
amount of time sitting on, measuring,
discussing, arguing, hugging and kicking
the pole ---- suddenly as one man they got
up picked up the pole in their little arms
and walked away with it.......

----- leaving us open mouthed and bewildered.
None of we big strong Americans, to gether
or separately could have moved that pole.

I have often thought of that incident.  It has
been a life-long inspiration and lesson.

Trucks picked up we Hospital Corpsmen and
transported us about five miles to Mobile
Hosptal # 5.   At the gate to the hospital ,.
leaning on the gate post was my cousin,
Tracy Gulden.  He had been hospitalized for
a bad eye.  8,000 miles from home and the
first person I saw was  my first cousin.

Max Hastings, some other guy and I were
assigned to a tent.
Soon a platoon of Marines came to our
tent asking for me.   The Marines carried
two large cases of beer,  a gift from their
commander--- something to do with the
boxing match aboard ship .

Colonel Carlson, of Carlson`s Raiders, a
Marine outft was hospitalized at Mob. 5,
for a check-up .  A kid by the name of
Fisher and another Hospital Corpsman
from Oakland, California and I went to
the Colonel and asked if we could join his
outfit.  He said "sure" and we were in.
This was after several transfers and other
adventures in which we found ourselves
back at Mob 5.

Colonel Carlson apparently needed us and
the Ward Medical Officer discovered I had
a fever and entered me as a patient to
undergo further testing.

A couple days after that we received word
that my two friends had been killed at the
landing of another island--- I think it was
Tarawa.  I have never been sure.  It was a
bad memory , better forgotten.

Something like thirteen (13) months had
passed and I was sent back to the states with
a diagnosis of  a jungle fever.

------- John Crowley
This segment is sort of cryptic.  Yes it seems
like that to me too.  This part is no big deal.

AT WAR WITH HATE

A Story by Eagle Cruagh (John Crowley)

This incident took place during
a stretch along the equator.

The story follows:





AT WAR WITH HATE



Lieut. Florin was a loathsome, egotistical, smirking,

Greek god type. A typical ladies man, bronzed,

tall, flat belly`d and more than adept at hitting a silly punching bag.



On a crowded troop-ship, near the equator and in the

middle of the South Pacific, we sailors stood in each

other`s shade in a futile attempt to stay out of the

scorching, blistering sun --------- and we listened to

the unending rattle of the punching bag.



The boat deck, not sure why it was called that, but it

was, was officer country, all enlisted men were banned from officer country. "They were special".

Day after breathless, stink`n day we would stand in

the sun and hate those bastards.



Unaware that the Marine Corps officers aboard ship

were planning a boxing tournament, the bag bounced

and rattled it`s annoying chatter.

God, I hated that bastard---- then the break came.

Charlie the steward remarked, "Why don`t you go down to the Marine`s newspaper office and challenge

that s.o.b. to fight you in the tournament.



No sooner had the idea germinated than I was in the

Marine`s office volunteering to fight the

officer who kept pounding that idiot bag.



The very next day the paper appeared with the by-line , Lieut. Florin has graciously condescended to

fight a young hospital apprentice (me) in the coming

boxing tournament. "Graciously condescended !"

What a lot of gall.



The officer and I were both over six feet tall, but where

he was lean, muscular and tanned, I was skinny and

pale.



Coming out of the chow line Chief Smith grinned at

me and commented, " You`re going to fight in the

tournament I see". Yeah, guess so, Chief.

"Have you ever fought on a ship before ?" No.

"Well, there are just a couple of things to remember.

Keep your back to the sun and when the ship rolls from side to side, you always stay on the upper side"

that way when he tries to hit you he has to swing up

at you and the sun will always be in his eyes."



Under my breath, I`m thinking , he`s gonna die.



After day after day of insufferable punching bag racket

and seeing this Greek god strutting about the boat deck the day of the big fight arrived.



Before we were called to the ring, Lieut Florin came

down to peasant country and invited me to come up

to the boat deck and have a cold one. I felt it coming.

The old psych game. So I went up and sat in the cool

shade in officer`s country and enjoyed a cold beer

while the officer confessed that he had been Captain

of his boxing team at Yale. After 29 fights he had been cited for superior sportsmanship and excellence

in athletic ability.



I hated him even more. He was obviously trying to

con me into a loser state of mind.



