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Note to the reader: It appeared to me that my grandfather, John Logan, wrote part of this as a diary followed by a narrative. To highlight his narrative, I have put it in block quotes. If the readers have any comments please share. Now on to the story!

Sean Logan

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On 29 May 1944, I was sworn in as Apprentice Seaman #8884894 in San Francisco, along with a couple of hundred other guys. We were put on a train for an overnight trip to the U.S. Naval Training Center in San Diego where we were about to begin the operation called “Boot Camp”.

I attended boring lectures, I marched with the other guys learning how to spin around, waved a fake rifle, washed my clothes, made my bunk each morning, and the entire business was extremely boring. Our training company of 200 was divided into two platoons of 100 sailors each. Because I had had two years of required attendance in the Reserve Officers’ Training Camp at Berkeley, I had learned all that nonsense and was appointed as one of two “Platoon Commanders”. Wow: a job that brought no honor, no grief, no interest, no benefit.

Our company received lecture after lecture on the advisability of subscribing to a governmental insurance company and most of the guys quickly signed up. I did not because I had a good policy with a regular commercial insurance company, and I declined Uncle Sam’s offer on two occasions. Being called back on a third attempt, I stood before the Insurance Officer himself. “Logan, you know that this policy is optional. You don’t have to sign up. We know that you have applied for a commission and you’ll probably get it. So here are your options: take an insurance policy and you will get out of boot camp. Don’t take a policy and stay in boot camp forever! It’s your choice.” “Sir, where do I sign up?”

A few days later I was called to the base’s HQ and was sworn in as an Ensign, U.S. Naval Reserve. I was given some cash (an advance on my new salary) and went to town to buy an officer’s uniform. At the base I spent a week living at the Bachelor Officers Quarters, doing nothing on a phoney job. I received orders to report to the Naval School, Princeton University, where I was to learn how to be an officer. Fortunately, my travel orders allowed me to spend a few days in Carmel.

At Princeton, a number of officers were divided into squads of 20, and we worked together for two months, learning how to become officers (although we were all commissioned at the start). Our training was not spent entirely in classrooms. Rather, we passed much of our time in hard physical exercise: swimming, running, marching, rifle drill. The school’s object was to poop us out, leaving us so exhausted that we wouldn’t do any kind of messing around at night. Fortunately, I had just completed boot camp where we did twice the exercises demanded at Princeton. I was in the best physical shape of my life, had no trouble at all, and enjoyed seeing my colleagues collapsing.

I was at Princeton from 25 July to 20 September 1944. Our training was supposed to make us “Ninety-Day Wonders”, but we didn’t get that much time.

At the end of Indoctrination, I received orders to report to the 12th Naval District, San Francisco, for assignment and onward travel: that meant duty in the far Pacific. I obtained a fair amount of leave (mostly spent in Carmel) but by mid-October was required to report every day for orders. I was assigned to the USS LST-569 (“landing ship, tank”) and on 23 Oct., I boarded the USS President Adams (APA-18) with 3000 other passengers and headed west. Routing was south of the Hawaiian Islands, north of Funafuti (Ellice Islands), south of Guadalcanal, west of New Britain, and up to Manus Island in the Admiralties where the US had a huge naval base.

We entered Lorengau Harbor, Manus, just as an ammunition ship exploded, killing all on board but for 3 sailors who were ashore at a dentist’s office. Debris from the ship appeared to fall for many minutes and the tower of smoke reached upward out of sight.

11 Nov.: transferred to USS Sarasota (APA-204) for the short trip to Hollandia, New Guinea, arriving 13 Nov. Transferred to transient officers’ barracks to await the arrival of LST-569, not in harbor at that time.

I soon found out that the personnel office at Hollandia was not advised of ship arrivals until after a lapse of several days. The harbor was so crowded with ships (at the time, Hollandia was the main base of the 7th Fleet, the Navy’s major amphibious force) that some anchorages were miles away and ships could not be identified by eye. I got a great idea and spent my time lounging at the dock at the Fleet Post Office. It worked. The mail boat of LST-569 appeared on 21 Nov. and I was aboard that same day, and as the junior, was appointed to be Supply and Commissary Officer, the traditional job for the low man on the totem pole.

