When the Japs bombed Pearl Harbor, I was in Roosevelt's Civilian Conservation
Corps (CCC) and stationed at Camp Icicle, Washington, which I considered to be
about a million miles from my home in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. The Camp had just
been deactivated and all the 200 boys had left except Bill Hanks, the company
clerk, and me, the Supply Sergeant.

Bill had a small battery operated radio and we heard the news of the bombing
and then the battery ran down. At our tender ages, we were convinced that the
Camp was the next logical target for the Japs and we waited and waited for the
bombs to begin falling. You could not have driven a needle in our butts with
a ten pound sledge hammer.

We rapidly concluded disposing of the camp records, supplies and equipment and
Bill went into the Army Air Force and I went to the Marine Corps to sign up as
a US Marine, convinced I was one of the few good men they were searching for.
However, flat feet kept me out of the Marine Corps and the Army and I joined the
US Navy.

The recruiting office had a dozen of us that day to send to the San Diego Navy
Training Center and I suppose due to my CCC experience, I was put in charge of
the delegation. I was handed meal tickets and train tickets for all of us and
threatened with what might happen to me if I lost train tickets, meal tickets
or men. I felt very important until the first trip to the dining car, where I
found that the waiters knew we had meal tickets and no tips and was amazed how
well they could stare at us and never see us.

I arrived in San Diego, having lost no tickets or men and felt optimistic about
being made a Chief Petty Officer after boot camp was over. We were met by a Chief
Petty Officer and I turned the records over to him and made some off handed remark
about my success, to which he replied, "Shut up and get in line. If I want any crap
from you, I will scrape it off your teeth." Not to be outdone, I continued to
remark on the success of my mission. He looked me over from head to feet and then
said, "Where in the hell did you get those crummy clothes?" Now he was playing
in my ball park, as I had learned many put downs in my two years in the CCC. So
I said, "Your sister did not complain about these clothes when I threw them on
the foot of her bed last night." He said no more and I felt successful.

We went to the training center and were issued uniforms, underwear, socks, leggings,
a mattress and hammock and pillow. We were marched totally across the base and
put our stuff on a bunk and then marched totally across the base and were fed
and then marched totally across the base and got a couple hours sleep.

The next morning we were assigned to various Chiefs for their companies
being formed and I was the only one assigned to the Chief who met us at the
train station. I remarked on the coincidence and he stared at me and said, "It
is no coincidence at all. My sister and I put in a special request for you to
be assigned to our company." That was my first lesson in Navy tradition.

Boot camp was not a pleasant process, due partially to the personal interest the
Chief took in my welfare. However, it was very short. We were issued coupon
books that were charged to our accounts. The books contained a coupon for a
Blue Jacket's Manual, 16 hair cuts, and a few coupons we could use to buy items
in the ship's store. The 16 hair cuts were designed for a 16 week boot camp. Our
boot camp was reduced to three weeks, and the Navy, in its infinite wisdom, made
us get a hair cut every day so we could use the coupons. The hair cuts and the
endless vaccinations we had to take, including one to immunize us against the
Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, took a large part of our time. We learned that
decks had to be as spotless as dining tables. The chief asked me one night if
my part of the barracks deck was clean and I told him it was. He opened a can
of pork and beans and dumped them on the deck and handed me a spoon. After I
finished eating the beans, he ran his hand across the spot where they had been
and shook his finger at me and made me run three laps around the drill field.

There were four companies, each commanded by a Chief, assigned to each
Battalion, commanded by a Chief Warrant Officer. The Chief Petty Officers were
all college football players, recruited by former heavyweight boxing champion,
Gene Tunney, who was in charge of all Navy training programs. Most could chin
themselves 50 times with one arm and expected us to do the same. They were a
lean and mean force in our lives. Our Battalion Commander, however, was about
5 feet four inches and must have weighed 250 pounds. When we marched, he rode
a bicycle and kept screaming that he was the only one in step. He made a
sppech in which he described his gift for looking at a man and being able to
tell what he was good at. He made an example by looking me over and declaring
I would make a perfect right guide. He was quite wrong as I could never walk
a straight line and the crazy crooked lines painted all over the concrete
drill field made it even worse. His solution was to utter commands like,
"Column right - guide toward that damn fire plug - march." Or "Column left -
guide toward that damn telephone pole - march." He just refused to admit
he had made a bad decision.

Finally, I got a severe sunburn on my neck and it developed water blisters
that broke and burned again and the doctor had to cut the mess off my neck.
The doctor gave me an authorization to tuck the collar of my blouse under
my hat. That delighted the Battalion Commander, who announced that I had
become the best right guide he had ever seen but he did not want me there,
with that damn blouse under my hat.

My consolation was the friend I made at boot camp, Grover Cleveland Redding,
from Schulenburg, Texas. We consoled one another, washed laundry together and
became very close friends. When we finally got a one night liberty, we went to
town and got drunk and were finally loaded on a bus to the training center by the
San Diego police. When we arrived at the center the master at arms sniffed us
out and detained us. We were led to a pole that had ropes attached to it. We
were handed a full bucket of water to hold in one hand and a rope to hold in
the other hand and advised to walk around and around and not spill any water
from the bucket. Every time we spilled water we were refilled and the process
started again. We were sober by the time we made it around the pole without
spillage. We were also very sick.

We finally ended the three weeks and were given a comprehensive test and
assigned a grade. You could make as high as 150 and I made something over 140.
We then went to a huge room and a Chief Petty Officer announced there were
openings in a high tech school and those interested, with a grade above 140
should stand up. He did not get enough applicants and lowered the grade
requirement to 130. He got too many and raised it to 132 or 133 and finally
got the number he needed. He continued the process with various schools and
assignments. All this time, Grover was telling me to wait, as the best would
be last. Finally, there were about 25 or 30 left from several hundred and the
Chief announced, "Okay, you dummies are Armed Guard gunners."

The next day we were taken to the Balboa Zoo Park and assigned quarters in
temporary buildings and began gunnery training at the San Diego Destroyer Base.

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