We were called to the center of the ring, given instructions. Retired to neutral corners and at the

bell we came out with blood in our eyes. All the days

of suffering that annoying rattle of the punching bag,

the strutting god-like, superior officer--- it all came

out of my boxing gloves in rattling, hate filled punches.

Just like Chief Smith had said--- I rolled up with the

ship and kept the sun at my back and dared him to

fight . In a short time it was over, The Marine Capt.,referee

raised my arm as the victor and I felt nine feet tall.



THE SPOILS OF VICTORY



The following day I spotted Lieut. Florin at a distance

both eyes were swollen and black, his face was red

with angry red marks . Somehow I did not feel that

victorious.



The next day Lieut . Florin was to be assigned a fighter plane on the main island, then join his unit on

Guadal Canal.

As we stood on deck of the ship in the early morning

a lone plane came in to view. He immediately started

dipping his wings in the traditional salute of "goodbye to my friends" as he passed over our heads.

Just then this plane struck the mast of a tanker anchored just behind us. As the plane struck the mast it burst into fragments---- not a piece of the plane or the pilot were ever seen again.



The voice on the loud speaker announced, "that was

Lieut. Florin who just left this ship."



----- Eagle Cruagh

U.S.S. ROCHAMBEAU (# 1)

 

U.S.S. ROCHAMBEAU

 

Scuttlebutt is king .   When the source of

something you heard is a mystery

it is called scuttlebutt.  Not sure about

the spelling, but scuttlebutt is often quite

accurate.

According to scuttlebutt, there was no

alcoholic beverages to be had once we

"shipped out", so if we wanted an occasional

drink we should take it with us.

 

The day before "shipping out" I bought eight

bottles of the finest "Irish".   That Irish was

securely packed in my seabag when I boarded

ship in Mare Island the next morning.

 

As we turned at the head of the gang plank

and saluted, we were relieved of our seabags.

I was shocked to see the seabag thrown into

an open hatch---- and a long silence before it

hit bottom, it must of fallen three or four

stories before it crashed.

 

The next day as the Rochambeau steamed out

the Golden Gate, I recovered my seabag which

was soaked with whiskey and full of broken

glass---- big clean up job.

 

This old ship, named after a French Admiral

who assisted us in pursuit of our Revolutionary

War was loaded with "Sea going Marines", Navy

enlisted and Navy Officers, 8,000 of us en route

further transfer at some undisclosed spot in

the South Pacific.

 

There was no one of any importance aboard

ship--- Not at that time .  At that time all the

enlisted huddled in groups on the main deck

and the officers, insignificant in their wash tans,

hung about the bridge or some other lofty

place , by themselves.   One of these officers

was John F. Kennedy, future president of the

United States.

 

Altogether the trip on the Rochambeau was not

unpleasant, with a few exceptions.   The head,

the toilet, was a long trough and the water in

it sloshed from one end to the other end as

the ship wallowed through the seas, if you sat

it washed your butt.

 

It was hot and we sweat.  To wash our clothes

we trailed them over side .  Our jeans came

clean, but they were stiff with salt when they

dried.

 

Showers were plentiful, but with salt water.

Guess that's why they call sailors Old Salts.

 

8,000 of us were 31 days on the Rochambeau.

 

One night,in the middle of the night, we were

broken out of our bunks (hospital corpsmen)

by a contingent of Marines.  We were issued

full combat gear, complete with .45 automatics.

We were told to be prepared for a landing.

It goes without saying, we wondered.

 

The next day all of the combat gear was taken

back and no explanation was ever heard.

 

We crossed the equator and the international

date line.  We were indoctrinated into King

Neptunes sailors.   When we got into the South

Pacific we encountered hundreds of islands and

the ship picked its way through the narrow,

shallow waters between the islands.

 

According to scuttlebutt, Submarines were not

capable of entering these waters and that is

why we were going where we went.  Eventually

out into the Coral Sea.   Then breakdown,

We sat for days without moving .  We actually

saw a periscope surface near us.  It must have

been one of our subs, because they did`nt blow

us up.

 

One evening an ammunition ship was blown up

on the horizon.   We witnessed part of the air

battle that was The Coral Sea Battle , then ,finally

the engines started, the prop turned and we

got under way.   Few of us thought we would

ever survive.

