Admiral SCHOEFFEL, one of the pioneers in naval aviation, earned his wings at Pensacola, Fla. in 1921. From the May 1944 issue of the Cabot Chronicle (later the Cabot Clarion). . . "Captain SCHOEFFEL's ascendance to flag prominence brings into focus one of the Navy's brightest careers. Scion of a military family, keen minded, detail-devouring Malcolm F. SCHOEFFEL graduated number one in the Naval Academy war class of 1919 where his academic achievements are Annapolis apocrypha. " He was born 3 April 1898 in Rochester, N.Y. and attended public schools in Rochester, Millbrook, N.Y. and Scranton, Pa. He entered the naval Academy in July 1915 and graduated a year early in June of 1918, because of World War I. First duty was on board the USS Leviathan (ex-German liner VaterLand, then the world's largest ship). Detached to the U.S. Naval Base at Queenstown, Ireland where he joined the USS Kimberly (DD 80). This destroyer was one of the earliest flush deckers and he served in her on antisubmarine duty throughout the rest of World War I. Returning to the States in early 1919, the Kimberly was put out of commission and SCHOEFFEL put the USS Broome (DD 210) in commission. In early 1920, he sailed on the Broome for the Asiatic but was detached in Gibraltar to the USS Pittsburgh (CA 4), an armoured cruiser, flag of U.S. Naval Force in Europe. In June 1921, he was detached and sent home for flight training at Pensacola and gained his wings in December. He then was attached to Observation Squadron 2 and to the staff of Commander Aircraft Squadrons in San Diego. In June 1923, he was ordered to the Post Graduate School at Annapolis for the course in aeronautical engineering culminating in a year at Massachusetts Institute of Technology. During this time he met and married Marcia Briggs of Rochester, N.Y. with whom he had 54 years of happy married life. In 1925, on completion of the course at MIT, he was sent to the Naval Academy as an instructor for the first course in aviation for midshipman. In the fall he went to Washington for duty in the Bureau of Aeronautics where he was officer-in-charge of the instrument desk. In 1927 he was attached to Torpedo Squadron 2 in San Diego for two years and in 1929-30 made the first cruise in the USS Saratoga (CV 3) as Executive Officer of this Squadron. Following that cruise he was detached to the staff of Commander Aircraft Battle Force as gunnery and tactical officer where he served under Admirals Butler and Reeves. In 1932 he was sent to the Naval Proving Ground at Dahlgren, Va. as officer-in-charge of the aviation unit. He spent most of the time in testing the brand new Norden bomb sight. In 1934, he was promoted to lieutenant commander and was ordered back west to duty as aviation aid to Admiral Reeves, then Commander, Battle Force. After a year there he was detached to command scouting Squadron 4, one of the squadrons of the brand new carrier Ranger (CV 4). The admiral writes..."I was very proud of the fact we operated during that ~ 149 ~ year from all the carriers the Navy then had, the Langley, Saratoga, Lexington, and the Ranger." In 1936, he was ordered to duty on the aviation desk of the Office of Fleet Training in Washington. In 1937, he was transferred to the aviation desk of the Bureau of Ordnance, where he relieve Lt. Cmdr. F. P. Sherman. Later Admiral Sherman, who finished second in the Naval Academy class of 1918, became Chief of Naval Operations in 1949. In 1938, he went back to sea as navigator of the Saratoga, a job he held for two years. In 1940, he returned to Washington on the avia- tion desk of the Ship's Movement Division of the Office of Naval Operations. Shortly he was transferred back to the Bureau of Ordnance as senior aviator. In the spring of 1943, he was sent to Camden, N.J. as prospective commanding officer of the USS Cabot in which he served as captain until detached in the late spring of 1944. Again quoting from the Cabot Chronicle on his being promoted to rear admiral in 1944... "Prime in his vigorous mid-forties, well- weathered Capt SCHOEFFEL will become one of the Navy's youngest flags, the average admiral age being 57. He is a prize example of the Navy's new wartime policy of boosting captains to the top place on the basis of war performance and record, regardless of seniority". After this promotion, SCHOEFFEL was sent back to Washington as assistant chief of staff for operations on the staff of Admiral