Willie remembers the end of the war,
the end of the Yorktown's role in defeating Imperial Japan and
the end of his duties on the USS Yorktown...

story by Willie

No ill will from the Yorktown sailors to the Japanese civilians
who suffered more than the American civilians back home

There were three times during my stay aboard Yorktown that I heard cheering erupt throughout the ship. The first was in Aug of 1944 when Capt. Ralph Jennings told us, “Yorktown is now available to take mail to the east.” Then again a year later when our chaplain while reading the evening news sheet to us reported, “a new type of bomb was dropped on Japan” wiping out an entire city. There would probably have been more cheering if the report said the Japanese islands no longer existed and all the Japs are dead. That’s how we felt at that time. For the civilians of Japan those feelings would change quickly after we went ashore in Japan.
A few weeks later when it was announced, the war was officially over, I heard the last cheer.

The last cheer was somewhat anti-climatic because we knew the Japs were negotiating (something they vowed never to do) and the force was still seeing sporadic kamikaze attacks that would continue another day or two.
Now we were waiting for the announcement which would bring the longest and loudest cheer of all, “we’re going home.” It wasn’t to be for a while longer and nobody could say how much longer. When the word finally came it wasn’t an announcement but rather it filtered down piecemeal

Picture: Hiroshima Japan, ground zero of first use of Atomic bomb  R.Young, USNR,  Oct 1945

Myself and none of my close friends had any interest whatsoever in going to Japan, we had seen the Mt. Fujiyama snow cap from far out at sea and that was enough for us. But since we had been at sea seventy eight days and were not going home we might as well go ashore.
There are many stories to be told about Yorktown’s stay in Tokyo Bay immediately after the war, but this one comes to mind often. Armstrong, Murphy and I slipped away from the 20 man group we were assigned to for our “liberty” in the rubble and debris of what had been Tokyo. We didn’t know or care what the officer in charge deemed of interest, we were looking for the geishas we had heard and read about
 

Although much of the city was destroyed, the streets had been cleared and streetcars were running. We stopped one of them and were surprised to see all the Japs getting off. After we were seated they all got back on. I have often wondered why they did this, we surely didn’t look threatening. I have come to the conclusion they wanted to avoid being told to give up their seat and worry about losing face. If this was the case, they needn’t have feared, we would have never done this. It was obvious they had suffered more than our people back home could have imagined. The last thing we wanted to do was cause any more hardship for them. We traveled to what must have been the end of the line and started walking around until we got lost. We never did find any geishas. I don’t know what we would have done if we had.

We brought a Japanese cop over to the side of the street and tried to get directions to the dock area. He didn’t understand a word of English and we soon drew a crowd. We three Yorktown sailors were the only non- Japanese in sight. I got a little concerned because some of the Japs still in army uniform looked very unhappy about us being there. We were unarmed, wearing only guard belts and canteens besides our white uniforms. Finally, a Jap who spoke a little English came forth and offered to direct us to the docks.

After missing the 5 PM departure time and the LCM’s, we found our way to a train station. A marine MP there told us there was a train leaving shortly for Yokosuka and we could get on it.  Seeing two blond headed women and an older Caucasian man we asked if they were USO women. No, he said, “they are White Russians.”  Getting on the train together with the girls and the older man, who was their father, it turned out they were very friendly. Speaking in fairly good English, they told us they were Japanese citizens having been born and raised there. Their father had immigrated to Japan after the Russian revolution. Together with the rest of their family they were interned by the Japs when Russia entered the war against them.

As with every other public conveyance we saw in Japan the train was very crowded. While standing in the aisle talking to them, some kid kept tapping me on the shoulder. When I turned to face him he said, “my father US Marine”.  He was about 14 years old and taller than his companions who I took for students. I thought how could this be. His features were somewhat Caucasian and he seemed very proud of his heritage especially under those circumstances. I sensed his friends wanted to see if I would accept him as a compatriot, (partial at least), and because he could speak a little English I treated him as such just in case he maybe telling the truth.