With a large group of LSTs, we left Hollandia on 17 Dec., arriving in Noemfoor (an island of the Schoeten group, New Guinea) 19 Dec., loaded up with army personnel; on to Sansapor (at the very tip of New Guinea’s “bird head”) 27 Dec., and left from there on 28 Dec.

From this point on, LST-569 hauled army troops northward to the Philippines and returned to New Guinea for another load of troops commanded by Gen’l Douglas MacArthur. I had crossed the equator once while getting to Hollandia: 9 more crossings are coming up.

A very large group of ships assembled off Sansapor and headed north on 30 Dec. for Lingayen Gulf, Luzon Island, Philippines. In Leyte Gulf, we were joined by an incredible number of additional ships and the largest naval convoy in the history of the world at that time sailed west and north, through the Mindanao and Sulu Seas, passing west of Mindoro Island, and on to Lingayen. We arrived on 9 Jan. 1945, and our ship beached on 10 Jan. to unload troops and we pulled off the beach the next day.

I was in four combat operations when in the Navy[1]. The 2nd and 3rd didn’t amount to anything, but I can’t resist some details on the first. The Japanese themselves invaded Luzon through landings on the Lingayen beaches in 1941 and were well dug in to prevent us from doing the same. The US used about everything then available to support our landings and the LST was the major tool: there were hundreds of them, and we were given incredible protection. Jan 6: gunfire ahead at night, as a US destroyer sinks a Japanese “snooper” destroyer. 7 Jan. when off the coast of Luzon, two kamikaze attacks [this type of suiciding had just been started by the Japanese]; one on an APA (“attack transport ship”) about a mile ahead of us; the other on LST-912, 200 yards to our starboard, the pilot flying at a shallow angle a few feet over our stern gun mount (as I was trying to push my belly button through my steel decking) and on to the 912 and to wipe out its stern gun mount and after-deck personnel;[2] much shrapnel from the explosion reached us, one piece demolishing an earphone worn by one of our gunners but causing no injury at all. That evening, 11 of our escort carriers cruised by, a couple of miles to our port. Lingayen Gulf was loaded: 4 battleships, 2 heavy cruisers and several light cruisers were firing on shore positions and destroyers were going around like mad as hundreds of LSTs took positions for landings. 9 Jan. at twilight; one single kamikaze flew over the entire US force, attracting fire from everything; the amount of antiaircraft fire that can come from 4 battleships, 4 cruisers and 1000 other ships is unbelievable, but the plane survived to crash on an old destroyer (and may have sunk it). [3] There were 3 other kamikaze attacks that night, and I saw crashes on battleships California and New Mexico.

It is not possible to crash on a battleship without killing some people; it is also not possible for a fighter plane to do any serious damage at all by crashing a BB.[4] We took our turn on the beach on 10 Jan. just east of the city of San Fabian. The surf was very heavy, and we had much trouble keeping our position: several LSTs broached near us, and that’s the worst position a ship can get in when surf is high. LSTs were forbidden to fire their guns at night (20 and 40 mm AA is all they have) so as not to reveal positions. There were many planes overhead and we could not tell if they belonged to the bad guys or the good guys, but one dropped a bomb that exploded harmlessly in the sea between us and the next LST on the beach, perhaps 100 yards distant. AA fire continued through the night by authorized ships but their noise was nothing compared to that of the nearby heavy cruiser[5] that used its 8-inch rifles to blow every living thing off the face of a high hill that dominated the San Fabian area, on which Japanese mortars had operated during the day (no problems at all the next day!). We got off the beach on 11 Jan. and assembled with our flotilla a few miles offshore.

There were a number of kamikaze attacks on the 11th[6] and I wondered where the planes were from those 11 carriers we had seen a few days before.

