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November 1941
The duty in Shanghai, as I already have indicated, was mostly a rather constant succession of guard details, leaving little time for other training, nor were there any adequate facilities anywhere within the city for field training, since the Japs were in control of the outlying areas, We simply did what we could, mostly drill on machine guns and lecture periods on the phases of training covered in the training program for all marines. Of course, such a schedule was far from adequate to meet the requirements for active field duty. Many of the men needed a lot of toughening up, but I dimly saw what was coming and kept myself in good physical condition all of the time. That, however, was my usual policy, so it was not strange to me.
Well, as we knew it would, the order finally came through to prepare to evacuate. Then we really did get to work; disposing of property - a first-class amateur radio station, among other things - packing gear and generally stripping down to field status. And about four days later we received the final order to board ship on the morning of the 28th November, 1941. Meanwhile, the American Club of Shanghai, just two days before we boarded ship, threw a party for us in their club building, one of the show places of the city. And, judging by the quantity of beer and whisky, not to mention food, they were bent upon pouring us aboard. However, everyone seemed to survive the test, though there were many around the billet the next day who were in rather foul shape and suffering considerably with each little effort, required of them. I think the stuff they gave us was a typical Hongkew hooch - practically strained shellac - because I had an awful hangover myself, and I drank very little of the stuff. Anyway, we weren’t as grateful the next day as we had been the night before, you can be sure.
As I have said elsewhere, the morning after we left the weather was more than brisk, it was downright cold, and the best we could do was to stand around in the compound in the sunshine trying to get warm - there wasn’t a drop of vodka, whisky or anything else in sight, nor any stove fires. So when we got the order to fall in at about nine o’clock you can be sure we were ready to go.
The marines had been in Shanghai since 1927 and had come to be looked upon as a pretty permanent fixture by the local citizenry so when we marched down Bubbling Wall Road the streets were jammed with people of all creeds, colors and nationalities to see us off. And there was many a tear shed by the Russian and Chinese girls, and the dock was packed-jam with them, seeing their boyfriends off.
Besides our own band. We were assisted on the march by a Scottish bagpiper standing on the balcony of the Foreign YMCA, skirling away to heaven and, farther along the route, just outside Jimmies Restaurant, was a six-piece colored (American) orchestra playing its head off for us. You can imagine the job we had trying to keep in step to three different forms of music, all playing at the same time.
We were going aboard the S.S. President Harrison (later captured by the Japanese on its return trip for more evacuees, after having taken us to Olongapo, P.I; and all of its crew was interned for the duration) and, since it was anchored in midstream of the Yangtze, about a mile from the dock at the Bund, we had to go aboard tugs, together with all of our gear, and thence to the loading platform (floating) alongside the ship. Our baggage, equipment, etc. were then transferred aboard the ship by an endless stream of coolies. And it fell my lot to be detailed for the duty at the foot of the gangway, directing the steady flow of coolies up and down, in the process of getting our ship loaded and ready to sail. It was biting cold, there in mid-river with no overcoat, and I could not take any rest. The Admiral, Glasford, I believe, was more and more concerned about getting us out of there that afternoon, on the tide. (Conditions were obviously becoming urgent, though we had had no direct word of the fact. He, the admiral, left the following day, I believe, aboard one of the river gunboats; not intended for seagoing and drawing only six feet of water, with her decks almost as low as the water level. You can imagine the trip he had down to Manila, together with the other two gunboats on duty in that area, but they made it and the gunboats did yeoman service in the defense of Corregidor and Manila Bay at a later date. They were the USS Mindanao; USS Luzon; and USS Tutuilla (this last, I am not sure of, but believe the name to be correct).
After a lot of effort and much urging and threatening to keep the coolies on the move, the ship was ready to sail about three o’clock in the afternoon. By that time I had a stiff neck that didn’t let go until many hours later, and several highballs. Anyway, finally the word came to cast off and we slipped down river with the tide as originally planned, and with a gorgeous late fall sunset at our backs to bed us adieu.
Believe it or not, but all of the officers and staff noncommissioned officers were traveling first class - two and three to a stateroom - and dining in the saloon, with tablecloths, napkins, menus and waiters. I never thought I should see the day when that would happen to me while traveling with troops. And, though the remainder of the troops were fed on the deck, they received the same food that we did. Their living quarters were in the holds of the ship, but they were well ventilated and each man had a folding canvas cot and his own bedding, so there were no complaints; in fact, everyone seemed to be well pleased. (The ship, incidentally was not equipped for carrying troops, but was as she had been in the regular passenger service, minus any sufficient cargo for ballast, which would have made her ride easier, with less rolling.)
The next day found us well out to sea and moving along at a good speed; the water rolling just enough to make you realize you were aboard a ship. It was a beautiful, bright day, with hardly a cloud in the sky, and no sooner did we finish breakfast than my company was ordered to mount our machine guns on the weather decks aft of the bridge and one just forward of the stern. This was for protection against the possibility of strafing planes of the Japanese, but probably more likely that the men would have something definite to do in the event of an attack, since the 30-calibre machine gun would be of little use against the heavy armor of a Japanese Zero fighter. Nevertheless, we worked on this assignment all morning, lashing the guns to rails, as they could be made steady in no other way. Of course, by then, we knew we were getting close to an open break with the Nips. And as if this was not enough, we had been joined during the night by four American submarines and they were plowing through the water about a half a mile ahead of us; two off the starboard and two off the port bow. (We learned shortly thereafter that only two were supposed to escort us; the other two having been ordered to escort the Madison, another President lines ship carrying the 2nd Battalion. But the Maddison had taken the wrong course, or the submarines got the orders mixed up - we never did learn the trouble - so the Madison proceeded to Olongapo alone.) The remainder of the trip down was entirely uneventful, and we awakened on the morning of December 2nd well within sight of Subic Bay and Olongapo.
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December 1941
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