Shipmates & Their Sea Stories
Shipmates & Their Sea Stories
The Westpac Story 1966 (Norfolk to Western Pacific)
Thomas F. Keane, Jr., Fireman Machinist Mate, USS Conway DD507
The USS Conway DD507 left Norfolk, VA. in June of 1966 for deployment to the Western Pacific (WESTPAC) and Vietnam.
Many of the approximately 260 crew members felt that they were bulletproof, indestructible, and that nothing could harm them. Those ideas were a reflection of our youth, or at least my youth and my attitude. The attitude of a twenty year old kid who had never been west of New York City or more than 100 miles north of Boston was on his way to war. Our preparation and training for this deployment was intensive and extensive for all departments and all hands. My assignment was in engineering, main control and the aft engine room.
The USS Conway was not the newest ship in destroyer squadron 32. In fact it was the oldest of the eight destroyers in the squadron. Being the oldest we had more to prove. We might have been the oldest but we sure did have pride in what the engineering department could accomplish. We inherited that feeling of pride from those who served before us -- the snipes that worked and sweated in the engineering spaces of the Conway from the time she was commissioned up to this deployment, the ship’s last assignment to combat. Shipping out with us were the shadows and spirits of all of our former shipmates, living and dead. With us were the sailors who saw battle in WWII and Korea. The sailors who, during peace time, did what needed to be done to keep the Conway afloat and defend our freedoms.
All of these former shipmates handed down to us a tradition of long, hard work in engineering. We owed it to them, our ship and our country to do not just as good a job as those who went before us, but a better job. We had a strong sense of duty, commitment and a work ethic dedicated to giving the best we could. The motto of the squadron was “Anywhere Anytime”. This motto complemented the motto of the USS Conway. “Motor in Adversum” (Forward in Danger). We committed ourselves to the ideals of those mottos.
Although we were well trained with an excellent officer corps and a highly competent group of non-commissioned officers, some of us were still a little apprehensive as to what we were facing. In order to allay our trepidations and those of our families, the captain of the Conway, Captain Douglas, used a tool of naval communications called “The Family Gram”. Issuing a total of six family grams he kept our families back home apprised of our work on station in Vietnam. The family grams were of comfort to our families, keeping them informed of our mission. We augmented this information in our letters home with descriptions of what it was like to live, feel, see, and smell the experience.
My battle station was in the after deck house, underneath the twin three inch guns and behind the aft five inch gun. My job was, #2 OBA man of the repair party at this station. Rick Miller was the #1 OBA man. We were at battle stations day and night in the metal shell of the after deck house. The pounding of the three inch guns above us and five inch gun on the other side of the bulkhead gave me a new appreciation of the plight of the bell ringer of Notre Dame. Sleep became synonymous with the squadron motto “Anywhere Anytime.” Years later what was emblazoned into my psyche will kick in. Now, sleep can – and has - overtaken me in a movie theater during a noisy movie or on a raucous public transportation system.
Main control, the main engine room, is about mid-ship. Bravo four is the aft engine room, under the torpedo tubes. The engine rooms generate their own heat to enhance the searing equatorial heat and humidity. Working, standing watch, and living in the engine room on a destroyer is a remarkable experience. Two very small hatches, one on the port side and one on the starboard side of the main deck, provide the only access to main control. Bravo four aft had two hatches, one in the passageway of officers’ country and one in the torpedo room. The four hatches and strategically placed blower vents in each engine room were our only access to fresh air. The blower vents provide a blast of air in an attempt to offer a cooling breeze. The vents, in fact, succeed in blowing around the 120 degree heat so that we had only an impression of relief. Salt pills were a necessary part of each watch. The coffee pot was always performing its required duties of producing twice cooked coffee, percolated on the inside and heated on the outside. We did have our engine room perks though. I do believe that the statute of limitations will apply to the confession of this morale boosting criminal offense.