We returned to Leyte Gulf, 12-17 Jan., and after an uneventful voyage, sat off the beach at Tacloban, Leyte Island, awaiting our turn to load another group of soldiers. 24-29 Jan.: Tacloban to San Antonio, Luzon Island, for another combat invasion.

San Antonio is on the west side of Luzon and has a good road to the interior. The troops were to work inland and seal the roads to Bataan Peninsula in order to prevent the Japanese from retreating there like we did in 1941. However, the Japanese had left the San Antonio area and on landing, we were greeted by hundreds of people, including a welcoming band and the mayor in formal attire. And after we had unloaded the soldiers, we played baseball on the beach in this, my second combat landing. We had dropped our stern anchor on the way in to the beach and I spent some time in 20-foot water trying to get a line around it: not successful.

31 Jan. – 3 Feb.: return to Tacloban. 16-23 Feb.: return empty to Sansapor, New Guinea, and load more troops. 28 Feb.–2 Mar., to Biak Island (Schouten group, New Guinea) for supplies. Then 4-12 Mar., north around Palau Island, through Leyte Gulf, (without stopping), across the Sulu Sea to Puerto Princesa, Palawan Island, Philippines, for my third invasion that like the second was completely uneventful. Return to Leyte Gulf, 16-18 Mar. and stayed at Luaan Bay, Samar Island, to resupply.

There were 6 LSTs and 1 destroyer escort in this Palawan “invasion”. On leaving and when in the middle of the Sulu Sea, the DE picked up a sonar signal and took off like a jackrabbit to get a submarine, leaving us all alone and unprotected for a couple of hours. Thank God, it wasn’t a German sub! They usually hunted in packs, letting one sub draw off the protection.

25-30 Mar: sail back to Sansapor, New Guinea; left there the next day for Biak (an island in New Guinea’s Schouten group), arriving on 1 Apr. On 3 Apr. to Mios Woendi (a small island in the Schouten’s, unmarked on most maps); left there the next day for Sansapor, arriving on 7 Apr. and leaving the next day. 8-10 Apr., sailed to Morotai, an island in the Moluccas, recently taken from the Japanese; loaded up again with troops, and left on 18 Apr. for another combat operation (and another uneventful one). Arrived at Polluc Harbor, near the city of Parang, Mindanao Island, Phillipines.

The conquest of Luzon had been proceeding well indeed and most of the Phillipines were under our control by this date. The exception was the large island of Mindanao on which the largest Japanese concentration was at the city of Davao in the southeast. Instead of a frontal attack on Davao, the landings were in the southwest of Mindanao from which point, troops of the U.S. 7th Army marched easterly over the only good road in the southern part of the island.

We left Polluc Harbor on 23 Apr. and returned to Morotai for another load of soldiers, and left on 26 Apr. Back to Polluc Harbor to land a second batch of invaders, arriving on 3 May. Left on 4 May and returned to Leyte sailing clockwise around Mindanao. Stayed in Leyte Gulf, 7-14 May.

By this time, the central Philippines had been secured for several months and very large supply bases had been established, particularly on the islands of Samar and Guiuan on the west side of Leyte Gulf opposite the island of Leyte. Much of our time in the Gulf area was actually spent at or near Samar and Guiuan, as we took on supplies.

We left the Gulf area and returned to New Guinea, arriving at Finschhafen on 22 May. Loaded once more with troops and left on 27 May; stopped at Hollandia, 30 May – 5 June, and on to Manila where we arrived on 13 June.

Even though it had been badly damaged by fighting, Manila was among one of the more important cities in the far Pacific. The Pasig River traverses the city, and the U.S. Navy had established a boat dock on the river’s bank in the heart of town, and at an open area about the size of city block. That area was continually full of drunken sailors, unconscious in the mud. Boat crews going there to pick up sailors at the end of liberty had to search through the mass to find members of their own ship: such search parties were always working. My own activities in Manila were quite different. Still being the Stores and Commissary Officer, I took up collections from my colleagues and went to the local markets to load up on tomatoes, avocados, etc., — the sort of thing that we never had on the dining table.

