Navy "Boots" in WWII
An Oral History

Signal School, First Assignment

by Everett Richardson
as told to Julie Olson North Bend, Oregon Irving, Texas

Signal School

We all took some kind of general intelligence test and, as I was no math brain, they assumed I might do better in a language job instead of attending the diesel school across town from the signal school in Champaign-Urbana, Ill. The test was given in an attempt to put us where we would be most familiar. It's almost unbelievable that they had that much sense. Those were different times!

The trip from Farragut to Chicago was a delight — chair cars with wicker seats, extremely uncomfortable! We saw nothing of the outside world because the steam froze on the outside of the car windows. We stopped in Fargo, N.D., where we saw a switchman trying to thaw out a switch with a blowtorch. I asked how cold it was and he said, "About 40." I said, "Above or below?" He said, "Below of course!" I went back in. That was my first experience with true winter weather!

At signal school I learned the ins and outs of alphabet flags, Morse code by flashing light, semaphore, prosigns, etc., for four months during that winter and into the next spring. Prosigns were instructions on how to handle messages by their priority, as some messages were more important than others and were handled in different ways. Semaphore is the technique of sending messages with one flag in each hand with the arms in different positions for each letter of the alphabet; it's used mostly by ships in close proximity because it's limited by having to be read through a spyglass. It's often used by ships in port to pass messages, including "private messages" to friends on other ships.

Flashing light was introduced to us, and we had to master reading Morse code by reading the flashes. I still use it today as a ham radio operator. Morse is used internationally and there are no accents because it is strictly in the English language. It has been phased out by global positioning but will continue to be used by hams for many more years, I'm sure.

The food at signal school, by the way, was out of this world and prepared much better, if only for the reason that they were serving a much smaller group. In total, we spent 16 weeks in basic training and a similar amount at signal school before being assigned to a ship or station to strike a blow for a Free World; we weren't too seasoned but we thought we were very salty. Those Japs and Krauts had better watch their step! Nothing could prepare us for what it was really like, but we had no idea of that.

Friend, Lost And Found

The one buddy I recall was from the eastern Oregon town of Vale, on the Idaho border. We were great friends. He was sent to a merchant ship on which the Navy had gun crews and signalmen for the merchant fleet's protection and to keep some order in dangerous convoy duty. I only saw him once after we left Illinois, and that was a Christmas Day in Pearl Harbor. I sent him a "pvt" (private message), as we called it, and was invited over for Christmas dinner. At that point I realized that they were eating much better than the boys in the fleet. Then I recalled my father's words when I enlisted: "You might be better off if you joined the merchant marine; they at least get paid pretty well." But I was having no part of that kind of advice. I joined the Navy and here we were paid $50 a day, once a month to start. That Christmas day I had some second thoughts about "fleet" service.

I tried after the war to find Whitey, but when I wrote several times to his last known address, I received no answer and decided that perhaps he had not survived. Nearly 50 years later I got a phone call from him. He was in the library in Baker City, Ore., and had looked up my number just to see if I still lived in the same area. He had leukemia; he was being treated at the University of Oregon Medical School and died a few months later. We had a short visit in Eugene and another here a few months later, which was a fine reunion. I told him of the letters but evidently his sister didn't relay them to him. I still wonder why.

First Assignment

After signal school, they sent me to the "fleet" to a destroyer being built in the Brooklyn Navy Yard, N.Y. I was overjoyed by this. We were not afraid of anything at that time and were very happy to get "new construction." We actually enjoyed painting and helping get the USS Kimberly DD521 ready for duty. It was a destroyer, a smaller fleet escort ship designed to provide the capital ships with aircraft protection as well as torpedo and depth charge protection from submarines, etc. There were 317 people aboard when we were commissioned; later more were added as they discovered the need for more anti-aircraft protection.

USS Kimberly DD521

The worst thing that I remember about that time was that my sleeping area was in the mess hall, and I had to get up very early every morning so they could set up for breakfast. There were so many people on board to man the battle stations that we were packed in like sardines in bunks three deep about 16 inches apart, and it wasn't possible to turn over at the same time the guy above did. The toilet conditions were very basic, with a long stainless steel trough with spaced seats along it for the commode. The showers were OK but often full; to say waiting was involved is the understatement of the year. The food was pretty foul on the ship due to the small storage space in the "freezer," etc.

Liberty and Leave

When not on duty in the evenings we were allowed to go ashore on "liberty," but we had to be back by a certain hour. We were regular tourists and went to places like Coney Island and Broadway shows, where I saw Frank Sinatra on stage as a very young man. I couldn't understand at the time why all the girls stood up in the front rows and fainted when he was singing! He was unknown at that time and had an intermission show between movies.

"Leave" was an extended absence from the ship. After the ship was commissioned and we were nearly ready to take her on a "shakedown cruise," the ship's company was given seven days of leave. Those members whose homes were too far away to get home and back were left aboard the ship. Fortunately a shipmate who lived in Amish Lancaster County, Pa., invited me to go with him to his home in Oxford. When we got there, we took his folks' car and went to Elkton, Md., where we picked up his girlfriend and a friend of hers who worked in an ammunition factory there. We continued on for a weekend at Cape May, N.J., where they had a boardwalk similar to Atlantic City - much smaller, of course!

My new friend was eventually killed in a 40mm ammunition explosion at the plant, ending much letter writing at that time. I was quite depressed by this turn of events; she was a sweet girl.

More Everett Richardson: WWII Oral History

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