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PORTLAND, OR NOVEMBER 26, 1943


USS YUMA ATF 94

“Attention all Hands, Man the Special Sea Detail!” blared the loud speaker.

“Single up all lines, Cast off Stern Line” came the message, raising the adrenaline of all the crew.

“Cast off bow lines,” blared the speaker.

Said the Captain: “Back one third”; I repeated, “Back one third”!

I was telephone talker of the watch, at this time assigned to the sound powered telephones and following the Captain around the navigation bridge repeating and passing his orders to the crew and helmsman.

USS YUMA was leaving Portland, Oregon proceeding down the Willamette River heading toward the Columbia River. We were going to sea for the first time! We were sailing at last. About 90 men of the crew of 100 had never before been to sea.

We had just recently commissioned the USS Yuma, ATF 94, a sea going Auxiliary Tug, Fleet and preparing ourselves and the ship to join the other armed forces in fighting World War II. We were all very anxious and excited to go and do our part for our country.

Lt. W.R.J. Hayes was the Captain, Lt Jg. Dick Streeter was the Executive Officer and Ensign T. R. Hardman was the Navigator.

I was a quartermaster striker, seaman 1st class, having graduated from Quartermaster school in San Diego and entrained to Portland in late September. We all had been working very hard to load the equipment and supplies aboard the ship and ready her for sea. We had no Radar, Sound Equipment, ammunition or guns at this time. They were to be picked up in San Francisco, our second destination. We would go to Bremerton, Washington first, pick up two large barges to take to San Francisco, Vallejo Ship yard.

Navigator called out the first course of 92 degrees and we started down the beautiful Willamette River following ranges and staying within the marked buoys in the river. We were heading toward the wide Columbia River. As the courses were determined and called out to the skipper we traveled down the river. It was a clear, beautiful morning; no wind and everything went well. We reached the Columbia River, over a mile wide at the mouth, tied up at a dock in Astoria, OR that afternoon to spend the night and prepare to sail the next day.

Next morning, the river pilot came aboard and we set sail. The Pilot warned the captain that the mouth of the Columbia was very rough; as we had strong Northwesterly winds of about 15 to 20 knots and for us to be prepared.

The Captain had on a newly starched and pressed uniform and hat I noticed. I was again assigned the duties of telephone talker and followed the Captain and Pilot from one side of the bridge to the other.

Captain Hayes instructed me to pass the word to the Boats’n Mate to “Break out the Butt Buckets”. I had no idea what that meant as I had never heard the term. I asked him to repeat it and I passed it along as instructed and the order was acknowledged.

A short time later I was notified and told the Captain that no one could remember where the buckets were stored but they were looking for them.

We could see ahead the very rough seas on the sand banks at the mouth of the Columbia. I noticed the waves seem to be going in every direction and the water looked very shallow. Most of the water looked green which indicated sand bars.

We were crossing the notorious sand banks at the mouth of the Columbia. The Pilot was being very careful in picking our way through the shallow banks and we had many course changes to stay in water deep enough even with our shallow draft. It was then very obvious why we needed a pilot to put out to sea. Apparently the water was so swift that the sand banks changed almost hourly and the pilot needed to read them well in order to safely navigate a ship over the Columbian River Sand Banks particularly at low tide which we then had. His knowledge and experience really came in handy that day.

We hit the wild, strong waves, tortured seas and the ship began to roll and pitch back and forth like a bucking bronco. I had heard about rough seas but I had no idea what that really meant until we were in them. I had only seen them in the movies. Never dreamed it was anything like this.

I looked up at Signalman Land on the signal bridge above us listening to what was going on below and watching but firmly holding on to the railing. I noticed he began to turn pale (or was it green). We were on the lee or down wind side of the ship at that time.

Land, standing at the rail above us let it all go. He vomited all over me, Captain Hayes and the Pilot. Things began going in slow motion at about that time. That flood of vomit seemed to hang in mid air pointed directly at Captain Hayes, and his new hat and newly pressed uniform. We were literally covered in Lands vomit. The Captain let out a bellow that you could probably have heard a mile and with plenty profane expletives, which I had never heard him use. He looked one unholy miserable mess. He started screaming for the butt buckets, at Land, at me and anybody else within earshot. The pilot ducked into the pilothouse. He was not waiting around for the next deluge.

Then I lost it! I do mean I lost it. I heaved up everything I had eaten in at least a week. Seemed by this time all us who had never been to sea was sick all at once. That water was really rough. The ship was rolling, bucking and yawing in every direction at the same time it seemed.

The decks must have been running full of vomit, smelly, slippery and disgusting. I have never seen so many men so sick all at once in my lifetime. We were a bunch of real sad sick, sick, sailor wannabes.

I stood my watch, because there was no one to relieve me, sick as I was, and I was sick, but, so was most everybody else. Seasickness is a terrible thing, especially to a new sailor. I was sure I was going to die and scared to death that I would not. I could see myself being put ashore and declared unfit for service, sea duty or otherwise. I was miserable from every definition of the word. At the same time I was not sure that the ship was going to make it through the sand and shoals. I was really uneasy not knowing what was going to happen next. After all, this was my first day at sea and I wasn’t sure of anything.

We finally got the butt buckets and used them when we had to, but that was one nasty, messy, rotten smelling ship. The fire hoses came out and the decks were washed as best we could along with buckets and swabs. We were all so miserable that I felt we would never get the ship in shape again.

The pilot was discharged when we reached the open sea, picked up by the pilot boat. With the look on his face as he climbed down the ladder I am sure he was very happy to get off our ship. He looked as if he had little hope of our ever being a ship-shape fighting force in this Great War and in our country’s time of need. I was not sure his look was not correct. I felt I could clearly read his apparent thoughts. I sure had my own doubts.

We soon turned north heading for Bremerton, WA with the wind on our port beam and the ship rolling heavily back and forth all the next night and day. Most all of us, including yours truly, stayed sick for the balance of the trip. The only place I seemed comfortable was in my bunk.

I was advised by the old timers, better eat every meal and serve every watch if you wanted to stay aboard. It would all pass in a few days. I don’t believe any of the newbies believed the old salts. However, I wanted to be a sailor and I decided to ride it out. I thereafter vowed I would never fail to eat each meal and never miss a watch for the rest of my navy career and I didn’t. I found I was always sick for the first two or three days and then it seemed to wear off as I got my sea legs.

All and all, I really enjoyed the next two and a half years I went to sea. It was a great tour. When the war was over we all went home the better for our experiences. But, I will never, but never, forget the first day at sea.