When the ship’s stores were replenished at sea, cases of food were passed from sailor to sailor along the deck on their way to storage in the galley. The port hatch to main control was just slightly aft of the galley. A strategically placed snipe standing in the line of sailors passing boxes of food along the deck may have accidentally dropped a case of tuna fish down the port hatch of main control. This “accident” along with a stash of crackers provided many a delightful midnight buffet to the mid-watch crew.
In preparation for our deployment to WESTPAC, all personnel and stations on Conway trained very hard. Battle station drills were run constantly and consistently in the months prior to deployment and in the weeks of travel to our duty station. Timing and accuracy mean everything when the battle station gong is sounded. We all knew that speed was essential for manning your battle station. The safety and security of the ship and your shipmates depended on your immediate response and preparation when battle stations were called. At each practice session for battle stations the din of the gong was interspersed with an announcement over the one MC to all hands, “Battle stations! Battle stations! This is a drill! Battle stations!” My response from anywhere on the ship to battle stations was, for me, a personal test of how quickly it would take me to man my station. My goal was to try and be the first one of the repair party to be at my station.
Captain Douglas was very intent at making sure battle stations were properly manned and secured. Condition Zebra was strictly enforced. There was, however, one incident that embarrassed all the members of the repair party in the after deck house. Captain Douglas was performing a fastidious inspection of each battle station. When he came into our area he noticed a breach of material condition Zebra. A small plug that was to have blocked a hole in the bulkhead was not in place. Chief Kelly, in charge of the repair party in the after deckhouse, took the full brunt of the captain’s loud admonishments. When the captain left, even though we were all present during the harangue, Chief Kelly blasted all of use for the unpardonable breach. The old saying “It flows from the top down” was never more evident. We felt bad for Chief Kelly. Someone did not do their job and the responsibility for that fell on the Chief’s shoulders. That incident was never repeated at our battle station.
Machinist Mate 3rd class Jim Zolnik, who set the fuses in the magazine under the aft five inch gun mount, just outside the aft deckhouse, remembers days and nights at battle stations. The chief in the mount told him not to worry about an unforeseen detonation of a five inch shell. If it happened, his detachment from Conway would be permanent and instant. He would not feel a thing.
Family Gram Insights and Conway’s last enemy action
The culmination of those days and nights of training finally came to an end. Off the coast of Vietnam the battle station gong sounded. This time between gongs we heard, “Battle stations! Battle stations! This is not a drill! Battle stations!” A chill ran through each of us as every sailor realized that this was the real thing as we executed an orderly scramble to man our stations. As much as we had trained and set personal speed records, this was the fastest anyone had manned their battle station in the after deckhouse at any time. It seemed as though we were all there at once.
The family gram dated 7 August 1966 mentions in paragraph four a spectacular battle. This is how Captain Douglas described the battle.
This is how the repair party of the after deckhouse saw the same incident. Earlier in the morning of that day, Machinist Mate first class Green was sitting outside the port hatch to main control. I’m not sure how long Green had been in the Navy. He seemed to have hash marks from his finger tips to his collar bone. He was a gentle, soft spoken man, well liked and respected. It would be very difficult to find anyone who could say anything bad about Green. As we walked by him we asked him what he was staring at so intently. He said “by lunch time we will be at battle stations.” We said, “How do you know that? It looks pretty quiet.” We were very close to shore but we could not see the same thing Green was seeing. He said, “Look between the two mountain peaks in the far distance and tell me what you see.” As we strained our eyes to force them to be like binoculars we could barely see the deadly ballet style antics of several jet aircraft. Green said, “I have been watching them for awhile and they are moving their way toward our position.” Just before the noon chow the battle station gong sounded. Battle stations! Battle stations! This is not a drill! Battle stations! The stage was being set for us to witness the fatal dance.
