USS YUMA ATF – 94 Leon Emerson QM 1/c

I was a quartermaster striker on the bridge of the Yuma and this was my first time at sea.
Our new ship was commissioned in Portland Oregon. We sailed down the Willamette River toward the Columbia and then Astoria, Oregon on November 26, 1943. We took on fuel and supplies in Astoria and were ordered to Bremerton, WA. To pick up two large commercial barges to take south to San Francisco Harbor naval base.

Going down the coast in very rough seas with strong northwesterly winds and ground swells along the coast we approached the Farrillon Islands. These were sort of the outer markers of the entrance to the channel located about 15 miles from the Golden Gate Bridge, the entrance to the Bay. We were towing the two large barges in tandem. We could see fog banks in the distance.

We signaled the Pilot boat requesting a pilot to take us into San Francisco Harbor. They responded there were not enough pilots for the smaller ships and we must proceed alone. They sent warnings that had been a Japanese Submarine active in the area. They were not sure if it was still around. The sub patrol had not yet been able to get it up to this point. We were also warned that heavy fog was expected that night. We were advised that we could circle around outside of the islands or go on in, but left this to our discretion.

After some discussions with the Navigator and reviewing the charts, the Captain decided to go in that evening as the channel seem to be well marked with buoys both lighted and fog according to the charts. None of us had ever been into the San Francisco harbor before. We did not relish the idea of inviting the attention of an enemy submarine. Neither had we ever experienced a San Francisco Bay Fog.

Starting in, the fog soon got very very heavy. We were proceeding cautiously to stay within the marked channel which was a half mile wide in some places and about 500 yards in other places. We were sounding the fog horn signals, long and two shorts indicating to all that we were “towing” (or had limited ability to maneuver) which would theoretically give us the right of way. (Some mariners do not, or don’t care to recognize, a towing signal on the fog horn, as we found out that night.)

From our navigation bridge (33 feet up) we could barely see the water. There was a line of white hats lining the deck forward of the bridge about 50 or more if I remember correctly. Everybody suddenly became a lookout. We all recognized the need. From the bridge, we could see an inverted “V” of white hats.

We were proceeding very cautiously, trying to stay on the right side of the channel, identifying each sound or lighted buoy as best we could. The buoys were some distance apart and our charts were not too definitive about where we were. We could hear foghorns from all directions.

We soon heard a loud, deep foghorn coming out from San Francisco which was obviously a very large ship. They soon started blowing the emergency signal for us insisting that we “get out of the way”. We kept answering them repeatedly with the tow signal. They in return responded with the emergency, danger signal of 5 short blasts. That big fog horn sounded very emphatic. They were bearing down on us rapidly.

We could not see them. We had no radar but we hoped they did. Suddenly they appeared out of the fog no more then a hundred yards or so away, moving very fast. This very large vessel passed within 15 feet of us which we guessed was going about 25 knots. There seemed to be hundreds of people on the decks yelling at us to “get the hell out of the way” or variations thereof. It appeared to be a large troop ship of some sort. Many thought it was maybe the Loraine which was our largest troop ship carrying troops to the South Pacific area. That ship always traveled alone never traveling in convoy because it was so fast. We could not see a name or number. Others had different guesses as to the type and speed.

It is difficult to identify a ship unless you can see the entire profile. In the fog we could not see from one end to the other. It gave us a good scare. It was much too close for comfort and we were very happy to see it pass without mishap. We felt we had really dodged the bullet on that one much to our great relief. It was a frightening experience.

We continued cautiously toward the bay entrance, watching and listening. Lots of foghorns were blowing, seemingly coming from all directions near and far. We were much less sure of ourselves now. Everybody seemed to be out, listening, carefully watching for any and everything. I noticed that the whole deck crew seemed to have put on their life jackets all of a sudden. There had been no such order given, I was quartermaster of the watch and I had relayed none. (I rather wished that I could have gotten mine but it was down on my locker and I did not have the time to fetch it.)

The channel was about a half mile wide in most places but seemingly about 500 yards in others. There were lots of reefs, rocks and shoals in this area. We were giving real close attention to our navigation, limited in visibility as we were.

We had no sooner gotten over that fright when we heard another ship standing out from the harbor; the horn was low and very loud. It was apparently another large vessel. We kept sounding the tow signal, long and two short blasts. They did not seem to recognize the signal. They started coming back at us with five short blasts, the danger, and eminent collision signal. . We could also hear a bull horn yelling at us to “get the hell out of the way”. For some strange reason that did not seem too courteous. They were bearing down on us, apparently dead ahead, very fast.