A minor job was that of Postal Officer. Once I went to the main Fleet Post Office in downtown Manila and stood in line until I reached the counter, and found myself faced by Carmelite Dale Leidig, the only person from my home town that I met in the Navy.

We left Manila on 16 June for Subic Bay, arriving there that same day. Subic Bay was the U.S. Navy’s super base in the Philippines and much of its repair facilities had been restored. The LST-569 needed some engine-work, and we also did some more supplying while there.

We went to a dock for a few hours to take on fresh water. On one side of us, dozens of “bum boats” gathered as Filipinos tried to sell us all sorts of stuff. One guy had a boat full of some kind of fruit and told me that they were mangoes. On the other side of the ship, there was a long row of trees that bore the identical fruit. I took a few sailors and picked several baskets-full to put them on the chow line that night for a treat. Very, very few of our crew members even tried a single one! “I ain’t ate a mango yet and I ain’t goin’ to start now.”

We left Subic Bay on 27 June and arrived back in Leyte Gulf on the 30th.

Leyte Gulf had become a very important staging area for the 7th Fleet and was always loaded with ships, usually amphibious types. This time however, the Gulf was absolutely jam-packed. I counted: 26 carriers, 13 battleships and 21 cruisers but could not count the mere destroyers and others. Task Force 38 — back from a strike on the Japanese home islands themselves — was there for a rest; Admiral William F. Halsey, commanding. As we moved through the crowd towards our anchorage, we crossed paths with an escort carrier, ten times our size and sailing at twice our speed, and the carrier had the right-of-way. It was our duty to yield, yet our captain did nothing. Indeed, the situation became critical and as the carrier sent us emergency signals by flashing light (all dutifully reported), our captain “froze”. We had all spotted him as a lousy ship handler (even this beginner) but now that he was in a crisis, he was unable to make a decision! Finally, at the last second, the executive officer (not too good himself), gave the necessary orders to avoid a collision. That’s a court martial offense in the Navy, and we were all damned glad that he did it!

We hung around Leyte Gulf for a few days and left on 3 July, going back (for the last time) to New Guinea and to our southern-most destination there. After a day’s stop at Hollandia, we arrived at Lae on 12 July; loaded with troops; and left on 15 July. Back to Manila, where (after a 4 day stop at Hollandia) we arrived on 31 July and discharged the soldiers.

We hung around Manila until 10 Aug. when we sailed for Cebu City, Cebu island, arriving on 12 Aug. and leaving the next day.

I was not able to see the famed monument at the spot where Fernando Magellan was assassinated in 1521.[7]

We arrived back in Leyte Gulf on 14 Aug. and hung around until 5 Sept., spending much of our time at supply depots on the islands of Guiuan and Samar.

For many weeks, our supply of flour had been bad: insect infested. We were able to get a new batch and were authorized to dump the bad stuff. I got an idea. Leaving just one sack aboard for each crew member, I took the balance (some 40 sacks) and set off with a work party in a boat to visit all of the villages near us on Samar. Honestly telling the headmen that the flour was bad, I offered to trade it for whatever foodstuffs they had. They were all enthusiastic for they hadn’t had wheat flour for perhaps a couple of years and yearned for it, bugs and all. My main object was fresh eggs, but the Japanese had taken most of the chickens and hens’ eggs were rare. Plenty of duck eggs but we declined. We did get a lot of fruit. At each village (I visited perhaps six) we gave the word for everyone to come to our ship the next day for general trading purposes. Hundreds of people arrived and we had something like a county fair. Each sailor had a sack of flour and most were looking for Japanese souvenirs (scores of battle flags, all with slogans in Japanese: probably all were recently made by Filipinos in a local assembly-line factory). I traded my sack for a dug-out canoe (it was immediately christened “Logan’s Barge”, a barge being a deluxe boat used by an admiral) that I used for swimming around the ship.

After a 2-day sail, we arrived at Iloilo, island of Panay, on 7 Sept. and stayed there until 16 Sept., waiting for part of our LST Group to reassemble.

