Once fire training was complete, we prospective sailors were loaded once more into cattle cars for one last ride. The cars ground to a halt at a platform where military buses, painted a flat grey color, waited for us. The Navy driver at the wheel sported a funny grin. He knew what we had been through and what still lay ahead. A smooth bus ride through town helped us forget the monotonous clickety-clack of the cattle cars. Our mouths watered as we passed grocery stores, restaurants, and an ice cream parlor.
The driver stopped, pulled a lever that opened the door, and admitted a wide-eyed Chief Petty Officer. Stiff as a hickory stick, the C.P.O. clutched a clipboard, announcing, “You have arrived in Astoria, Oregon, where the Columbia River empties into the Pacific Ocean. Follow me to board the USS Cape Esperance, CVE 88, to which you are assigned for duty.”
Like chickens released from a crowded coop, we newbies poured out of the buses hard on the heels of the petty officer. Tied up at the pier was an enormous gray box with a super-sized 88 painted on its tower. The USS Cape Esperance was an odd looking ship: drab gray with a snub nose, its rear end sawed off square. The huge wooden top, flat as a dining room table, held a forward tower on the starboard side with nothing else to dress it up. The tower stuck out past the edge of the hull, making it appear lopsided. How could an airplane land on what must look to be the size of a postage stamp from a few thousand feet up? Anti-aircraft guns mounted along a narrow catwalk stood ready just below the flight deck. Ah, yes! The firearms I recognized, now well aware as to their intended purpose.
A shrill whistle over the public address system repeated a tune twice, followed by a bass voice that carried clear across the Great Divide. “Now hear this! Now hear this! All hands on deck for muster.”
There was no welcoming committee or brass band to strike up the Navy hymn to meet us. Instead, officers shouted orders that separated the mass of sailors into divisions. Several of my buddies from boot camp were assigned with me to the Second Division.
Another triple-shrill from the P.A. system introduced the same bass voice from the boatswain. “All hands below decks! Secure all personal gear in assigned lockers, and report to hangar deck in thirty minutes!”
Once we completed those orders and returned to the hangar deck as instructed, the PA bellowed again with less-thrilling news. “All hands turn to! Embark all supplies from dock to storage areas!”
Some of the not-so-robust sailors responded by hunting out hiding places to rest. Their mistake was rewarded with, “Get off your rear ends, you goldbrick landlubbers, and stiffen up to the best attention your lazy bones can muster.” They leaped to their feet, stomped out their cigarettes, and froze at attention.
Quietly, humbly, the boatswain started to lecture. “I’m the boatswain in charge of loading this ship with supplies before we shove off for a shakedown cruise. I’m in trouble if it doesn’t get done on time.” Then with face crimson in anger, he bellowed, “The brig is still nice and new just waiting to make shirkers of duty like you birds comfortable for a few days on bread and water. I simply ain’t gonna let you jerks get me in trouble. If you do I’ll arrange some unlovely extra duty that will make you wish you were back in Sunday School Class. Now, get the heck to work!”
The next morning after chow, the PA again summoned us sailors to the hangar deck where scanty decorations heralded some sort of celebration. The official commissioning ceremony for the U.S.S. Cape Esperance was already in progress when we arrived on the scene. Either I hadn’t listened carefully or hadn’t read the notices, because I was surprised to see about a hundred civilians milling around our hangar deck. The Navy had invited parents and friends of the Esperance’s sailors to attend the ship’s commissioning. Many of my friends waved to people they recognized and looked forward to talking with after the ceremony.
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