King, Commander-in-Chief, U.S. Fleet. After a year he went back to sea as assistant chief of staff for plans, on the staff of Admiral Nimitz, again relieving F.P. Sherman, by then, a rear admiral. In the spring he was suddenly pulled back to Washington and made deputy chief of the Bureau of Ordnance of which Vice Admiral George Hussey was chief. Remaining in the bureau until late December 1947, he went back to sea as commander carrier division 6, a unit of the Atlantic Fleet. During 1948 he had a tour in the Mediterranean in 6th Fleet commanded by Vice Admiral F.P. Sherman with SCHOEFFEL flying his flag in the carrier Coral Sea (CVB 43). In early 1949 he was again sent ashore as commander Naval Air Test Center at Patuxent River, MD. From there he was transferred very early in 1950 to Washington as chief of the Bureau of Ordnance. He remained in that post until early 1955 when he retired at his own request. Admiral and Mrs. SCHOEFFEL established a home in Naples, Fla. She died in 1978. Because of such men as Admiral SCHOEFFEL, King, Halsey, and others who believe in the future of Naval Aviation, we were able with the fast carriers to defeat the Japanese in far less time than anyone anticipated. Quoting from a letter the late Admiral MICHAEL wrote,..."my lucky event was taking over the Cabot from Capt. SCHOEFFEL, who did an outstanding job of organizing and training the crew". The Cabot was fortunate to have such outstanding commanding officers as Admirals SCHOEFFEL and MICHAEL. ~ 150 ~ [portrait]
Rear Admiral Stanley J. Michael Commanding officer of the USS Cabot (CVL 28) from 5 May 1944 - 6 Feb. 1945 ~ 151 ~ BORN: 30 June 1897 ATTENDED: Hughes High Cincinnati University of Cincinnati U.S. Naval Academy - Class of 1920 Naval aviator, Pensacola 1924 SERVICE RECORD: Midshipman in Atlantic Fleet in World War I. Recommissioned destroyer to a seaplane Tender - USS Goldsborough (AVD-5) and was Commanding Officer in World War II. Commissioned and was CO of the new seaplane tender Matagorda (AVP-22) in the Atlantic Fleet. Commanding Officer of the USS Nassau (CVE 16) which took part in the Gilbert Island operation in TG 53.6 (Air Support Group) and in the Marshall Islands Operation with TG 51.2 Majuro (Majuro attack group). Commanding Officer of the Cabot DECORATIONS AND AWARDS: Navy Cross (2) Legion of Merit (2) Navy Commendation Medal Presidential Unit Citation American Defense Service Medal with "Fleet" clasp American Campaign Medal Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal World War I Victory Medal World War II Victory Medal RETIRED: As Rear Admiral in 1949 HIS COMMENTS: Nearing his 87th birthday he wrote, "my lucky event was taking over (the Cabot) from Capt. SHOEFFEL, who did an outstanding job of organizing and training the crew. - It made my job just about automatic." DIED: 12 Dec. 85 NOTE: Prior to his death, Admiral MICHAEL sent this brief biography to the author. A modest man who was loved and respected by the entire crew, he had the demanding job of maintaining strict discipline necessary to fight a war. It is a rare Commanding Officer who can maintain this control and still have the devotion and admiration of his crew. Admiral MICHAEL was that unique CO - his memory will remain forever in the minds and hearts of the men who served under him ~ 153 ~ [portrait]
Rear Admiral Walton Wiley Smith Commanding Officer from 6 February 1945 to December 1945 Walton Wiley SMITH, born 1896 in Commerce, Ga., was appointed in 1916 to the U.S. Naval Academy after studying at Tennessee Military Institute and the University of Georgia, Athens. While a midshipman, SMITH served aboard the USS Virginia in World War I. He graduated from the Academy and was commissioned an ensign in 1919 and went on to serve on the USS Pueblo, USS Moody and the battleship Arkansas. Later, he spent time on the destroyers Philip, Evans, Aaron Ward and Kennedfy in the Pacific. After SMITH completed his training at the Naval Air Station at Pensacola, he was designated a naval aviator in 1923. He then served with Torpedo and Bombing Plane Squadron 1 at Hampton Roads, Va. In addition SMITH helped establish Observation Plane Squadron 6, Scouting Fleet. The following year, he served on the USS Texas and USS Wyoming and transferred to the USS Maryland in 1925. In 1928, after more than two years on staff at Pensacola, SMITH was reassigned to the USS Lexington aircraft squadrons, and remained on duty until being named aide and flag