| Task
Group |
|
Operations |
Date |
| |
|
|
|
| |
|
|
1943 |
| |
|
|
|
| (No TG Designation) |
|
Hull 306 launched Kaiser
yards, Vancouver, WA |
05 Jun |
| |
|
Commissioned Astoria,
OR |
25 Sep |
| |
|
Dep Astoria for Bremerton,
WA |
16 Oct |
| |
|
Arrv Bremerton |
17 Oct |
| |
|
Underway briefly for
deperming vicinity Bremerton |
19 Oct |
| |
|
Dep Bremerton for San
Francisco, CA |
20 Oct |
| |
|
Arrv San Francisco |
22 Oct |
| |
|
Dep San Francisco for
San Diego |
25 Oct |
| |
|
Arrv San Diego |
27 Oct |
| |
|
Dep San Diego for training
vicinity San Diego |
28 Oct |
| |
|
Arrv San Diego |
29 Oct |
| |
|
Dep San Diego for training
with VC-42 aboard vicinity San Diego |
31 Oct |
| |
|
Arrv San Diego |
7 Nov |
| |
|
Dep San Diego for Norfolk,
VA |
15 Nov |
| |
|
Transit Panama Canal |
25-28 Nov |
| |
|
Arrv Norfolk |
03 Dec |
| |
|
|
|
 |
Mrs
A. I. Malstrom christening the ship as her husband looks on, 5
June 1943 |
| |
 |
Hull
306 launched Kaiser yards, Vancouver, WA, 5 June 1943 |
| |
 |
Crew
in ranks for the Commissioning Ceremony, 25 September 1943 |
| |
 |
Mrs.
A. I. Malstrom, the ship's sponsor, adressing the crew, 25 September
1943 |
| |
 |
Captain
Daniel V. Gallery addresses the crew, 25 September 1943 |
| |
| The
Footprint in the Cement |
| In
June 1942, the Naval Training Station, San Diego was undergoing
rapid expansion to accommodate the flood of new young raw recruits
entering the Navy. The barracks occupied by our training company
was separated from a field by a new road under construction. The
concrete sidewalks on this new street had just been poured that
morning. The company Chief, a salty old character with hash marks
from his wrist to his elbow, informed us at the morning muster there
would be an air-raid drill that afternoon. When the air-raid sirens
sounded we were to double-time it across the new road and jump into
the slit trenches which had been dug in the field on the other side.
We were to stay in the trenches until the all-clear sounded. He
also warned us of a punishment he would personally inflict on any
man who stepped in the wet cement while crossing the road; a punishment
so terrible and gross it must herein go undescribed. Duly impressed
by his graphic description of this torture, we went about the morning
drills looking forward to a few quiet and undisturbed minutes in
the trenches that afternoon; anything to get off that grinder! |
| When
the sirens sounded that afternoon the company took off on a flat-out
run for the trenches. The recruits were leaping over the road and
sidewalk like a bunch of gazelles chased by lions. In just a few
moments all the white hats had disappeared from view and the field
containing several hundred men appeared to be completely void of
human life. After a while the all-clear sounded and we slowly climbed
out of the trenches. Walking in small groups, the men headed back
for the barracks. When we reached the sidewalk we found the Chief
standing at the edge, hands on hips, arms akimbo, looking down at
a huge footprint about 5 inches deep in the fresh cement. As if
seeking to side with the outraged Chief, one of our group piped
up with ..."Jeez Chief, I wonder what dumb SOB did that!"
|
| As
the Chief, not uttering a word, face beet red, slowly turned his
head to glare at us we noticed his right shoe was covered with fresh
cement right up to the ankle. He was standing there with a shoe
full of cement. Momentarily frozen in time, as the enormity of the
situation soaked in, we could only stand in shock and stare at each
other. Then youthful lightning-quick reflexes kicked in and the
whole group, as if on command, broke into a dead run for cover,
leaving the Chief to ponder the terrible punishment now his due.
|
| Back
in the barracks uproarious laughter rang out as we howled in glee.
In our minds eye we could see the Chief inflicting upon himself
the punishment with which he had threatened us. Muster the next
morning proved uneventful and nothing more was ever said about the
cement incident; but on our first liberty, the hero who uttered
that now famous line was treated to a fine supply of beers in a
local bar. |
| ...Donald
M. Baker ABM1/c, USS Guadalcanal |
| |
 |
Loading
an aerial torpedo, Bremerton Washington, 17 October 1943 |
| |
 |
An
airship in the groove, 18 October 43 |
| |
 |
Tracers
during night gunnery practice, 28 October 1943 |
| |
 |
F4Fs
of VC-42 are hoisted aboard at NAS North Island, San Diego California,
31 October 1943 |
| |
|
Captain
Dan Gallery prepares to take-off in an SNJ trainer for
the USS Guadalcanal's first launch and recovery, 1 November,
1943 |
|
| |
 |
VC-42
TBF is catapulted from USS Guadalcanal, 3 November 1943 |
| |
 |
Morning
calisthenics, 7 November 1943 |
| |
| An
Innovative Approach to the Salute |
| During
the first few months of WWII, the Navy was inundated by a flood
of raw recruits issuing from high-schools all around the country.
