Antwerp Ahoy...
Unknown

his article was found in the archives in the Crabbin Memorial Library on board the BROWN.

Shortly after dinner on the evening of November 28, 1944, I kissed Margaret good-by at the 8th Avenue subway station platform near 42nd street. There is something quite final about a farewell in a subway, but it cannot compare to a farewell in a railway station. The subways run more frequently and there is less time to say the same things repeatedly. This was our third good-by preceding a jaunt across the Atlantic for me in the US Naval Armed Guard. There were two additional trips, when the good-byes were said over the phone from Mew York to Portland, and those were just as painful and not nearly so satisfactory to recall.

The Navy Armed Guard was changed from the customary observation in Navy slang that adequately described it as "sighted sub -- glub glub," to what is now known as the "best racket" in the Navy. We even absorb considerable ragging from the Merchant Mariners who operate the cargo ships to which we are assigned where we are termed "passengers." After more than a year making these "all expense tours" I was quite firmly convinced that the most serious danger connected with the duty was scrambling up and down a Jacob's Ladder when getting on and off the vessel when it was not anchored next to a pier.

After watching my wife board the rumbling subway train, I made my own way down to the subway that took me to the pier where the ship had been loaded. We were sailing from the pier at about six the following morning, which was good fortune since one is usually marooned in midstream for a few days awaiting the assembly of a convoy. We got under way with only a few customary minor delays and made our way carefully down the channel. We gave the usual thoughtful glance to the "Old Lady" off Battery Park. One wonders just when, and under what conditions, he will see her welcoming glance again. Even before one is well underway, he catches himself planning for his return with perhaps just a couple of mental suggestions concerning what he will do with his time when he does return.

As I watched New York's famous skyline fade from view in the dim, early-morning light -- (I'll take the sun rising over Oregon's Cascades any day for my choice) -- I recounted the many happy hours Margaret and I spent together in the brief period of just less than two weeks that had slipped away during the stay in port preceding the journey that had just started. We had jokingly referred to it as our "fourth honeymoon," since ours was a wartime marriage and each subsequent meeting was another honeymoon. We were so accustomed to these brief meetings, with the necessity for living each moment to its fullest, that sometime we caught ourselves wondering what it will be like to live in a peaceful world without the tender farewells and joyous meetings. I am certain that the meeting, however brief, is so much better than being away from each other for a year or more. I fear that there will be many adjustments that will have to be made when the war is over, especially amongst those couples who have been separated for long periods.

My ninth crossing of the Atlantic proved to be exceptionally smooth for this time of the year. Of course, there are varying degrees of smoothness, and a Liberty Ship (nicknamed Kaiser's Rolling Caskets by some of the people who travel on them) has its own particular idea of the amount of sea necessary to develop a first class case of rolling. We did have a few days of following sea, when the large waves made an effort to "get on the ride."

The only incident out of routine was a disturbance with our smoke floats. These are drum-like objects carried on a rack at the stern of the ship. They are released to make a smoke screen to obscure ones exact whereabouts, providing the wind is from the proper direction, and are of dubious value at best. One big wave upset most of the floats, and one fell out of its rack and landed on the deck, subsequently igniting and making quite a smudge. With the following wind blowing this acrid smoke over the bridge and making it difficult to navigate the ship, there was no time to be lost in getting rid of the offensive article. Two of my lads were completely drenched in sea water and came near to being washed overboard. I had found a gas mask and was going aft to attempt to push it overboard when it decided to take its own departure. The last we saw of it was a healthy plume of smoke disappearing over the horizon although the portion that was to give it buoyancy was remaining on board with us.

We arrived at a small anchorage off the southern coast of England known as Cowes, on the Isle of Wight, the morning of December 14, 1944.

Here we were to await further orders concerning our destination, which we were hoping would be France. We had heard good reports of the ports of Rouen and LaHarve. In this connection, however, a sailor's life of a good town does not necessarily mean that it is rich in historic lore. Bars, women, and souvenirs usually come in for primary consideration and such matters as sightseeing and cultural benefits are of secondary importance.

The Master, Purser, the Army Security Officer (who's duty on board is to keep pilferage of cargo to a minimum both during transit and during unloading operations), and myself (the USNAG Officer) went ashore in Cowes. We took off the trip's accumulation of mail, and had a meal of the traditional English mutton, with brussel sprouts and potatoes, all served by a venerable waiter with a very florid face whom we nicknamed "Shaky," for it was always a relief when the soup landed on the table rather than in one's lap. We attended to the routine affairs of ship's business, and also got hair cuts. As is customary in our service, indefiniteness was the order of the day. We might remain in this spot for one day or one month. However, since the chances of mail were good, we were content to tarry for a while. We were rewarded with mail on the second day of our stay, which was exceptional and appreciated, despite the letters being dated only two or three days after our departure. Truly, there is nothing that can do a ship's crew so much good as mail.

On my second jaunt ashore in this place, I met the Gunnery Officer from the STEEL RANGER who had attended the pre-sailing conference with me in New York. We hoisted a glass or two of the warm, bitter English Beer (nothing else being available) and exchanged the usual chat concerning gun crews, merchant crews and Masters aboard our respective vessels. On the returning launch he debarked ahead of me after telling me that his cargo consisted almost entirely of special Christmas dinners and Christmas mail for the lads at the front. At that moment, as I waved good-by to him, I did not suspect the situation under which I was next to sight his ship.

The following day we noticed the STEEL RANGER leaving in company with several other ships. We silently cursed out luck for being stuck in this place and were, by this time, eager to depart. We did not have long to wait for our orders to be signaled to us, but our departure was delayed by a thick fog that made sailing from the cramped anchorage and up the coast with its shallow water very impractical. In time, though, we did depart for a place known as "The Downs," that is an anchorage from which one can view the White Cliffs of Dove; which are really not so white nor as majestic when viewed from a short distance. Here, we learned that the STEEL RANGER had departed one day earlier.

When we departed Cowes we know our destination was Antwerp, Belgium. A few hints had been dropped, too, that all was not so calm as one might suspect in this area -- and the Germans had started an offensive with Runsted in charge, with the avowed intention of retaking this all important port which is second only to Hamburg on the continent in size and exceeded elsewhere only by London and New York. On the early morning of December 24th we departed "The Downs" under a bit of difficulty. The Captain had been told he would probably have a pilot, but if one could not be found he was to use his own judgement in departure, keeping in mind his responsibility as Master of the ship and the urgency of the cargo. We had by this time become accustomed to the British method of handling sailing in ports which they control and were not surprised when we found it necessary to depart without a pilot. We had a bit of difficulty caused from running practically on the bottom and found our steering gear did not function well under such conditions. We did get out all right, though, which is more than can be said for one of our neighbors, who was trying to follow us, for they actually ran aground but got off without serious damage.

When daylight arrived we had proceeded cautiously up the Coast of England and had made a right turn which headed us almost directly for the Estuary of the Scheldt River that we were to traverse a number of miles before reaching the port of Antwerp. The day had dawned quite bright with scarcely a cloud in the sky which was a considerable relief after the period of very "dirty weather:, as the Limies call fog, wind, and assorted unpleasant conditions. I experienced a definite thrill in crossing this bit of water, scarcely more than sixty miles wide at this point, which for so long had been their barrier first to the Germans attempting to wipe out England in the Battle of Britain then to the Allies prior to their invasion of the continent. For too long a time this stretch of sea, that Napoleon called a "dirty ditch", had separated the Allies from their objectives in Europe. The channel we were to follow, which was being constantly worked by the ambitious little mine-sweeping vessels, was will marked every few miles with buoys and our crossing was almost uneventful. In the late afternoon we were conscious of a great hum in the sky. It developed that we were being treated to a sight that is doubtless common in this section but something that was none-the-less a thrill to everyone on board. It was the vast hoard of Allied aircraft returning from Germany. They flew at high altitude, generally, but occasionally a lone bomber, usually a flying fortress, would be "limping" home at low altitude. Also, we noticed a lone fighter or two -- one entertained us with a series of stunts at very low altitude. We wondered if he was celebrating the addition of some Jerries to his record or if he was a new pilot celebrating his first victory. We learned from our radio that the day's Allied air activity had set a new record for the number of tons of bombs dropped.

