Admiral W S Benson (AP 120) - Naval Cruise Book

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The next evening af sunset we arrived In Marseille, and were subjected to the usual routine of feeling our way through a maze of sunken ships and ruined docks. The city itself had not suffered much damage, but most of the waterfront had been systematically destroyed, with almost every pier blocked by scuttled shipping. After clearing the narrow channel inside the breakwater, we were finally moored alongside a scuttled ship which the army had ingeniously converted to a loading platform by virtue of building a gangway from the pier across her superstructure. Marseille, known as Messallna to the ancient Romans, was built In 50 A.D., and Is one of the oldest and largest cities of France. Her gray stone houses are so mellowed with age, they seem to blend into the hills that encircle them. Topping the city is a cathedral, a jewel of per- fect Byzantine architecture, perched precariously upon a crag overlooking the city. Out In the harbor sprawls a gloomy fortress on a small island, the Chateau D ' lf, made famous by Alex- andre Dumas ' novel, Le Comte de Monte Cristo. We spent four days at this famous watering place and were subjected to the same vile cognac everywhere. Paramount in the interest of the crew were the quaint sidewalk urinals which never ceased to be a wonder to us, and second in the Items of vital statistics was the complete absence of any restaurants In the city. One could starve to death In this place with- out some feeding connections. We enjoyed another beer party here on the shores of the Mediterranean, and some of us even went bathing. Much to our amazement, the water was icy cold, but the women warmer. Meanwhile, German prisoners swarmed over our ship, loading gear and provisions. Soon our troops came aboard in steady streams, among which, we were pleased to note, were a goodly number of nurses and Red Cross girls. On July 7 we got underway for Panama, and arrived there about 10 days later. After being shoved through the canal without delay, we moored to a pier once more In Balboa for the night, and our passengers were all taken ashore for an overnight party, which must have been a good one, judging from their condition as they were poured aboard the next morning. Of course we had liberty, too. Good time again. Up anchor and bound for the Philippines, almost a 10,000 mile run from here. This leg of the trip was an uncomfortable one, paralleling the equator all the way. It was Insufferably hot. The first welcome break In the monotony of the endless Pacific was our passing Enlwetok, in the Marshall Islands, reporting in by blinker as we passed. This was the first land we had seen In almost sixteen days. Several more days went by, and we arrived at Ulithl, where we dropped anchor for the night. Ulithl Is probably one of the least known of our Pacific conquests, yet one of the most Impor- tant. It resembles an emerald necklace thrown upon blue velvet, with its ring of twenty-six small atolls. It is situated about sixty miles northeast of Yap, and was taken from the Japs in 1943 without the loss of a single man, to become one of the most important fleet supply bases in the Pacific. The Navy refers to It as its grocery store. The day of our arrival here was a momentous one, for just as we passed the submarine net, hundreds of ships here were sounding their whistles to celebrate official news just received of the surrender of Japan, earlier than was generally expected, which required severe changes to be made In personnel. Several days later when we approached our destination in Leyte Gulf, a confusion of blinker messages greeted us with all sorts of conflicting orders, and we were re-routed to Lingayen to unload Instead of Manila. The trip to Lingayen was an interesting one through the heart of the Phllipplne ' s 7000 islands. We steamed through narrow Surlgao Straits, which could be called Iron Bottom Bay No. I , for the reason that the flower of the Japanese navy was resting in its depths as a result of the great naval battles fought there. Lingayen proved to be another disappointment, for we could unload only I 1 00 of our pas- sengers there, and we were routed to Manila to dispose of the balance. Overnight from Lingayen found us passing between Corregidor and Bataan at sunrise, and a few hours later Manila hove Into view. Manila Bay proved to be a vast graveyard of sunken ships, with spars and superstructures awash as far as the eye could see. And the city, once known as the Pearl of the Orient lay in horrible ruins, almost completely gutted. We wan- dered through these ruins, taking scores of pictures. These ruins more deeply Impressed us, than those In the European theater, because this more resembled one of our cities at home. 23