Because of the time I spent trying to boost his status with his Japanese friends, I missed out on an invitation to go with the girls when they got off the train in Yokohama. Neither of my two friends told me about it until it was too late. Just as well maybe, we could have been in enough trouble already. Even so, I can’t help but wonder what might have been, these girls were not only pretty, they were very intelligent and spoke several languages.
If anyone out there knows of a Marine who was anywhere near Japan or the Bonin Islands in the early thirties, tell him I may have met his son, and he owes me one.

When we went into Tokyo Bay after providing air cover for the peace signing, we anchored off of Yokosuka which had been a major Japanese naval base. It was pretty well bombed out but some of the buildings were still intact, including a huge armory. There was a battleship sitting on the bottom but it appeared intact otherwise, and one or two destroyers that looked somewhat seaworthy. We were allowed to go ashore right away in groups of twenty. We went through the gates of the naval station and out on the street behind it, and the first thing that caught my eye was a Shell gas station. I doubt if there was any gasoline there.
Two of my buddies and myself soon left our assigned 20 man group (which had an officer in charge and a couple of shore patrolmen,) to go our own way. We had already been warned not to go near any of the public bath houses, which if we did would result in a general court martial. We had also been shown VD movies and told not to have any contact with women there. We carried our own water having been cautioned against the local drinking water. I had some cigarettes, a few Hershey tropical chocolate bars and some chewing gum for trading purposes. There was a small range of hills a few blocks away from the dock area and we wanted to go on the other side of them, thinking that area may not have been bombed out too much. We saw a Jap on a three-wheeled motorcycle with a little girl about thirteen years old sitting in the back. It was more like a small three wheeled pick-up truck. They were delivering newspapers. We decided to catch a ride with him and he could hardly refuse. We piled in the back of that truck and when he couldn't make it with all of us in there we got out and pushed him up to the top of the hill. The little girl was getting a big kick out of that or maybe was just laughing out of fear. As we left them we gave the man some cigarettes and the little girl a candy bar. As we expected the other side wasn't bombed out too much. I'm sure many of the Japs in that area were seeing Americans for the first time. The animosity we had toward the Japanese people soon began to fade. The little kids were running behind us begging for anything we might have to give to them. Almost every man of military age wore an army uniform. Many of the young boys were dressed in what looked like a school uniform consisting of a blue suit and white shirt. It was quite apparent that those people had really been deprived. Returning to the dock area later that day, we went into the armory and were told we could take anything we wanted except automatic weapons. I picked up two rifles, a 25 caliber and a 31 caliber, a gas mask, and two paratrooper guns which were like submachine guns. One of these was Japanese made, the other Belgian made. By taking the submachine guns apart I was able to get them under my jumper and conceal them until I got them aboard ship. We were later told we could take automatic weapons if we rendered them non-automatic. But I already had mine aboard, and they remained automatic weapons as long as I had them.
After a trip (adventure) to Tokyo we spent the rest of our time in Japan just prowling around in the Yokosuka area waiting for the magic words, “going home.”
Some shops were open; little jewelry shops, and they all seemed to have an oculist with trays of lenses, test frames, etc . It would appear that half of the Japanese population must need glasses. In one of those shops there were three young Japanese girls who were selling small jewelry items, (junk mostly.) I bought a bracelet and a ring both of which eventually turned green - I think I just threw them away. But the legal rate of exchange for us was ten yen to six cents of our money, and these items I purchased were about ten yen so there was no great loss. There was one Japanese girl there who could speak English fairly well and I began talking to her. She had a pictorial type magazine something on the order of Life, which was an old issue as it had pictures of some of the early Japanese victories. As she was turning the pages she came across a picture of Tojo (Hideki), and pretending to spit she said,
"No good! No good!"
As we continued turning the pages we would see pictures of other Japanese generals and admirals, and for all of them she would do the same and exclaim, "No good! No good!"
In the center of the magazine there was a picture of Emperor Hirohito on his white horse. When she got to that she just turned the page. I reached over and turned the page back and asked,
"Who is that?" Of course I knew who it was.
She said very solemnly and reverently, "That is the emperor," and continued to turn the pages.
At one point she rubbed my cheek and said something in Japanese to one of the other girls who nodded and smiled. I asked her what she said but she wouldn't tell me. I wish I knew what she said, she was pretty. Before I left I gave her a pack of gum telling her it was very hard to get in the U.S.
She replied, "No, nothing hard to get in America."