lieutenant on staff of the Commander, Aircraft Squadrons, Battle Fleet based on the USS Saratoga. Later, he became Commander, Carrier Divisions, U.S. Fleet. For a time, SMITH was inspector of naval aircraft at Pratt & Whitney Aircraft Division of United Aircraft Corp. And, he studied a year at the Naval War College in Newport, R.I., where he also served at the Naval Torpedo Station. SMITH joined Fighting Squadron 5 on the Lexington and assumed command of the squadron in 1936 when it transferred to the USS Ranger. For about two years, SMITH served in the Officers' personnel Division of the Bureau of Navigation in Washington, D.C. Then in 1939, he helped fit out the USS Wasp (CV-7) at Bethlehem Steel Company's shipbuilding division at Quincy, Mass. SMITH was navigator of that carrier from her commissioning in April 1940 to October 1941. That November, he reported for duty as aviation officer on staff of the Commander, Scouting Force, USS Indianapolis flagship, and served in that post 10 months. During his tenure, he was authorized to wear the Commendation Ribbon and was awarded the Bronze Star for his contribution during operations against the Japanese in the Pacific. His commendation cited his "valuable advice to his commanding officer in aviation matters, and, as Flag Watch Officer, " being periodically responsible for safety of the Task Force. In September 1942, SMITH became operations officer on staff of the Commander, Fleet Air, Alameda, Calif., and in June 1943, assumed duties as chief of staff and aide. The following January, SMITH began his command of the Naval Air Station at Jacksonville, Fla. with temporary duty on staff of the Commander, Air Force, Pacific Fleet. SMITH assumed command of the USS Cabot ~ 154 ~ in February 1945. It was under his direction that the carrier was called "Iron Woman" as a tribute to her endurance participating in the Iwo Jima and Okinawa campaigns. Cabot's Avenger pilots helped sink the Yamato, and SMITH earned the Ribbon for and a facsimile of the Presidential Unit Citation awarded the carrier. In addition, SMITH was personally awarded the Navy Cross for his "extraordinary heroism as Commanding Officer of the USS Cabot in directing sustained attacks against the enemy during the Iwo Jima and Okinawa campaigns despite violent and repeated attacks on his ship by enemy airplanes. "On the afternoon of 6 April 1945, his prompt action and expert ship handling unquestionably saved the Cabot from extensive damage by two separate enemy suicide airplanes who dove unsuccessfully on his ship. Throughout a long bitter action fought between 14 March and 8 April 1945, his Task Group was under savage night and day enemy air attacks on 19 of the 26 days. "On 7 April 194S, he skillfully and courageously directed an attack on the enemy battleship Yamato and accompanying vessels. As a result of this damage, together with that inflicted by accompanying carriers, the Yamato, the light cruiser Yamagi and several enemy destroyers were sunk. After this action, the Japanese Navy was not again able to put to sea with an effective surface force. His actions contributed materially to the complete defeat of the enemy." After being detached from command of the Cabot, SMITH was named Commander, Carrier Division 19 in January 1946, with the accompanying rank of Commodore. In June of that year, SMITH reported to the Bureau of Naval Personnel in Washington for temporary duty, and in July was relieved of all active duty pending retirement. SMITH was placed on the retired list of the Navy and promoted to rear admiral on 1 Nov. 1946. In addition to the awards already mentioned, SMITH also was entitled to the World War I Victory Medal with Atlantic Fleet Clasp; American Defense Service Medal, Fleet Clasp; Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal with two operation stars, the American Campaign Medal, World War II Victory Medal and Navy Occupation Service Medal, Asia Clasp. Rear Admiral SMITH died at Hartford, Conn. on 19 November 1966. Admiral SMITH and Mrs. Smith are buried in Arlington National Cemetery as is their son Lt. Cmdr. W. W. Smith, Jr. who predeceased him. ~ 1955 ~ ============== . VIGNETTES FROM the CREW-MEMBERS by Lt. (MC) Paul Ashley (Dr. ASHLEY, at my request, taped certain incidents that he remembers from his days on the USS Cabot. I have edited and written them in layman's terms.) 