While at Iloilo, I continued the daily marketing and never had trouble getting volunteers for work parties to help carry the loot. The crew was no longer so fussy about strange fruit, and we got all sorts of fresh foods on the table. Cucumbers! Yams! I even bought a lot of wicker furniture for my small stateroom.

A short sail back to Subic Bay where we stayed 18-21 Sept. and then left with our entire group for Korea.

Our atomic bombs had been dropped on Japan on 6 and 9 Aug. The Japanese requested surrender and a cease fire became effective on 15 Aug., followed by formal surrender on 2 Sept. 1945. The LST-569 operated in northern waters from this point on and never returned to the Philippines.

Following the longest sail since I boarded the ship, we arrived at Inchon, Korea, on 29 Sept. and after a few days of confusion, we took 1000 Japanese troops (now surrendered prisoners) aboard.

The LST-569 then began a peculiar operation, taking Japanese soldiers back to their country, 1000 at a time, and there picking up 1000 Korean forced laborers to return them to their country.

With the Japanese soldiers, we got a single translator, usually a Japanese civilian, and on this trip, the guy’s English was about as good as my Japanese. By this time, I was assistant First Lieutenant and was deeply involved with the handling of passengers and soon learned to be facile in sign language.

Left Inchon on 11 Oct. and arrived at Sasebo, Kyushu Island, Japan, on 14 Oct. and unloaded the prisoners.

Sasebo was the site of Japan’s “Annapolis” and a major fleet base. Two giant, uncompleted aircraft carriers were in the harbor. Sasebo is also only a few miles from Nagasaki (Bomb no. 2) and local trains were running every few minutes. A mate and I tried to make the trip, but we couldn’t find any one ashore that would give us an OK. We should have just jumped on a train.

We left Sasebo on 17 Oct., headed for Manila. When just north of Luzon, our orders were changed and we turned back to Okinawa and arrived at Naha Harbor on 26 Oct. for a purpose that I never found out. Left Naha on 30 Oct. and arrived at Pusan, Korea, on 2 Nov. and left on the 3rd. Back to Inchon, arriving 5 Nov.; did nothing there and left on 10 Nov., this time headed west for China. We arrived at Taku Bar (the port for Tientsin) on 12 Nov. and during our stay, I drew the long straw in a raffle for officers and was able to get liberty in both Tientsin and Peiping. Tientsin was nothing, but Peiping should have been most interesting. Alas: I got the common complaint of travelers and spent most of the 2-day stay in the world class Wagon-Lits Hotel, that cost about $2 a day.

We loaded another batch of 1000 Japanese troops and left Taku Bar for Sasebo on 24 Nov.

I was now a Lieutenant junior-grade, and due to the departure of a couple of officers, homeward bound after the war’s end, was also the ship’s First Lieutenant and in complete charge of all ship loadings and unloadings.

In handling this loading, I began looking for an English speaker in the officer complement, ignoring the interpreter who was with them. But the interpreter insisted and introduced himself as Shuomi: “You know, like in…” and he sang “…Show me the way to go home.” Not only could he pun in English, but his accent was almost flawless. He had attended an English language high school in Japan, then spent 4 years at the University of Washington studying mechanical engineering. Getting a work permit, he spent several additional years in the U.S. designing industrial refrigerators for the Carrier Corp. and had married a Nisai by whom he had 2 children: all 3 were American citizens. Transferred by Carrier to Manchuria before the war began, his wife and children had been interned as enemy aliens. He was trying to get to Tokyo and to MacArthur’s headquarters, to insist that his family be located and repatriated to the U.S. I hope that he succeeded. Shuomi was one of the most interesting guys I ever met.

We arrived at Sasebo on 29 Nov., loaded Korean civilians, and left on 2 Dec. Arrived at Mokpo, Korea, 4 Dec., and unloaded. Sailed on 6 Dec., returned to Taku Bar for another load of Japanese soldiers; left on 11 Dec. for Sasebo, arriving on the 15th. Unloaded and left (empty) on 19 Dec. Back to Taku Bar (22-27) Dec. for yet another load of Japanese troops. 27-31 Dec.: sailed to Sasebo and left there on 2 Jan. 1946. Being caught on the fringes of a typhoon in the East China Sea, our group of a few LSTs was ordered to run for shelter, and we went to Tsingtao, China, arriving on 6 Jan. where we got a few days of unscheduled liberty. We left Tsingtao on 12 Jan. and headed for Shanghai. Up the estuary of the Yangtze River, up the tributary Whangpoo River, spent a night in the river at the quarantine station, and arrived in Shanghai on 16 Jan.

