USS Belleau Wood I CV-24

In 1988, my father wrote about this story from WW2, and here it is for your reading pleasure.

Mar 22, 2021

Foreword

Your Author Frederick R. Smith (FRS), the son of Frank G. (FGS), had a vivid dream on March 21, 2021. In this dream, my father (10/03/1920 – 08/01/2002) appeared and spoke about something from his past that was both good and bad. We talked about sharing this story. Upon waking up, a light bulb that went off in my mind. In 1988, my Father wrote about this story, and here it is for your reading pleasure.

The Story

“I WAS THERE”

OCTOBER 30, 1944

ABOARD THE U.S.S. BELLEAU WOOD

This “Mutt” will begin a story starting on July 7, 1942. On this day, I enlisted in the Navy. To say the least, a memorial day because as I embarked on the train to Great Lakes, the temperature in Chicago was 107 degrees, an all-time high.

As usual, after arriving at Great Lakes, the B.S. began. Clothes that don’t fit and a hell of a time finding a pair of 12D shoes. What an ordeal! The first day at camp I fell out of my hammock about six times; I finally got to sleep. The next day, the usual, oops, there goes my curly hair! Yikes! I hated the 5:30 uptime, then on sloppy joes -- you know, the rest of this bit.

After the qualification exams, I got my answer soon. Now off to Purdue University for a ninety-day wonder program. Turned out a 3rd class electrician. This changed the rest of my life.

So on to Norfolk, VA. I was assigned to the “Charger,” a training ship -- yuck! What a bathtub! After seven days of this, I was shipped to the Philadelphia Naval Center and assigned to the U.S.S. Belleau Woods. Since it was in the final stages of construction, I had time to “footsie.” A note of interest -- time to meet my wife of now forty-four years.

As our ship was completed, a call to a “shakedown.” So off to Trinidad Isle. Nothing could go wrong -- everything was ship-shape. On the way back from Trinidad, the Captain let her loose zig-zag at 24 knots. Yikes! I thought it would shake her apart. Back to Philadelphia again to load up to the gunnels with supplies.

Our new Captain “McBride” (later to become Rear Admiral) 1 was assigned to the ship. Now we knew we had to be ready. Time to leave down the Pike to the Panama Canal Zone and on to San Francisco. We unloaded a lot there and took on planes. Little time wasted. Now off into the sunset and finally “Pearl Harbor.” Lucky for me my buddy from the U.S.S. Idaho was there. Somehow it made me feel it was all worthwhile, knowing he and I were fighting the same war. I liked liberty but was anxious to get out to sea. January 1943 -- now we were off, south to “Baker Island.” We circled that little island about twenty-three times (I think). No Japs there so an airstrip was set up as a stepping stone to the West. At this point, a little humor. I got a kick out of the chickens who crapped out on the “Polywog” ceremony. This includes “yours truly.” Big deal “going around the equator.” At least it created a lot of good laughs.

Now we’re going on to more serious sea areas. We headed for the “Gilbert Islands.” Talk about a “cakewalk.” This was it! While we lost the U.S.S. Independence (CVL-21) in a freak encounter with a Jap submarine, we plastered these islands like you wouldn’t believe. Little or no Jap resistance was evident. Clean up like “washing the dishes.” With this out of the way, we headed toward the Marianas group. It didn’t take long until we met some stiff resistance. The Japs said, “Oh oh, here comes more trouble.” You betcha -- I can still see the “Micky Mouse” planes that tried to get to us. What a laffer! None reached us and all were shot down. Another four-star performance! Kwajalein was a gift to us as it was a future home base for supplies. Time for more supplies -- back to our new base in the Gilberts, Majuro, recently captured from the Japs. Set foot on land for the first time in four months. Yuk! Warm beer was lousy. I sold mine for 50 cents a bottle to the suckers.

After loading fully, we started our voyage to the “Truk Islands.” Things seemed to slow down; plenty of time to shoot crap and for card games. I was a loser as usual. I can still hear the dice banging on the bulkhead. Fun for the time being. When we approached “Truk Islands,” more action. We and other task forces “plastered” the Japs, sinking most of their vessels in the Truk Islands Harbors by our air power -- this was a key offense to our eventual victory. They lost more than 600 vessels. Our losses are next to none.

At Truk, we teamed up with another task force. Now we had the U.S.S. New Jersey, U.S.S. Franklin, U.S.S. Wichita and lots of “cans” with us. Northbound for all of us. We had two objectives -- Guam and Saipan. Can’t remember which came first, but I'll never forget the “turkey shoot” we fired at Saipan. We saw many Jap planes in the sky around us. The Japs were desperate to control the corridor to the Hawaiian Islands and Midway. This “turkey shoot” was something else. Jap planes dropping all over the area. Our fighters picked them off like flies. One Jap came close to hitting us. As Belleau Wood’s 20MMs were blasting away, we caught a Jap trying to make a run on us. This damned thing refused to go down or blow up. This Jap was already dead-headed directly towards us, but the Jap's timing was off. His burning plane missed us by only 50 feet above our aft elevator. The Jap hit the water about 200 feet from us. Close call. It didn't take long to get everything under control. The Japs lost over 600 planes to our 27. They were inexperienced pilots. Most of them were under 18 years of age! Two days later all seemed to be “A-OK.” Intelligence must have had some kind of insight.

