Far Away Places With Strange Sounding Names
Pacific Ocean January, 1952
The aches and pains of basic training, the lack of sleep, unpalatable food, and harassment came to an end. During my two-week delay-en-route I felt like a civilian again. Elaine promised to write. Although her boobs were small and cute, as far as I was concerned, she sat in the last seat, last row.
Our troop train from Pennstylvania Station arrived to Fort Lewis overlooking the city of Seattle. The Korean War was in the newspapers, not in Seattle. Oops! Our ship came in.
At the seaport, an officer on a podium addressed the GIs who were going to occupy the bunks of the M.S.T.S. (Military Sea Transportation System) Gen. Simon Buckner.
“I am standing before the best equipped, best informed, best fed and best trained army in the world. You are heading to Yokohama. I will be here to greet you when you return.” Bullshit.
With a duffel bag balanced on my shoulder, and a sleeping bag wrapped around my backpack I climbed up the gangplank. Upon reaching the deck, I was assigned to a section in the hold of the ship. That’s OK. I didn’t expect a stateroom.
I descended a narrow, metal stairway that finally led to the hollow hold of the ship. A trio of endless bunks rising from the floor to the ceiling was the decor of this enormous bedroom. I had no intention of being pelted with the indigested contents from a seasick GI, so I captured an upper bunk.
A pillow lay on my cot that was flat as the canvas which was to be my bed for the ocean cruise. I replaced it with my backpack.
Once we were settled and the ship left the shore, the deck was mobbed by GIs inhaling the fresh ocean air. What’s this? My entire basic training company was on the deck except the conniver, whose father was a CEO at the Studebaker Corporation. He was the one who offered Dave (my muscular buddy) ten dollars to carry his backpack on our ten-mile hike. Harry Lapich was still aching for his new wife in Hamtramack, MI. My friend, Bucky Praver became seasick as soon as the ship’s anchor was pulled from the ocean bottom.
Upon our arrival from dinner, an officer visited to issue assignments. Many GIs were detailed to the kitchen, others to assist maintenance on the deck. I guess by the time they had reached the Ws, there were no more assignments. For the entire trip, I was as free as the albatross’ flying above us.
For entertainment in the evening, a Doris Day musical, Romance On The High Seas was projected. She sung Put It In A Box, Tie It With A Ribbon, And Throw It Into The Deep Blue Sea. With all the vomiting, I was beginning to wish I could be put in a box, tied with a ribbon, and placed into the deep blue sea floating towards the Golden Gate Bridge. The movie was followed by a Black GI, whose tears were flowing down his cheeks, while he sang a beautiful rendition of, Harbor Lights.
The entire complement of men on the ship had FECOM (Far East Command) orders, but which one of us had a thought of combat in Korea?
On the third day, huge waves challenged the ship to penetrate them. The ship surged upward then forward accompanied by a rocking and frightening motion.
In spite of the motion sickness pills, retching GIs were staggering around the ship. The stairways and handrails leading to and from the mess quarters were veneered with undigested food. Now what?
“Everyone off the deck! Everyone off the deck!” came blasting over the PA system.
Waves were crashing then ricocheting off the hull of the ship. We skidded towards the doors. Once inside, a shipmate sealed them.
I climbed up to my bunk for my edited GI edition (Armed Service Edition) of Leave Her to Heaven. What a bitch! She left him to drown! Leave her to heaven? Leave her to the morgue! No matter how I tried to keep the annoying woolen blanket away from my neck, it always found a way to let me know it was there. I might as well finish the book.
Waves continued to pound the ship like a chef pounds a veal cutlet. My focus on the book was distracted by the resonating bangs echoing throughout the hold of the ship. What was there to do about it? The men sat silently, veiling any thoughts of fear.
I hope this ship is isn’t like those flimsy Liberty Ships produced during WWII. Some were lost when waves cracked their brittle steel hulls.
If we could secure our dishes, the food on the ship was very good. As the ship rocked, I developed a successful technique. I placed my right arm on the table to block my dish, and used a utensil to anchor the food on the plate.
Certificates were given indicating that we successfully passed through the International Date Line. It appeared to be a major event for the crew. Some of the crew dressed like floozies did their best to entertain us. That night we were shown the movie, Viva Zapata, which followed me to reserve in Korea, and the theater when I was sent to to Japan.
Upon approaching Yokohama, a pilot came to maneuver the Buckner into port. As the ship passed the shoreline of Tokyo Bay, I could see the bunkers the Japanese army had built into the shallow cliffs to prepare for a U.S. invasion. It reminded me of the deadly price we paid for conquering Japan.
New fatigues were issued along with an M1 rifle at Camp Drake, Yokohama. New fatigues? Am I going to a wedding? Was I invited to a party? There were neither rips nor tears in the fatigues I was wearing. An M1 rifle? Where am I going that I’ll need a rifle?
After a day of orientation to the Far East, and a few days of boredom, we returned to the Yokohama pier. The M.S.T.S. Sadao S. Munemori was waiting to continue my story.
I INCHON? I NEVER HEARD OF IT.
For the complete story read, Cold Ground’s Been My Bed: A Korean War Memoir by Daniel Wolfe. danielwolfebooks@aol.co