Picture: Bombed school and surroundings in Japan
R.Young, USNR,  Oct 1945

Two things stand out in my mind about that stay in Japan: Number one, how devastated everything was except that area around Yokosuka and number two, the odor. There was a very distinctive odor, not all that offensive but very hard to describe; like mildewed wood with a very small trace of old fecal matter. No matter where we were in any of the areas we visited that odor was there. Also it looked like every Japanese house must have had a safe in it at one time because in all of the debris the safes were visible.
We left shortly after this visit, stopping off at Okinawa to pick up as many passengers as we could provide for and headed for San Francisco.
I only had tiny glimpse of Japan but from what I saw I couldn’t help but wonder, how in the hell did these people ever think they could take on America. We overwhelmed them with just part of our military and industrial strength.

  It was in late 1945 and Yorktown, now part of "Operation Magic Carpet," had just returned from Guam with her first load of servicemen. The crew had previously been reduced to about five hundred men and bunks had been installed on the hangar deck giving her the capacity to transport around five thousand passengers. 

  Since I was one of the younger single crew members I didn't have enough points for discharge. On the trip out, with all the empty sleeping compartments, it seemed almost like a ghost ship. On the return it was like living in an Army barracks.
 

  One of the most depressing experiences of my Navy career was when I was told my point total was a half point short and I would have to make the next trip down to the Philippines. Only one of my close friends was still aboard. We soon realized we would be spending our third  Christmas and New Years aboard ship. Along with some of the new crew members we thought up a plan which would at devised a Holiday "cheer" during the boring and dreary trip across the Pacific. No more sunrise GQ, gun watches, bugle blaring, flight quarters, hangar and flight deck bustling with activity, no planes and no sound of airplane engines.

Picture:  Christmas on the Yorktown 1945  These were small inexpensive gifts like combs and toilet articles packaged mostly by church groups and school children. We probably had enough of these gifts for our wartime crew of over three thousand.
We were now only a few hundred men mostly twenty years old and under who were a point or two shy of the requirement for discharge. We were on a “Magic Carpet” trip to Manila. It was our third Christmas aboard Yorktown. These gifts were testament of the support we had from our citizens back home.
 

  One of the workers at Mare Island Naval Shipyard offered to deliver a case of whiskey anywhere we designated in the yard. We pooled our money and told him to get two cases and put them in the trash bin on the dock. We gave him $100 and he delivered the whiskey as planned. Under the ruse emptying GI cans we were able to get the whiskey aboard and stashed in our lockers. 

  In no time word got around the ship and we were pestered constantly to sell a bottle here and there. We were determined to keep at least one bottle for New Year's Eve. That night about five us gathered in a small compartment with a closed hatch in the center of the deck. We had brought a jug of Coca Cola and some ice and as we prepared to mix a few drinks someone knocked the bottle off the hatch and broke it. The label held the bottle together saving about two-thirds of the contents and rags were used to sop up some of the spilled whiskey which accumulated in a small depression in the deck.

  Our last New Year's Eve at sea wasn't a complete bust.