The large vessel came into sight seemingly head on and it looked like we were going to collide. It was traveling very fast and almost on top of us. It did not have time to turn and neither could we. Both ships were blowing the emergency signal, five short blasts at this time. I braced myself against the gunnels for a collision. It looked like we were going to hit by side swiping.

The ship missed us passing within a few feet just barely missing. It seemed as if I could reach out and touch the ship (some thought three feet).We thought it to be a large freighter or possibly an empty tanker, none of us were sure. It was gone hardly before we knew it was there. Another close call, much much too close! There was a lot of yelling from the decks of both ships. Needless to say, we were glad they were on their way and God speed, they would need it.

When you are fog, with limited visibility, you proceed slowly and cautiously, in accordance with the circumstances and conditions. We felt the skipper of that ship didn’t have much sense going at that speed under those conditions. I naturally hope they made it back. That was one nervous captain I suspect.

Proceeding into San Francisco we knew we had an incoming tide. San Francisco tides at their peak could reportedly reach seven knots. This is a very large bay covering several square miles and it has a small opening at the mouth. We were having difficulty actually maintaining steerage way. Was this called a “trailing sea – it seemed to be pushing us into the harbor.

The Skipper kept worrying about which side of the channel we would be on when we entered the bay. We had yet to see the San Francisco Bay Bridge. We were not sure the bridge would be lighted because most of the coast was blacked out. We knew the bridge was anchored on each side with very large concrete towers to support the suspension cables. We had seen pictures and it was well marked on our charts. We naturally hoped we could come into the bay in the center of the channel but if we were one way or the other we could collide with the base of a tower/pylon. If we came into the base of a tower/pylon we knew we must turn one way or the other. If we were on the North side we would have to turn to starboard to end up in the channel but to turn to port would take us into the rocks. If we came upon the towers on the south side, we must turn to port because a starboard turn would put us in the rocks. All hands were trying to keep a sharp lookout for the bridge and towers. We were in a cocoon of fog and could see almost nothing.

Suddenly, we saw the lighted bridge and at the same time large concrete tower dead ahead. I knew instantly that the Skipper had to make a fast decision. Right or left. Captain yelled, “Hard left rudder”! We were within 30 to 50 feet of the concrete pylon/tower. I was waiting with baited breath whether we would collide with the tower, or rocks. Was it the correct decision or not? Had the Captain made the right decision?

We waited anxiously to see whether the correct command had been given, were we going to hit the rocks or end up in the channel. It turned out we ended up in the channel. The right decision had been made. I felt great relief and very proud of the wisdom of our skipper.

Now, we had another problem. The bay was protected with antisubmarine nets with a gate that was controlled with a gate boat. These were not marked on the charts. These nets were large woven cables to prevent submarines from coming into the harbor and raising havoc. We could not see the entrance gate nor could we see the signal tower on the point, south of the bridge.

Then, WHOOSH we were into the cables. Captain yelled “Stop engines”. If the cables got into and tangled our screw the show was over. Fortunately we stopped engines in time. No entanglement.

Next problem, the tide was coming in very fast and the barges were bearing down on us, rapidly. We were reeling in the tow cable as fast as we could. Both of the barges came into the nets, just ahead of us and the tow cable was wound in on the near barge.

We were temporarily stuck in the antisubmarine nets. It actually felt like we were at last safe. We didn’t know where we were but we also knew we were not going anywhere.

Chief signalman Lays suggested to the Captain that he could go up in the crows nest and using the 24 inch search light, rigged with blinker, send a signal the tower of our predicament and to send us a pilot. Captain consented and he sent the signal by pointing the search light straight up into the fog and clouds. The signal tower was able to read our message. (We did not have at that time a TBS, low powered radio for short distance communications.) Immediately the signal tower came back at us on the low frequency radio (we were under orders to maintain radio silence, wartime conditions) to sit tight as they were sending a harbormaster boat to assess the problem. We secured the barges as best we could.

Soon the harbor boat came and sized up the situation. In conference with the Captain he told us to unhook the tow cable and he would take the barges after leading us to the submarine gate. Following him through the antisubmarine gates which were opened he led us out to an anchorage just east of Alcatraz Island. He told us to anchor and secure. We were happy to be in the harbor, all in one piece. We were more than ready for some shuteye.

This turned out to be one of the most memorable nights of my naval career. I think every man aboard that night will remember it as one scary night. Although this took place 60 years ago it seems very vivid in my memory today as if it had happened last week. There were so many ways that things could have gone wrong and ended up in disaster. We dodged another bullet, in fact, several.

January 4, 2004 LEON EMERSON