Chapter Eighteen

I decided to have the operation I almost had at the hospital at Casablanca. It was similar to a circumcision, not usually performed in Norway. The operation was at a hospital at White Plains, N.Y. by a Norwegian doctor. I was quite happy about not having undergone this at Casablanca, while in the ward for venereal disease because of my prisoner of war status; a seeming world of difference in medical facility. I visited my brother daily during about six weeks recuperating, living at the Seamen’s House.

I met a girl, Ann, my own age at a dance at the Seamen’s House just before Christmas. Her parents were from Norway and I was invited to their home because of common interest. The Norwegian "colony" in the Bayridge section of Brooklyn would arrange get-togethers for the Seamen during the Christmas holidays at the one of the several Norwegian/American churches. I visited more than one with Ann; presents of scarves, etc., were given the attending Seamen. We continued dating; she was working as a chemist for a big company. I was aware at that time there likely was a sort of sophistication gap. Thinking about this later, I thought that at this time my thoughts about emigration likely were only lukewarm.

Visiting the recreation area on the top floor at the Seamen’s House I was talking to another Seaman, a little older than I. We were looking southward toward the Bayridge section where a lot of Norwegian/Americans lived... After a while I mentioned this girl I had met and the other fellow almost took pains warning me to watch out for career girls. Not that there was any problem, he said, just that they were very independent, making their own money, etc. I wondered if he spoke from personal experience; the answer was that one should be aware. I don’t remember that this changed my relationship with Ann. It likely made me consider it would be some time before any designs in that direction ought to be contemplated. Ann and I had just met, the war was still going on; "cool your jets, kid", seemed to be friendly advise...

January 18, -45, I signed on the 9000 tons (Norwegian) oil tanker Elise as Chief Radio Officer, she was on her way to Corpus Christy, Texas. It seemed that my recent experience with the Braganza had earned me the promotion. The other Radio Officer and I were doing "six and six", i.e., six hours on duty and six hours off to afford constant radio watch because of the many earlier sinkings along the American coast.

I remember we passed within view of Miami one evening and bantered with the deck Officers on the bridge about seeing the bathing beauties on the beach, which of course were not within view.

Because of the Uboat threat we sailed "up" along the west coast of Florida, the long way around the coasts of Alabama, past the Mississippi Delta, passed Louisiana, and along the Texas coast to Corpus Christi. The normal route would have been straight west through the Gulf of Mexico once we had passed through the Florida Keys. On our way up towards Alabama I was on watch when an SOS call came over the radio, (where else?). It turned out to be an excited warning from an English ship mistaking the spout of a whale for a periscope. The staccato keying likely indicated an Indian Radio Officer on this English ship.

It is worth the while mentioning that radio operators using Morse code, with an ordinary telegraph key, quite readily could be identified, almost as to nationality, by their keying hand. For example, it was noted after the war that the American intelligence, during the war, would track a German spy operating in South America, as he moved around transmitting his information back to Germany. The north European radio operators would have a more even, rhythmic hand, south European more staccato.

The oil terminal at Corpus Christi was about twenty miles from town requiring a taxi to get there, to town that is, and back. A cantina just off the oil pier offered sundry items for sale, including some beer, and this was how I remember spending the time we were at the pier. A glass of beer and likely watching a pinochle game. I never learned that game not being a particular card aficionado. The Elise was just a small tanker. The oil was being pumped onboard during the night and we would be ready to leave for New York in the morning. Somehow I just could not see the idea of spending money for a twenty mile taxi trip just to get to town for a few hours, at most.

Many years later I remember telling a Texan about my short visit to his state. When asked why I didn’t care to go ashore, I said, tongue in cheek, that after having heard so much about Texas being sort of big, and wild, I may have been a little timid about that place... It was always good for a smile from any Texan I happened to meet.

