My First Trip Across the Atlantic

Saltine Crackers and Grapefruit Juice

            I begin in Bremerhaven, a seaport in Northern Germany.  The month was January; the year was 1957, almost a half century ago.  I had just ‘reupped’, reenlisted in the United States Army; signed my name on the dotted line for three more years.  My signing bonus had been about $700., and free transportation from Heidelberg where I was stationed to the Continental United States.  I had hoped to fly back across the water, but the Army had ordered me to use surface transportation, i.e., a troopship.  Initially I was sort of disappointed, but I soon got used to the idea, and thought it would be a novel adventure.  So it was.  The day before I had taken the train North through Germany to Bremerhaven, and I had stayed that night in a hotel.

In the morning I took a taxi to the dock where the ship, the USNS Upshur was tied up.  On the second floor of a large cavernous building, I went through the processing line, and stood in a crowd while waiting to go aboard.  1957, by the way, was the year of the Hula Hoop.  While standing in the all-male crowd, I watched a pretty young German girl, a Fraulein, dance with a Hula Hoop.  In 1957 this was the sexiest, most erotic dancing I had ever seen.  Soon afterward I walked across the walkway to the large grey ship to find my bunk in the hold.  While contemplating this sea voyage in the days prior to traveling, I had made some erroneous assumptions concerning my accommodations on the ship.  I had been promoted to Specialist 2^nd Class, E-5.  In Army barracks at the time that rank was sufficient to require a separate room.  I thought that this would probably not be possible on the ship, but envisioned a small compartment with perhaps 4 people of equivalent rank as living quarters; that I would not be living with the lower ranking soldiers.

You can imagine how I felt when I was led down several flights of stairs to a place down in the center of the bowels of the ship which was obviously a converted cargo hold.  I think it was called Troop Compartment C.  In this hold were a large number of bunks, but no individual beds.  The bunks were canvas strung from pipe racks.  I believe they were in tiers of about 5 or 6.  There were many rows of bunks.  Resignedly, I selected one of these for mine.  Our baggage was all piled at one end of the compartment on the floor.  Very soon the ship was untied and departed to a destination which I learned was to be the Brooklyn Naval Yard.  I assume this was in New York State, but it may have been in New Jersey.  I also learned that our first stop was at the port of Southampton, England—my first visit to that country.  Having a little knowledge of geography, but not knowing the location of Southampton, I speculated that we would probably go through the water called The English Channel.

Very soon after leaving the dock, when I was beginning to think about how I was going to occupy myself during the voyage and considering getting into the bunk for a nap it began to become obvious that travel on a troopship was not quite the same as an ordinary sailing trip.  Military Officers arrived in the compartment with a roster, a list of the people who should be in that compartment.  They called the roll, and each of us had to present an ID card to prove we were there.  They also assigned some to KP, to help the cooks in the galley.  My rank enabled me to avoid this duty.  Rules were made.  All were required to be up and dressed by 0600, 6:00 AM.  The compartment must be swept and mopped every morning after breakfast; all personnel were required to participate.  I was assigned a cleanup job which I will explain later.  We were not allowed in certain parts of the ship, the upper levels and staterooms, where the Officers, their Ladies and families were housed.  People were assigned on guard duty and posted at the entryways to ensure that we did not go into the precluded areas.  We could go on deck, but not in certain parts.  Someone in the group asked the Officer how long we would stopover in Southampton, and whether we would be able to get off the ship.  He informed us that it would be an overnight stay and E-5s and above could go into town.  Each of us was assigned a lifeboat, and we were told that very soon a lifeboat drill would be conducted.  He then departed.  In a few minutes the Public Address system speaker announced:  All personnel on deck for the lifeboat drill. 

We crowded back up the stairs where I located the lifeboat to which I was assigned on the right side of the ship about midway along.  Our first instruction concerned donning our lifejackets.  The seaman demonstrated how to do so, and we were each required to show that we understood by doing the same.  The lifejackets each had two pressurized pneumatic containers activated by pulling rings.  We were emphatically told not to pull the rings unless we actually fell in the water.