Manila had been badly damaged in the fighting, but Shanghai was untouched. A giant cosmopolitan city with a large foreign population, everything was working and everyone was busy — particularly the tradesmen who clustered around our ship in bum boats, 24 hours a day.

We loaded with troops on 30 Jan. and left on 2 Feb.

This batch of troops differed from the other. We were now going to help Chang Kai-Shek fight his civil war with the Chinese Communists and you can imagine how thrilled we were to stay in the area for that noble purpose rather than going home. The senior Chinese officer was a full Colonel (at that time, our captain was only a JG) who had fought under Stilwell for some time and had a fair amount of English. He was a gentleman who graced our wardroom.

We took this part of the New 6th Chinese Army ’way up to Chingwangtao, my farthest northing on LST-569.

The eastern end of China’s Great Wall is only a few miles from Chingwangtao. A couple of our officers were able to scrounge a jeep and got to see it. I was too busy in unloading the ship.

6-8 Feb.: Chingwangtao to Taku and our last load of Japanese troops. 9-13 Feb., to Sasebo to unload them. Farewell to Sasebo on 14 Feb. and back to Shanghai, arriving on the 17th.

We were to moor to a buoy in the middle of the Whangpoo River. The buoy was overturned and its ring was perhaps 8 feet below river level. I had to dive to get a line through the ring (I was then the best sailor on the ship and no one else could do the job) and the current was so strong that I needed another line to hold me to the buoy. My strongest memory of this event: the water in the Whangpoo in Feb. is c o l d!

Crew members were being detached to go home on a priority system. My turn had now come. I was detached from LST-569 on 19 Feb. and assigned to a barracks ship for first available transport to the States. I reported to the USS LaSalle (personnel transport, AP-102) and we left Shanghai on 12 Mar.

The LaSalle was jammed with 3000 naval personnel, all homeward bound for Seattle. The ship was loaded to the gills and there was nothing to do. I volunteered to work as part of the ship’s crew and was assigned permanent duty as junior officer of the deck during the entire trip across the Pacific. Even though we traveled alone (i.e., no keeping a station in a convoy), it was interesting to learn the details of handling a big ship at sea.

Of all things, a passenger sailor was stricken with smallpox when we had been at sea for a few days. On orders, the LaSalle altered course for Pearl Harbor to put the guy into the nearest naval hospital. A few miles off Pearl, a batch of medical officers met us in a small boat and following a long consultation, said “nix”. So we continued with the patient, but now being so far off the track to Seattle, we were re-routed to San Francisco and that didn’t bother me all.

The USS LaSalle arrived in San Francisco on 29 March 1946, docked for a few minutes to unload the patient and nothing else (although we did receive mail and fresh supplies) and then anchored near Aquatic Park to begin quarantine.

We all expected to be quarantined in SF Bay for the traditional period of 14 days. Only a few days later and to our pleasant surprise, we found that quarantine began on the day that smallpox had been diagnosed and the patient isolated on board the ship.

We debarked at Pier 7 on 1 Apr. and to my joy, Jeanne was there to meet me along with hundreds of others. The Chronicle had reported our debarking date and location before any of us knew about it.

