And so it goes
Eventually the ships' holds became full and the troops set about the task of preparing for landing maneuvers — the usual routine of checking personal gear and arms. From his place in the third hold, top bunk, the Kid surveyed his situation. Sleeping quarters aboard ship are never spacious. The distance between bunks is at most an arm's length, or about 24 inches. Sea bags are stored in the lower holds, with the more immediate gear stashed under the bunks on the deck or hung alongside the bunks. There is scant room to do much of anything; even changing socks is a hassle. The top bunk has a plus — the air outlets are closer to that bunk's occupant, an advantage in the ship's hot confines. The "heads" are placed to the sides of the ship or between the ship's holds, or as they say, the "bulkheads." Thus, the term "head" meant lavatory in the Navy.
Life aboard ship is no fun thing. All is done to the tune of the bosun's pipe along with the call, "Now hear this!" They were piped to arise in the morning and they were piped to chow. They were piped to assembly, to work parties, to deck sweeping, to sick call and to any thing else that came along. All worked to a schedule that was the plan of the day. There was very little time off and very little recreation, which generally consisted of card playing or reading. The dim lights below decks were surrounded by a group of men holding cards or leaning against a bulkhead with a ragged book in their hands, squinting at the print. Usually a war story or sexy romance novel.
Practice for D-Day
Between these routine activities were squeezed drills for landing parties — the troops' main reason for being here. The landing drills were executed early in the morning, just as the sun arose. The men were hustled to an early breakfast of navy beans, black coffee, toast and bacon. From there they geared up for the drill. Combat packs, rifles, belts and bayonets. A fresh canteen of water, cigarettes wrapped in foil along with a lighter. A pad of toilet paper was tucked in the gear some place, generally in an empty cartridge pocket.
The men were sent topside a few minutes before the Higgins boats were due alongside the ship. The nets assigned to the landing parties hung over the deck rails. Each party knew where they were supposed to be at that time, the sergeants leading the way. Entering a landing boat from the side of a tall ship is no easy matter. A man is wearing his complete battle gear with rifle slung across a shoulder. He climbs over the rail grabbing the vertical ropes of the net, placing his feet into the cross nets, which act as a ladder. He is supposed to slowly back down into the waiting boat at the net's bottom. Fine — except for the added difficulty that the awaiting Higgins boat is bobbing up and down with the waves as the ship rolls back and forth concurrently.
Someone in the Higgins boat holds the net's bottom end in a bid to keep it inside the awaiting boat — so descending Marines don't end up in the water. Because timing is vital, the descending Marines are not allowed much time to complete the drill, which is done before the sun is high enough to see what they're doing. Sometimes the drill is executed in the black of night.
Rendezvous circles
Having secured his load of men, the cox'un (the coxswain, who drives the Higgins boat) sets off from the ship's side to the rendezvous area somewhere offshore. Here he joined a number of other boats slowly circling in a wide arc, which was the line of departure from where the boats all headed for the beach at an appointed hour or signal. There were any number of these rendezvous circles, depending on the size of the landing parties and the number of waves of Marines that were destined to storm the beach. The first wave was generally infantrymen, carrying light weapons (rifles to light machine guns) and demolitions equipment. The second wave was much the same, acting as reinforcements. If the attacks were successful and a foothold established, the following waves brought in the heavier weapons and equipment. As the demand for more troops became necessary, additional Marines were shipped ashore in the required numbers available.
In a real landing, these proceedings were accompanied by shelling from warships as well as aircraft bombings and strafing. During drills the troops were just loaded up and sent ashore to get them wet in the cold surf and to provide the feel of a landing experience. The Kid's company came ashore with its 37-mm guns and the half-tracks. After the landing drills were completed, the troops were trucked back to the docks and put back aboard ships. The Kid's company went roaring back through town from La Jolla Beach aboard the half-tracks at full speed. Standing in front of the gun carrier, with the wind blowing through his hair, he felt like a conquering hero returning from battle.
The landings went on every few days for about three weeks. The troops knew they were going to ship out but where or exactly when they did not know — so they took all the liberty they could get. Every night they went ashore for drinks and steak and whatever entertainment they could find. The Kid had met another Marine whose company he enjoyed. The guy was likable, having a fun personality and a liking for the same things the Kid did. They would go ashore together, heading to a good restaurant for a steak dinner. Then they'd visit bars and get at least half-plastered. If one of them didn't have money, the other generally did; they shared their wealth.
