U.S. NAVY 1941-1945
April 2014
To my children:
In the late 1930’s our government knew that World War II was approaching, so it started offering pilot training virtually free at the college level. It consisted of both ground school classes in related subjects, like Meteorology, Navigation, Theory of Flight, Engine Mechanics, etc, along with hours of instruction in small planes, like Piper Cubs. So in spring of 1941, being both intrigued with the idea of flying and bored with my Pharmacy classes at the U of M, I signed up.
It was okay with my Dad —- even more than okay, I think he was jealous, proud of my interest, but couldn’t show it. Why? Because Lily was against it said, “Jewish boys don’t go flying”, and all those negative feelings that cover up just plain fear. But I stood Lily down and told her that it was my decision and wouldn’t change my mind.
So, night classes began at the U/M and I was assigned to a flight school at one of the hangers at Wold Chamberlain. Hinck Flying School was the name and Elmer Hinck and his brother owned it. They had about 6-8 Cubs, Taylorcraft, and Aeronica planes. The Cub was “tandem” —- seats one behind each other —- and the latter two planes were side-by-side types. Sixty-Five Horsepower, as I remember the Continental Engines.
I can’t remember how many students were in this CPA (Civilian Pilot Training) program at the U. Maybe 50. It was offered in many schools all over the country. My friend —- still —- Sam Nilva, is the only person I can remember in my class. He’ll probably be on the next Honor Flight. We were assured a Private Pilot License.
We were based on Wold Chamberlain, but we did our practice landings and take-offs on the small Cedar, Lyndale, and Nicollet grass airports nearby. These “airports” are now undoubtedly strip shopping malls or apartment buildings. And, of course, there is no more flight training on Wold.
The Hinck Flying School hanger was alongside the “Main Terminal”. Can you imagine how simple the whole arrangement was, as compared to today? There was no #94 Freeway. We drove to the airport by going out 50th St, —- Minnehaha Parkway, to 34th Ave S and then drove south to about 15 blocks to 66th till we got to Wold Chamberlain. The small planes were hand ‘propped’, which means someone spun the propeller while the pilot sat in the seat and shouted “Magneto On” —- and then the guy in front spun the prop and hoped it caught, with the engine keeping it turning. We took off and landed on the grass on he airport, between the runways, which the bigger planes (2-engine DC3s) used. We didn’t have radio. The tower gave us the right to taxi, take off, and land by means of a green or red light that they flashed at us. The bigger planes had radio by this time.
So, while in my last year of Pharmacy, and working at my Dad’s drug store part time, (and living at home —- 4124 Chowen S, Mpls) I took ground-school classes two or three nights a week and got in my flying hours whenever there was open time and good weather. I remember that my first flight instructor was Claire. Farm boy, as I recall.
Eight hours of dual time and then we soloed —- if the instructor felt you were ready. The same today, I think, for beginners. It took 35 hours, part dual with instructor and part solo to be qualified for your Private License Test by a FAA inspector. By summer I had that Private ticket and started building up my hours to get my Commercial and Instructor ones. I had also taken a course in Acrobatic Flying that was offered (This was given by the FAA, using a bi-wing open cockpit, WACO UPF7s.) I was on my way, enjoying it. No definite plans for afterwards. Just knew I loved the challenge of flying.
Whether in a Cub or an acrobatic plane we were always required to wear a parachute; back or seat type. All students instructed how to put all the planes in spins, stalls, and other now-scary maneuvers. No license issued without doing them correctly.
On December 7th, 1941, Sunday morning, I was driving (in my white Ford 2-door) to the airport, on 34th Ave S, about 9 AM for another scheduled solo, as I recall. On the way I heard the news on my car radio about the Pearl Harbor Attack. By the time I got to the airport, maybe ten minutes later, it was “closed”. No flights. Back home I went. Everyone was sitting around the radios listening to all the shocking news. We were officially at war by the next morning when Congress declared it, after Pres Roosevelt’s famous “Day of Infamy” speech. Read any book on WWII for the whole picture. We were at war, fully, within a day. Amazing.
Everyone wanted to “get in”. Me too. Plus I was bored with Pharmacy. So, even with only a few months to finish and get my Pharmacy license, I quit the next day, Dec 8th, to quickly get my Commercial and Instructor tickets. I was advised that a Flight School in Columbus Ohio had openings, so that’s where I headed in my Ford. Great hugs from DAD and MOM. Lots of fear on their part, but in a “justified war” (we were attacked), nobody lets those emotions show.