I would have another story to tell about the Texans. In one sense they were much alike the people from Bergen, Norway, in this manner: It always seemed that wherever one would meet a sailor from Bergen, this is the first he would tell you, rather than that he was from Norway. Even as his accent was distinct enough. I found much the same with a Texan; he always would tell you he was from Texas before he would tell you he was from the U.S.... Or so it seemed. And this, also, would get a smile from any Texan I told the story to.

Arriving back at New York, while discharging the oil cargo, I called on Ann because of an expected brief visit. The Captain surprised me stating I was being transferred to the M/S Hoegh Silverlight, nine thousand tons, as Chief Radio Officer. She was a modern general cargo ship built just before the war, now sailing between New York and Bombay, India. The Captain told me he had recommended me, but was sorry to see me leave. I thanked him for his support, which the Captain noted he felt I had earned. As I was packing my belongings the Steward came by and told me to bring my seabag to his quarters. The two of us had spent many hours together, both being from the west coast of Norway. The Steward said he remembered I had talked about my Uncle and family in New York, -Hand I am sure they could use some extra sugar and butter".

He proceeded to give me two five pound bags of sugar and two like boxes of butter. When I protested that was too much the Steward noted that when the custom Officer would tell me I could not take all that amount ashore, I was to ask if he knew someone who could use half of it. And just like the Steward had explained that was no problem, the customs Officer said he would take care of it... My Uncle and family then enjoyed some extra sugar and butter they did not have to use limited ration coupons for. There was extra time to call on Ann and tell her about my promotion. I signed on the M/S Hoegh Silverlight February 26, -45.

Routine Job;

I would look back on my arrival onboard this ship, one of a top-of-the-line Norwegian general cargo liners, as a time of really coming into my own as a Radio Officer. The Captain was Bo Aslaksen. Some of the Officers were long time employees of the Leif Hoegh Shipping company of Oslo. Other company ships, I heard of, were the M/S Hoegh Silverstar, and the M/S Hoegh Silvercloud.

These Officers were career Officers who likely would stay with a company and work towards promotions within the company. Some of the deck and engine crew members who intended to go to school and become Officers likely also would tend to stay with these type companies for the advancement possibilities. It was a first for me, on a ship in company with career-type Officers. The Chief, second, and third engineers apparently had been with the ship since before the war.

A small incident occurred before leaving New York. I spotted a short radio antenna on the boat deck. The Second Engineer had strung it up for his private radio receiver. He was advised him that unless his radio had been certified as non-radiating by the American Coast Guard service it could not be operated during war time. Accordingly, I removed the antenna after advising the Captain. (As an aside, the war in Europe had just terminated as we started our second return trip from India. The Second Engineer tersely advised me he expected his antenna to be reinstalled. I wondered whether he resented being denied his radio by a "London schooled’ radio man. The Second Mate, who also had a radio license, supported my action).

Except for this little incident I got along well with the other Officers. They had apparently learned about my background and experience including my contribution getting the Braganza lifeboat safely ashore. I likely advised them that my tenure as a Radio Officer was not a career-type occupation, mostly because I was bent on furthering my education, somehow. At the same time I let them know I respected their chosen occupation, it was just not my "cup of tea", an expression likely just added to my vocabulary. (Some of my off duty behavior, may have indicated the same: I would keep up my calisthenics routine, sometimes shadow boxing, other times skipping rope, sometimes to the amusement of the deck Officers and the Captain. or, as noted earlier, I’d just be walking the length of the deck. on the first trip, though, this was difficult because of deck cargo on the fore deck and numerous pieces of 10 inch long angle irons welded to the deck to secure the cargo). The second Radio Officer was a Canadian young woman, Claire, 10 years older than I. And to me, at 26, her age at 36, was old.... For the first time I also served as the book keeper, keeping track of all the crews’ wages and salaries, a usual Radio Officer job for $50. extra pr. month. The ship could carry up to twelve passengers and had an Indian mess crew for that purpose. There was small laundry operated by an Indian, for linen etc. for the passengers. The Officer’s mess crew were also Indian.