One place they enjoyed was the Golden Lion, a better restaurant on one of San Diego's side streets. It had clean, white-linen tablecloths and napkins, and crystal water glasses. The silverware was old but untarnished and had a very elegant design. They felt very civilized. They ate good steaks with salads and fine baked potatoes. The bread was crusty and freshly baked. The waiters did not frown on service people and you felt welcome. The two of them enjoyed that precursor to the rest of the evening. They often visited the Capa Shell Room, a bar close to the railroad station. It had a beautiful design behind the bar of capa shells, a tropical variety from the south Pacific. Another favorite stop was the Black Out, a bar with a small combo band that played popular music. They also did much joking with material that was considered risqué at the time.
The ships used for transporting the task force's troops were of the President Lines, a shipping company from New Orleans. The Kid's ship was the Crescent City, a combination passenger ship and cargo liner. The other ships were the President Harding, President Wilson, President Hayes and the President Garfield. There were other ships of varied registry, but these were the major carriers. They were well manned by the Coast Guard and the skill of these men was phenomenal. In the darkness of predawn, these sailors could unload the landing craft into the water with hardly any light — and they did it in a matter of minutes. The whirl of the winches could be heard below decks as the men prepared to disembark. No one was allowed above decks before the boats were in the water, as they would've been hampered the unloading process.
Off to war
In mid-June the convoy silently left the docks and made its way to the open sea. The troops were excited — at last they were finally going to war! Where precisely, they had no idea. Scuttlebutt was rampant: Madagascar, Hawaii, Rio, you name it. Where they eventually ended up they'd never heard of before. Even the officers didn't know where they were going. Not until they were well at sea and the sealed orders were opened, did they learn their fate. That ensured there would be no leaking the destination to the wrong people: Loose Lips, Sink Ships! as the posters warned.
The Kid was fascinated by his first morning at sea. The long line of troop ships was surrounded by a line of Navy vessels that ranged from cruisers to destroyers to destroyer escorts, stretching from horizon to horizon. The Marines stood at the rails of their transports in awe, pointing here and there at the great armada of sea power.
Life aboard a troop ship is no great fun, crowded and uncomfortable to say the least. There is no open space in which you can walk that is not interrupted by a cable or guy wire. The deck consists of hold coverings and boat mountings. There are covered passageways from the fore decks to the aft sections (the only uncluttered areas aboard). Officers' country was off limits to the troops. The officers occupied the staterooms, which were the cabins once afforded passengers of the line. They were not roomy or fancy, and because this was before air conditioning, they were also hot. During the day, officers' quarters had the advantage of open port holes, a luxury not afforded the troops down below decks. At night the convoy traveled with no lights. So, if officers wanted to leave their ports open, they could not use any lights to read by or play cards. They did have a nice dining room, which was attended by a mess crew. No long lines to wait in for meals. The troops, on the other hand, had plenty of time to spend in long chow lines, which seemed unending.
Routine
Handling a large group of men requires much routine. The days are planned to make sure all tasks are done and done right. The morning is regulated to the rise-and-shine principle. Hit the deck at 0600 and make way to the head. A quick wake-up splash and head for the chow line, if your hold has been called to breakfast. If you're on a later call, you sweep your part of the compartment and swab the deck in you area. If you're on the first call you go up to the chow line and stand, working your way down the ladder to the line going into the mess compartment.
Selecting a tray from the stack, you proceed through the line, pick up your stainless dinnerware and proffer your tray to the mess cooks to be loaded. Oft-times the meal consisted of fairly edible fare ranging from beans in the morning to powdered eggs and bacon or Spam. Toast, jam and hot coffee or powdered milk. There was often hot cereal of oats or some such. Leaving the mess compartment, you went out on deck, lit up a cigarette, and checked the convoy for anything new. Sometimes there would be new ships added to the group, or some would be missing.
Between this mess routine, Marines were often assembled on one of the hold covers to hear the word of the day. They were given orders or assigned to work parties or watches. Most of the work parties were cleaning and maintenance of the weaponry. Much time was consumed in loading machine gun belts with ammunition: men sitting on deck with boxes of ammo, loading the metal clips with .50-caliber ammunition, by hand mostly. There were not that many loading devices to be had, so they pushed the shells through the clips by hand, making sure the shells lined up correctly in the clips. One shell out of alignment could cause the gun to jam, a definite no-no.
Precarious descent — Mother ship rolls side-to-side as awaiting Higgins boat bobs up and down
An advantage to having a top bunk — better air
Hurry up and wait. . .