I had read stories concerning lifeboats and their usage.  I especially remember reading that many were saved in lifeboats during the sinking of the ocean liner Titanic.  Somehow, in my mind I had assumed a lifeboat to be about double the size of a large rowboat.  I knew that a number of people could be in the boat at the same time, but that sometimes there was just not enough room for everyone, and some had to hang onto ropes on the outside while in the water.  I thought maybe 10 to 12 people could be accommodated in the boat.  To my surprise the lifeboats were huge vessels, perhaps thirty feet long.  Because it was covered in a tarpaulin I could not see how many seats there were, but at each lifeboat on the ship a large group were gathered for the drill while a seaman was explaining the procedure.  The boat was held up off the deck by tall metal posts called davits.  When it was necessary to abandon ship the davits would pivot, the boat would be swung out over the rail, and lowered to deck level.  Then, and emphatically only then, the boat captain told us we would climb into the lifeboat at his command.  The boat would be lowered to the water, the engine started, and we would motor safely away from the sinking ship.  Because this whole experience was so new and interesting I listened a little more closely than modern air passengers attend to the stewardesses’ pre-flight safety briefing, but I must not have been completely occupied with it as I can remember gazing at the water and wondering where were the waves.  By this time I suppose we would have been an hour or two away from land, but the water was like glass.  The only disturbance was the wake behind the ship, and even this, possibly because we were not yet at full speed, dissipated quickly.

Later that afternoon the ships crew conducted a ‘man overboard’ drill.  A seaman threw a float from the back of the ship.  Standing on deck I watched as the ship shuddered to a stop, and one of the lifeboats was launched from the davits.  When the boat was in the water the seamen unhooked from the davit ropes, started the motor and circled to the back of the ship simulating picking up someone who had fallen overboard.  After picking up the float they motored back, connected back to the davit ropes, and were hoisted back on board.  I thought it sort of looked like fun.

Back down in the ship I found by looking at a map that Southampton is on the East coast of England and that we would sail South through the English Channel to reach there.  Other stories I had read—one of them may have been Tale of Two cities by Dickens—told of storms in the English channel, and that the water was very rough causing seasickness even on a short journey from England to France.  I had the idea in my head that this was some of the roughest water in the world.  I also thought the North Sea was very stormy, and wondered about the calmness of the waters the ship was slicing through.  I occupied myself the rest of the day receiving bedding for my bunk:  A thin mattress, sheets, blankets, and a pillow.  After making up my bed, I lay in it for awhile, and then wandered back up on deck to look around at the interesting things on the ship.  I walked forward to the front on one side, looked over the side at the front, then to the back on the other side, and looked over to see if I could see the propeller I could hear churning below.  I couldn’t because the curve of the sides of the ship hid it from view.  During all that afternoon the water continued to be glassy smooth.  Late in the afternoon while standing and watching the ocean, I heard ‘bong--bong’ on the Public Address System, and a disembodied voice announced, The First Setting of Dinner is Now Being Served.  I turned to go inside to eat, but an experienced troopship passenger told me the Dinner being served was for the first class passengers, not for us troops.  Soon it was our supper time, and I went to the galley for the evening meal.  I cannot remember what was offered, but I remember that the tables and benches were all bolted to the floor and had rims around the edges which would prevent our trays and eating utensils from sliding off on the floor in a storm.  This seemed at the time to be an unnecessary measure, but understandable.  After supper I went back on deck for a while looking at the water, but when it was completely dark I went back down to Troop Compartment C and climbed in my bunk thinking about England.

We were awakened in the morning by a shrill whistle on the same PA system.  Out of the bunk I rolled, dressed, and went to the galley for breakfast.  After breakfast, back in Troop Compartment C, I found what was to be my duty during the cleaning of the ship each morning.  I was told to report to a Sailor on deck at the back end of the ship.  Somewhat apprehensively I climbed the stairs and found my taskmaster.  My cleaning duty was to stand at the rail at the back of the ship near a mop bucket.  The Sailor had tied a long rope to the railing.  He told me your job is to stand here, and when the troops bring the dirty mops up you are to take two mops together, tie two half hitches in the line, throw them overboard into the ships wake, let them flop there for a moment, haul them back in, wring them in the mop bucket, and hand them back to the trooper.  I thought, hmm, this does not seem to be such a bad job—at least I was not down in the troop compartment sweeping or mopping.  I was out on deck where I could watch the water which was still very calm and smooth.  I followed the Sailor’s instructions several times as mops were brought up.  It was almost like fishing, and I watched to see whether I could see any fish in the churning water.  I was surprised to see how clean the ocean water made the mop heads, and began to enjoy the morning.  I wondered to myself why two mops.  I figured out that with three together one might not be held tightly by the rope and slip out.  I asked the Sailor who told me that one mop by itself would also slip off the rope.  I was doubtful, and later when he wasn’t watching I threw one mop over by itself, and sure enough I pulled the rope back up mopless.