Life on the Yorktown after the war

Spending my third Christmas and New Year aboard the Yorktown when I thought I would be going home was disappointing.  But it was more than that, life aboard Yorktown was different and to tell the truth I hadn’t adjusted to it. There were only about five of my close friends aboard for the Guam trip and now there would only be one. Even though he was probably my closest friend and we had become friends with some of the new crewmen it wasn’t the same. All of the new men in our department were about our age but most were fresh out of boot camp.
There were no more planes aboard and in their place were about five thousand bunks on the hangar deck. The sights and sounds bore no resemblance to those of an aircraft carrier that we had been accustomed to. We weren’t a warship anymore.
The entire air department was gone as were the marines. Most of the sleeping compartments were empty.
Our routine was broken in that we no longer stood gun watches although if I remember correctly, we did keep enough gunners mates in the crew to keep the guns maintained. The only time we heard any of our guns during those trips was when the 20 MM’s were used to explode floating mines we encountered once or twice.

Willie
Living with the Army

story by Willie

Although soldiers had our scaled down crew outnumbered ten to one during the “Magic Carpet” trips we got along well with our mostly Army passengers. It was obvious they all respected us, maybe for no other reason than we were taking them home. Many of us were detailed to keep order in the chow and shower lines and even though a “latrine” had been set up on the fantail many preferred to use our facilities. These were often crowded in normal times and now more so with almost three times the number of people using them.
Our passengers only got two meals a day and were willing to pay for a noon meal. I can’t explain why but they all had a lot of money. Since we were short of cash some of us had no qualms about selling them our noon meal. We would take a tray of food up to the hangar deck and could almost name our price. No, we didn’t feel bad about it because we were working while they were riding and it meant we would be the ones with only two meals a day.
Shower time was chaotic in the beginning until we established some order in the waiting lines. These men were disciplined and readily cooperated recognizing an orderly way was the only way. Even though we were outranked by all levels of noncoms we had no trouble getting them to conform to naval warship custom and etiquette.
The one thing that went on 24/7 was dice games on the hangar deck. Ordinarily, there was no way we in the crew could afford to get in these games. However, after an evening of playing nickle and dime blackjack myself and another crewman (won’t mention his name) won about $20 between us. At his suggestion we decided to get in a dice game. You could gamble all night without ever touching the dice. Making side bets we soon had over a $100. He was experienced, having grown up on the streets of a big eastern city, so he took the dice and after an unbelievable run of good luck our roll grew to over $600. We split the money and hit the sack. Some time later he woke me saying he just couldn’t quit because he was “hot”. I declined and went back to sleep. In no time he was back wanting to “borrow” my $300 and to make a long story short we wound up without even our blackjack winnings. In those days $300 was big money.
A day or two out of San Francisco there was only one dice game left and when you heard “shoot five or shoot ten” they were talking about thousands.
When we were in Japan I had picked up two Jap rifles, two automatic paratrooper guns (supposedly not allowed but I managed to get them aboard) and various other souvenirs. I was talked (begged) into selling everything by our passengers. Today, what I regret selling more than anything else was a Bing Crosby record with a Japanese label. It may be worth more than all the other stuff combined.
 