I reported to the Separation Center in downtown SF and began a couple of days of testing to see if I was fit to become a civilian again. I had a nasty x-ray, was told that I had tuberculosis and was ordered to the U.S. Naval Hospital in Oakland, for diagnosis and possible transfer to a clinic for treatment. Now begins a mystery. Upon reporting to the hospital, I was immediately x-rayed again (and twice a week thereafter) but this time, the film showed only a few minor spots — nothing like the film that had sent me there. In a few days, my lungs were completely clear! I was even authorized to live off base, as long as I was at my station in the hospital for daily checking and for a series of tests that were to be done early each morning. I was able to find a nearby apartment and Jeanne and Tom joined me for the rest of my stay. I was finally discharged on 8 May with the following entry in my medical record: “Diagnosis undetermined; Leffler’s disease?” The latter is a rare (in the US, but common in China) temporary viral infection of the lungs that make x-rays look just like TB!

Sent back to the Separation Center, I was separated from active duty on 9 May, placed on terminal leave (i.e., my accrued leave) and was transferred to inactive duty on 25 June 1946. My active duty lasted for two years and 27 days, of which I had spent 15 months on the LST-569.

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I was not yet through with the Navy, still being a member of the Naval Reserve (inactive status). A Reserve Training Battalion was formed in Monterey, and I was a member for a few months in 1947 before we moved to Lindsay. There was another reserve outfit in Lindsay, and I belonged to it for a couple of years (and in that period, I was promoted to full Lieutenant). On moving to Fresno, I joined yet another. To remain as a reservist required a certain amount of activity: member of a reserve unit, taking active duty for a couple of weeks a year, or taking correspondence courses. I did all three, but found that it was virtually impossible to continue while being outside the U.S. Finally, and on my petition when we were in Ankara, I was transferred to the retired list of the U.S. Naval Reserve on 1 Oct. 1959.

During this time, I took two cruises that were notable.

In 1949, I went from Lindsay to Treasure Island to join a destroyer (a 2200 tonner, the Navy’s most modern at the time; I don’t remember its name) for a two-week training mission with a sister ship. The DD (“destroyer”) had nearly a complete complement and took aboard only about 4 reserve officers and perhaps 20 sailors. The other reserve officers specialized in communications or other, and I was the only one interested in ship-handling. When we boarded, the captain told us that he wanted to qualify at least one for watch-standing duty. As the sole candidate, I was given permanent assignment to the bridge as junior officer of the deck, and I spent a minimum of 14 hours a day there. We sailed to a location perhaps 100 miles off Oregon coast, and the two ships trained jointly in a series of tactics: high speed maneuvers dodging mythical torpedoes, simulated breakdowns, gunnery practice with both 5″ rifles and anti-aircraft weapons, tracking simulated submarines and firing phony torpedoes at them. I was on the bridge through all of this, and when the captain himself had the con, he trained me by giving only an objective and let me decide what to do (being ready, of course, to countermand when I goofed). Two particular events will remain with me:

1) We broke the exercises into two segments, separated by short trips on the Columbia River to Portland for a couple of days. Helping to maneuver the DD in the heavily trafficked and sinuous river was a real thrill!

2) The final exercise involved setting a large wooden raft into the sea, putting some colorful flags on it for visibility, then backing off a few miles while both ships fired 5″ rifles at it. When the firing was over and we were headed away from the raft, the captain said “Logan, that’s not a raft. It’s an enemy submarine. Ram it, but don’t use more than full speed!” Ramming a sub is the dream of all destroyer officers. I had to do a couple of dozen things in a matter of seconds: getting up to full speed (24 knots, about 28 mph), rudder orders to make a full turn and then to aim at the “sub”, inform the other ship, inform our guys to prepare for a crash. I did it all correctly and was bearing down on the raft when at the last minute, the captain made me bear off (so the other DD could get its turn). And the captain put an endorsement on my training orders that I was qualified to stand deck watch on a 2200-ton, Fletcher-class destroyer! If this note is too lengthy, forgive me, but I am describing one of the finest memories of my life!