As we approached the mouth of the river we noted, in addition to a number of rusting wrecks, and other vessels with only their masts sticking forlornly out of the water, some vessels that were obviously very recent additions to the losses. There was no rust on the portion of their superstructure remaining out of water at low tide. We all received a start when we recognized "The Steel Ranger". Its midships housing was badly disarranged. All portions remaining out of the water were covered with black, sticky fuel oil. Its smoke stack sat at a precarious angle but the American Flag continued to flutter proudly in the fresh breeze from the staff of the Mizzen mast. We could not help but think of the food that was to have been a delightful change from the canned rations for the boys in the fox holes and the 20,000 bags of Christmas mail -- all of it irretrievable -- and, perhaps for the first time for some of us, the war actually became a disgusting and terrible thing.

At about this time we received verbal information from an escort vessel that there were enemy submarines known to be in this area. The gun crew was immediately posted at battle stations, though this was only a formality, because all hands had been on deck (and wearing their life jackets) from the time we had sighted the first freshly sunken ship. It was not long until we heard gun fire from the ship preceding us. When the object, about half a mile off our starboard side, became visible to us we also "got in our two bits worth". We were not certain what it was, but later the report was made that an enemy six-man submarine had been beached that afternoon in this area. Due to the extremely shallow water submarines used were doubtless of the midget variety, although we did hear that there was a ledge where they laid on the bottom and waited for in-coming convoys. I also talked with a surviving gunnery officer who was positive his ship was torpedoed instead of mined, as most losses were thought to be.

Since early in the afternoon we had been sailing under the guidance of two Belgian Sea Pilots who had been awaiting us. It was their task to get the ship through the narrow, treacherous channel and safely into the mouth of the river. They told us that since the port had been opened, early in December, 18 ships had been sunk in the area adjacent to the mouth of the river, or about one in ten of those making the passage. From what we personally observed we did not doubt their words either!

Soon the city of Flushing, Belgium came into view on our port side -- rather, what had been the city of Flushing. Although our observations were limited to viewing it through binoculars at a distance of slightly more than a mile, we could observe all too clearly the wreckage that remained. First, it had been bombed then captured by the Germans -- during its period of occupation it was bombed frequently by the RAF. Later, when the Germans evacuated, they attempted to blow up all the dock and ship yard facilities. This they did to perfection, apparently, with the exception of one ship yard. This they were unsuccessful in damaging, according to one of the pilots on board, by the ingenuity of a small Belgium bay who had penetrated the German's defenses and slyly altered the fuzes they had attached to drums of dynamite. He had done his job so effectively that the charges in this particular ship yard failed to explode when the master switch was thrown and all other places similarly mined had blown up. As though this damage was not sufficient, it had been necessary for the Allies to break dikes and flood much of the city in order to land their assault craft in advantageous places when they took over. One of our pilots owned considerable land which was now inundated -- he was bemoaning the fact that it would be at least seven years before the land would be fit for cultivation after it had been drained.

At the mouth of the Scheldt River we exchanged our sea pilots for a river pilot, who was a rugged, old Belgian employed by the British Navy. We plied him with questions concerning conditions in Antwerp, his views on the war and his attitude toward the occupation and liberation. He proved to be a very talkative fellow and we were all a bit touched with pride for him when we noted the philosophical manner in which he viewed the damage to his country and the privations they were going through for want of food during the early stages of the liberation. And, although, there were acute shortages of coal, butter, and clothing since the departure of the Germans he adopted the British advice to liberated countries that things "would have to get worse before they could be better". He was probably at least sixty years old, but his boundless energy and hearty good humor was indeed an example to many persons abroad much younger than he.

Christmas Eve, was spent at anchor in the river a few miles inland near the small port of Tunizan. It marked the third Christmas for the Security Officer, Lt. Ted Vose, and myself that we had been away from home. He has two small children, so I know that it was harder on him than on me -- also, much tougher on those children and his wife. In many ways the women and children who have husbands and fathers in the service suffer more acutely than those in the service, I believe. For my gun crew it was the first Christmas in the service for many of them and, in those cases, the first Christmas away from home. In honor of the day, however, we did not observe the "lights out" rule at 11:00 pm and although we did not hold a Christmas service our phonograph played Christmas Carols and the boys listened to Christmas Services being broadcast direct from the United States. They ended their evening with some lusty singing of carols. Any packages from home containing edibles contents that had been hoarded were produced and quickly disappeared.

The following morning we proceeded a short way further up the river, then anchored again, since we were not to arrive until late the following day, the 28th. I had saved all my Christmas packages, which had been awaiting me when I returned to New York in the middle of November, plus the one Margaret bestowed on me at the last moment with strict orders not to open until Christmas. I'll admit that I was sorely tempted when I observed the fate of certain vessels which had proceeded us, but I managed to keep myself in check until Christmas morning. My family had more than outdone themselves -- and there was not a single Christmas tie amongst the gifts! I spread them in a neat display on my bunk, then called in the ship's officers to view them. However, just before dinner, I took the sting out of this enviable demonstration for a selected group and produced a bottle of gin that I had carefully hoarded since departing New York and we had a bit of a cocktail party before dinner. Fruit juice was furnished by the Steward and in one of my packages there was a nice selection of nuts, which were put to immediate use, so that everything was accomplished in quite stylish fashion. The dinner which followed would have been a tribute to any hotel's menu, believe me -- there was not a single traditional bit of food that was missing. The steward even used some fresh oysters for soup that he had been holding in reserve and for which the Chief Engineer had fashioned a special tool to open them with. our last portion of ice cream had been saved for this day, too, and was served in addition to both mince and pumpkin pie -- we ate until we could scarcely get away from the table, and that afternoon and night we slept quite soundly and that proved to be the last sound sleep we were to receive, uninterrupted, for some three weeks. I thought of Margaret many times during the day, since it was to be her first Christmas away from her family -- and I prayed that some of my letters mailed at Cowes would arrive in time for Christmas to take, perhaps, a bit of the loneliness from the day when all families should be together.

From our river pilot we had received considerable advance information concerning Antwerp -- the liberty, as always, prices, damage from "buzz bombs" and conditions in general. We had heard that these bombs were being used against Antwerp, with quite some fury, too; and Jerry had said the reason he had left the port almost intact was so that he could destroy it, and the shipping in it, at a later date. In this connection, the good old American humor came to light. My lads had been, of course, all "fears" concerning the flying "missiles", was the British term for them. I was quite surprised at a sign placed on a black board in the gun crew mess hall which stated!"DO FLYING BOMBS MAKE YOU NERVOUS? DON'T SOIL YOUR DRAWERS: HOOK AND MALONE WILL STAND YOUR WATCH FOR YOU. PRICE: $1:00 PER HOUR." Two of my ingenious lads had thought up this and were having considerable fun out of it. Later we were to overhear some more Yankee humor under much more trying circumstances from the Army. I've often thought that so long as people of our great country retain their ability to see the humorous side of everything, even extreme danger and death, there will be no stopping us as a nation, a group of people or as individuals.

At dusk on the evening following Christmas day we were entering the locks. We had spent the afternoon awaiting our turn to pass through these locks, whilst several ships were making their outward passage. During this time we had heard a few distant explosions we were informed they were bombs dropping -- and quite calmly, too, as though it were a regular happening. However, we had a hint of what was to come when the signalman on an outward bound, empty ship sent the letters "TS" by semaphore to my signalman on the bridge of our ship. At the same time our neighbor pointed toward the dock area. Now, these letters do not stand for anything very dainty in our language, but they are the Navy and Army designation for things being tough.

We soon learned that there were two models of flying bombs; V-1 and V-2. The first is the original "buzz-bomb" which is a jet-propelled, flying bomb. The second is perhaps named for its customary two explosions -- one before it hits the ground and a larger explosion immediately after making contact. This type is merely a huge projectile which is jet-propelled also, but has no wings. It is believed to carry two tons of explosives and to be about 45 feet in length. It is also supposedly radio controlled, takes off at a relatively slow speed, in a zig zag course (the vapor trail it leaves can sometimes be seen on a clear morning and it looks like a giant jig-saw puzzle against the sky) until the third large explosion -- then you see it no more. It is reported to have reached an elevation ranging between 30 and 70 miles in the stratosphere and to travel in a very steep arc. It is descending at a speed estimated at 1000 miles per hour when it strikes the ground. The balance of furl remaining from the amount required for propulsion is used to blow the machinery propelling it to bits. This is the first explosion heard, which is also supposed to add speed to the downward plunge, although this seems almost unnecessary, but it is intended to bury itself about thirty feet in the ground before detonating. The second explosion is like nothing I had ever heard before in that it has such a terrific concussion and the report is extremely sharp. One pleasant thing about the things, though, depending, of course, on how one looks at them, is that if you hear them you need not worry -- also if one lands so close you do not hear it your worries are all over!