1. A catapult officer was standing on a small platform-port side-at flight deck level when the blast of the second kamikaze's bomb killed him. Lt. ASHLEY went to the platform and pronounced him dead, tied a 100-pound bomb to his body, and he was immediately buried at sea. The bomb was used to sink the body so that rescue would not be attempted on a floating corpse. 2. A medical corpsman by the name of BALLOUZ was assigned to the port side of the flight deck at the time of attack. The Marine detachment manning guns had been strafed and had casualties. The corpsman was administering first aid to one of the men when the suicide plane hit the Cabot at the water line and the bomb exploded. Shrapnel hit the corpsman and he sustained major injuries. He was given first aid and transferred to a hospital ship, but Dr. ASHLEY did not know the fate of this man. 3. Four or five seamen who serviced the guns on the port side became frightened during the attacks. One of the men had just had an appendix operation, and the doctors had worked I diligently to restore him to health. Fearing further attacks and sinking of the ship, he jumped over the side and was never recovered. The medical department was despondent over losing a crewman who they had worked so hard to restore to normal activity after his operation. 4. A Marine or a gunner suffered a shrapnel wound in the arm and was brought to sick bay. Dr. ASHLEY found no pulse in the arm, and it was cold and blue. He felt amputation was necessary, but other casualties were in more serious danger so he was given first aid. Hours later when they re-examined the man, a good pulse was found and the doctor thought the arm could be saved. 5. Evacuation of wounded men from the flight deck had been rehearsed many times should it be necessary. The procedure was to lash the men to special stretchers and lower them over the front of the flight deck to wardroom level, and then carry them to a casualty station. However, that procedure was not followed during the attack. The injured men were twisted and turned through the torturous passageway causing the injured even more pain. 6. A steward mate 2c, who had never fired a gun or participated in combat, stumbled and fell in the mess room during the "K" attack and sustained a wound to his sacrum and bottom. He received a Purple Heart because the injury was considered to have been caused by enemy action. 7. Circumcision was a popular procedure because of the publicity given to it by Cmdr. (MC) Harold BLAISDELL. Because of the tropical weather, some men experienced inflammation from perspiration and inadequate cleansing, so the procedure was recommended. One seaman was worried about his future sexual experiences, and Dr. BLAISDELL told his patient that he was circumcised and if sex was better for him he could not stand it. (Dr. ASHLEY was circumcised at Saipan one day and walked all over the island the next.) The most popular procedures performed by the Cabot's doctors were: 61 circumcisions, 27 tonsillectomies, 11 appendectomies, 8 hernia repairs. 8. There were 60 places on the ship where coffee was made. Lt. ASHLEY's job was to inspect them for sanitation once a week. One ingenious group of men in the boiler room had inserted a piece of copper tubing into a boiler, gave it a couple of turns and inserted the tube back into the boiler. The steam that flowed through the coil made an excellent heater. 9. One bluejacket, in a moment of weakness, had a tattoo placed below each nipple. He became disenchanted with the "sour" on one side and "sweet" on the other and asked Dr. ASHLEY to remove them. On the way back from combat, the tatoos were removed while the crewman was under local anesthesia, much ~ 156 ~ to his satisfaction. 10. An F6F pilot landed on one wheel and hit the barriers causing his wing tank to catch fire. He exited from the side opposite the rescuers in the abestos suits and they could not find him for a few minutes. The pilot, engulfed in flames, was brought to the operating room. All of his body surface was burned by mostly third-degree burns. He was given large doses of morphine and died in a few hours. Even today he could not have been saved. 11. One crewman jumped from the flight deck to a catwalk and landed on his heels. A day later he had soreness, so he went to sickbay. Dr. ASHLEY removed a 3 " x 1/4 " splinter from his heel. Four years earlier the sailor had had a large wood splinter removed from his foot, but apparently the doctor had not got it all. The jump aggravated his heel, and the other piece was discovered. 