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N7KTP > NAVNET 01.08.04 03:30l 251 Lines 15306 Bytes #999 (0) @ WW
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Subj: USS YMS-74 (Part 1)
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Sent: 040731/2223Z @:N7WE.#WWA.WA.USA.NA #:65374 [Bremerton] $:65374_N7WE
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To : NAVNET@USA
The following article is the first of 4 parts depicting life aboard a
minesweeper during WW II. Written by Shippen Willing, a descendant of
the first XO of the YMS 74, they were published in the Naval Undersea
Museum newsletter "Undersea Quarterly".
________________________________________________________________________
________
YMS 74 in World War II (Part 1)
August, 1942
To: Shippen Willing
Ensign D (V)
USNR
The orders read to report for duty as Executive Officer in YMS
74, under construction in Weaver Shipyard near Orange, Texas. After
stopping long enough at the local rationing facility in Yorktown, VA to
draw gasoline chits for the journey to Orange, my wife and I were on
our way.
Orange showed as a small dot in southeast Texas surrounded by a
huge expanse of coastal prairie not very far inland from the shoreline
of the Gulf of Mexico and close to the Texas/Louisiana state line. We
stopped for coffee along the main drag to get the "feel" of the town.
Local knowledge sure did know where the shipyard was. They told us it
was quite some distance out. "Simple to get there! Follow a few
perfectly straight intersecting shell-paved roads, identified by
weather-beaten signs and a few arrows. Not much else. Just take the one
that seems to have the most use." After five, six miles of pretty empty
scenery a little clump of buildings began to materialize in the
distance. The road seemed to head toward it. There wasn't much else in
sight. We agreed that was probably it. Soon a small sign appeared on
the roadside-"Weaver Shipyard." We bumped across the rails of a spur
branch of some distant railway grass grown, but the shiny rails
indicated frequent use. On the left was a good sized pile of lumber,
carefully stookered with battens to allow good circulation of air
between the layers of planks. On top of it in the noontime sun lazed a
small flock of cud-chewing goats with a dozen kids playing "king of the
mountain" nearby.
On down at the bank of the Sabine River, in a neat row, were five
uncovered skidways: the first held a keel and most of the frames and
stem of the new minesweeper, curving gracefully skyward; the next, with
transom in place, was planked to the main deck; the third hull had the
engines, generators, and other bulky parts in place; and the fourth
hull was nearing completion and launching. The fifth skidway lay empty,
showing the usual signs of recent occupancy.
The recent occupant lay nearby, topsides newly painted and YMS 74
glistening brightly on the bow just below the level of the gun deck. We
walked closer to the cap-log of the graving basin. There she was, our
ship, one of us considering how to become the effective Exec whom she
needed, the other already honing the skills of what it takes to support
a navy spouse. Neither of us was new to this scene. We had seen it
elsewhere since we had met.
The deck was quite a turmoil, to be expected at this stage. It was
pretty well draped with disorderly lines of all sorts -water, air,
electric, even lengths of tired mooring lines, old fenders, boxes,
crates, scattered tools, endless tarps. Men were busy everywhere at
their various trades. They were not wasting any time. They had a long
way to go before the 74 would be ready for the builder's trials.
Underneath it all, we liked what we saw.
A naval officer popped his head up out of the engine room hatch.
He would be the Captain, in time. We knew each other well, having been
together at the Naval Mine Warfare School (NMWS) in Yorktown, Virginia
all summer, and having received our orders to this ship simultaneously
upon completion of that School's very good introduction to mine
warfare.
The Captain and I had arrived in Mine Warfare School by different
routes, but both considered ourselves lucky in our new assignment.
Immediately before Mine Warfare School, the Captain had been
commissioned Ensign, USNR via the NROTC program and had been very
shortly placed in command of a converted yacht on security patrol in
Mobile Bay. This duty required that all incoming ships were to be
boarded upon entrance. He was ordered from this duty directly to Mine
Warfare School.
I had graduated from Williams College in 1938 with a BA degree,
which qualified me, if unmarried, to apply for the Navy's V7 Officer's
Training program in 1941. Having drawn a low draft number and having a
very distinct preference for the Navy, I enlisted as Apprentice Seaman
in January 1941,to settle that problem and wait for Officer's training
to respond. I immediately became a member of the Fourth Naval District
Reserve Unit, which mobilized in May 1941. Two of us were immediately
ordered to USS OMAHA CL 4 (Cruiser Light), for transportation and
permanent assignment to USS MILWAUKEE CL 5. The OMAHA was just
completing an extensive overhaul in Brooklyn, and we were aboard when
she went through the usual shakedown and acceptance trials. What a way
to start active duty! The first night out we had a good flick on deck.