These kids were mostly in the age range from 17 – 18 years
old. Raised during the depression years of the 20’s and 30’s,
hardly any of them had been more than 50 miles away from home much
less having ever been to sea. They were also of a generation which,
for the most part, had been raised with a certain cautious respect
for authority. When companies of such young men were formed in the
“bootcamps”, they were encountering for the first time
a strange new world and a whole new way of life. The inevitable
outcome was a lot of funny and hilarious situations. |
| During
those first few weeks in the Navy, a Chief Petty Officer was regarded
as somewhere just beneath God in the hierarchy of command and any
officer, resplendent in his dress whites and gold braid, was an
object of awe. |
| So
….after about two weeks in the Navy we had learned all about
the importance of the salute, which was to be rendered unfailingly.
We had no ideas on how to sail a ship or fire a gun but we did know
that failure to render a proper salute might result in an appearance
before the firing squad. With a mind set like that we were at least
now equipped to paint fences, which duty two of us drew one Saturday
morning. |
| The
fence, constructed of boards about six feet high, bordered a gravel
path which ran from the officers club to a parking lot. “Whimpy”
Brazil and I had been issued a couple of buckets of dark green paint
and brushes with instructions to paint the fence. Actually, it was
a very pleasant sunny Saturday morning under the trees up in Camp
Kidd, and we found the painting a relaxing break from the usual
routine of marching around on the grinder in the hot San Diego sun.
|
| We
had been at this task for a couple of hours and were beginning to
get a little tired of the monotony of dipping the brush and slapping
on the paint. Deep into a discussion of what we were going to do
when we finally got that first liberty, we heard footsteps crunching
in the gravel behind us. Glancing around we spotted two officers
coming down the path about ten feet away. They were dressed in whites
and the gold on their uniforms and caps glinted in the sun. Each
carried a sword and one had gold braid looped over and around one
shoulder. They were a truly awesome sight. |
| Something
akin to “buck fever” set in. The salute …the salute!
We knew we had to render the salute! Whirling around on our heels
we came to rigid attention and the right hands snapped up in “the
salute”. As my hand came up, eyes locked straight ahead, I
heard this loud sort of …”Sploosh”… right
beside me. To my astonishment, the two officers began to laugh,
… great “hoo-ha-hahs” bellowing forth as they
staggered on down the path holding each other up. |
| Lowering
my arm I turned to find Whimpy still at attention, holding his salute.
In his right hand he grasped his paintbrush which was now plastered
along the side of his face. The paint smeared his face and dungarees
and dripped from his elbow and chin. He seemed to be in a state
of shock as he stood there, holding the salute, staring straight
ahead. I tapped him on the shoulder and told him the officers were
gone. He slowly emerged from his trance asking, …”How
did I do?”. Trying hard not to collapse in laughter, I told
him, “Well Whimpy, you gave them the best salute they ever
had …they won’t forget it.” Then we both sat down
on the grass, backs to the fence, had a good laugh, wiped off Whimpy’s
face, and tried to figure out how the hell such a thing could have
happened. |
| But
you know, … as I look back on this, I seem to remember that
regulations require a salute be returned. I don’t remember
those salutes being returned. Oh well, …that was a long time
ago. |
| ...Donald
M. Baker ABM1/c, USS Guadalcanal |
| |
 |
Passing
through Panama Canal, canal lock Pacific side, 26 November 1943 |
| |
 |
Entering
the Main Cut, Panama Canal, 26 November 1943 |
| |
| The
Pie Contest or How I Ended up in the Signal Gang |
| I
had a variety of jobs on the ship, eventually ending up on the signal
bridge. How I got there was pretty funny. I started out as a S2/c
in the 1st Div. when we commissioned the ship in Astoria and later
drew duty as an orderly to Captain Dan. After a stint as orderly
I was transferred to the Chief’s mess. That is the best job
in the Navy. GREAT food, no watches, and lots of free time. This
also turned out to be my entry to the signal gang. |
| One
day pie was on the menu. The Chief Commissary Steward told me to
save the last piece for him. Later the Chief Signalman came in for
a mid-day snack and spotted the pie sitting there. I told him it
was for the Chief Commissary Steward but that didn’t make
any difference; he ignored my warning and ate the pie anyway. |
| When
the Chief Commissary Steward came for his pie and I had to tell
him the Chief Signalman had eaten it, he blew his stack and landed
all over me for letting his pie get away. Life was looking pretty
grim at this point. I was headed for duty in the crew’s mess. |
| When
the Chief Signalman found out what was going on he jumped in and
said “no way”. He needed another striker and got me
transferred to the signal gang, better known as the Kelnosky Kids.
Duty on the signal bridge turned out to be a whole lot better than
life down below in the crew’s mess would have been, and all
of this because of a piece of pie. |
| ...Howard
Sherer S1/c, USS Guadalcanal |
| |
 |
ADM
Ingersoll visiting with Captain Gallery in CIC, 6 December 1943 |