13. The junior medical officer Lt. (MC) Jack HALL, an accomplished swimmer and athlete went looking for shells on Ulithi Atoll. While in the water, a wave struck him and he was injured by some sharp coral. He swam to shore and then walked to a small boat that would take him bact to the Cabot. This took about five hours and when he got to sick bay his Achilles tendon was cleaned with water and normal saline, but due to the long exposure to the salt water, he was transferred to a hospital ship for further treatment. Further complications caused him problems, but some time later he was returned to duty. by Fredrick DUDLEY, AOMlc "One of our fighter planes returned to the ship-the pilot and the plane had been shot up. He managed to set the plane down with the tail hook grabbing the last arresting cable, but just as the plane stopped it burst into flames. "The pilot was badly burned-hands and face in addition to being wounded. When he got out of the plane, he was saying 'Shoot me Shoot me'. "The doctor tried to console him by saying, 'You can go home now' but the man put his right hand to his face, felt his bones and said 'Please shoot me. I don't want to go home looking like this'. (He was taken to sick bay, given plenty of morphine, and he died that night.) # The time we were protecting the crippled cruisers, USS Houston and USS Canherra off Formosa, the Japs wanted to finish them off. We had 12 F6F in the air, and the Japs had sent a large group of Betty bombers to do the job. These 12 pilots and their planes cut up that group so badly that the ones not splashed turn- ed back. "I am, and every sailor on the Cabot at that time should be everlastingly grateful to those pilots. Had they not done what they did, I would not be writing this. (A little credit should be given to the AMMs and AOMs that kept the planes engines and guns operational.) # "Captain MICHAEL-a crew's captain if ever there was one. To me, the man was a saint. He was concerned about his men in the air and on the ship....He made us all want to do our jobs better. "When we finally reached the 'Gloryland' and came under the Golden Gate Bridge, he had a band waiting and playing for us at Hunters Point (San Francisco). Each man going on leave was given a traveling bag. He didn't forget us after being transferred to Alemeda Naval Air Station from the Cabot. "When we were in action around Iwo Jima and Okinawa and other operations, the P. A. system was sometimes turned on. We could hear the voices of the Army, Navy and Marines hitting the beaches and the rifle and machine gun fire and grenades popping. I was glad to be on our beloved USS Cabot. You couldn't dig a foxhole or get off and walk, but I'd rather be on the ship than on those beaches. "I had made up my mind to stay aboard no matter what happened unless I was shot off or ordered off. This decision was influenced somewhat when I saw a new man jump overboard during our first strike. He evidently thought the Jap was coming at him. He was, of course, lost at sea. ~ 157 ~ "After three weeks and 225,000 miles covering the Okinawa campaign, it was announced we had been relieved. The joy was unbelievable, but quickly the realization struck that we were still in a combat area and that something could still prevent us from making it back. It was at this point that every man aboard that wonderful ship was a radar unit unto himself. There were hundreds of eyes scanning the skies and thousands of ears top-side listening for any unusual sounds. "After clearing the combat zones, it was almost like a pleasure cruise. To those who have never experienced it there is no way to describe the ecstasy of going home, especially for me - had an 18-month-old son waiting for me that I had never seen." by Joe COLE MoMM2c, "A" Division Dedicated Men One day while serving as assistant master-at- arms in the crew mess hall, I watched two very serious parachute riggers folding a chute. They fastened the top at one end of a long table, took the nylon shroud lines and stretched and fastened them to the other end of the table. Then they began to carefully fold the cloth. It was taking some time to line up each fold and shroud line, and I continued watching until the chute was packed and put out of the way. Another chute was being readied to fasten down, and I asked the riggers if they were always so fussy about each chute. "You better believe it, fella," one