The LST Clarion River was also with us along the coast. When the helicopters and the jets attacked, the Clarion River opened up with its impressive array of rockets. Through a port side hatch left ajar we watched as an entire hillside disappeared in smoke and flame. The screaming jets and helicopters plastered the beach and jungle with napalm and rockets. The thunderous echoes and huge balls of fire left no doubt that this array of fire power could not be survived by our then enemy. We were in awe of the conflagration. The deep rumble of explosions reverberated through us and the ship. A strange byproduct grew out of this. One member of the repair party said, “I wish I was over there!” This declaration at first surprised me and then it settled in to me and others that we were not doing enough and guys on the beach were bearing a heavier load.
We never expected to see any guerrillas (Viet Cong) or North Vietnamese combatants. Even though we were in some narrow rivers we did not believe the enemy to have the ability to cause much damage to a destroyer. It was very common for swift boats to tie up along side every now and then. The crews would come on board and raid the ships store and just take a break from the action. One day a swift boat tied up along side us and much to my astonishment three Viet Cong prisoners were on the fantail guarded by crew members with rifles and pistols.
As in the picture from our cruise book on page 46, they kept their heads bowed and huddled together. Two of them briefly raised their heads. To this day the image of those haunting eyes staring straight at me is burnt into my mind. They did not look like an enemy. They looked like they were about twelve years old, children. Are they all this young? Are we killing so many that this is all that is left? They had that blank empty stare of shock. The technology and weaponry that engulfed them had to be overwhelming and add to their fear of captivity and what their fate may be. They appeared to be awe struck at the sight of this gray behemoth of a ship alongside of them. My first instinct was to try to do something to help them. This of course was not possible. My earlier feelings of guilt for not being able to do more during the battle faded away. It would be difficult to face an enemy of the kind in front of me now and have to take their life.
There were several more encounters with the now unseen enemy. Jim Zolnik and the men at the three inch guns and forward five inch gun did not realize it then but they were the last people to load and fire the weapons of the USS Conway during actual combat. When we look back at that time none of us realized the significance of those moments. The decommissioning of Conway perhaps was being planned in Washington but while we were on station the Conway was just as full of life and fight as she was in World War II and Korea.
To quote Commander Douglas, Captain, “Each man can be justifiably proud of his contribution in keeping CONWAY ‘on the line’, always prepared for any task and fulfilling all scheduled commitments”. This quote applies not only to the WESTPAC crew but, as mentioned earlier, to every sailor who has ever served on the U.S.S. Conway.
If it were not for the investigative work of co-historian Jim Zolnik, we would only have two of the original six Conway family grams. Jim had two of the original mimeographed letters. He found that a Westpac crew member at the Wilmington reunion had all six family grams. Jim Zolnik arranged for them to be sent to him. Upon receiving them, Jim collaborated with technicians where he works and put the entire WESTPAC ‘66 cruise book and all of the family grams on a disc in PDF format. The family grams and cruise book data were presented at the New Orleans Reunion for submittal to our webmaster to add to our newly established web site.
Zebra provides the greatest degree of subdivision and tightness to the ship. It is set immediately and automatically when general quarters are sounded. It is also set when entering or leaving port during wartime, to localize damage and control fire and flooding, or at any time the Commanding Officer deems the maximum condition of survivability should be set.
Copyright © 2000-2008 GlobalSecurity.org All rights reserved. CDR Stephen P. Douglas, Commanding Officer USS Conway DD507, WESTPAC ’66 cruise book pg. 6
Sea Story by Robert G. Yerkes (RD3)
Tour of Duty Oct 23, 1954 - Dec 1, 1956
I reported to Charleston, SC where the Conway was in the yards. Since my sea bag did not make it there with me and all I had was dress blues I spent my first week on liberty. We left Charleston on 24 Nov 1954 for Norfolk where we stayed until Jan 1955. In January, we departed for Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. On the way, we stopped in Havana where I, as a raw recruit, spent my first liberty on foreign soil. The only thing I remember of that experience was being picked up by Shore Patrol as, it seems, I was found walking down the street with a shot glass in one hand and a quart of rum in the other. Other than that, it was a nice liberty town.