As we were passing slowly through the locks we observed a V-2 exploding at a considerable distance -- it was dusk so the flame from the explosions were observed plainly, but we were amazed at how loud the report sounded, since we could estimate the distance to be about five miles from the length of time between sighting the flashes and hearing the reports. Shortly after we were secured to the dock we heard a loud noise passing over this ship. Ted and I agreed that it must be a friendly bomber or transport ship but he dashed outside to investigate. He returned in a moment with the report: "That, my friend, was a buzz bomb! -- directly over the ship -- but it continued on." It developed several of my lads were out on deck wishing the thing "happy landings" elsewhere and, in fact, doing a bit of waving to it -- actually waving it on. One Southerner I met who had been putting up with the flying bombs for some time remarked about them in this manner: "When you hear one of them about all you can do is wish some other poor devil a lot of bad luck." The only time one needs worry about his type of bomb, however is when it "cuts out", or when the jet motor actually stops. The noise is very definite, and distinct, once you have listened to a few, and one soon learns not to mistake them for aircraft. At the higher altitudes they seem to have rather an uneven "pop, pop, pop but at lower levels there is a definite, throaty rumble to them. Once the motor has stopped they fall immediately to the ground -- some drop like a duck receiving a lethal load of shot, others take a slight twist to the right or left first then come in on a very steep bank. But, in either case, right or left or straight down, they don't stay up long once the motor has stopped. They have wings, usually painted red, whereas the body, which is the bomb itself is grayish green in color and they seem to come in two sizes; one about 16 feet in wing span and 20 feet long and the larger edition is about one-third greater in length and width. At night there is a dull orange flame issuing from the tail of the propelling mechanism that sits on the after end of the bomb. This is generally referred to as "the light" but it is not noticeable in bright sunlight. We were not permitted to shoot at them, since they might fall and do more damage after being shot down than if left alone to land elsewhere. The British, however, had batteries set up outside the city which engaged them, and they were supposed to have shot down nearly 85% of those sent over. But, on foggy days we had good reason to believe the Limies did not have such a good average. It seems the things were rugged enough that unless they received a direct hit they did not come down -- either the bomb itself had to be exploded in mid-air or the propelling machinery disabled or shot off. No defence, except some sort of "artificial weather" has been developed for V-2 at this time, we are told. If this is true, it should be a break for England, though, since any sort of weather made artificially could not be as bad as the weather they experience naturally!

The moment tugs were tied to the ship some of their crew members came on board -- and immediately made for the crew's mess hall. These men were of thee lower working class, apparently, since they wore wooden shoes. this foot gear appears to be tremendous in size, but since trying to get my number ]'s into a few samples I've decided they are much larger appearing on the outside than on the inside. Also, since they are not flexible, it is necessary to wear a few layers of heavy socks inside them. In the smaller sizes they make nice souvenirs, though, especially when painted in gay colors -- (there are undoubtedly enough on board to keep the boilers going for a day or two, should we run out oil!) -- The tug-boat operators told of their conditions under the occupation -- their plight was not severe if they obeyed; those that did not were sent to Germany in labor battalions and have not been heard from. They said many commodities were more scarce now than formerly, namely butter and coal, but readily admitted that they had not been treated harshly by the Germans, while they were in power, they did take everything possible with then when they departed. The workmen's wages had been doubled since the liberation but, as seems to be the usual story in occupied countries, prices had more than doubled after the liberation and black markets had sprung up and many commodities were very scarce ar unobtainable. One could not help but be impressed by the attitude of the people, however for seldom did you hear any actual criticism of conditions (perhaps the Germans had cured them of the American custom known as "birching") and their almost continuous good humor was a source of amazement to us during our entire stay.

Alongside our ship were a number of craft known as river barges, which were capable of carrying as much cargo as the ordinary size freight train can haul. They were not self-propelling, but are nearly one-half as long as a Liberty Ship, and must be towed by a tug boat. They have very comfortable living quarters and the operator usually had his wife and children living on the barge with him -- the women keep the interior of the barges spotless, too. On one of these barges we became acquainted with a little girl of about eight years of age. She was really cute and had very pretty, long, blond hair. She became the "Sweetheart" of the Russell A. in short order. My boys taught her to jump rope and generally escorted her about the ship and fed her so much candy and chewing gum it was a wonder she was not sick. We got along well with these natives until one day one of my crew heedlessly threw an empty paint pot over the side (the sea is the ready recipient of so many unwanted objects, they get into the habit of giving anything they do not need "the deep six".) The pot landed on the deck of the barge, spattering it with bright blue paint on its varnished surface. The large women scrubbing the after deck immediately pounced on the paint spots -- after first pausing to shake her fist at the offending gunner and what was doubtless her limited command of our language said a few uncomplimentary things concerning his mother being a kin to a canine of the female variety! She did keep the empty paint pot for her own use, apparently, instead of casting it over the side. It is my understanding that this demonstration was mild compared to one that occurred when the mistress of a barge found a sailor from another American ship (not the Russell A., I assure you) taking liberties in an intimate manner with her buxom daughter (who was not exactly uncooperative, so the story goes) aboard the barge. The lad retreated, and not in good order, amidst a shower of knives, cooking utensils and profanity!

On our first evening at the dock, after we had commenced to become acquainted with the irregular reports of flying bombs, in varying intensity, depending upon their proximity to us, we had additional entertainment. The air raid sirens commenced to howl, the dock lights were put out and the people from the barges streamed aboard our vessel for protection from air attack. everyone dashed to battle stations, but we could find nothing to shoot at, and all the firing was being done by shore batteries at a considerable distance away. In the midst of this confusion, we learned how calmly the Army Port Officers took these disturbances. An Officer appeared on the bridge, asked me where he might find the Security Officer, who was nearby, and introduced himself. Then he calmly went about discussing the discharging operations which were to start in a day or two.

However, not all the Army Military Police detachment, who were detailed to guard the port, were so calm. Many of the enlisted men were battle casualties from the front and did not enjoy the noise of bombs and air raids in the slightest. Some were quite normal until confusion commenced, then they evidenced the effect remaining from front line action by becoming very excited. At this particular time, also, the entire detachment was alerted -- on a moment's notice to be rushed to assist in repelling a possible break through by Runstetd's troops who were about thirty five miles away at the moment. Also, a detachment of German paratroopers, all in Allied Uniforms, complete with latest model dog tags and identification cards, had been landed in the vicinity of Antwerp. This condition, together with the alert, arranged it so there was no liberty for Army Personnel and all Naval Personnel had to aboard by four thirty in the afternoon. The city was under rigid military rule. A Lt. Colonel and a Major were cooling their heels in the local guard house for having been apprehended by MP's after eleven at night. When Ted and I first did go up town it was necessary to carry side arms -- a very clumsy arrangement when in dress blues, it seemed to me, but the Navy insisted in having you in correct uniform, regardless of local conditions. The Army was more reasonable, for working uniform was in order. The number of MP's appeared to exceed all other military personnel combined.

On the morning of our second day in Antwerp I took a short stroll about and visited a neighboring ship. Since no one in our Navy seemed to be aware of our presence I wanted to find what the procedures was for granting liberty, getting the men paid, securing dock passes and the other general details that the crew is always clamoring to know very shortly after arrival in port. I learned from the gunnery officer on the Liberty just ahead of us that there was a navy Boarding Officer who would make this visit and that it was better to await his pleasure than to attempt to find him. The ship had been in port for fourteen days; it was almost entirely discharged and the officer told me that was the record time for unloading to date -- which gave me an idea of about how soon we could hope to depart. This officer, had, for the want off a better pastime, evidently, kept a log of the flying bombs that he had heard of observed landing in his vicinity. He had his own theories on what sort of warfare the unwanted flying bombs represented -- he was a Southerner and his profane description of the manner in which the bombs effected him was picturesque speech, and especially so when he added his personal view on Hitler! He was able to give me some exact information concerning a tragedy that had been mentioned by the river pilot. A theater had received a direct hit from a flying bomb, doubtless a V-2, since the damage was appalling. It had been quite definitely established that at least 800 persons were killed in the theater and by far the majority of those persons were American Soldiers, Sailors, or Marines. This officer had lost two of his gun crew in the catastrophe. He was in the act of writing official letters of condolence to the mens' relatives and family when I visited him. He was suffering considerably from thee task too. I did not begrudge him his job, either, but I agreed with the method he was pursuing toward the men's families. He was telling them it was a result of enemy action, which could give no inkling that the men were not on duty at the time they met death.