I was almost in awe of the Chief Mate; my lifeboat experience paled beside his. His ship had been torpedoed north-west of Australia. Because the nearest landfall, the islands of Java and Sumatra were in Japanese hands, the apparent only alternative he and six others in the lifeboat had, was to set course for India... After 96 days they reached Madras, on the Indian east coast. Most of this I learned from others.

He was a tall muscular individual and they were all seasoned sailors. The rainwater, because of the rainy season, was gathered in the sails augmenting their supply. He paid off after the first trip to Bombay. His wife had an apartment in Brooklyn.

The Chief Engineer was Danish but married to a Norwegian and living at Aalesund, (eelsound)’ near the general area my mother came from. It served as source of discussion about places we knew. As noted before, the deck and engine Officers were career Officers. I was the first London sparks they had encountered. If I was under the gun as new man on the ship, in addition to being a ‘London sparks’, I let it pass; in the back of my mind I only reported to the Captain as his man.

Among the passengers was an American business man, an Indian, an Australian lady and her 15 year old daughter, and two American missionary women, maybe around 30. One of the missionary women was to meet her fiancée, also a missionary stationed in India, at Bombay. Two other young American women were to meet their husbands at Bombay.

Claire was not familiar with the lifeboat emergency transmitter and we had a review on the boat deck. Some of the passengers joined in the review. The transmitter could be operated with an antenna "load" preventing actual transmission. As an aside, because we had passengers the Chief Mate and Chief Engineer took their meals with the Captain and the passengers.

The trip across the Atlantic was routine in a convoy. Along the Mediterranean was just a quiet trip after the trip with the Tai Shan around Christmas in -43. This ship also had a three inch gun on the poop deck, a Norwegian gun crew and gunnery Officer, a former deck Officer. Traveling along, but out of sight of the coast of Libya, outside the city of Tobruk, (now Tubruq) of the Rommel campaign fame, the Second Mate would show me how one could "read" the type bottom we were passing over, differentiate between mud and solid, with the electronic depth finder. Just the fact that this was being used indicated that the war now had shifted elsewhere, the Mediterranean no longer Mussolini’s "Mare Nostre", (our Sea).

(Mussolini was, of course, no longer either)...

We discussed the seldom used depth finder on the Braganza, seldom used, because the "sender" was mechanical. Two large, 20 pounds, sledge hammers on a wheel alternately would land on a steelplate in the bottom of the ship, a radio receiver picking up the echo from the sea bottom. The reverberating noise throughout the ship from that operation likely limited its use.

While anchored at Port Said the entrance to the Suez Canal an Australian A.B. and I decided on swimming. On a dare diving from the companion ladder went fine, about 30 feet. From the lifeboat deck, 38 feet, was a height I never had tried likely nor really liked to; but a dare is a dare!. I think I just managed from the boat deck, lucky to hit the water without getting hurt, I think. Being on the skinny side I remember it was the first time I really could just lay on my back and float due to the really salt water.

The date for this trip is remembered because of the news that President Franklin D. Roosevelt had passed away on April 12, 1945. We had just passed through the Suez canal, "deja vue", from the trip through the canal with the Tai Shan.

After arrival at Bombay I wrote a letter to Ann that we had heard about the passing of the President. As an aside, on the plane from Natal to Florida, in -44, I recall an Air Force Officer passenger vehemently opposing a Roosevelt 4th term, my first introduction to American politics.

One of the passengers inquired why this was named the Red Sea despite being such a pretty blue? I passed on my learning about the desert sands blowing onto it. We almost got tangled up discussing the Jewish people’s crossing. As we passed by Eritrea, once an Italian colony, the gunnery Officer related that before Italy fell Italian planes would come out to attempt to bomb the convoys. He stated there was no damage because the planes flew so high, to evade anti aircraft fire, that their bombs ineffectively always fell short of their targets...