We spent April 8-10 in Palm Beach, Florida. While getting underway, one line was left tied up causing the ship to swing around, take out a marker buoy and run aground. We bent the shaft and ended up in Baltimore for yard work. We got the word that a destroyer had broken down in Boston and we were going to the Med. May 18 we arrived in Lisbon, Portugal. On May 18th we docked in Lisbon, Portugal. My family had no idea where I was in all that time. I'm not sure how long we spent in the Med but remember that on our way home I received orders to report to Class "A" Radar School in Norfolk. I graduated from there and made RD3 next test time.
After that, we went to St. Thomas where, while target practicing with a tug pulling a sled. Fire Control locked on the tug and accidentally started firing at the boat. Whereupon, the tug captain broke off the exercise and returned to port.
The thrill of my life came when I was high lined from the Conway to our sister ship (USS Cony DD508) to evaluate their performance coming into port.
From Aug 10-13 (1956) we were in NYC where I was supposed to have duty weekend. Prior to entering port, we were operating with a sub. The captain told the radar gang that anyone spotting the sub's periscope would get liberty. With my luck I spotted it and got the promised liberty.
When we returned to Norfolk, I received orders for shore duty. I was sent to Newport, RI where I spent 17 months guarding 21 boys in the brig.
On my way to duty I met my wife who after 42 years is still my mate. We've had 4 children who've given us 9 grandchildren. Following 26 ½ years working as a mailman, we've retired and now live in Florida.
Kinston WWII Vet looks forward to another cruise
Posted Feb 2, 2018 at 4:54 PM
At 91 Jerry Kanter looks forward to a ride on PT-305, the only combat-veteran PT boat in existence.
It’s been 73 years since Jerry Kanter sailed through the Pacific on a “tin can” during World War II and in a couple of months he will be on another Navy vessel - the last of its kind.
Kanter, 91, who grew up in Kinston and has traveled the world as a sailor in the U.S. Navy and later as a retailer, plans to take a cruise on March 17 on the only fully restored, combat-veteran PT boat in existence: PT-305 sponsored by the National WWII Museum of New Orleans, LA. The boat will take guests on a cruise of Lake Pontchartrain, waters where PT-305 first was tested before heading to the European War Theater during WWII. Kanter, who once lived in New Orleans where his sons were born, said he was thrilled at the opportunity. The National Museum is paying for his $350 ride into history, he said. “This is really an honor that is not given to everybody,” Kanter said.
Carrie Corbett, travel and conference services sales manager for the National World War II Museum, said the museum provides complementary rides on PT-305 to all WWII veterans and sometimes it can be a an overwhelming experience.
“There are not many of them left,” Corbett said. “It can be pretty emotional. Most of them have been on one before.”
When Kanter was only 17, his “tin can” plying the Pacific was the Fletcher-class destroyer USS Conway. He remembered sailing past Iwo Jima after it had been secured. “That was horrible,” he said of the bloodiest battle in the Pacific War which lasted five-weeks.
The Conway assisted in landings on Lingayen, Corregidor and Parang. It also took part in landings at Saraganji Bay and Mindanao. In 1945, the Conway patrolled east of Leyte Gulf and supported minesweeping activities in the Yellow Sea. Kanter said he visited Jinse, Korea and sailed along the China Sea picking up Chinese troops in Indo-China and taking them to Manchuria. When you are 17 years old, everything is pretty much new to you,” Kanter said. “Of course, they didn’t teach these things like Manchurian history at Grainger High School.”
Kanter said he joined the Navy because he did not want to be drafted and put just anywhere, in any service.
“The recruiter said I would have to get my mom to sign for me,” he said. “When I asked her, she said she would not sign it. ‘They are blowing up tankers off the North Carolina coast!’ she said.” Kanter, determined, got an application for the Merchant Marines and his father saw it. “He said: ‘That’s a wild trip - the Merchant Marines - with the way they are blowing up ships off the coast of North Carolina,’” Kanter said. Kanter ended up going to California with the Navy where he was shipped out to the Pacific War Theatre.