At noon the Boarding Officer arrived with the official information I had already gleaned from my visit. I arranged to go to the Navy Office, in the city, with him in order to exchange British Pounds for Belgian Franks and to draw pay for my crew and I learned the rate of exchange was 44 Franks per Dollar. On this journey, made in an Army Jeep, I commenced to acquire some idea of the tremendous size of the dock area. They are arranged in a unique manner in that the docks seem to have been built as a separate adjunct to the city. Instead of following the meandering course of a river, as is so frequently the case, pier are laid out, by use of canals, more or less like the streets in a well-planned city. They accommodated a ship on each side of the canal, with rail road tracks running adjacent to the ship moorings. There were apparently boundless numbers of electric cranes of a rather recent vintage and they were exceptionally silent and efficient. There were frequent draw bridges across the canals that held the ships and all streets were laid out according to plan and were paved with either asphalt or bricks, laid after the fashion of cobblestones. The port seemed to be operating at a high rate of efficiency with one exception, which was the lack of any means of transportation within the dock area, other than the American custom of "thumbing a ride" from a truck or jeep. There were few busses and those were operated for the use of the civilian dock workers and ship yard employees and ran only when shifts were going on or off work.

The U.S. Navy Office was located in a large building, along with the British Naval Offices near one of the main gates to the dock area. However, a recent bomb hit had rather shaken the building. There were very few window panes remaining and several rooms nearest the scene of the bomb landing appeared to be gutted as though some huge creature that had been confined inside had suddenly burst free. Doors and their frames had been pushed outward, as had walls and partitions, but despite this fact "business as usual" seemed to be the order of the day. The occupants of this building did seem to have ears well developed to the sound of buzz-bombs and could tell when one cut out, whether or not it was going to be close enough to warrant taking shelter in an inner room in order to avoid the menace of flying glass, which can really cut a person severely.

The Navy operated a truck which returned to the dock area at four that afternoon and although the driver practiced "low-flying" methods and the streets were not too smooth, it was much better than walking. while waiting for this truck another officer and myself made a short trip in the vicinity of the building to observe bomb damage. Not a single building seemed to have escaped. Windows were, in most cases, completely boarded up, but usually had a crude sign written on them in crayon saying "OPEN" in three languages -- English, French, and Flemish. Workers were observed putting in smaller panes of glass to replace large ones blown out and this seemed a great waste of time and glass, but they went about their work seriously never the less.

With the commencing of cargo discharging Lt. Vose was alert to arrangements for some sort of transportation that could be depended upon to save us the three mile walk to the nearest gate. Two Military Police First Lieutenant's proved to be a great help in this desirable requirement. They had very recently been transferred from the St. Lo area, and had both landed at Normandy on D-day plus only a few hours, with the first wave of troops. The stories which they had to relate were very interesting and could separate narrative. Lt. Palmer was from Yonkers, New York add Hanson from San Francisco -- the former was a son of "Old Erin" add the other of Scandinavian decent. They were the best of buddies which seems to happen so frequently in the service despite nationalities and former locations. They formed the habit of stopping almost every night for short periods, while on their rounds of the area, and would entertain us with stories, both of actual experiences and those of a comic nature -- the later are, unfortunately, scarcely printable, however. They ate with us frequently, and had plenty of praise for the food we were privileged to eat for they had both eaten far too many meals out of a mess kit and their current fare consisted partly of K rations. Both officers threatened to "shanghai" Lt. Vose and return to the States in his stead, since both had been over seas for better than a year and one-half and had little hopes of returning until the war was over in Europe.

One of Palmer's personal experiences is worth relating, I think, in that it demonstrates the uncertainties prevalent in the Antwerp area and is especially indicative of the customary Yankee humor. It seems that officers experienced considerable difficulty in getting uniforms cleaned. Palmer had tried a small suburb of Antwerp, called Ekeron, and was congratulating himself that he would be able to get a $13.00 pair of trousers and a $7.00 shirt cleaned and pressed in a week's time. He had related this incident to Hanson and made him a bit envious, since he was experiencing difficulty in finding any place that could do the work in less than two weeks. However on the Sunday following the day that Palmer called for his clothes he had a much different story to relate -- the tale, I might add, was accompanied with considerable gestures and some picturesque language that does not bear repeating in writing. It seems he had hustled over to the suburb and dashed jauntily up the block to the cleaning establishment, with his receipt in his hand --rather, he had proceeded to where the establishment had been! What greeted his amazed eyes was merely a pile of rubble and brick remaining where the cleaners had been -- there was not even a sign left -- nothing could indicate that the owner intended doing business nor that he had salvaged either equipment or clothing on hand at the time of the bombing! Palmer was profuse and profane in his condemnation of Hitler, the nuisance of flying bombs and irately contended he was going sue someone. The incident was less humorous, however, when one realized that actual combat troops only could purchase clothing of any kind -- the MP detachments were wearing various bits of Navy special winter clothing, and it was frequently difficult to tell whether a man was in the senior or junior arm of the service from his outer clothing.

Since Palmer and Hanson had been assigned to the port in advance of the arrival of any cargo ships they did have information concerning the conquest of Antwerp which was interesting. It seemed that the reason for the port being left so nearly intact was attributable to the bravery and ingenuity of the Belgian Underground, or what was known as the White Army. The Germans had made elaborate plans, so the information indicated, to blow up the port and all harbor installations. However, their attempts were thwarted by the alert Belgians who sabotaged all but a small portion of their attempts so successfully that the damage resulting was almost negligible, especially in view of the tremendous size of the operations. Also, it seems that Jerry had been caught more or less unprepared and somewhat feinted out of position, since, although the battle of the Scheldt Estuary had been a bloody one, the taking of the port of Antwerp had been almost unbelievably easy. The Germans, had, in fact, only a so called occupation personnel and were unprepared for the rapidity with which the attack developed and are reported to have departed in haste at the appearance of two long lines of British tanks from different directions. There was plenty of evidence in the dock area to substantiate this , since we observed guns that had been hastily sabotaged, considerable stocks of ammunition and similar examples of hast in departure. However, the Belgians were firm in their contention that, although they had been treated moderately well by the Germans, when it was time to depart the Germans took everything they could with them, with no concern for what might remain for the Belgians.

On December 30th Lt. Vose and myself decided it was time that we look over the down town area with not only sight seeing in mind but the purchase of a few trinkets to bestow on our wives. In this connection, I might add that husbands make a rather sad mistake in ever bringing anything home from a foreign land. After the first trip you build up a custom which you feel duty bound to uphold each subsequent trip -- regardless of whether you can find worthwhile items or not. We had heard that famous French perfumes were available in Antwerp at reasonable prices and that lace goods also were worthwhile souvenirs. Our friends the Army Lt.'s provided us with a ride to the gate and we found that from there we could ride a tram to the center of the city -- at no charge, too, which was undoubtedly a custom formed from the days of German occupation. The street cars could compare quite favorably with those at home except they were not quite so large but were usually coupled together in groups of two or three. On the way to the center of the city we passed a massive Cathedral which had miraculously escaped any serious bomb damage. Its tall spire and very sweet chimes seemed to stand as symbols of the "passive resistance" that the Belgians were able to so bravely offer to the worst weapons that Hitler could toss on them.