We made a short stop at Aden. The Gulf of Aden separates the then South Yemen from Somalia in Africa and ‘opens’ into the Arabian Sea which we had to cross to get to Bombay. (It was OK to have access to the chart room behind the bridge). I accompanied the Captain ashore for sailing instructions to Bombay. The Captain was advised we could have gunnery practice once outside the harbor. A tugboat was stationed there towing a target. Our three inch gun was to place shells within a certain distance behind the target. A couple of shells came too close and the tugboat signaled by light she would shoot back if we came any closer. The gunnery Officer signaled back and said we were sorry and thanked them for the use of the target. Later in the day our gun fired a ‘target’ shell up in the air to explode at a level where the smoke could be used for target practice by a couple of machine guns. Some of the A.B.s where asked to practice and the Australian seemed quite proficient. I wondered aloud why this practicing with the war winding down; it almost seemed it was as much to allay tediousness...

I was quietly satisfied taking in stride the purser’s job for this much bigger ship. Claire was proficient at her job and we enjoyed a fine working relationship. She would call me "Chiefie" for a while. Someone had seen me at the Seamen’s House in company of a pretty young girl and Claire’s intuition, she said, thought it must be something special. At times the fourth engineer, the cook, Claire and I would linger in the messroom after supper. They tried to sound me out about ties to the pretty girl in Brooklyn. I was surprised at being almost defensive talking about Ann, quietly wondered if things were more serious than I would let on. The cook seemed anxious to talk about the Steward’s romantic ties at Brooklyn; I let it pass... Once passed Aden we felt almost "absent" from the war.

The radio station had been enlarged to include the usual Radio Officer’s quarters. The extra space was handy for the typewriter needed to "produce" the daily press news handouts. Both Claire and I occupied cabins usually occupied by passengers, she on the passenger deck I on the main deck with the other Officers. The third engineer reported that he was sure there was some ‘hanky panky’ going on between the 4th engineer and Claire; (he had seen her in the 4th engineer’s cabin as he came off watch at midnight). I answered that as long as it did not interfere with her job it was no problem to me.

Approaching Bombay I informed the Officers and the Captain about my previous experiences in the harbor. our ship was also a motor ship and they could relate to the problem with lube oil that the rework on the Braganza was attempting to accomplish. Getting a first hand detail of the explosion on the English ship in the Victoria dock and how we survived seemed interesting to them. They thought the report on the incident with the bicycle, and me likely in admitted panic, was both humorous and honest.

Bombay Harbor Incident:

Arriving at Bombay we were anchored about a half hour by the ship’s motorboat from the docks. The Captain, an A.B., and I headed for shore in the motorboat, I at the tiller. The Captain had the usual papers to take care of at the shipping office; I was to pick up the moneys drawn against their wages by the Officers and crew, a usual procedure as purser.

After a little while it became obvious that our course would take us right across, maybe into, the path of the 20,000 tons Polish liner Batory coming into the harbor. I thought, to myself, it would be a simple matter to come starboard with the rudder and in u-turn fashion come back on our course astern of the Batory. The Captain was standing by the little fore-deck of the motorboat, as if showing off his Captain’s uniform. And, as if reading my mind, casually stated: "-stay your course, we have the right-of-way".

The Batory’s bow seemed to close in on us and to be TOWERING above us as she slowly came to her starboard beam. I spotted one of Batory’s deck Officers, likely the 2nd Officer, at the bow with a head-set directing the ship’s course into the harbor, a requirement. I felt that standing on protocol easily could have been dispensed with, but wisely just answered: "-Aye, Sir, stay the course"... And the fact that I too was in uniform was really not a comfort.

Drifting off to sleep that night the reason for the rule "dawned" on the relatively new Seaman. The Batory, once changing to her starboard beam, could not be maneuvered like our little boat. An unexpected change, as my thought of a u-turn, thus could have ended it for the little boat.