One of the biggest surprises on the Conway for Kanter was running into two other boys serving onboard who were from Kinston, Donald Molloy and Clifton Everett, both of whom are now dead. When they passed away, Kanter said a candle-light ceremony was held for them on the fantail of the USS North Carolina in Wilmington. “There’s not too many of us left,” he said.
Kanter is a retired sales and marketing professional. He was appointed to the N.C. Global TransPark Board of Directors in July 2013 and is an alumnus of the University of North Carolina and an active member of the community.
His community service activities include: aquatics advisor to the Woodmen Community Center, founding member of the Kinston Evening Rotary, Lenoir Committee of 100, Lenoir County Red Cross, St. John’s Lodge #4 AF&AM, Temple Israel, Pride of Kinston, USS Conway/DD 507 Veterans Association, Downtown Irish Club of New Orleans, First Flight Society, Sudan Shrine Temple, Honorable Order of Kentucky Colonels. Other boards and commissions Kanter has served include the Kinston Regional Jetport Commission from 1971-1987; Airports Council International, Small Airports Committee; and the Lenoir County Chamber of Commerce. Kanter is an avid swimmer. He and his wife, Sharon, live in Kinston, and are the parents of two grown sons.
My First Night Aboard the DD-507
By Noel Anenberg
"Anenberg"! That didn't wake me. It was eleven thirty, I mean 23:30 hrs for God's sake. I had just flown to Norfolk, the duty station that I tried to avoid. I had just graduated from an "A" school that was not even close to being on my Boot Camp wish list. I wanted Photographer's Mate or Heavy Equipment Operator, not Fire Control Technician. I knew less about electronics even after "A". The chances of electrifying a friendly just by working on the fire control gear were far greater than ever getting at the enemy. Hey, I told them I had absolutely no aptitude for electronics. Oh well, where was I, sound asleep in the Fox Division compartment.
"Anenberg, hey Anenberg wake up."
"What the hell is it?" I finally answered.
"You got the watch."
"I don't have the watch you idiot, I haven't even been assigned a duty section."
It was something like December 28th and there were two feet of ice around the Conway's hull. That morning, it was 73 degrees and clear in Malibu as I boarded the United Airlines jet out of LAX. As I laid there in the dark the thought "Why did I join the Navy" whirled around my head like a towel in a clothes dryer
"How, tell me how can I have the watch?" I asked aga
"Hey California, all I know is the OD just said "get Anenberg,
he's got the watch". "I'm just following my orders."
"I just reported aboard" I mumbled in the dark as the sailor in the rack above me rolled over and let go a long low tremulous fart.
"You already told me that" the voice behind the flashlight said
"but like I said, you got the watch. ten minutes, 01 level, midships."
I crawled out of my rack and searched my foot locker for the proper attire for standing on the deck in sub-zero temperatures as I remembered that just before graduation from Gun Fire Control School in Bainbridge Maryland, we were asked to submit our top three choices of duty stations. I remembered sitting with my "A" school buddy Nevins and debating who had made the best three choices. Mine, Pearl, Diego and Long Beach beat out Nevins' Newport News, Ville France and London, I thought. Well, I must have pissed somebody off, I was thinking, nobody but nobody wanted Norfolk. I got it.
So I put on everything I had in the sea bag, waddled out on the deck then struggled up a ladder to the 01 level. I then turned forward and found my post between the stacks which were adorned with red green and blue Christmas lights as were most of all the ships in the bay that early morning. A very, very pretty site actually, if you were looking at it from a Hampton Boulevard hotel room. Let me tell you something, it was fra-eeeeeeeez-ing.
I found the sailor I was supposed to relieve and the object I was supposed to guard. The sailor had his P-coat buttoned with the collar turned up. His arms were tucked in under the coat and the brim of his white hat was folded down and over his head giving him the appearance of a Hostess Twinkie. His teeth were chattering like the plastic wind up ones found in a Magic Emporium.