Not bad. The second night out, no flick. All ships at sea had just been
ordered to darken ship. None of us ever saw navigation lights again at
sea until 1945.
The trip to Guantanamo Bay where we caught up with the MILWAUKEE
CL 5, didn't take long. We transferred to her on the Fourth of July.
She was lying at anchor for a few days in true holiday style with all
deck awnings smartly rigged. The MILLIE was a fine ship alright, a
smart ship, a happy ship and the real thing with a long and interesting
history and more to come before she was transferred to the Russians
under the Lend Lease Act.
The summer of 1941 we were constantly under way, steaming at four
knots in company with JEWETT, DD396, always under Condition 2,
beginning 1/2 hour before dark and leaving 1/2 hour after first light.
Our route took us from Guantanamo to Casa Blanca and successive runs
between Recife, Bahia, Trinidad and Casa Blanca and finally in November
back to Brooklyn for a much needed overhaul including significant
changes in armament, dry docking and the addition of radar, which was
very definitely still in its early stages. By early December the nation
was brought to attention by Pearl Harbor.
January 1942, saw the overhaul finished. Yard birds swarmed aboard
to spray paint everything alow and aloft. My oft hoped-for orders of
transfer to Midshipman's School never arrived. The next class was
scheduled to begin in February. The MILLIE was back in service. We cast
off from the Navy Yard, slid quietly under the Brooklyn Bridge
accompanied by a yard tug just in case and headed for sea. Everyone on
deck was busy. About the time we came abreast of the Statue of Liberty,
the ship's leading yeoman accosted me on deck. Waving a bunch of papers
in my face, he said "Pack your kit, Sailor, you're leaving on that
tug." My orders for Midshipman's School had arrived! Never has a sea
bag or hammock been lashed any faster.
The tug squared away for Brooklyn Navy Yard; MILLIE squared away
for the open sea, with the slightest ghost of stack haze in response to
the order from the Con, "All ahead one."
I sat down on my seabag to enjoy the moment and to reflect on the
great good fortune to have had the experience of the last seven months:
lying quietly at general quarters in the darkness while JEWETT
challenged a contact; daily drills of all kinds; stand by to pick up
aircraft returning from routine patrols; launching and securing boats
in port; full live target practice with all guns; captains inspection;
change of command. And now, motion toward commission!
I was sent to the PRAIRIE STATE where I received basic officers
training for three months, culminating in my commission as Ensign. The
assignment made my Dad really happy. Years before he had been attached
to this ship as a young First Lieutenant in the Marines. At that time
she was the battleship ILLINOIS BB7 about to sail in Theodore
Roosevelt's Great White Fleet around the world. (Her name was changed
to PRAIRIE STATE when she was converted into a training ship for
officers in the newly created V-7 program.) After completing my
training aboard her, finally, my orders came to attend the Naval Mine
Warfare School.
The School was but one of many similar training facilities
designed by the Navy to put new ships for the growing fleet into action
without delay. Probably two, maybe three, classes had been graduated
from there before ours. The total number of trainees was possibly 200.
The course lasted about three months. At the end of each half session a
new class reported for duty, pushing the advanced group out to
permanent assignments.
The whole layout of the School had been constructed recently and
specifically for mine warfare. The architecture was strictly military.
There were classrooms and labs, a big shop, good mess facility, a
Bachelors' Officers Quarters, offices, and sickbay. There was also a
new and very handsome pier, long to deeper water, sturdy of stout
construction, wide enough for trucks. There was fresh water and shore
power. Fuel was not a problem, since NOB Norfolk was near by. Cleats
and bollards lined the pier with an elevated caplog running all the way
around. There was ample room, deep enough water to accommodate vessels
attached to the School for training purposes, plus frequent visiting
navy ships.
Entering students began with focus on mines and mine warfare,
gradually shifting to emphasis on the mines themselves with continuing
lectures, practical lab work in shops and very practical afloat
training.