We were to dock in the Alexandria dock but had to tie up briefly before entering the locks. At western docks one or two stevedores would accept the heaving line thrown from the ship to haul the heavier mooring lines ashore. Here, about ten Indians would walk in an oval format, one at a time picking up the heaving line "walking" it in, one at the head of the line, the others dropping it returning to pick it up again, continuing this oval format until the heavier line was secured on the capstain. The Indian passenger explained the reason was twofold. They were not strong enough, being vegetarians, to work like their western counterparts, and there were more of them needing the jobs, for which the pay was quite low, about a third of a dollar a day we were told.

It was news to me that the dockside cranes unloading our cargo were water powered. About forty Indians came onboard to clean the bilges in the engine room. It was explained to me that the ship was charged three rupees pr day for each one of the Indians. One rupee went to the worker, one to the agent hiring them, and one to the Chief Engineer. The Chief Mate would hire people to remove the dunnage material, used to shore up the cargo, and receive money for both. This seemed to be the rule.

There was no real rule about uniforms. However, in the East, when going ashore with the Captain it was almost expected that I would dress up in a summer uniform, white shorts and knee socks. The Captain had provided the company insignia for the Officer’s cap. I only wore the uniform once or twice, even as I accompanied the Captain on official business. The reason for not wearing the uniform regularly, for me, was an incident with some young English sailors, just out of boot camp, visiting in Bombay just then. Spotting two gold stripes on my epaulets, they came to attention thinking they were saluting a full lieutenant, the Radio Officer’s insignia not clearly visible. I knew enough about custom to answer the salute. A day of that was enough, though. But I seem to remember having my picture taken, for "posterity"...

Claire asked me to show her some of the sights at Bombay because of my description of some of my experiences there with the Braganza. I was intrigued when she asked if we could take a horse carriage through the natives section, particularly through the native "bawdy house" section, i.e. the red light’ district. I gallantly dressed up in my uniform. This section apparently was frequented mostly, if not exclusively, by Indians, and I was interested enough to get a look-see The carriage driver assured me the drive through that section would be no problem and not cause any undue concern. I felt we could be intruding, in a way, but the driver answered he was not used to such concern. Just the same, I felt it was like gawking even if Claire told me I was too sensitive. I countered with surprise over her interest in this section, wondering if she, somehow, was testing me. Thinking back, now, I likely balanced poise and bravado, (equanimity likely was an unknown expression at that time), for the occasion: a young man showing an older, girl around the red light district, however cursory. (Experience with the native undercurrent of unrest in North Africa likely was on my mind as well. I remembered, too, a statement by an Indian near the docks right after the explosion that it was the fault of the English). Claire stated she was interested, as a woman about the lot of other women, and at the same time curious about how the place was run. The places for the girls were not more than cubicles as part of a building, with some type steel bars for doors and walls, with draw curtains. The driver explained the charge was two annas, for a short visit, with ten annas to a rupee and three rupees to a dollar. And this, the price in itself, was what mostly had peaked Claire’s interest.

By the time the driver was through talking the tour was over, which suited me just fine, somehow. We took in an early movie after the trip. Arriving back onboard for supper the fourth engineer seemed as if awaiting our return. He mentioned something about someone’s’ freedom to come and go as they pleased... I could mention the fourth engineer was not an Officer, as such, but an experienced motorman ‘elected’ by the Chief Engineer to stand his watch, a sort of on-the-job promotion valid from then on. For. ex. during our docking at Bombay the fourth engineer was handling all the necessary commands from the bridge, involving stopping, reversing the engine etc. as required, the Chief in his office or out on the deck. Not knowing much about machinery I was impressed by the Chief’s confidence in the ability of the fourth engineer.

On our the return trip we stopped at Aden again for sailing orders because of the war time conditions. Continuing on through the Suez Canal with the routine of waiting at Bitter Lake for priority shipping. At Port Said while anchored for sailing orders through the Mediterranean an Egyptian boarding was pointed out as a money changer, for the Chief Engineer and the Chief Mate I was told. It seemed odd to me and I let it pass without more as none of my concern.