 

----- John Crowley

 

 

Archive

• current
• February 2005
• March 2005
• April 2005
• May 2005
• June 2005
• July 2005
• August 2005
• September 2005
• October 2005
• November 2005
• December 2005
• January 2006
• February 2006
• March 2006
• April 2006
• May 2006
• June 2006
• July 2006
• August 2006
• September 2006
• October 2006
• November 2006
• December 2006
• January 2007
• February 2007
• March 2007
• May 2007
• July 2007
• August 2007
• September 2007
• October 2007
• November 2007
• December 2007
• January 2008
• February 2008
• March 2008
• April 2008
• May 2008
• June 2008
• July 2008
• August 2008
• September 2008
• October 2008
• November 2008
• December 2008
• January 2009
• February 2009
• March 2009
• April 2009
• May 2009
• June 2009
• July 2009
• October 2009
• November 2009
• January 2010
• February 2010
• March 2010
• April 2010
• May 2010
• June 2010
• July 2010
• August 2010
• October 2010
• November 2010
• December 2010
• January 2011
• April 2011
• December 2011
• January 2012
• February 2012

BEVERLY JEAN McGEE Long Beach, Ca.

Yes, I agree--- it looks like her !

On one of the treks to the Los Angelos area,
I was walking down American Blvd., in
Long Beach one early morning, hitching a
ride back to San Diego.

A car stopped and I met Beverly Jean McGee
and her Mother.  Beverly was only 15 or 16
and of course I was only 18 at the time.

They had just been to church and were driving
down the beach road when they saw me.
They drove me back to Corps school in San
Diego.

I wrote to Beverly and the next liberty I had
back to Long Beach where the parents
welcomed me and Beverly showed me around
the area.

I had an Aunt, my Father`s aged sister who had
lived her life as a sourdough in Alaska, she now
lived on Angels Flight, a little tram up the side
of a cliff in downtoan Los Angelos.
Beverly went with me and we visited the Aunt.

On another trip she showed, took me to visit
a Great Aunt in another city near Los Angelos.
 One day we went to the races at Santa Anita
where I won a couple of hundred dollars betting
on Whirlaway.

Beverly`s Mother had been a figure model and
her father was a stand-in for George Raft, a movie
star in the pre-war years.  They had many friends,
entertained a lot, so my visits were always full of
fun and excitement.

Beverly had access to the family car and spent days
showing me the LosAngelos area, visiting --- even
to Mid-night Mass one Christmas

Where was I  ?    Oh, yes, there was a war.  well
we will get back to the war in a minute. OK ?

Corps school eventually ended and I was sent to
Mare Island Navy Hospital.   On arrival we new
corpsmen assembled in front of the administration
building , role was called and a first class pointed
to the short fellows in the front row and assigned
them to Bldg. 4, ward 1.
The second row of men were a little larger and
were assigned to ward 2, the third row to ward 3
and the fourth row, tall guys in which I was, were
assigned to ward 4.   The violent ward !

Ward 4 contained 32 patients, a long row of rooms
on each side of a long hall, then at the end, a
solarium where there were beds for ten more.
I was given a briefing on care of violent patients,
then a doctor accompanied me to ward 4, unlocked
the gate ,  let me inside and locked the gate .

I did not have a key, but there was a button near the
gate.  If I desperately needed help I would push the
button to summon assistance.

Everything went pretty well.  I was called on to help
subdue violent patients in other areas from time
to time.  I became friends with  a little man who had
been a professional "bughouser" in one of the state
hospitals.  He requested that I be assigned to him .
Now the staff had the two of us whom they called on
whenever a violent situation occurred.  "Doc" and
we were all "Doc" , Pemberton taught me to subdue
a violent patient by holding a mattress in front of me,
push the patient against a wall and Doc would go
under the mattress and jerk the patient`s feet out .
He also taught me the "neck holds" and other tricks
to subdue patients without injury to the patient.

Many of these "tricks" came in handy later, after the
war when I became a policeman.

Commander Jensen was the psychiatrist in charge of
Building 4.   From time to time I was asked to talk
with him.  One day when I was summoned to his
office he handed me a letter in which he had asked
that I be transferred to the psychiatric facility in
Bethesda , Maryland for further training in
Neuropsychiatry.    Instead the local Chief of Staff
transferred me to Imola, the Napa State Hospital
in which the Navy had two wards.  I spent about
six months at Imola and was then given orders to
the U.S.S, Rochambeau  for transport to the South
Pacific Command.

------   John Crowley