said." pack each chute like it was my own. And the men wearing these chutes are protecting my butt in return for our careful packing." I then realized we all owed our well being to the captain, the pilots and these dedicated men. Each of us had on-the-job training to keep the ship functioning properly. Knowing that others were equally trained to take over and do your job just as well or better made you work even harder and always do your best. Attendance As the Cabot left Hawaii and headed west to the war zone, most everyone was relaxed. Our dedicated chaplain was always busy, though. Each Sunday, he had a scattering of regulars those of us brought up to be church goers. Services were held in the rear of the crew's mess hall. After setting up the folding benches and passing out hymnals, we all prayed for a smooth water and no flight quarters because the folding benches were known to collapse over rough seas. One Sunday I noticed only about 50 showed up for service. One said to the chaplain, "Sorry there aren't more attending. You do present a very proper service, the message is a help for the times to come, during the battle." The chaplain replied, "Never you mind. When we see action, there'll be plenty new men attending services." Well, that day came. The following Sunday those that needed God's message came and were given hope. It's not easy to see or hear about a friend being killed, but there's something about a large group singing hymns that brings thoughts of home and quiets your fears. The Big Bird We received orders to join another Task Force. Our group was made up of four destroyers, a cruiser and the Cabot. This time, word went out that we were to keep silent-no word of where we were or where we were going. One morning after flight quarters, a large "frigate" bird landed on the flight deck, just ahead of the bridge near the ladder steps, starboard side. He was big, jet black with a 5 - or 6 - foot wing span, had big yellow webbed feet and a long hooked bill to match. His eyes were very slanted but alert. Some of the crew who were farm boys thought this clumsy looking bird could put a hawk to shame in flight, so the sailors ventured up to examine him. And, the bird looked them over very carefully. Suddenly a voice came over the bridge, "Not too close there men. And don't tell him who we are-he may be a Japanese spy." A Gift for a Friend It was rumored we would lose Capt. Michael, and when it proved true, the crew was most uncomfortable. He had built up our trust over ~ 158 ~ many months so that he could bring us through any tight situation, battle or storm. I was sitting at the parachute riggers' table when I heard some chiefs talking about what to give Capt. MICHAEL as a going-away gift. Nothing seemed good enough. The ship's photographer said he had some photos of the Cabot and crew in action. The photos were to be as large as 8 x 10". That seemed like a good idea, but how could they be kept neat and together? I had worked leather before the service, so I volunteered to make the cover. I took the photo measurements and planned the thickness of the contents. Each man made notes of what he was to do, but time was running short. I obtained some spikes from the carpenter's shop and hammered them into carving and stamping tools. The ship's supply had a very fine piece of leather that was perfect. The refueling group supplied a nice chamois to line the album. I made five sketches of the cover design which were studied by the chiefs. Once a design was chosen, I wet the leather, transferred the design and began carving and stamping. I lined the inside and then when I felt good about how the cover looked, I gave it to the photographer. He did his share to make the album look presentable. We were all pleased that our captain would receive something made by his devoted crew members. The day Capt. MICHAEL left our ship, we lost a friend. No other officer could ever take his place. Red Faces One time we followed the fleet into a large anchorage. I was on duty on the captain's gig (motor whale boat) along with the coxswain from 1st Division and the bowhook, a kid from New York. The Cabot was still moving when we were lowered into the water, aft starboard. We started the motor and came to the port gangway to pick up the captain who wanted to go to a repair ship. All went well on the long trip. Returning to the spot of Cabot's assigned anchorage, though, no ship was in sight. The boat crew