While taking more lessons at the airport there I decided I wanted to know more about Celestial Navigation, something that was no longer used in flying because of simpler radio navigation. I went to the campus of Ohio U, downtown, and found a course there. And this is the time I met Besse Sebulsky, at the Jewish Sorority House I visited one day. Attracted I was, but more interested in flying than girls at that point of my life. We dated several times with no future plans on each of our part when I was fully ticketed and ready to leave there.
I returned to the Twin Cities and taught a Flight Instructors Course at Holman Field in St. Paul for several months. And then moved on to Cleveland, Ohio where there was an opening in a big flight school there, teaching Army Air Corps cadets stationed at Fenn College. I lived near the airport, still a civilian, for about a year or so.
That government program finally closed, along with all the college flight programs throughout the country; the Army and Navy no longer needed more pilots. It was at this time that I volunteered for the Navy and headed for the next part of my life. Before I was inducted I applied for an officer’s commission, which didn’t come in time. Great Lakes Naval Station near Chicago was my first assignment after induction and that’s where the train carried me. It was loaded with uniformed men and women, as all trains were at that period. Every soldier/sailor was on the move throughout the 4-yr war, it seemed.
(My cousin, Lester Gottlieb, also followed me a couple weeks later to Great Lakes; he too a buck seaman. More later on).
I had about a month or so of “boot camp” when one day I was called to the main office and told that I was no longer a Buck Seaman. They addressed me as “Sir”; my Ensign Commission had come thru. Within hours I was in my new uniform, bag packed, and on my way to my first assignment, Plattsburg, NY, for a 90-day quick start officers training course. Seamanship, gunnery, naval history, and another half dozen-quickie courses and I was ready to run the navy.
I was then off to Lauderdale, Florida, my first official destination. Radar School. Radar was totally new stuff at that time. I wasn’t a fit there and told the captain. My next assignment sent me to Norfolk, VA to catch the Chiwawa AO68, “Attack Oiler”. The navy had many oil carrying ships. Formerly a civilian oiler with a crew of about 40 then, it now had a crew of about 240 — all army and navy stations are geared for maximum, in personal and equipment. Overkill is true of all armies throughout history. The Chiwawa had been the oiler on many convoys carrying men and supplies during the war to Europe and Africa. Every convoy, usually about 100 ships traveling at the speed of the slowest ship (naturally!) —- usually 10 knots (about 11 mph) —— had one Navy Oiler, to keep the protecting Destroyers filled with oil all the time. Refueling at sea — very exciting.
I took only one convoy trip with the Chiwawa, to Africa. No lights whatsoever for fear of subs. So we travelled in the dark. Scary. The German sub success was over by this time, so I saw no action. Yes, we fired our 3” and 4” guns in practice while in route. But that was about it. I was a “deck officer” with about 30 seamen under me, doing the grunt work. Chipping old paint and applying new paint was the way the men were kept busy all the time. We did “four-on-eight-off” hour shifts. Not bad duty. Boring. But that’s war life.
Our ship pulled into New York City harbor once. Les Gottlieb came down to visit me on the ship. He had never been on one before. He was assigned to a Navy Hospital all during the war because of his pharmacy training.
It was on the Chiwawa that I got lonely and started thinking of happier moments. Besse Sebulsky came back into view. I could remember only her name and the name of her Ohio city: Martin’s Ferry. So that’s how I addressed the letter: Besse Sebulsky, Martin’s Ferry, Ohio. You kids wouldn’t be here today if that Martins Ferry postman had been lazy and sent the letter back for better information.
She answered! Maybe a couple letters went between us. At this time she actually was in Miami, working in a Senior Home, as an activities director. That was her studies at Ohio, wasn’t it?
Then I got another transfer because I was bored with the life on an oiler. (Obviously. You know me -- I get bored quickly). Apparently I was able to convince my superior, the Exec Officer —- right under the Captain on every ship —- that I could help our war cause better if they’d transfer me to someplace that could use my flight background. So I got assigned to the Pocomoke, a “Seaplane Tender”. I learned it was in the Pacific. It “tended” PBY’s, big airplanes that could land both on water and land. (Pan Am Airlines flew them after the war. Then they disappeared).
So back on the train, to San Francisco, to catch the Pocomoke. Got there to find that it was currently in the Philippines. This was after the Battle of Leyte, the “Japs” had been driven off, and the war was headed to a finale. I was told to wait for a troop carrier, a ship carrying thousands of men to various ships and stations in that vast Pacific area.
Time to kill. I knew from our letters Besse Sebusky was in Los Angeles by that time, with Dorothy and Ma. The Sebulskys were in the process of taking over the junk business of California. So I headed down to LA to kill a few days waiting for my ship. Love and romance took over; within hours we were locked together.
