Alameda, the new home port...

We left Bill recovering from the chicken pox...

Next on my list was a transfer to the USS General G. M. Randall (AP-115), a troop transport.  I was a designated Aviation Machinist Mate striker but due to a foul-up by some personnel person in EPTOPAC San Diego, they thought I was a general service motor machinist.  So, I made one trip to Japan and on return was reassigned to NAS San Diego at North Island.

            About this time I met my first wife and she lived with me after I was sent to NAAS Ream Field south of San Diego.  I must admit this was a wrong move in more ways than one.  It got so bad, I went AWOL for a couple of days.  Returning to my squadron FAETUPAC VC-3 Det, I spent five days at North Island’s brig!  Not to worry.  After entering my cell, about 20 minutes passed and all of a sudden the building began to rock-n-roll.  Earthquake!  The Marines guarding us bugged out.  We hollered for them to let us out but they made with feet and kept on going.  Ten minutes later, they returned in lock step, hands behind their heads and a Marine Captain behind them.  As he got to my cell, he asked how long I was confined for and I replied, “Five days, Sir!” 

He spoke to the Marine in front of my cell and said, “Marine, you deserted your post.  You’ll do this man’s five days and he is now your guard.”  This was the same punishment for the rest of the Marine guards. 

When I returned to the squadron, the skipper asked if I’d enjoyed my stay at the Heartbreak Hotel, to which I replied, “Yes sir, could I please go back?”  When he heard what had happened when the Marines bugged-out, he told me, “Don’t worry sailor, this will not go into your records.”  Lucky huh?  Within a couple of weeks, he wrangled me a set of orders to Barber’s Point, Hawaii.  My wife was not able to accompany me, thank God.  So from 1947 to 1950, I was stationed at Naval Air Station Barber’s Point with Fleet Air Electronic Squadron (FAWWPAC).

In early 1950, I was informed that my wife was having problems and was being ejected from government housing, so I returned stateside.  After almost three months of looking for her, I found her in Coronado, California.  I put her on a train and sent her home to her father in Berkeley and at the same time filed for a divorce.  I was at Treasure Island for a week or so and then took a discharge and returned to Pennsylvania by myself.  I was at loose ends for a while, unable to find a job as quickly as I thought I could.  One morning I was sitting in a diner having breakfast when an Army Captain came in and ordered coffee.  Noticing my tattoos, he asked me, “Prior service?”  When I replied, “Navy”, he asked if I was looking for a job.

USS Cape Esperance

“I’ll give you a buck sergeant’s rank; you can be my assistant and live in the armory.”  It sounded great at the moment.  Within twenty-two days, I was on a supply run to Jamestown, New York and Erie, Pennsylvania.  The First Sergeant informed me that if the North Koreans crossed the 38^th parallel, we could most likely be recalled to active duty.  Then I realized that this guard unit, 28^th Infantry, was the same group that was caught at the town of Bastogne in WW II.  I asked the Captain upon my return to the armory if I could be discharged from the Guard to go back on active duty with the Navy.  Thank God, he complied and within a day, I was back in Buffalo, raising my right hand again and swearing to defend my country, again.  Then I returned to the Brooklyn Navy Yard for further transfer.  I and one other sailors were put on a two-man draft to report to Naval Station Bremerton, Washington, to recommission the light carrier, the USS Cape Esperance (CVE-88).  Enroute we met another draft of men on their way to the same ship. The First Class Petty Officer in charge of the draft, BM1/c Catt pulled us under his wing and away we went on a troop-train, 4 ½ days until we arrived on the morning of the ship’s recommissioning. 

Our new shipmates lined the flight deck awaiting our arrival.  The next day, we were underway for NAS Alameda, our new homeport.  After several trips to Yokosuka, Japan, with our flight  and hangar decks loaded with P-51 Mustangs; SNJ AT-6s, P-62 Twin Mustangs-Photo Recon, and F7-F Tiger Cats, we took a couple of weeks in the yard at Hunter’s Point.  About this time, late 1950, I met my second wife, Ruby.  My friend, John and I were on liberty in San Francisco and were double dating a couple of girls.  I knew the girl, Sally, who was to be my date.  Sally informed me that she would call a friend of hers who worked in the local hospital and see if she was off-duty and could join us for the evening.  Fortunately for me, her friend said she was free and would come right over.  Well, I mean to tell you, when she entered the room, lights came on, bells rang in my head and right then and there I told John, “You might be taking her out, but I’m taking her home.  John, I’m going to marry that girl”.

Bikini Atoll

Last week we left Bill Wilmoth heading off to Bikini Atoll to be a Guinea pig for the atomic bomb tests. In his own words...

W. Wilmoth

Arriving at our anchorage several weeks later, we watched as all of the target ships were placed in their positions.  The USS Nevada was to be the target ship and was painted a reddish-orange (red lead) and could be seen for at least five miles on a clear day.  When the day came for test Able (first shot) we had been moved at least five or six miles outside the lagoon where we rode at anchor waiting for the Air Force’s B-29 to drop the bomb.  Test Able was an aerial burst creating a kind of upward smoke ring.  Each ring expanded upwards and outwards from the other.  Thousands of feet in the air a pinkish cloud formed and a white ice cap topped it off.  Beautiful but deadly!  We had no idea of how far the fallout would carry.  The officers and scientists were given special glasses to watch the explosion, while the crewmen were given a piece of brown beer bottle glass to look through over one eye and were told to hold your hand over the other eye.  Hell, it was like looking at an X-ray.  You could see every bone in your hand.  Weird! 

The second test, “Baker” was pretty much the same except it was an underwater blast.  Quite a number of the thin-skinned ships, transports, destroyers, etc., were sunk, while larger ships received fairly heavy damage.  What one blast didn’t destroy, the other one did.

I remember that after the second blast, the USS Skate, one of the old diesel subs got underway with a full crew aboard.  She passed by the flag ship, USS Mt. McKinley so the Admiral could view the damage done during the blast.  The outer shell had been completely carried away but she operated well.  One thing though, we had found out that every ship was hot with radiation.  Some more than others.

USS Bowditch

After the second blast, I transferred to the USS Bowditch (AG-30) survey ship, because she would be returning to the east coast.  What I didn’t find out till two days after I was aboard was that she would still be in anchorage in Bikini for another 60 to 80 days.  Finally we got underway and made our first port-of-call at Hunter’s Point in San Francisco Bay.  We were so hot with radiation that we were denied the pleasure of tying up to the pier like everyone else.  No liberty was granted!  Next we headed south and through the Panama Canal.  Then our next bit of bad luck.  Our one and only screw (propeller) fell off.  There we were, sitting around for a couple of weeks waiting for a tow up to Norfolk, Virginia where we would await decommissioning and the breaker’s torch.  However, the minute we tied up to the pier, I was transferred to the Norfolk Naval Hospital.  My tonsils needed to be removed, now!  A week later, on a Friday, I returned to the ship looking forward to a 72 hour pass.  I started to go up to Richmond (the state capitol) and as I passed the USO, I noticed these little bumps on my arm.  I went into the USO and asked if there happened to be a nurse handy.  There was!  She informed me that I had chickenpox and that I’d better return to the ship, which I did.  Standing on the pier, I shouted up to the deck watch and told him of my problem.  I was told, “Do not move!  We’ll pack your sea bag and get the yeoman to type you a set of orders to Portsmouth Naval Hospital.”  Well, two more weeks of lousy hospital food and I was released to the world.  Look out world, here I come!