"Yo, you here to re, re, relieve me?" he sputtered.
"Yeah, but my name ain't yo" I answered looking at the object he was and until 0400 hours I would be guarding.
It was a large, a very large white torpedo with a crack in its fuselage. A thin steady stream f smoke was streaming from the crack as if some guy was inside the case and blowing steadily on a Marlboro. My eyes widened to the size of silver dollars. This was a very large device with enough explosives to blow me and the 507 clear to the North Pole in time to meet Santa and his sleigh.
"This gets better".
The sailor I was relieving was holding a wilted garden hose that hung from the front of his P-coat.
"I give up, what's the hose for?" I asked.
"Oh, they t-t-t-t-t-told me that if the smoke gets th-th-th-th-thicker I'm s supposed to spray the cr-cr-cr-cr-ack with cold water", he shivered.
Oh, that's smart I thought, if this thing blows I'll be sprinkling it with cold water from a wilted green garden hose. Boy was I ever glad I went to Fire Control "A" School, I would have been lost without the training.
"Don't ta-ta-ta-ta-take your eyes off the crack " the seaman warned as he walked forward of the Number 1 stack then disappeared.
So there I stood looking out over Chesapeake Bay staring at the Christmas tree lights and wondering whether Nelson, Rickover or Nimitz got their start this way. Well not actually, I was really thinking about how I could manufacture some kind of ailment that would get me out on a medical and quick.
But luckily that was only my first night aboard that proud 21 ton torpedo catcher that I now yearn to take just one more cruise on. A ship aboard which I sailed away a boy then returned a man.
Steady Dash Man and Author, Steacy Hicks, at NOAA the 1960's viewing the William Ferrel
tide-predicting machine, the
first tide predicting machine used in The United States
The Steady Dash Man
By Steacy Hicks
In the ordinary activities of daily life, there are, occasionally, persons with proficiencies that far exceed normal expectations of their peers.
In the U.S. Navy during World War II, a signalman with these exceptional abilities was known as a “steady dash man”. To explain what it means to be a steady dash man, an example is necessary.
Since radio transmission silence was required, all messages between ships within visual range were sent by directional flashing light, using Morris code. The standard procedure was that a sending ship (Ship 1) would point its signal light at the intended receiving ship (Ship 2) and flash out the latter’s call sign. Ship 2 would answer with the letter (dash dot dash) which meant, “Go ahead”. Ship 1 would then send the message, pausing after each word wit a single flash.
However, The steady dash man on Ship 2 did it differently. He would answer with the standard K but would keep his light on continuously with the second dash (dash dot dashhhhhhhh). To Ship 1, this meant that the signalman in Ship 2 thought he was really hot stuff and could read everything that Ship 1 could send, no matter how fast. If the signalman in Ship 1 happened to be a steady dash man also, he would accept the challenge and send Morris code as fast as he possibly could. Both hoped that the other would falter in understanding, speed and/or accuracy.
You couldn’t become a steady dash man by trying to do it over and over, because the message using both methods, partially, would be too confusing; it just wouldn’t work. When you thought you were ready, you just did it! You couldn’t bluff, and complete confidence was required. Otherwise, you wouldn’t dare to try. lest you be disgraced.
Being a steady Dash man was independent of rate (grade, rank). Anyone could achieve the status, from chief signalman to signaman striker (seaman in training for signalman). However, in reality, it was usually a chief petty officer and/or petty officer 1st class, since months or years of practice were required. I n a signal gang of eight (destroyer size), only one or two would normally rise to this level.
The steady dash procedure as not authorized by the Navy, but no one ever complained since it was the most efficient way of transmitting the large quantity of required messages. The steady dash man was not recognized for his accomplishment. His only reward was the amazement of his peers and all the bridge personnel, including the captain. Now I know what all of you are wondering, “Was Steacy a steady dash man?” Yes, I was a steady Dash man!