was very uneasy, but the captain peered from under the canopy and looked around, calmly. In a mellow voice, he said, "Anyone know the Morse Code by light?" Nobody did, and the nearest ship was a half mile off. It was a repair ship, and its signalmen were always alert for messages. The captain used our battle lantern to flash for recognition, and said to the coxswain, "This is your compass heading and anchorage busy number." All of us snapped to action and eventually were in sight of the Cabot. When the captain stepped on board the gangway, he turned and looked down at us in an amused smile. He had transformed three greenhorns into dedicated sailors who in two weeks could box a compass and read and give signals with light or flag. The captain did not report us for incompetence; he had a way of commanding respect without strong punishment. Sailors' Knowhow The motor machinists had agreed that men off duty should keep checking our two motor whaleboats for fuel and needed cleanup and to check equipment-life jackets, battle lantern, tool pouch, etc. One morning between watches, I was cleaning one boat's interior when an officer climbed into it and began to read a book. Now the boat was a sheltered spot where one could sit, read or daydream. It really was against rules since only authorized men were allowed in the boat. While I was still cleaning, a sailor carne on the catwalk below the boat and tied a line to the rail. He took his wool blanket off his shoulder, tied it securely and tossed it overboard. The blanket danced over the waves, and after about 20 minutes, he pulled the blanket back. It had turned from a smudged cream color to snowy white. I asked him about the salt water problem, and the sailor replied, "Oh, it now has to be rinsed in fresh water." The officer who had been watching this blanket cleaning from the whaleboat climbed out and came back in a short while with a blanket. The line was still there, so he tied his ~ 159 ~ blanket on and threw it overboard. I finished my cleaning, so I crossed the hangar deck to the port side motor whaleboat. Above it was the platform where pilots were waved in for landings. Gum, candy wrappers and so forth were dropped from above, making this boat a mess. I worked for about l l/2 hours and then watched flight quarters action. Other carriers nearby were doing the same, so it was a fascinating sight. When the excitement waned, I returned to the starboard boat to pick up my trash bucket. Two laughing sailors were standing on the catwalk next to the boat. The officer had just pulled his blanket in after leaving it overboard during flight quarters, and the ship's extra speed had left him with a 10-inch piece of wool caught under the knotted line. It seemed 20 minutes at normal speed was all a blanket could take dancing over the waves. The Hula Skirt Our last "liberty" of any importance was Pearl Harbor. Leaving ship, the trip to Honolulu was by taxi or train. The train was owned by the Dole Company, and the tracks ran through the district where natives lived. The engineer would blow the train whistle at all crossings and at any woman hanging up clothes or passing by. The fare was cheap for such a fun, yet educational ride. In town, Eastman Kodak sponsored a native dance show in a park. It was free, and many servicemen came to hear the music and watch the grass skirts sway. Several of the skirts were made of colored string with a wide waistband firmly around the hips. After seeing this show, some pilots got an idea. It seemed that when one would parachute into the sea, there was no good way to clean and dry the chute, so the canopy or chute was shipped back (I assume), but the shroud lines were cut and placed in a carton. With so many nylon cords lying around, several men began making nylon hula skirts to pass the time. The woven casing of the heavy nylon strands was made into a waistband. Then, the nylon strands were tied, using macrame knots, to the band with the strands hanging to a desired length. When fastened all around into a solid wall of strands, the "combing out" began. The waist- band was fastened to a rack so all the strands could be untwisted for dyeing. After dyeing the chosen color, the "skirt" was again combed and brushed until all hung smoothly. With this full thickness of nylon, the wearer was sure nothing could be seen beneath the nylon hula skirt except the ankles and bare feet. ~ 160 ~ (end of '23' Vigenettes from Crewmembers)