# My 1102 Days of W.W. II/Chapter 9

IX. HOMEWARD BOUND
For several days the scuttlebutt was really flying, as we heard rumors that we were returning to the States. It wasn't long after that a crew came in to replace us. We were told to pack up as we would be leaving for the states within a few days.
No doubt we needed some rest and recreation after 26 months out there. We had accomplished what we were sent there for, as we were credited with unloading more than 500,000 tons of cargo. All of this had to be handled at least twice and some four times (ship to storage and back to ship again).
So on 6-8-45 we went aboard a Navy troop transport and bade farewell to the Western Pacific Islands. We had about 7500 miles of water ahead of us. Since there were enemy submarines still around, the trip had to be made again on a zig-zag course, which involved more miles. Two subchasers escorted us and fortunately we had no problems or alerts.
We did encounter some rough weather for a few days. The bow of this huge ship would dip down to a few feet of the water, then it would rise up again to about 40 feet. I ventured to the bow but didn't stay very long for it gave me a strange feeling, I must admit. It would be hard to believe this without actually experiencing it. The waves being so high when we and the escorts, which stayed about one quarter mile to each side and ahead of us, were in a trough at the same time and we were unable to see one another. Don't ever let anyone tell you that there is not alot of water out there in the Pacific.
What does one do 24 hours a day for 25 days on a troop ship? I had no clothes to wash as I had them all clean when we left, and when they became ​dirty I just cast them overboard. About all there was to do was eat, sleep, play cards, watch the flying fish and the two subchasers plow through the water.
If you recall, while going west, we lost a day when we crossed the International Date Line. On the way back we picked up a day by having two Tuesdays in one week.
After 16 days and nights of traveling (6-24-45), we pulled into Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. It all started on there Dec. 7, 1941, when the Japanese made a surprise attack sinking 18 of our ships including the battleships Arizona, California, Oklahoma and the West Virginia. The Arizona and Oklahoma are still resting there. Several of us went into Honolulu that night and took in a hula show; later we stopped in an open sidewalk bar and I had a glass of milk, the first one since I left the states. The next day we were underway again.
After returning to work at Continental Can in Tampa, Florida I hired Ted Dawson as a machinist. Some time later he asked me if I had been in Honolulu during the war since he knew I had been in the Navy. I replied, "Yes." "Did you stop by an open bar and buy a glass of milk?" he added. I said "yes" again. Ted was working on the island during the war and saw me drinking milk and thought it was so unusual for a sailor.
​We had a wonderful view of Waikiki Beach and the well known Diamond Head Mountain on leaving Oahu Island, as we sailed around the southern side. After nine days of sailing, the seagulls began to show up and we began to weave our way through and around the rugged Farallon Islands which are offshore from San Francisco. We knew then that we were getting close to the States. With the help of the Coast Guard we had no problem. Some of these protruding rocks in the water reminded me of huge cypress knees, that could wreck a ship if it did hit one. Oahu Island had the same type of huge boulders sticking out of the water on the southern side.
On 7-3-45, we arrived in San Francisco harbor after a long, long ride, and went into temporary quarters in Oakland. Of course, we were all anxious to be on our way home, but first I had to make arrangements to take my footlocker to the express office and make a train reservation. Before departing there we were given a 30-day leave plus travel time and then report to the Washington D.C. Navy Yard.
The earliest reservation we could make was on 7-5-45, leaving on a six P.M. train. This gave us (those traveling together) a chance to purchase our dress uniforms, have them fitted and time to take a bus across the Golden Gate Bridge into San Francisco to look the town over.
According to my ticket, the "San Francisco Limited", a very plush train, was to take me to Chicago. Arriving at the station to board the train, the conductor informed me, "This is not your train. Your ticket indicates that you must belong on the second section." Within an hour it was loading and ​again I was told, "This is not your train." I began to wonder if I really did have a train. About an hour later the third section pulled in — this was it! But it was not the limited special that my ticket had led me to believe. No doubt these obsolete day coaches had been retired at least twenty years or longer before the war.
We finally settled down for a long ride home with about six more people than seats in each car. With half a dozen people standing around, you can bet your life you would lose your seat when it became necessary to go eat or use the rest room. On returning it was your turn to sit on the floor or take your exercise until you had a chance at another seat.
This was my fourth trip across the States riding in day coaches. It proved one thing, you are able to survive for five days without a bath.
Changing trains in Chicago and Cincinnati and sleeping next to different people - both male and female for five nights and having traveled 10,500 plus miles in the last 35 days, I finally arrived in Roanoke, Virginia and home.