After Saipan and Guam, we headed southwest toward the “Carolinas.” We took supplies aboard at sea. Other task forces joined us. The U.S.S. Idaho was in sight but not to be our partner, so there goes my buddy.

On the way to the Carolinas, our radar picked up three bleeps at nineteen miles. After sitting at general quarters for an hour, I could see my perspiration rolling down my leg. No ventilation and no fresh water. My perspiration rolled from one bulkhead and back to me as the ship rolled. How! If hell is this hot, from now on I’m going to be a good boy! Anyway, we shot down the three boogies. So, all’s well now.

No more encounters as we finally got to New Hebrides off the Australian coast for supplies. Talk about surprises; this was it. Natives were black with almost red hair. No liberty? time was precious. We didn’t stay long; we had other things to do.

A quick notice, back to the sea north to the Philippines. All hell broke loose! We cut off the Jap fleet including the prize Jap “Yamamoto” and many others. Our air support and the U.S.S. Enterprise plastered the Japs. Getting the “Yamamoto” was a real moral victory for us. What a delight it was to have the U.S.S. New Jersey with us. What a magnificent ship! Like having “Babe Ruth” play with teenagers. I can’t say enough to describe my delight at seeing her at our side.

To other places now. Oh boy! Here comes a typhoon -- yikes! Talk about tossing and rolling, listing to 25 degrees from one side to the other. Good thing I had good sea legs. I wish we had that rain now.

Now we begin in earnest. October of 1944. Our float with all of the “goodies” -- U.S.S. New Jersey, U.S.S. Franklin, U.S.S. Wichita, and many “cans” -- steamed to the North. About 1:30 PM on October 30, 1944 -- Surprise! “Here come the Japs!” Our radar picked up the bleeps, and to G.Q., we go. I was stationed on the hangar deck and watched out on the port blister when I saw a Jap plane make a run on the U.S.S. Franklin. The Jap dove down and dropped an “egg” on her. Clear as can be; it couldn’t miss. As it hit, the Jap “peeled off" and headed directly toward us. Oh boy! Jap was determined to hit us. As he approached, I ran into the hangar, yelling, “Fire on the hangar deck.” I only assumed it was a crash. Damned if I wasn't right! The Jap hit us on the aft elevator, plane, and all. Talk about confusion, this was it! Being very graceful about my language (I didn't swear or use vulgar language), now it's time to calm the crew. A boatswain above my rank had to get the planes on deck in order. Screaming and all pulling in different directions, I called down to the crew, “Shut up, you bastards, and listen to the boatswain.” Shocked by my harsh language, they all pulled together and the planes were pushed to a safer place. The aft elevator pit was flooded from conflagration to a depth of four feet. As the injured came from the flight deck end down the rear ladder, I assisted them through the elevator to other help on the hanger deck.

I remember one of my favorite officers staggering through the elevator pit asking me, “Please, help me, I'm burned badly.” I got him to the hangar deck where others could help. Shame, I never did find out if he recovered or not. Sickbay was bulging with the injured. No time for crying -- now on to dumping “the inflammables.” Wow! What waste -- barrels and barrels of oil went over the side. I couldn’t keep my mind off having watched my buddy “Poxy” go over the side in flames as the Jap hit us. It’s now time to get the fire out, but the hangar deck did little good since the fire was on the flight deck. It’s now about 2:30 P.M. and the fire is still burning on the flight deck. A stubborn flame due to the gas from all the planes still aboard. We did our part on the hangar deck. It’s now about 3 P.M. and orders from “Comsat” to abandon the ship. Our Captain McBride asked permission for one more hour to put out the fire. Permission granted. Boy! What a relief.

At about 4 P.M., the fire was under control. Since only about three hours of daylight were left, a rescue was almost impossible if we had to abandon the ship. We got it done like seamen should. Fire out and off to safer places. The next day we were ordered back to Pearl Harbor. After reaching there, an evaluation of the damage was done. We were ordered to San Francisco for damage repairs. Now we are ready for an extensive leave -- much needed to say the least! Not much else in this “ditty.” A thirty-day leave and on to marry my sweetie pie of now 44 years.

A footnote at this point. September 3 is a real bell. It’s the day I entered Purdue University [1942]. For days I kept dreaming the war would end on September 3. In 1944, on September 3, I entered Radio Shack to ask what happened that day. Was the war over? “No,” was the reply, “but the Italians surrendered today.” Dreams of September 3 went on. I couldn’t get it off my mind. Guess what? The Japs surrendered on September 3, 1945, Tokyo time.

Not to forget the day I went into business, September 3, 1947. In 1950 on September 3 my first son was born. Coincidence? Maybe, but other notables happened on September 3. Goofy? Not to me, it isn’t.

The war is over, and now it’s time to goof off!

With my best regards to all my shipmates of the U.S.S. Belleau Wood, I am

FGS

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