I began to feel sort of like one of the ships crew standing there at the rail among the sailors, watching the wake of the ship and listening to the noisy propeller below.  Because I had learned we would dock in Southampton that afternoon, I knew that we were now sailing through the English Channel.  The only movement of the ship I could discern was that at very long intervals, perhaps nearly a minute, the deck would tilt very slowly to the right just enough that it was perceptible, and then just as slowly straighten up.  I thought to myself, ‘If this is the roughest water in the world, then sailors, and the other people in the books I had read must really be ‘namby-pambies’ because I was not having any of the effects of motion sickness.  I thought crossing the Atlantic in a troopship might be boring, but would also be sort of fun, and the kind of thing I could tell about in the future.  After cleanup, back in Troop Compartment C we were told that, if we wished to get off the ship in Southampton, we could go to the purser’s office and exchange some dollars for English money.  I did so, and received some of the most incomprehensible currency I have used anywhere in the world—Pounds and Shillings, and such.

After we docked, I and three other guys banded together to go into town.  We received a stern warning from the Officer who told us the ship would depart in the morning at 0730 whether we were on board or not, and that missing the boat was a court-martial offense.  After sloughing that off we walked down the dock and found an English taxi.  I, who had been riding in the back seat of fairly modern German Diesel Mercedes taxis in Heidelberg, thought this taxi a rather peculiar looking automobile.  It was old.  The back was conventional with doors on either side, but in the front the seat was divided in the center by a partition.  The passenger sat on the left in an enclosed compartment, while the driver sat on the right in an open drivers spot with no door.  The window between was lowered.  This was my first ride in a land where vehicles drive on the left side.  I was riding in front and needless to say, I was rather dodgy.  “Where to boys”, the driver asked?  An English Pub we told him.  We wanted to drink some English beer.  We motored into the town to a drinking establishment.  We arranged with the same cab driver to return and take us to a Bed and Breakfast hotel which he recommended.

After drinking a few pints, we had supper at an English restaurant.  We must have been somewhat loud and boisterous, as I remember the headwaiter asking our waitress if she was managing all right.  She replied, “I can handle four yanks”.  I wanted a paperback book to read during the crossing.  At a store which resembled Woolworths, I found a rack of books, and picked out one.  At the cash register I asked the price, and was told by the cashier, “Two and six”.  Mystified, I simply held out my money to her, and she took, I assume, the correct amount.  Later we went to a movie, where I was surprised to find that it was permitted to smoke during the showing.  In the evening we rented rooms at the Bed & Breakfast, and in the morning took the same taxi cab back to the ship, which untied and we began our voyage across the Atlantic.

Once again the water was very smooth and calm.  The troops busied themselves cleaning up the ship and once again my station was at the mop cleaning position at the back of the ship.  I noticed the water was a little rougher, I think it was sort of windy, but the ship continued to ride very stably in the water.  When the ship had been cleaned we were free to sit around on deck or lie in our bunks or do whatever interested us the most.  I think it was that very day when I noticed several people engaged in a strange activity.  Each of them had a spoon which had been purloined from the galley.  They were using the spoon to beat on the rim of a coin—ding, ding, it sounded.  I looked closely and finally asked someone what are you doing.  He said he was making a ring.  This was back before the time when American coins were sandwiched—the coinage was real silver.  This metal was soft enough that beating on the rim would slowly flatten it until it was broad enough to be a ring.  The center would then be drilled out, and for nothing more than several days’ effort when they were bored out of their minds anyway, the dinger would possess a silver ring worth, I suppose, a quarter.  This didn’t interest me enough to cause me to want to sit around and ding all day.  I read my book I had purchased in Southampton while we motored to the Southern end of England.  After supper I sat on deck watching the water until bedtime.  I slept well that night.