Besse came up to San Francisco via bus or shuttle once during that time for a couple days, when another lucky delay ensured; More serious bonding. She went back. I went forward, into the big Pacific, to look for the Pocomoke.
The Japanese surrendered while I was on that slow troop ship headed west. The ship was lousy with passable food but no fresh water for showering. Only salt-water soap. Ever try it?
I finally found the Pocomoke in Tawi-Tawi, an island, dragging at anchor in the Southern Philippines. War was over. Lights back on. Everyone thought of going home. Not a happy time. Men were being transferred off for discharge, with those with many years duty getting off first. I had come into service late because of my civilian life as a flight instructor; so I had a long, long wait. After about a year of that dull life, our Captain got orders to head back to the U.S, to Philadelphia for decommissioning. Hooray, we’re going home but with a short stop in Hawaii, for reasons I can’t remember. But I do remember that new orders came thru the last minute that we’d be stopping off at San Diego along the way. No time for mail, so I telegraphed Besse in LA to meet me at the ship and “let’s get married”.
Besse, Dorothy and Ma met our ship on the dock with a sponge cake. Also my parents, and Arnold and Eleanor and Bruce and Carol, and Leonard & Marci (and their kids?) came to meet us as well. The rabbi was waiting at the hotel —- the U.S.Grant Hotel, downtown San Diego. (I visited the place a couple years ago). No change.
A short week there and then I had to get back on my ship and we headed to Philly via the Panama Canal. Besse took the train and we met in Philly. We stayed there a few months, (rented a couple rooms in a private home Jewish home where Besse could keep kosher), helping to decommission the ship (“put it in moth balls”). By this time I had built up enough “points” to get my discharge.
Off we drove to Minneapolis to start our life and have you kids. Back to Pharmacy School for one year. (Tuition was free with G.I. Bill). At first we lived with Howie and Roseabell Greenstein and started having kids.
There it is. About 4 1/2 yrs in Service. And now I’m going on the Honor Flight. Thanks to Cindy for asking that I put this in writing.
I love you. DAD
P.S. I still insist I didn’t fly under the Washington Ave bridge near the UM before the War, even though I was given a warning citation on that. The officer erred.
April 2014
To my children:
In the late 1930’s our government knew that World War II was approaching, so it started offering pilot training virtually free at the college level. It consisted of both ground school classes in related subjects, like Meteorology, Navigation, Theory of Flight, Engine Mechanics, etc, along with hours of instruction in small planes, like Piper Cubs. So in spring of 1941, being both intrigued with the idea of flying and bored with my Pharmacy classes at the U of M, I signed up.
It was okay with my Dad —- even more than okay, I think he was jealous, proud of my interest, but couldn’t show it. Why? Because Lily was against it said, “Jewish boys don’t go flying”, and all those negative feelings that cover up just plain fear. But I stood Lily down and told her that it was my decision and wouldn’t change my mind.
So, night classes began at the U/M and I was assigned to a flight school at one of the hangers at Wold Chamberlain. Hinck Flying School was the name and Elmer Hinck and his brother owned it. They had about 6-8 Cubs, Taylorcraft, and Aeronica planes. The Cub was “tandem” —- seats one behind each other —- and the latter two planes were side-by-side types. Sixty-Five Horsepower, as I remember the Continental Engines.
I can’t remember how many students were in this CPA (Civilian Pilot Training) program at the U. Maybe 50. It was offered in many schools all over the country. My friend —- still —- Sam Nilva, is the only person I can remember in my class. He’ll probably be on the next Honor Flight. We were assured a Private Pilot License.
We were based on Wold Chamberlain, but we did our practice landings and take-offs on the small Cedar, Lyndale, and Nicollet grass airports nearby. These “airports” are now undoubtedly strip shopping malls or apartment buildings. And, of course, there is no more flight training on Wold.
The Hinck Flying School hanger was alongside the “Main Terminal”. Can you imagine how simple the whole arrangement was, as compared to today? There was no #94 Freeway. We drove to the airport by going out 50th St, —- Minnehaha Parkway, to 34th Ave S and then drove south to about 15 blocks to 66th till we got to Wold Chamberlain. The small planes were hand ‘propped’, which means someone spun the propeller while the pilot sat in the seat and shouted “Magneto On” —- and then the guy in front spun the prop and hoped it caught, with the engine keeping it turning. We took off and landed on the grass on he airport, between the runways, which the bigger planes (2-engine DC3s) used. We didn’t have radio. The tower gave us the right to taxi, take off, and land by means of a green or red light that they flashed at us. The bigger planes had radio by this time.