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a filmy waterfall cascaded info fhis man-made wonder hued fhrough solid rock, breaking fhe very backbone of a mountain range. Then into vast Gatun Lake where we anchored to await our turn through the last set of locks, the panorama of the Caribbean in view on the distant horizon. The call for swimming party sounded, and we enjoyed several hours in these warm waters before the red neon arrow on the locks announced it was our turn to enter. By 2000 we cleared the canal and steamed off across the historic Caribbean and into the north Atlantic, where about ten days later we entered the English Channel with Land ' s End faintly visible on our port beam, and anchored at sunset in the Bay of the Seine off Le hHavre, France. The next morning we entered the breakwater and moored at an army pontoon pier amidst an appalling shambles. This once busy French port gave mute testimony of the efficiency of our bombers which had systematically wiped out over half of the city. Those of us who went on liberty that afternoon were touched by the pinched faces of the inhabitants, digging about in the runins of their former homes. But whatever sympathy we felt for them was almost wiped out after we had sampled the national drink of gasoline and bitters labelled Cognac , and dispensed shamelessly from all bars for thirty francs a throw. Everywhere we encountered work parties of German prisoners clearing rubble, or marching in small groups under the watchful guard of American negro troops. This must have been galling to those proud members of the Master Race. Upon our return to the ship, we found her already loading our happy passengers, all of whom had recently been evacuated from German prison camps. By early morning we had a full load and were underway once more, out through the crumbling breakwater and past a sunken Liberty ship, lying there like a silent sentinel, her superstructure awash in the lazy swell, and set our course for the States and New York City! When only six hours out, and in mid-English Channel, we had a very close brush with a float- ing outlaw mine. The shio hove to, and we sunk it with our 40mm. guns. Nothing further oc- curred to break the monotony of six foggy North Atlantic days until we passed the Ambrose Light and anchored off Staten Island at sundown, with the towering spires of lower Manhattan aglow in the distance. Came morning, we dressed ship fore and aft with rows of bright signal flags, weighed an- chor, and proceeded down the crowded bay, and up the hHudson River to our berth at Pier 88. As we glided past The Lady and the skyscrapers of Manhattan, we were greeted by thou- sands of whistles, a boatload of Pulchritude alongside, and a tumultous welcome such as only New York can give to returning heroes. One hectic month in New York. Times Square, Broadway, Radio Center, Greenwich Village, Coney Island, thousands of bars and night-clubs, and all the latest shows. A grand climax was our ship ' s dance at the exclusive Roosevelt Hotel. Our sojourn here left us broken in purse and health, but all agreed that never had we had such a time as this. TRIP NO. 4 6 July, and we slipped out of our berth at Pier 88 quietly. No ringing cheers or a symphony of raucous whistles this time, for we were unloaded, and with the longest cruise yet ahead of us. Our destination — Marseille, France, where we were to load soldiers for transportation to the Philippines via the Panama Canal. We anchored off New York harbor overnight to refill our magazines with shells and powder, then off across the Atlantic for the third time. Another uneventful crossing; nothing to break the monotony of endless water for about six days except for several of the Azores, which we slipped by one night at dusk. We entered the Straits of Gibraltar on a bright sunny morning with the gloomy, rocky coast of Africa on our starboard, and the arid coast of Southern Spain on our port. At one point, the straits narrowed down to seven miles, and we could see the old city of Tangiers clinging to a precipitous hillside, while on the Spanish side, numerous little villages, each with their protect- ing castle, or walled tower sprawled just out of reach of the surf. Then mighty Gibraltar, jut- ting out into the channel — massive, formidable, menacing, her towering steppes bristling with large guns, and challenging us with inquisitive blinkers. Now the bright vivid blue of the Mediterranean creaming under our bows — the continuing coast of Spain and Southern France — the Balleric Isles faintly visible on our starboard. We felt a sort of thrill to be in these waters, the cradle of world history and the battleground of antiquity. Schools of porpoisps frisked about us, and quaint fishing boats dotted the horizon. 22 --v » -x ' ' -