In the morning when the PA whistled us up, I noticed immediately that the ship was riding much rougher.  I had breakfast and went to my mop cleaning post.  Sure enough there were waves—not real big ones, but large enough to cause the ship to roll back and forth, and pitch up and down.  When the front of the ship would tilt downward the back would raise high in the air, and the propeller would thrash the water, sounding as if it came partially out of the water.  When this happened the whole back end of the ship would shake and shudder from the impact of the propeller blades with the water.  It sounded a little like a loud washing machine during the wash cycle—thrum, thrum, thrum, with every revolution until the front of the ship raised to go over the next wave, lowering the propeller back into the water.  This cycle, up, thrum, thrum, thrum, down, churn, churn, churn repeated endlessly.  The motion was not enough to cause seasickness on my part, but it began to be sort of unpleasant.  The weather, and the ocean surface continued to be rough the rest of the day, and I went to bed that night thinking a sailor’s life might not be such a bad lot.  I slept well that night.

When the PA whistled us up the following morning, it was immediately evident that the water was very rough.  After dressing I walked queasily down to the galley thinking I would have breakfast even though I didn’t think it would settle well.  I stood in the serving line until I saw what was for breakfast:  Would you believe pasty looking, over-cooked Red Beans and Cornbread.  Of course, there was coffee, but I had not yet learned to enjoy receiving my caffeine in a cup.  I suppose maybe that is standard Navy breakfast when the weather is stormy, but it certainly did not cause me to have hunger pangs.  I put my tray back and went up on deck to look at the waves, which were large, then back down to Troop Compartment C.  When cleanup began I reported to my mop cleaning station, and did my duty.  I was glad when it was finished and I could lie back down in my bunk and listen to my stomach growl while reading my book.  I finally realized that the water we had sailed through the previous two days was just very unusually calm, and that sailors were not the ‘namby-pambies’ I had been thinking they were.  The ship had turned the corner at the South end of England, and was headed West out into the Atlantic.  I hoped the storm would be over soon.

At lunch time through habit I went to the galley.  I took a tray of food, but was unable to do more than just nibble.  Back up on deck on this cold day late in January, I was fascinated by the ocean water.  The endless variety of the shapes of the waves as they passed by the side of the ship captured and held my eyes.  There was absolutely nothing to see other than the waves.  I sure was hungry, but couldn’t eat.  Someone on deck told me that he had heard that crackers and grapefruit juice was something that could be eaten without upsetting your stomach.

I do not know how high the waves were, but the ship was meeting them head-on.  It was sort of like crossing a ploughed field perpendicular to the rows.  In this case the rows seemed to be regularly placed about 1000 feet apart—this is a guess as I had no way of knowing the actual distance.  The ship was moving I was told by a sailor at 17 knots, or about 20 mph.  I could see the wave in the distance as the ship moved up to it.  The front of the ship would tilt up as we neared the top of the wave, until crossing the wave crest the front of the ship would splash down on the back side of the wave, and the back would raise out of the water, and the propeller would thrash as it revolved until the back end of the ship was back under the water.  Into the valley between waves we would sail, until I could see the crest of the next wave coming up to the front.  There was very little motion from side to side.  The idea I had held that ships sailed across the ocean, was put aside that morning.  Somewhere I have read the line ‘Over the Bounding Main’, and this is quite descriptive of ocean travel.  All day while listening to the ding-ding of people making rings, I stood eating crackers while the ship climbed up the next wave, crashed down, and the propellers thrum, thrum, thrum repeated in an endless cycle.  There was just one diversion.  Sometime that afternoon the PA system announced that all personnel should clear off the poop deck—this was the lowest deck of the ship just forward of the back.  We didn’t know why this was required, but soon found out.  The Officers and their Ladies soon came out exercise their dogs.  Needless to say we grumbled about this among ourselves, because this was the best place for us to sit or stand while on deck.  We said such things as “It is disgusting allowing dogs to use the toilet in the very places where we stood and sat”.  They did use a hose and clean up after the animals.  We soon noticed, however, that some of the Officers wives were rather pretty, so while being disgruntled, we stood at the railing of the next higher deck and girl-watched as compensation.