The shops in the down town area appeared to be surprisingly well stocked. Perhaps it was not surprising, however, when one investigated the prices. Ted priced a pair of cotton pajamas for his small daughter and they amounted to nearly $19.00 in the equivalent of American money! It is not unlikely, however, that the merchants had different prices, depending on the nationality of the shopper! We discovered there were lavish stocks of perfume with many brands represented, with one exception which was Channel #5, which we both had received request for from our wives. It developed, according to the neatly-dressed and usually attractive sales women, that too many Americans had the same idea which accounted for the current popularity of a perfume that had been quite common-place prior to the war. At least, that was the story when they attempted to sell us better, and just as expensive, in place of Channel. On this day we did settle for set of four lace handkerchiefs, supposedly hand work, for the tidy sum of slightly more than $7.00 in our money. After getting substitutes for Channel, which would compare quite favorably with Meir & Franks, so far as the store in which we made our purchases was concerned; it was called Innovation, Ted found one saleslady in the store who on two different occasions sold him the one bottle of Channel they intended to put on sale for the day. We were so over-joyed at this consideration that we offered to take the lady to dinner but were politely informed she returned to her husband immediately after work -- and that he was so terribly jealous (which could have been justified, too) that she contended it sometimes made matters most "inconvenient"!

The shopping was not difficult since all the sales people spoke English, in varying degrees of perfection. It seems that all Belgians study English "grammar" in school and have picked up the use of it in remarkably short order. This may be attributable to the fact that they are mostly bi-lingual to commence with. Practically all that we came in contact with spoke both French and Flemish and many of course spoke German also. We heard stories of when they would deliberately speak English to confound the Germans who rode on the trams with them during the occupation. practically all business establishments were alert to opportunities and had signs stating that English was spoken. Only the large department stores were heated. Since there is no water power in the country the available coal was used to generate electricity.

The damage in the heart of the city was quite apparent, but it was similar to the bombed out sections of London and South Hampton, England that I had visited in that, although it was not so thoroughly destructive (at least not at this date) as the type resulting from aircraft bombing, there seemed little rhyme or reason connected with the amount of damage done by a single bomb. One building would be almost intact, except for broken window panes where as the one adjoining it would be a shambles. The theater where the tragedy had occurred was nearly a complete wreck. Hundreds of people must have been buried beneath the debris when the roof crumbled on top of them. Just to look at the sight brought home to a person the horrible means that Germany has adopted in waging her last ditch stand against the mounting might of the allies. It is true that the flying bombs may have limited military value but the suffering that they cause to civilians and the damage to cities is almost irreparable. We were again amazed at the attitude of the people, in general. Several times we had occasion to be startled when a bomb landed not too far away, whereas the natives paid little or no attention -- in fact we noticed some amused glances toward us on the occasion of our getting off a tram coincident with the landing of bomb not too far away. We even observed a very old man being knocked down by the concussion from a bomb -- he merely got up, brushed off his clothing and continued, unruffled, on his way.

New Years Eve of '44 will live in my memory, not for its hilarious nature (for it definitely was not that) but for one that was considerably different -- much different from the one last year when we were ploughing through some rather rough and very frigid seas off Nova Scotia. Our friends, Palmer and Hanson, had told us of a few places we should visit, including the city's leading hotel, called the Century, the leading night club known as "The Follies" and the NAAFI CLUB. The later is the British Navy, Army, Air Force Institute and it operates in separate branches for enlisted men and officers. We found that, as usual, the British were doing an excellent job taking care of themselves since they were installed in the same quarters which the Germans had used for their own Officers Club. If there was any such arrangement for American Forces we could not find it. This was not surprising, however, since this has been my experience in more places than one (and I'm not envious of the manner in which the British do things, nor begrudge them anything -- I merely think our own forces could afford to take a few pointers when it comes to arrangements that contribute to the comfort of the men and officers.) I'm sure there are many others who will agree with me. This also applies particularly to transportation -- in England, Africa and now Belgium it is almost invariably the plight of the American to thumb his way for want of any sort of government transportation and then find that his benefactor (if his thumb is working good) is some British, Frenchman or other native driving an American Jeep. All civilian taxicabs remaining in Antwerp were "requisitioned" for British military use.

We heard conflicting stories concerning the arrangements we might find in Antwerp, especially those of a social nature. They ranged all the way from "crummy" to anything as elegant as New York boasts. Probably there is no group that can distort the truth to a greater perfection than those in the service if they think they can get some other fellow member to "bite". Hence, it was with some misgivings that we "invaded" the city on the last evening of the year. We first stopped at the Century Hotel and were, to say the least, almost shocked. After a rather dismal entrance due to the windows being boarded up and the revolving doors not operating from the results of bomb damage we came into the lobby which was truly amazing. It was almost as spacious as the lobby of the New Yorker, the decorations were fresh and showed good taste, the furnishings were not ornate but displayed excellent quality and the displays in glass cabinets surrounding the lobby would not have looked out of place on 5th Avenue. The lobby was used as a cocktail lounge with the actual bar, which compared favorably with any New York hotel bar, discreetly out of sight and on a lower floor. An orchestra of about a dozen pieces, composed mostly of string instruments, was playing. The dinning room was situated on a balcony overlooking the lounge. Ted and I immediately noticed Lt. Hanson. who had already made friends with a Canadian Air Corp Officer, so we joined them at their table. Since it was after four in the afternoon tea was being served as well as wine, cognac, various fancy cocktails, and beer but no whisky. A very generous sized glass of excellent red wine cost 35 franks.

After sipping a couple glasses of wine we adjourned to the NAAFI Club, where we were pleasantly surprised to find that , if not exactly welcome, we were at least admitted. Here we found a revelation in prices, Johnny walker Red Label Scotch was only five franks and a split bottle of soda two franks. Also, one could dine for only 50 franks. On this particular evening, however, they were having a party, complete with dinner, floor show and dancing and continuing until two A.M., and each officer could bring a civilian guest. Long dresses were very much in evidence and, though good clothes might not have been available at the present, there was ample proof that they had been plentiful in the past. We were too late to "muscle in" on this affair, however , so we went back to the Century to eat dinner. Here we discovered one was supposed to have civilian quest in order to be admitted to the dining room, but the Canadian, who had been there previously talked his way around this regulation. We had something that was supposed to be turkey -- but it came nearer tasting like pork. The limited quantity of food, however, was somewhat compensated for in the service rendered. A football team of waiters, very correct in stiff shirts and tails, worked a veritable "T" formation in waiting on us. One brought the soup, another removed the dishes whilst another got the next entree ready. During the meal the orchestra continued to play and we were treated to "I Walk Alone" and several other recent popular American numbers played in what must have been the continental style. It was nice to listen to but could not compare with an American orchestra, in our opinion, rendering the same numbers in a sweet fashion. The price for the meal, without wine or desert, was not exactly reasonable -- we were "tapped off" for approximately 700 franks for the four dinners. The one admirable feature, though, was that the tip of ten-percent was added to the amount of the check and they are very content to accept this same arrangement, which also proved to be customary in all night clubs we visited. The Yanks will doubtless soon spoil this custom, I fear, which, in my opinion, would be a marvelous thing for New York's grasping night clubs to adopt.

Our Canadian friend had managed to get hold of two tickets to the NAFFI party, so we left him to his search for feminine companionship for the evening -- which should not have been difficult to arrange, judging from the excess number of very will-dressed and pleasant appearing females in the lobby of the hotel! From here we walked to "The Follies" and found it jammed to more than capacity. It was the most popular night spot in the city, and the fact it was situated in a basement, with a very substantial building over it, doubtless enhanced its popularity. Also, it was heated, which was a luxury few places managed and the winter climate in Belgium is far from balmy with its temperature ranging frequently at freezing or below and the damp air makes the cold most penetrating. From The Follies we wandered across the street to a place called the ABC where the linen on the tables and the glassware exceeded even that at the Century Hotel -- so did the prices. Ted was "stuck" 150 Franks for three drinks and we chided him about the fancy place he selected. It was my turn next at a place called "Paris". Here there was dancing and a lady singing, who was more of the night club type, whereas the previous place had exhibited a Belgian "thrush", No doubt, who was a bit on the classical side, we decided. But here the tariff was greater for poor quality wine than Ted had paid for the cognac at the previous place but there was no cover charge, which is another American custom they have not adopted yet. Here we managed a couple of dances with some unattached females, who table was next to ours. I had asked one what she thought of Americans and received a very evasive answer until she learned I was such a fellow.