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and gave us a chill to know that this was what our homes would have been if they had been sub- jected to the horrors ot invasion. Almost a week was spent here, unloading, then reloading soldiers and sailors for transporta- tion to the States. Finally we got underway for San Francisco, retracing our course through Surigao straits to Homonhom, where we joined a convoy to Ulithi, and from there on our own again. The morning of 14 September dawned clear of the usual dense fog, and the Golden Gate bridge loomed into view ahead. Our passengers had been eagerly searching for this famous landmark since before daylight, and many of them were crying unashamedly. Before noon, we were safely moored at Pier 15, and discharging our load. Then, liberty in Frisco! We had been looking forward to this for almost 70 days. TRIP NO. 5 On 28th September we started on our fifth trip. This time we were loaded entirely with sailors bound for the Receiving Ship at Okinawa to relieve high point men due for discharge. We sailed the Great Circle route to the north and soon ran into nasty weather which per- sisted a day beyond the 180th meridian. As we proceeded down the southern arc of the circle, a new menace threatened us -- a monstrous typhoon, forming near Saipan and headed in a northerly direction, certain to bisect our path. Close tabs by radio was kept on this storm which developed a contrary attitude and constantly changed course, causing us to do the same in a sort of a game of tag played on a grand scale. Meanwhile, our course took us through the islands of Haha Jima and Chichi Jima in the Bonin Group, and Iwo Jima, with its famous Suribachi Hill which inspired the theme picture for the 7th War Loan Drive. Some of these islands were sheer cones rising from the sea like aquatic Fujiyamas and were active volcanoes as recent as 1919. At Iwo Jima we learned that our typhoon had changed course again, and instead of head- ing for China as indicated in the last report, was now blowing straight for Okinawa! We had nothing to fear from it now, as it was ahead of us, so we rode its tail into Buckner Bay, Okm- awa, arriving there two days behind it. Words cannot aptly describe the devastation we found there. The destructive force of a wind of 140 knots is hard to conceive, but it simply flattened everything, damaging or de- stroying 82 ships. Instead of being able to unload, we had to play Good Samaritan and take aboard over a hundred survivors off some of the reefbound ships, and since no quarters were available now ashore, we could not unload, and were stuck with over 4600 sailors, which no- body seemed to want! For eleven days we swung at anchor there, in the course of which we were able to debark some 800 SeaBees, then were ordered to Japan to dispose of the rest. We did not relish this new assignment, for we were advised that the waters adjacent to Kyushu, Shikoku and Honshu had been heavily mined by our B29 ' s, along with all ports on the Inland Sea, and con- stituted a grave hazard to all shipping. So, with orders to passengers to wear life belts at all times, and training them constantly In abandon ship procedure, we proceeded to Sasebo, one of the major cities on the Island of Kyushu. Our first glimpse of Japan while approaching Sasebo was a fascinating one. The country is extremely mountainous. The lower hills are precipitous; dropping abruptly into the sea. Dot- ting these hills are picture-book farm houses and villages, and the mountainous terrain is made to produce by a series of terraces, each so painstakingly built and reinforced with stone, as to appear In the distance like many carefully tended formal gardens. Sasebo is situated on a completely landlocked bay, and was one of Japan ' s most Important naval bases. The base and the adjacent city now exists only in the Imagination, for a good three-fourths of it lies in complete ruin. Here was our frst contact with the Japs, and we found them to be docile and resigned, and seemed even eager to please us. This attitude was prevalent everywhere we visited. Most of the men were still wearing remnants of army uni- forms. After we had managed to dispose of a few more passengers at Sasebo, we proceeded to our second port — Matsuyama, on the Island of Shikoku. To arrive here, we had to take the (Continued on Page 7 ) 24