In 1950, I cruised for two weeks on a destroyer escort that travelled alone from SF to Juneau, Alaska, and return. The ship was assigned to reserve duty and had only 4 “real” sailors aboard who functioned as “guardians”: chiefs and 1st class petty officers. The ship was manned by reservists who came from different locations in California. The reservist commanding officer was a Lt. Cdr. who outranked me, but I had more ship-handling experience than he: knowing that, let me handle the ship most of the time (although he did the dockings). We sailed north to the Canadian border, then along the inland passage to Juneau with me handling the ship most of the time (the commanding officer relieved me several times a day for naps and meals). The famed Mendenhall Glacier is in a national park 13 miles from Juneau, and of course I had to visit it. But I had almost no money at all and was forced to hitch-hike. Luck was lousy and I walked all 13 miles to the glacier (my uniform got me into the park on freebies), several miles around and on the glacier, but on the way back, I got a ride for about the last mile to town. The most walking I’ve ever done in a single day and the result was worth it: this geologist has actually walked on a glacier! On our return trip, we stopped at Prince Rupert, British Columbia, for a few hours and the mayor opened the town’s bar for us even though we were there on a “closed” Sunday (there was a rumor that he owned the bar!). I had the privilege of taking the destroyer escort from Prince Rupert back to SF almost by myself, although the commanding officer — busy with reports on this training mission — did relieve me for a few naps. How I loved this trip! I was the boss most of the time. Why? Because I had that destroyer qualification!

When living in Fresno, I took a correspondence course in Strategy and Tactics, administered by the Naval War College. Fascinating! For most of the problems, I was sent an inch or so of paper describing background and then received 5-6 questions that took a week or so to answer. Of the total of 16 tests, I took 12 and with three full naval captains grading, got a grade of 4.0 on each! [I had to drop this class when we went to the Congo because the course carried a restricted classification and could not be sent through international mail.]

With all of this, I will never, never forget:

“Logan: ram it!”

An additional note on the Lingayen operation, Jan. 1945

The first Allied landings in the Philippines occurred in October 1944 on the island of Leyte and were followed by an invasion of Mindoro in December of that year. As a consequence of MacArthur’s “leap frog” strategy, the next major operation was a landing-in-force at Lingayen Gulf, that had the objective of trapping all Japanese forces on the major island of Luzon.

Objective: Land the 6th, 25th, 37th, 40th and 43rd Divisions of the U.S. Army at Lingayen. Commander-in-Chief, General of the Army Douglas MacArthur (aboard light cruiser USS Boise, during the operation).

Naval support to land perhaps 280,000 men plus equipment is listed below. Vice Admiral Thomas Kincaid, commanding Task Force 77:

6 battleships; 5 heavy cruisers; 5 light cruisers.

18 escort carriers

4 communication ships (“AGC”)[1]

104 destroyers; 35 destroyer escorts and frigates

138 attack transports and cargo ships; “landing ships, dock”

264 LST (“large landing ships, for tanks”)

188 smaller landing ships (LCI + LSM + LCT)

269 miscellaneous (minesweepers, tugs, salvage, tankers, hospital, ammunition, merchant, seaplane tenders, etc.)

1036 TOTAL (The Leyte operation involved 218 ships.)

A count of the number of my destinations in the far Pacific:

Phillipines 16

New Guinea 14

China 7

Japan 5

Korea 4

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[1]The “AGC” was a large, high-speed attack transport, converted to be a mobile communication center: they operated as flagships and carried admirals (there were 3 Vice Admirals in this operation) and staffs. The AGC so bristled with radio antennae and radar gear that its purpose and importance was clearly evident, yet not a single one was selected as a kamikaze target! I note this because our ship sailed very close to one of them and I would have preferred being far, far away.

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[1]1) Lingayen Gulf, Luzon; 2) San Antonio, Luzon; 3) Puerto Princesa, Palawan; 4) Polluc Harbor, Mindanao.

[2]4 killed, 3 wounded.

[3] Later correction by John Logan: the USS Belknap did not sink, but 38 were killed and 49 wounded.

[4] Later correction by John Logan: “Certainly not true!” — for USS New Mexico: 30 killed and 87 wounded; for USS California: 45 killed and 151 wounded.

[5] Although my notes say not, it may have been USS Salt Lake City; perhaps Minneapolis?

[6] 56 ships were hit by kamikaze in the Lingayen operation, of which 2 were sunk.

[7] It’s on another, nearby island.