So, while in my last year of Pharmacy, and working at my Dad’s drug store part time, (and living at home —- 4124 Chowen S, Mpls) I took ground-school classes two or three nights a week and got in my flying hours whenever there was open time and good weather. I remember that my first flight instructor was Claire. Farm boy, as I recall.
Eight hours of dual time and then we soloed —- if the instructor felt you were ready. The same today, I think, for beginners. It took 35 hours, part dual with instructor and part solo to be qualified for your Private License Test by a FAA inspector. By summer I had that Private ticket and started building up my hours to get my Commercial and Instructor ones. I had also taken a course in Acrobatic Flying that was offered (This was given by the FAA, using a bi-wing open cockpit, WACO UPF7s.) I was on my way, enjoying it. No definite plans for afterwards. Just knew I loved the challenge of flying.
Whether in a Cub or an acrobatic plane we were always required to wear a parachute; back or seat type. All students instructed how to put all the planes in spins, stalls, and other now-scary maneuvers. No license issued without doing them correctly.
On December 7th, 1941, Sunday morning, I was driving (in my white Ford 2-door) to the airport, on 34th Ave S, about 9 AM for another scheduled solo, as I recall. On the way I heard the news on my car radio about the Pearl Harbor Attack. By the time I got to the airport, maybe ten minutes later, it was “closed”. No flights. Back home I went. Everyone was sitting around the radios listening to all the shocking news. We were officially at war by the next morning when Congress declared it, after Pres Roosevelt’s famous “Day of Infamy” speech. Read any book on WWII for the whole picture. We were at war, fully, within a day. Amazing.
Everyone wanted to “get in”. Me too. Plus I was bored with Pharmacy. So, even with only a few months to finish and get my Pharmacy license, I quit the next day, Dec 8th, to quickly get my Commercial and Instructor tickets. I was advised that a Flight School in Columbus Ohio had openings, so that’s where I headed in my Ford. Great hugs from DAD and MOM. Lots of fear on their part, but in a “justified war” (we were attacked), nobody lets those emotions show.
While taking more lessons at the airport there I decided I wanted to know more about Celestial Navigation, something that was no longer used in flying because of simpler radio navigation. I went to the campus of Ohio U, downtown, and found a course there. And this is the time I met Besse Sebulsky, at the Jewish Sorority House I visited one day. Attracted I was, but more interested in flying than girls at that point of my life. We dated several times with no future plans on each of our part when I was fully ticketed and ready to leave there.
I returned to the Twin Cities and taught a Flight Instructors Course at Holman Field in St. Paul for several months. And then moved on to Cleveland, Ohio where there was an opening in a big flight school there, teaching Army Air Corps cadets stationed at Fenn College. I lived near the airport, still a civilian, for about a year or so.
That government program finally closed, along with all the college flight programs throughout the country; the Army and Navy no longer needed more pilots. It was at this time that I volunteered for the Navy and headed for the next part of my life. Before I was inducted I applied for an officer’s commission, which didn’t come in time. Great Lakes Naval Station near Chicago was my first assignment after induction and that’s where the train carried me. It was loaded with uniformed men and women, as all trains were at that period. Every soldier/sailor was on the move throughout the 4-yr war, it seemed.
(My cousin, Lester Gottlieb, also followed me a couple weeks later to Great Lakes; he too a buck seaman. More later on).
I had about a month or so of “boot camp” when one day I was called to the main office and told that I was no longer a Buck Seaman. They addressed me as “Sir”; my Ensign Commission had come thru. Within hours I was in my new uniform, bag packed, and on my way to my first assignment, Plattsburg, NY, for a 90-day quick start officers training course. Seamanship, gunnery, naval history, and another half dozen-quickie courses and I was ready to run the navy.
I was then off to Lauderdale, Florida, my first official destination. Radar School. Radar was totally new stuff at that time. I wasn’t a fit there and told the captain. My next assignment sent me to Norfolk, VA to catch the Chiwawa AO68, “Attack Oiler”. The navy had many oil carrying ships. Formerly a civilian oiler with a crew of about 40 then, it now had a crew of about 240 — all army and navy stations are geared for maximum, in personal and equipment. Overkill is true of all armies throughout history. The Chiwawa had been the oiler on many convoys carrying men and supplies during the war to Europe and Africa. Every convoy, usually about 100 ships traveling at the speed of the slowest ship (naturally!) —- usually 10 knots (about 11 mph) —— had one Navy Oiler, to keep the protecting Destroyers filled with oil all the time. Refueling at sea — very exciting.