The Americans were then "swell", grand, excellent, and what have you. It seems the people have learned to be sure to whom they are talking before they stated opinions. By this time it was nearly time for us to catch the final tram back to the gate at 10:50. Also, the waiter had just refilled the glasses of the bevy of girls at the table next to ours and given us a very definite glance, or so we thought, so we decided it was a propitious and economical time to depart. In this connection, we were informed there is a night club custom employing what might be termed "b" girls. These creatures assist in the customer's entertainment supposedly, and are paid five Franks for each drink they "promote" the customer to buy them, for the first ten drinks, then the compensation is increased to ten Franks per drink. Doubtless they consume colored water. We rather hated to adjourn without seeing the old year out, and especially since the city was in a holiday mood and the customary eleven o'clock curfew for civilians was not in effect for this one night. We returned to the ship, though, and found Lt. Palmer occupying the mess hall. We prepared some sandwiches from the supply of the night lunch kept in the refrigerator and awaited the arrival of 1945. We had no trouble knowing when it arrived for once again we had proof you can't stop the American spirit. Promptly at midnight all the Army personnel in possession of fire arms (which included the Army Engineers' ship next to ours) let go with a few volleys! Also, all ships in the harbor blew their whistles and there was everything blowing from high pitched tug boat whistles to a "bass" from a larger ship near us. The mate on watch even had the Captain's permission to give a few toots on the Alger's whistle. We hoisted our coffee cups (with nothing in them but coffee) and all wished each other a Happy New Year -- and added a bit of comment that peace might arrive in "45"!

Until this time we had a number of "alerts" -- the air raid siren had sounded, we had been running to battle stations night and day, usually from after midnight until noon the following day, quite frequently and nothing had appeared that we could shoot at. At about 9:45 on New Years morning our general alarm sounded, prior to the sounding of the air raid alarm, and by the time I reached the bridge one of my petty officers was opening fire on a very low-flying plane. One of my men on watch had observed this plane, a Messerschmidt 109, single-engine fighter, which can carry two 500-pound bombs, drawing fire from a shoe battery about two miles away after the plane had apparently dropped a bomb on an oil refinery. Fortunately, he immediately rang the alarm, for the plane had turned almost directly toward our ship, and we were the only ship in the vicinity that fired on this plane. as it approached our ship, almost at right angles and about in line with the foremast, it commenced to strafe -- probably not our ship as much as a shore battery about a quarter mile away from our ship caused the pilot to adopt these tactics. He could not have been flying at more than 200 feet elevation, for it seemed he barely missed the mast as he passed over the ship. two of our 20 millimeter guns on the starboard side got in a long burst each at the on-coming plane. One lad really used his head and ceased firing just in time to keep from hitting the crane alongside the ship. The crane operator who sits in a small wooden structure about 40 feet off the ground, above the level of the gun, incidentally, made a motion of shaking hands with the gunner after he ceased firing! Another of my lads, who has caused me more difficulty than the balance of the crew -- typical private Hargrove type -- proved to be very alert in an emergency, however. He first pointed out the plane to the gunner on the starboard side, then ran to his own gun on the port side, (both guns were on the after end of the ship) and had a stream of tracer bullets for the Jerry to fly through after he crossed over the ship.

The action was all over in much less time than it requires to tell it for the plane was travelling at a speed estimated between 300 and 400 miles per hour. In fact, our neighbors had not sounded their alarms until we had finished firing. The plane immediately commenced to smoke after the guns opened fire. It continued flying at a very low altitude and is supposed to have crashed about five miles away. We had the verification of the gunners on the shore battery that tracer fire from the Alger's guns was seen to strike the aircraft and the British lay no claim to this particular plane, which was one of ten shot down in the Antwerp area that day. The Army, in their small newspaper published in that area, gave our ship credit for the plane but the Navy made on effort to assign credit to individual ships -- they merely wanted a report for the purpose of getting information, they contended. We have taken the liberty of placing an insignia on our smoke stack, however, that could or could not lay claim to the plane -- depending on who interpreted the meaning of the insignia.

Several other German planes came over in the ensuing half hour but none were close enough for us to fire on, although one of our neighbors did fire at one out of range (and nearly knocked off one of the booms on our own ship!) We were just as glad we fired no more, since one Spitfire (British fighter) came down, supposedly due to fire from ships, but they could not very well give us "credit" for that. After about twenty minutes fighters appeared and we noticed several Jerries getting a good dusting off as they headed for home. Adolph is supposed to have put 300 planes in the air that day for the purpose of strafing air fields and perhaps to test our AA fire and probably spot for flying bomb damage with a view to furnishing corrections for future missiles. Of the 300 planes in the air, that day, 135 were supposed to have been permanently delayed from returning to the Rhineland by combined fighter, ship and ground defenses. Shortly after midnight the same night a single plane came over, a jet propelled new model ME 262, this time. These ships fly at terrific speed when the propelling machinery is in operation and their custom is to glide in, with power off, from a great altitude then, when the ack ack gets too close, switch on the engines and get away in a hurry. This fellow did not come within our range, but the stream of tracer fire coming up to greet him from at least a half dozen Liberties, firing simultaneously, convinced him not to tarry. For the balance of our stay Jerry seemed to concentrate on the flying bomb activity and was content with a few reconnaissance raids. We were, though, privileged to view some improvement in the accuracy of the flying bombs -- some of it a bit too close for real comfort, too! The number of clear days decreased, also, and on the foggy days and nights greater numbers of the V-1's penetrated the dock area.

Several days after the air raid action took place we had a good view of the type of damage a V-1 can do. We also had the story of the Third Mate and Deck Cadet on our ship to add a bit of zest to the experience, They were walking toward the ship, on the opposite side of the canal from our location, when they heard a buzz bomb cut out very near. While they stopped to look and wondered what to do they received a good demonstration from an American soldier in a jeep. He had heard the bomb cut out, quickly stopped his Jeep and dove into a ditch, even before the bomb landed! Fortunately for the Mate and Cadet, there was a portion of the wall of the General Motors Building remaining standing to protect them and they received nothing but a bit of the concussion from the blast. (The General Motors Building had been precision-bombed by the RAF and was a shambles while, strangely enough, the Ford Building, nearby was intact and was being used to condition newly-arrived vehicles.) The soldier who had abandoned his Jeep so hastily got out of the ditch, calmly brushed off his clothes, and invited the members from our ship to ride with him. They accepted the ride and came on board immediately with avowals they did not intend leaving the ship again during our remaining time in Antwerp.

since the Mate and Cadet had not tarried to investigate the damage caused by the bomb, the Purser, Lt. Vose and myself decided to walk to the scene of the damage both to view what had happened and to try and find a few pieces of the bomb or propelling machinery for souvenirs. Fortunately, the bomb had landed in what was almost a vacant lot adjacent to the canal bank and most of its heavy concussion had been expended on the atmosphere instead of buildings. It had made a crater about eight to ten feet wide and perhaps six or seven feet deep, although it was difficult to estimate the depth because the hole was rapidly filling with water due to the retaining wall of the canal being ruptured by the blast. A portion of the bomb, with a rope secured to it (I guess they did not want it to burrow out of sight!) still protruded but is was so firmly embedded in the ground it resisted our efforts to pull it out. Some freshly laid rail road tracks had been uprooted and decidedly misplaced. Two of three rails assumed the appearance of over-sized question marks and commas and a few box cars had been damaged. However, there had been only three injuries amongst the soldier workmen and no casualties. Once again the recurring humor of the American came to light. A burly Sergeant was handing a private a wrench used in bolting plates to rails and ties and he admonished him a follows; " Here, You -- I gave you a wrench five minutes ago (before the bomb landed) and told you to guard it with your life because it was the last one I could get from the supply sergeant. I see you are still here; but the wrench has disappeared. See if you can take care of the one!

The day following the incident of the rail road tracks we visited the scene of a freshly-lander V-2. This one had landed alongside a ship which was taking sand ballast preparatory to departing for home. In this instance the ship, several fright cars and cranes had absorbed the main shock of the explosion and the attending personnel had not been so fortunate in escaping death and injury since a number of workmen, gun crew and Merchant Mariners were killed and injured. The Army was in charge when we arrived, however , and the injured were being taken away on stretchers and the rubble was already being cleaned up. The ship had not suffered damage enough to cause it to sink but everything attached to the bulkheads, above the water line, such as desks wash bowls and lockers had been blown off. It was quite a distressing sight and reminded one that he could not really breath easily until all cargo was discharged and ballast put on and he had taken a last but not lingering look at the port. Several freight cars had been turned completely over by the blast and several others resembled kindling wood. There was more than one member of our ship's compliment who roughly criticized the Army for the leisurely manner in which they were removing cargo from our ship. We saw no reason why they could not store the cargo on the pier rather than awaiting freight cars to load into, which seemed to be the chief tie-up in discharging operations.

