According
to family fable, Henry tried to join the Navy by using his younger brother’s
birth certificate. When that did not
succeed, he joined the Merchant Marine. Here is a wonderful picture of his farewell party at the High Woods
Store. His second wife, Ethel, is there,
as is his daughter May. Everyone looks
happy. Henry is cutting the cake.
Flowers from the garden, sandwiches on white "Bond"bread
Pictures
don’t always show everything. For
example, Henry and his second wife were on the road to divorce. Ethel and May were never friends. Even in later years, May would shrug her
shoulders and change the subject when Ethel was mentioned. However, it does show a happy looking Henry
on his was to help the war effort. He was
a very patriotic man. In later years, he erected a large billboard across from
his store listing the names of the people from High Woods who had served in the
war.
At
the age of fifty, height of five feet six inches and weight of one hundred
sixty pounds, he was about to report for duty on the Liberty Ship SS Henry M.
Robert (named after the man who invented Robert’s rules Of Order). He shipped out of New York City, went through
the Panama Canal to Seattle then to the pacific theater. His route included Hollandia (part of the
invasion of New Guinea), Linguyan Gulf (part of the invasion of the Philippines)
and, of course, Manila. He mustered out
in Seattle. He had been part of the gun
crew for the ship’s 5" anti aircraft gun.
The roar of the gun permanently damaged his hearing.
Henry became a Shellback [i]
when he crossed the equator. The Shellback status is common in the Navy,
Marines and Merchant Marine, and it comes with a good degree of hazing and a
ceremony of humiliation that involves being hit in the face with a handful of
mustard by “King Neptune.” The initiated are called “sons of Neptune” while the
uninitiated are “slimy pollywogs.” Henry
would occasionally ask us “are you a pollywog?”, but we had no thought of the
reference.
Like
many WWII veterans, he did not speak of his experiences at length. Over the years, we, as grandchildren, noticed
his anchor tattoo and gleaned some stories and gems of wisdom. The first gem was Henry’s belief that apple
pectin is the cure for cancer. He said
one of his shipmates had a large brown cancer spot cured with applications of
apple pectin. The second gem was using
turtles as food. In later years, Henry
would on occasion catch and prepare snapping turtles.
He
often included stories to be told to his grandchildren in his letters home.
At
Sea. Pacific. 1945.
Tell Plunku[ii]s
I was watching the flying fish today.
There are lots of them where we are just now. Some have pink wings, some blue. They can fly until their wings get dry. Then, they dive in the sea.
January 16, 1945. Now you can tell Plunkus a real fish story.
Was in swimming twice last Sat. and the ocean in nice and warm. Sun morning, saw a shark 10-foot long swim
the whole length of the ship and around the bow then head off for another ship
at anchor. He sure was looking for a
meal. Tell Plunkus he and his sister
would hardly be a mouthful for him, so he’d better grow big.
Never
a smoker, he traded his cigarette ration for saki ashore in the Philippines and
hid it in the shaft alley beneath the floor grating. As an engineer, he had access to the passage
that ran from the engine to the propeller. It was a very close space and made
Henry feel somewhat claustrophobic, but it was an ideal place to stow secret
things, and he was there often since the engine shaft needed regular
checking. He used the saki for other
trades or drank it himself.
He
also told us the story of a man who worked in the engine room and would, during his daily routine, blindfold himself, spin around and find his way out in
preparation for a deadly attack that might sink the ship. When the attack finally came, he found his
way in the dark up the ladder that climbs to the top of the stack. As the boat
was sinking and the lifeboats were pulling off, "he popped up out of
the stack.” The lifeboats pulled close through the dangerous back wash of
the sinking ship to pick him up and save his life. It could be a merchant mariner’s
myth, but it is a great story.
Henry
told of having a close call when, while in port, a Kamikaze dove into the
forward hatch of the ship next in the line while it was in the process of
disembarking troops. There were many
casualties. Henry wrote, “This is
another world out here and one can’t think in terms of things back there.”
In later years, on
Memorial Day, Henry would shed tears at the raising of the flag and gun
salute. As a young person, it made me
marvel to see my grandfather with tears in his eyes. Years later, at the Viet Nam memorial in
D.C., while looking at a college classmate’s name, I remembered Grandpa
removing his glasses and wiping his eyes.
After the Memorial
Day parade, and when the spirit moved him, he would set off a stick of dynamite
behind the store in High Woods. Then, there would be pitchers of beer all
around, good conversation, food and dancing.
Memorial Day is, after all, the beginning of summer.
[i] The
ceremony of Crossing the Line is an initiation rite in the Royal Navy, U.S.
Navy, U.S. Coast Guard, U.S. Marine Corps, and other navies that commemorates a
sailor's first crossing of the Equator. [1] Originally, the tradition was
created as a test for seasoned sailors to ensure their new shipmates were
capable of handling long rough times at sea. Sailors who have already crossed
the Equator are nicknamed (Trusty) Shellbacks, often referred to as Sons of
Neptune; those who have not are nicknamed (Slimy) Pollywogs.
As you knelt before the Judge in King Neptune's Court,
you were ordered to kiss the Royal Baby. He was the ugliest guy on the ship. A
bucket of mustard was hidden behind him and when you went to kiss him, he
reached back to the bucket and hit you with a handful of mustard. The royal
barber was next. He had electric clippers that kept shocking you as he cut your
hair. After that came the 'Royal Bath.' You had to say Shellback three times as
they were dunking you.
Running the gauntlet was the final stage of the
exercise. A tarp was spread out on deck and greased with graphite, over it
about a foot was strung a cargo net. You had to crawl along the tarp for about
ten yards with Shellbacks paddling you and another at the end with a fire hose
to drive you back just when you thought you were through. When it was all over
you could take a deep breath and with great pride say: Now I am a Shellback.
from:"DESANews, Vol 26/Num 5:
Pollywog To Shellback
by John Muldowney
USS J. R. Y. Blakely DE 140
[ii] Norman
Towar Boggs III. His nickname was
Plunkus.
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