I took only one convoy trip with the Chiwawa, to Africa. No lights whatsoever for fear of subs. So we travelled in the dark. Scary. The German sub success was over by this time, so I saw no action. Yes, we fired our 3” and 4” guns in practice while in route. But that was about it. I was a “deck officer” with about 30 seamen under me, doing the grunt work. Chipping old paint and applying new paint was the way the men were kept busy all the time. We did “four-on-eight-off” hour shifts. Not bad duty. Boring. But that’s war life.
Our ship pulled into New York City harbor once. Les Gottlieb came down to visit me on the ship. He had never been on one before. He was assigned to a Navy Hospital all during the war because of his pharmacy training.
It was on the Chiwawa that I got lonely and started thinking of happier moments. Besse Sebulsky came back into view. I could remember only her name and the name of her Ohio city: Martin’s Ferry. So that’s how I addressed the letter: Besse Sebulsky, Martin’s Ferry, Ohio. You kids wouldn’t be here today if that Martins Ferry postman had been lazy and sent the letter back for better information.
She answered! Maybe a couple letters went between us. At this time she actually was in Miami, working in a Senior Home, as an activities director. That was her studies at Ohio, wasn’t it?
Then I got another transfer because I was bored with the life on an oiler. (Obviously. You know me -- I get bored quickly). Apparently I was able to convince my superior, the Exec Officer —- right under the Captain on every ship —- that I could help our war cause better if they’d transfer me to someplace that could use my flight background. So I got assigned to the Pocomoke, a “Seaplane Tender”. I learned it was in the Pacific. It “tended” PBY’s, big airplanes that could land both on water and land. (Pan Am Airlines flew them after the war. Then they disappeared).
So back on the train, to San Francisco, to catch the Pocomoke. Got there to find that it was currently in the Philippines. This was after the Battle of Leyte, the “Japs” had been driven off, and the war was headed to a finale. I was told to wait for a troop carrier, a ship carrying thousands of men to various ships and stations in that vast Pacific area.
Time to kill. I knew from our letters Besse Sebusky was in Los Angeles by that time, with Dorothy and Ma. The Sebulskys were in the process of taking over the junk business of California. So I headed down to LA to kill a few days waiting for my ship. Love and romance took over; within hours we were locked together.
Besse came up to San Francisco via bus or shuttle once during that time for a couple days, when another lucky delay ensured; More serious bonding. She went back. I went forward, into the big Pacific, to look for the Pocomoke.
The Japanese surrendered while I was on that slow troop ship headed west. The ship was lousy with passable food but no fresh water for showering. Only salt-water soap. Ever try it?
I finally found the Pocomoke in Tawi-Tawi, an island, dragging at anchor in the Southern Philippines. War was over. Lights back on. Everyone thought of going home. Not a happy time. Men were being transferred off for discharge, with those with many years duty getting off first. I had come into service late because of my civilian life as a flight instructor; so I had a long, long wait. After about a year of that dull life, our Captain got orders to head back to the U.S, to Philadelphia for decommissioning. Hooray, we’re going home but with a short stop in Hawaii, for reasons I can’t remember. But I do remember that new orders came thru the last minute that we’d be stopping off at San Diego along the way. No time for mail, so I telegraphed Besse in LA to meet me at the ship and “let’s get married”.
Besse, Dorothy and Ma met our ship on the dock with a sponge cake. Also my parents, and Arnold and Eleanor and Bruce and Carol, and Leonard & Marci (and their kids?) came to meet us as well. The rabbi was waiting at the hotel —- the U.S.Grant Hotel, downtown San Diego. (I visited the place a couple years ago). No change.
A short week there and then I had to get back on my ship and we headed to Philly via the Panama Canal. Besse took the train and we met in Philly. We stayed there a few months, (rented a couple rooms in a private home Jewish home where Besse could keep kosher), helping to decommission the ship (“put it in moth balls”). By this time I had built up enough “points” to get my discharge.
Off we drove to Minneapolis to start our life and have you kids. Back to Pharmacy School for one year. (Tuition was free with G.I. Bill). At first we lived with Howie and Roseabell Greenstein and started having kids.
There it is. About 4 1/2 yrs in Service. And now I’m going on the Honor Flight. Thanks to Cindy for asking that I put this in writing.
I love you. DAD
P.S. I still insist I didn’t fly under the Washington Ave bridge near the UM before the War, even though I was given a warning citation on that. The officer erred.