By the tenth of January it commenced to look as though we might actually complete our discharging in the not too distant future. At this time the Security Officer and myself had nearly completed our purchases of perfume, lace work and trinkets, including some wooden shoes that we intended to decorate ourselves. We had a nominal amount of Franks remaining which we felt we could spend on what we termed at least a minor "blow out". With this in mind we departed one afternoon and fortunately were offered a ride in one of the axis operated by the British Military. Ted managed to make the civilian driver understand where we wished to go, which was first to the Navy Post Office to deliver mail and hopefully inquire if mail had arrived for us. We had had two deliveries of mail in this port by this time but were still anxiously awaiting mail which would bring word that our mail, put ashore at Cowes, had been received. No mail was received on this day since we were told that the icy road conditions had slowed trucks operating between Brussels, where the mail arrived by air, and Antwerp. The Chief Engineer had also accompanied us and wanted to look in a small shop on the way to the center of the city for a special pair of souvenir shoes. This delay of about five minutes proved to be very fortunate for us, for, when we arrived at the NAAFI Club, where the driver had consented to drop is, we found that a V-2 had landed in the railway station, adjacent to the Club only a very few minutes before.

Here we had an opportunity to view the damage that on of those bombs could do in the metropolitan district -- it was almost unbelievable! But, not too surprising, however, since we had on previous visits to the city observed what had been buildings in an almost normal state of repair a few day earlier, with windows and doors blown out and their interiors practically gutted. The damage from this bomb was no exception -- but it seemed even more terrifying to observe it so soon after the event. Across the narrow street from the station, where the NAFFI Club was located, there was a number of small shops which sold perfume and sundries and served as beauty salons or hair dressing salons, as they called them. These gave the appearance some giant had swung a huge club with great force and moved the front portion of the shops back near the interior. All the windows and doors were blown out of the Club, also. Fortunately, a train bound for Brussels with approximately 1000 passengers aboard had departed the station where the bomb actually landed, just three minutes before the tragedy.

There had, of course, been some casualties -- the side walk in front of the shops was spangled with several large pools of blood -- Red Cross Nurses were still going efficiently about their tasks, many of them disheveled and blood spattered from their arduous tasks. We were not only impressed by the spirit and efficiency of the nurses and rescue squads but by the manner in which the clean-up squads were functioning. They went about their work industriously, with no show of excitement or emotion -- just an evident, intrepid desire to complete the task. Within less then half an hour after the incident all the glass and debris littering the street had either been hauled away or swept into the gutter and traffic was again using the street. There was a bit of a show of excitement in the many natives going excitedly about shaking hands with each other -- apparently over their good fortune at having escaped. Also one fellow in a disreputable old car, which had most of the roof blown away, was having the car towed off but seemed very happy that the car was still capable of rolling, even if not under its own power. Not only by these actions, but from the close-lipped replies of the natives when one inquired as to the casualties, did one realize the brave manner in which they were standing up under the bombings. When one inquired if there had been casualties the answer was invariably: "Yes, there were some casualties." If one persisted in knowing more the answer was invariably "quite a few" or "several" -- and that was all the information they cared to give out, and except for possibly admitting that it was a shame one gathered that they did not care to discuss the matter at any great length.

The incident we had viewed convinced the Engineer that the best place was on the ship -- he contended it was not only safer but that the steam heat available was much more desirable than spending any time up town in the too-well-ventilated-buildings with no heat in them. Ted and I decided to go through with our plans for the evening, since we had adopted the fatalistic attitude that if one of the things had your name on it you would be sought out, wherever you were -- this did not mean, however, that we deliberately took chances and we did not run outside to see where a V-1 would land if it cut out near where we were. We were quite contented to look after it had landed! However, the damage to the NAFFI Club had somewhat altered the plans for the usual Wednesday night dinner dance. Tea would be served, as usual, (in spite of Hell and high water, no doubt!) and the bar would perhaps be open but there would be no dance, we were informed. We settled for tea and made our decision to return to the ship about six in the evening. We came near freezing to death, though, and the tea got cold before one could drink it, since not only all the windows and doors were blown out but the roof had been damaged as well. It seemed it was actually colder inside than out of doors -- and the temperature was below freezing outside. When we walked to our tram station, with stops at two cafes in route to try and warm up a bit, we found a long line-up of prospective passengers ahead of us. Since we could not get dinner at seven at the Club we decided to return there and it would have been too late to receive a meal aboard the ship anyway. We returned to the Club and bought our meal tickets, left our overcoats on, as did everyone else in the place, incidentally, and were overjoyed to find we could get a drink of Scotch with our meal. After bestowing some hand soap on the waitress (the natives can buy it only through the black market at he price of about 100 Franks a bar) she did a mighty thorough job of keeping our glasses filled, too! When we finished the meal, about eight o'clock, we were in a better humor but were still anything but warm. It was a long walk and a cold ride on the fore-mentioned tram while we were not yet thawed out completely. We decided to visit The Follies and warm up. This proved to be only a temporary relief and we took ourselves to task for our decision -- later.

Numerous individuals must have had the same idea in mind that we did in visiting the Follies for the place was more than crowded. We found a place to sit on a circular settee, near a table (the bar was lined three deep) and ordered some cognac whilst we viewed the floor show. The show was similar to most night club shows, less the usual master of ceremonies. The girls wore more clothing, too, than is usually worn in the States in such entertainments. The songs, in French, sounded all right. Occupying the same settee and table where we were located was a group of Belgian Civilians including a married couple and two spare women, without escorts. The group was very friendly, and it seemed a good idea to dance with the "spares" to facilitate the warming up process. Both the extra girls understood English but only one spoke it with any degree of perfection. Since Ted does a creditable job with the French language it naturally fell to him to entertain the less accomplished linguist. This did not grieve me too much, because on one other occasion when we had "speared" a dance with and unattached girl, after daring each other to ask her, it developed that she neither spoke nor understood English. Ted had danced with her first, and got along with his French excellently -- so well, in fact, that he had arranged for the next dance for me whilst he and the Purser looked on in glee.

As it neared time for us to depart for our tram the married couple brought up the idea that they intended to adjourn to one of the black market places which serve drinks after the eleven o'clock curfew. Whilst we were trying to gracefully decline this suggestion the time slipped by until it would have been almost impossible to have caught the final tram. We had, finally, commenced to thaw out, and the combination of heat and the bottles of wine we had assisted the Belgian in purchasing after the cognac had convinced us the five mile walk we faced (if the thumbing did not prove lucky) after missing the tram was not an impossible affair.