The ships assigned to the School for training purposes were first
the Bullfinch AM 66, a trawler converted to a mine sweeper equipped for
sweeping moored mines; the second a smaller AMc equipped for using the
lighter "0" type gear; and the third a newly-built YMS equipped for
handling moored mines and impulse mines.
We spent a large amount of time afloat on these three vessels
mastering the practical aspects of minesweeping. While engaged in these
basic activities aboard ship, ashore we were concurrently studying
specific types of mines by lectures, by lab work, and in the shops. As
the months of training progressed, we spent an increasing amount of
time on board these training ships where we applied the shore-based
learning.
A visitor to the School was MONADNOCK CM 9 a mine layer which
spent a few days at the school. MONADNOCK was a merchant vessel,
converted to mine laying. The afloat training she provided for all of
us was extremely valuable. She had been laying mines for some time and
was well equipped for it. She was rigged to plant Mk 6 moored contact
mines. Below decks, she had a complicated and intricate system of
tracks upon which the mines were placed as they were loaded aboard the
ship. Each mine rested upon its own anchor when loaded. The anchor, a
rectangular, heavy iron box, was equipped with four steel flanged
wheels, which followed the track like a railroad car, one at each
bottom comer of this box. The wheels matched the gauge of the tracks
and as the mines were readied for laying, the first mine at the loading
port in the transom was rolled over an extension of the track into the
water followed by all the other mines on that track at carefully
regulated intervals. Using a complicated switching system all mines to
be laid could be rolled off by hand at controlled intervals without
breaking the switching order. As trainees we spent several days aboard
mastering this system. It was this track system that was being built
into ships under construction or conversion to service in the navy.
Besides the hard work of the School, there were some lighter
interludes. My Skipper-to-be and his wife were able to live there, as
were my wife and I. He and his wife found a small summer cottage to
rent across the river. He commuted on foot, caught a tiny ferry across
the river and walked from there to the school. My wife and I found a
small stone one-room cottage, originally slave quarters, on a
plantation nearby and rented that. Accommodations were minimal, but
adequate for summer occupancy. I commuted in a very nice pulling boat,
round bottom, carvel built in Maine, very able for her size. We had to
cross a deep creek to get to school and the walk half a mile through
the woods to school. There was no place at the wharf to
embark/disembark a small boat, so my wife would take me to class in the
morning, drop me off on the beach in front of the administration
building atop the high bluff near the wharf and I could wade ashore and
scramble up to the wharf level and have good footing from there. One
afternoon it came on to blow a bit, right on the beach, but not enough
to make a problem. She layoff outside the breaking water, bow to wind,
and waited for me to come on the beach, watched the water over her
shoulder, picked her spot and backed in. I tossed my shoes into the
boat, hopped over the transom, no bump on the bottom, no spray over the
bow, she lay on the oars, and we were homeward bound. Nothing new about
that. As she pulled out beyond the line where the waves began to feel
the bottom, she became aware that a little group of officers had been
standing on the bluff all the while watching all this. She could
recognize the C.O. and members of his staff as well as the base doctor.
My wife had her hands full with the oars, so she told me what she saw.
I didn't look back.
A few weeks later, after cutting her foot on the beach, my wife
developed a nasty infection. She went to the sick bay for treatment.
The doctor in charge treated her personally. The corpsman on duty
didn't have a chance. The doctor was an old-timer, called back on duty
from retirement. This case interested him and he made the best of it.
He dismissed us with an order to return in two days and a compliment on
her seamanship days before.
As the Captain and I met in Orange, together on the YMS 74 that
was to be our ship for the next year, it was these shared experiences
that helped us come together as a team. We were faced with moving a
hull just off the ways to a completed ship ready to go to sea for the
Navy.
We were both glad to have had some very helpful duty at sea. We
profited from it tremendously and it helped a great deal when we were
faced with new problems that we had to handle. This was one big
advantage we had over many newly commissioned officers just going to
sea for the first time.
October, November, and December all went well with the 74. It was
interesting and rewarding to watch her develop under the watchful eye
of the Naval District and the skillful hands of the Yard. The Skipper
and I had to admit, however, that we felt as though we were tied up in
a quiet backwater somewhere. It was a little bland, for me, after seven
months on the MILLIE in the South Atlantic, three months on the PRAIRIE
STATE and three more at NMWS.
That would all change, we knew, at commissioning, and we looked
forward to that...
...TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 2.
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