The weather worsened; remember this was the North Atlantic Ocean in January.  Late that afternoon the word was passed on the ships PA that all personnel should go below; that no one was allowed on deck.  Everyone was required to stay down inside the ship which was bucking and bouncing every which way.  I got into my bunk and remained there until the next morning.

The following morning after the whistle of the PA there was an extra announcement.  This was that all outer watertight doors were closed.  No one was allowed on deck.  From the bucking and bouncing of the ship it was evident that the storm had worsened yet again.  There were a few portholes in the next level up from Troop Compartment C, and when I managed to wangle a view of the outside, the waves were monstrous.  I could see as they passed by that some were almost as high as the top deck of the ship. I could hear the howling of the wind.  It became difficult to stand without something to hold on to.  I sure didn’t want any breakfast that morning, and, since cleanup was impossible, I climbed back in my bunk and tried to nap.  And so it went for the next nine days or so; eating saltine crackers, drinking grapefruit juice from a small metal can, carefully avoiding walking in a place where someone had just vomited, but never being away from the smell, being always near enough to something to grab onto if the ship made a really unexpected motion, having hunger pangs, but not wanting anything substantial to eat, and very, very bored.

Many of the soldiers in the ship were being returned to the United States to be discharged from the Army in less than honorable conditions.  Prior to that time the Army had been accepting recruits with lower than desirable IQ scores for some reason which escapes me now.  Most of these individuals were Privates, the lowest rank for soldiers; privately we in the more exalted ranks called them ‘dum-dums’.   For whatever reason these soldiers would not report to their KP duty; perhaps because they were sea-sick, or maybe since they would be discharged within a few days, they just did not wish to do so.  As a result one evening, during the worst part of the storm, the PA announced that a muster roll call would be conducted.  Everyone was required to crowd into the back of the ship, then one at a time show their ID card to an Officer, and pass through a single door into the front of the ship.  After being identified, those who had refused to perform their duties were taken to the brig, the ships jail. The rest of us were sent temporarily into Troop Compartment A in the front of the ship.  I had not been below deck in this part of the ship before, and before long I realized how lucky I had been to be assigned to Troop Compartment C.  In the storm the front was the very roughest riding part of the ship. You may have ridden in or observed a motorboat speeding across a lake with the front bouncing across the waves.  The ships movement was slower, but it was somewhat similar to riding in an elevator which was drawn up slowly about two floors, and then dropped rapidly to the ground floor over and over again.  I was relieved when the roll call was complete, and I could return to the easier ride back in the center of the ship.

When the weather subsided a little we were allowed to go outside in the fresh air which seemed to help a little, but since this was a Navy troopship the comforts provided on ocean liners were not available.  There were no lounge chairs out on the deck; in fact there were no chairs of any kind.  We sat on the stairs, we sat on the deck, we leaned against the rail, and we sat on the hatchways.  We were not allowed into the parts of the ship where the sailors lived and worked; and we did not commingle with them.  I would have liked to visit the bridge where the ship was driven, or maybe the engine room, but it was forbidden.  I could only from the front of the ship, look up at the windows high above where I suppose the ships captain and the quartermaster were standing.

I cannot remember eating in the galley for the rest of the voyage, although I suppose I must have eaten enough to sustain me.  After nine very boring, sea-sick, storm-tossed mornings since we departed from Southampton we arrived in calm coastal waters off the East coast of the United States.  It was a welcome respite from the tossing and turning.  That morning we cleaned the ship, turned in our bedding, repacked our baggage, and got ready to resume life as a landlubber.  Someone had a portable radio playing.  I don’t remember the program, but the singing commercial was ‘Man Oh Manischevitts, what a Wine’ for the Manischevitts Wine Company.  The ship motored slowly into New York harbor past the Statue of Liberty, and was tugged by whistling tug boats into a dock at the Brooklyn Naval Yard where a band was playing to welcome us.  I walked across the walkway to the dock, thinking, “That is the last time I will ever cross the ocean in a ship”.  Little did I know this was only the first of three ocean voyages; twice across the Atlantic and once across the Pacific; but I will tell those tales some other time.  I was hungry when I taxied to LaGuardia Airport for my flight to 30 days leave in Oklahoma, and very glad the voyage was over.