The black market institution took one back to the day of prohibition in the States. It was merely a large house with a make-shift bar in one of the parlors. The prices made ones we had already become accustomed to seem quite reasonable, too. There was some talk of champagne and oysters -- and other individuals were noticed dining on these luxuries -- but we convinced the party it was our final night on shore and, in typical sailor fashion, we were merely getting rid of what foreign currency we had on our person, which was not to be construed as sufficient to pay even our own share of the proposed feast. Although the black market activities are supposed to have all the luxuries in Belgium, this particular place was not too well supplied with coal, for the one feeble little stove scarcely took the chill off the place and Ted and I were soon chilled once again. The natives must either be rugged or just never thaw out. Once again the trudge to the ship did not seem quite so appealing and when the married couple invited us to spend what remained of the night with them we were not too difficult to persuade. There was supposed to be a divan which we could sleep on, which did not sound so bad, and we were not too anxious to be wandering about after the curfew and running the chance of being invited to spend some time as guest of the Army Guard House. Of course, there was complete black out in the city and we were not positive we should find our way at once to the docks from the place which we had wandered to. Fortunately, the extra girls in there group both lived on the same main street that led to the "flat" of the married couple. We dropped them off at their homes as we continued our trudge over the icy sidewalks, to where we were to stay, which to be proved about a forty-five minute trudge. When we arrived they would not hear of us turning in without something to eat, and a pot of tea, some bacon and eggs and sandwiches were produced, along with some butter, in due course of time -- whilst the husband, Ted and I worked over the stubborn coal stove which was used to heat only one room of the flat on account of the acute coal shortage. (This family was actually burning the previous winter's allotment and praying it would last until Spring and warmer weather arrived. We felt quite guilty over the food, too, because we knew that most of the repast must have been purchased on the black market: at an exorbitant price. When our food had disappeared time had slipped by until it was nearly three o'clock. When the matter of producing the bed was brought up difficulties arose, However and much rapid French conversation ensued which was too rapid for Ted to make out, incidentally. They explained, however, that there was an Uncle in the household and he had taken a water bottle to bed with him to warm the bed and had the misfortune to break the bottle and saturate the bed. Instead of making extensive alterations after the accident, he had merely stacked all the excess blankets and quilts on the bed -- the ones we were supposed to have placed on top of ourselves in an effort to keep warm on the divan in the unheated room. Instead of moving the divan down to the one room with heat in it, we settled for arranging ourselves in a pair of chairs. We were tempted to retreat to the ship at once but since the trams commenced to run at we settled for a couple of hours in the chairs with one blanket spread over us. At six we made our exit, after some hand shaking and having to decline another cup of tea, and ventured outside into some very chilly air, By dint of guessing the correct tram and thereby getting to the dock gate in short order, we managed to get back on board about seven-thirty -- but we ended up with a ride in an open truck to finally complete the freezing process we had undergone since the previous afternoon. As we hovered over the steam radiators in our quarters, changing into working uniforms before venturing into the mess hall for breakfast, we both swore this had been our final "night out" in Belgium!

By the thirteenth of January the final sling load of cargo had found its way over the side of the Alger. I'm sure there was no one on board who was unhappy to view this procedure for the usual mess hall topic had been the amount of cargo removed the previous day and the customary comments resulting were not complimentary. We were to move to the ballasting dock on Sunday and though little was said concerning this operation I'm sure more than one person had in mind the mishap that had befallen another ship when the V-2 had landed near as they were taking on ballast. Our good fortune continue, though, for shortly after our departure from the pier where we had unloaded, and before another ship could be moved in to take our place, a V-1 landed only a very few feet from where we had been berthed.

On Saturday night, however, an incident occurred which convinced me that accidents will continue to happen, Regardless of what dangers one might be subjected to. A group of my crew had gone to the movie which was held in an Army barracks in the area and on the way back to the ship one of them walked into a moving trailer. The first report was that he had received a broken back but this proved to be untrue and he was released from the Army Dispensary, where he had been taken in an ambulance, in one day's time, and had only a mild concession. The poor boy was suffering more from the thoughts of remaining in the Army's care after we departed than he was from the results of being thrown to the pavement by the speeding trailer. Army and Navy hospitals are easy enough to get into but being released from one is a much different story!

The ballasting dock proved to continue to attract the fancy of Adolph's play things. A V-2 landed across the canal from us and a few bits of the light colored metal (believed to be a combination of aluminum and magnesium) actually landed on board our ship -- they were quickly gathered up for souvenirs and several letter openers, using a German shell for a handle and a piece of glass from a German plane for a guard, have resulted, with the light metal making a satisfactory blade. The near miss proved to be the final incident for us concerning flying bombs in the dock area. It was with considerable relief that we departed those docks on Monday the 18th.

We traveled only a short way on this day and anchored, once more, in the river. The tempo of the buzz bombs seemed to be stepped up, though this could have resulted from the thick, fog which doubtless spoiled the average of the shore batteries engaging the things. More than one person had his sleep disturbed by low-flying V-1's. Several of them landed near by but none were close enough to give the ship a good jar, as several had done in the past three weeks. One does develop quite a respect for them, however for I've been awakened at night when one cut out close by. On one or two occasions I had actually "assumed the angle", almost unconsciously, which consist of lying face down with your knees and elbows doubled under you and your face protected by your hands. One is supposed to be able to withstand considerable concussion in this position and internal injuries are not so likely to result as when one lays flat on the stomach. To add a bit of final excitement to our stay, we also had an air alert this night, but we had no opportunity to fire. My boys were really anxious to hear the guns firing, once more, and I had promised them we would overlook the regulations and if any flying bombs passed over us on our trip down the river we would fire on them -- after they had passed beyond our own ship.

Our trip down the river proved quite uneventful, however, and since it was too foggy in the morning to observe anything flying at any great height we did not have an opportunity to try our luck on a buzz bomb. Jerry also seemed to be resting from the vigorous action he had put forth the previous night and we heard only an occasional bomb go over. Later in the day the fog lifted and we had some good views of the country side and saw some of the wooden windmills for which this section of the world is famous. Much of the land that had been under cultivation was flooded, however, from results of war, and many of the windmills were motionless and many stood at rakish angles, indicating that they were in need of major repairs.

At three in the afternoon we picked up another sea pilot, bid our river pilot goodbye, with the customary Belgian custom of shaking hands all around, and once more put to sea. As we again passed Flushing we were cognizant of the terrific damage visible. This time it was high tide and even more of the city was under water than we had at first suspected. We adopted "Condition II" for the trip across the channel, which amounts to what is known as "watch and watch"; four hours on and four hours off. This schedule provides for a skeleton crew at each gun and permits a bit of rest, which is something one does not receive when continually standing at battle stations. Tales had reached our ears concerning outward bound ships having their difficulties too. It seems the enemy would much rather sink loaded ships than empty ones, but I guess a mine is not choosy! Our crossing proved quite uneventful, however, and the only bit of excitement took place when we were approaching the English Coast, where we were to anchor at a place known as "South End", above Dover. It was after two in the morning, and I was having coffee in the mess hall and taking my second hour of respite from the bridge since morning, when the alarm sounded. When I reached the bridge the entire surroundings were lighted up by the brilliant flares that had been dropped from aircraft. I had been treated to this sort of business in the Mediterranean, and it is likely to produce a very helpless feeling on the part of those being illuminated -- you feel almost like a microbe under observation! You can hear the enemy planes over head and you know your position is disclosed to them by the flares which blind you and make it impossible for you to see the planes. We heard such a droning of planes, this time, though, that we felt sure it could not be the Germans over our heads. It developed that the flares had been dropped by our own aircraft returning from their usual nightly visit to the Rhineland. We also spotted one plane flying with its running lights on and learned later that these are transport planes bearing wounded.

We anchored about seven on the morning of the 17th (January) and expected to have a day or two spent in the customary "heal cooling" before proceeding homeward. This proved a mistaken contention, however, for the Master and I were ordered to a conference at eleven that same morning. (This was perhaps just a preview of the haste that will insure when we reach New York -- where we would really appreciate a bit of delay!) We were subjected to an hour's ride, each way, in an open boat, and being dressed in our Blues, without the long handled underwear beneath, we came near freezing and both admitted it was much more unpleasant than the previous all-night vigil we had spent on the bridge of our own ship. I was glad to be able to take our mail ashore, though, for we had received mail while we were taking ballast. That mail finally had answers to the first mail that we had put ashore on this side -- and Margaret, as ill luck would have it, received none from me until the day following Christmas.

The conference proved to be even less interesting than the usual affair. We were reminded, though, that there were still E-boats operating in the channel, and in typical English style, the speaker said: "We have a tilt with them frequently -- and we bash them." We experienced no tilts. We are well on our way home (and the usual conjectures concerning when we will arrive and arguments over who is to have the liberty are already in process) and the only "tilt" we are experiencing is with "Old Man ATLANTIC and the rolling he is causing the Russell A. to go through.

This evening, after supper, we listened to a smooth-spoken news analyst state his reasons for believing the end of the war "imminent" -- Germany is surrounded, their war factories ruined, their man power depleted and their country in a deplorable condition, incapable of waging war. Someone brought up the possibility, that, should the speaker be moved from his luxurious surroundings in Radio Center in New York to the bomb shattered Antwerp and experience the howl of sirens, the shaking of buildings and the showers of falling glass caused by one little "non-military" weapon, would his views, gleaned from studying the news, be altered? It has been our experience, on the trip now nearing its end,that for a country with "nothing" Germany is doing an excellent job fooling somebody.