Saying Goodbye
Coming in from the Philippines I knew I had the points for discharge and looked forward eagerly to leaving the ship and going home. Not so happy to see me go was my last good friend aboard, Hugh Keenan and one or two of my new friends. Hughie would be the last of the old group still aboard. He carried my seabag down and as I stood on the dock saying goodbye I looked at Yorktown and realized I was leaving a ship that would be a part of my life as long as I lived and I may never see her again. It may sound maudlin and sentimental but it was almost is if she knew I was leaving and was sorry to see me go. We had traveled far and been though a lot together. I struggled to hold back the tears
I don't remember how I got from the dock to Treasure Island but that's where I went for my initial separation procedure.
After a couple of days I was taken from there by bus to Richmond CA where I boarded a train bound for Bainbridge MD. This was a troop train made up of what appeared to be converted box cars with bunks stacked three high. Also on the train was a kitchen or mess car where the food was prepared by either Army or Navy cooks
Most of the men in my car were older Army people many of whom had been drafted within the last year.
Shortly after the train got moving a Navy lieutenant came by and told me to follow him. We went to the mess car where he told me and a couple of others he had rounded up we would be mess cooks for the trip which would take six days. When he said that I almost blew a gasket. I forgot about respect for officers and tore into him. I told him I had over three years service including combat duty and there were men in the car who had only been in the army for a few months and never left the states. Why me lieutenant? He told me he didn't know that and thought I was just a sailor getting transferred. He was trying to calm me down.
In retrospect it was false pride I'm sure, but I was thinking, why should I be serving some of these old draftees who are mostly just laying on their butts complaining.
He told me it wasn't going to be a bad deal for me. "these men will only get two meals a day and you will eat anytime you want as often as you want. All you have to do is serve the food."
He was right, it was the best thing that could have happened to me, and while most of the men were told to stay in their cars I had the run of the train and could get off at every stop. All the kitchen help including the cooks quickly became another little group of friends. It was almost is if we were running the train. The lieutenant became our friend as well, he was also a passenger on his way home from sea duty and had been put in charge of the train.
Another two days of processing (mostly hanging around waiting) took place at Bainbridge which included a session with a psychiatrist. One of the men there told me, "don't elaborate on any of your answers, if you talk too much he may think you're crazy and if he does they will keep you in the service for observation".
He asked two questions, "how are you doing today?" "fine", "are you glad to be getting out of the Navy?" "yes".
"Next"
That afternoon a lieutenant handed me my discharge, shook my hand, wished me good luck and told me good bye.

I was a civilian again.
 

Willie

Yrktwn43@aol.com 

Epilogue:

A couple of months later I heard from Hughie asking me if I could come visit him when he got a leave in a week or two hence. I did and learned why they called Philadelphia the "city of brotherly love". At least it was so in those days. There was a "Welcome Home Hugh" banner stretched across the street from the roofs of the row houses. They had a party that included a good part of the block and gave him a "purse" something I had never heard of. They rolled in keg after keg and had someone playing a piano with many of them singing mostly Irish tunes. All new to me but I had a great time. I stayed with the family a couple of days and got royal treatment.
When I was in the merchant marine we pulled into Philadelphia a couple of times and I looked up Hughie. I visited the family and made the rounds with his brother Jimmie but Hughie who had been discharged by that time and was somewhere in Florida. All of that was over fifty five years ago and I have long since lost track of him.

Willie wonders where  his Yorktown beer is after 38 years;

When I first saw Yorktown thirty eight years after I left her in Jan ‘46 I thought; what have they done to you old girl, I would have never recognized you.  They have butchered you and stripped you of much of your beauty. Where are all those quad 40’s and 20 MM’s where I lost my youth and stood on to heave a line to our destroyer escorts.  When I went aboard I couldn’t find my sleeping quarters, head or our gear locker. I asked, is this really you old girl of my dreams?
But to be truthful, I was mostly looking for something else.
During one of our respites in Ulithi someone decided to give much of our beer to another carrier. They made the mistake of putting a couple of our delinquents on the barge to unload the nets after they were lowered from the hangar deck. It was night time and though they had the marines and MAA’s watching every inch of the route from the store rooms to the hangar deck, it was a simple matter of dropping a heaving line down to the barge in the darkness to intercept a few cases.
We drank some of the beer after cooling it with CO2 and hid most of it. The missing beer caused so much uproar we never deemed it safe to retrieve it from its hiding place and over time gave it little thought but never really forgot about it.
After the war, with only Hughie and I still aboard we decided it was probably more trouble than it was worth and we no longer had easy access to the necessary tools.
I wonder, did the shipyard workers find it, or later crews or is it possible there is some sixty year old Mt. Ranier beer still hidden somewhere on that old ship at Patriots Point.
I quit looking for the hiding place about ten years ago.