Arriving back at New York I mentioned to the Captain that with the war winding down was there really no need for two Radio Officers. The Captain noted he had thought of the same and was glad I had mentioned it. He asked if there was any problem. I answered her job performance was fine and that we had enjoyed a good working relationship, quietly wondering if he had heard rumors. Claire noted she would like to go home to Canada for a while, anyway. The third engineer reported he thought that the fourth engineer spent the night ashore as she departed. Trying not to ignore him I felt, whatever it was, it was history now; maybe it was the adage about women creating trouble on ships that bothered him.

It was the second time this engineer had talked to me about Claire and the 4th engineer. The third engineer himself was quite fastidious limiting himself to the shortest trips ashore, drawing very little money, but for necessities. Doing the books I was surprised at how much money he had on his account. He had been with the ship the whole war, as had both the first and Second Engineers. Finishing his account book one day, I ventured to ask him if he had considered placing some of the money in one of the banks at one of the Seamen’s’ Churches, just about guaranteed by the Norwegian government. He answered he didn’t really trust the banks even after I showed him how much interest he could be accumulating, even at just the three per cent that time. The war seemed almost over, he was anxious to get back home.

Digression:

I thought of him later, after the war, when Norway devalued its money against the dollar, if he had kept his money in the bank, in dollars, how much he could have gained...

Some time after the war it was rumored some of the Seamen with money earned on their books ran into problems receiving what they were due when they paid off. It appeared that the individuals became as a casualty between the owner and Nortraship when their accounts for the use of the ships were to be settled. The owners, rightfully it seemed, sent the Seamen back to Nortraship for moneys earned under Nortraship’s control. Stories followed that some Seamen thus went back and forth, between the two, never receiving their money due to this mix-up and wound up on relief.

(Another rumor floated during the war related to a raises in salaries and wages for the Seamen. The rumor persisted about a fund, "the Nortraship Fund’o, established instead of raises, to be paid out after the war because England could not afford raises for their Seamen; the two countries’ economies being somehow co-dependent because of the Norwegian government in exile status in England, I think...

The fund actually existed and became the source of a suit at law all the way to the Norwegian Supreme Court after the war, by three Seamen’s’ unions or associations, against the government. The outcome of the suit was for the government. The substantial fund later became a part of a foundation for pension system for the Seamen sailing during the war years, including yours truly, at age sixty).

Back to New York:

I called Ann as soon as we arrived at New York. It was June, spring-time, etc... She thanked me for the letter I had written from Bombay about the President’s passing. She noted that I had written in English knowing that she spoke Norwegian, her parents were from Norway. But it seemed all our conversations were in English. On a visit at her home Ann made mention about a church-related camp facility in Pennsylvania, "Camp Lutherland", would I be interested?. Her parents thought it was OK. I promptly cleared a week’s vacation with my Captain, he thought it was a fine idea.

The Chief Mate was almost incredulous. "You’re going on vacation?, vacation to where? Camp Lutherland? ". I had just explained I was going to the Pocono mountains in Pennsylvania for a week’s vacation with a girl I knew. I would have nothing to do while the ship was taking on cargo and I had a week’s vacation coming. The talk in the messroom was about how religious I could be: a Seaman going to a religious-type camp, "-where?". It is likely the condition would not have caused much of a stir on an American ship. In Norway church going was on a far more casual level. But they seemed envious that I was able to get away: "-boy, these radio guys!".

Ann and I had a good laugh as I recounted the repartee on the ship on our way to the camp on the train. Ann said she had gone through the same with the people at her job, although the religious camp was accepted as a norm, within propriety... It is worth mentioning were it not for Ann’s company I doubted very much if I would have attended any church. But...

The camp was quite segregated as to the unmarrieds. Married young couples stayed in a building between those of the unmarrieds; and there was a curfew. There were counselors from several churches, apparently all Lutheran. Lectures were on a voluntary basis. Don’t recall attending any religious lectures, but there were other types as well. The camp was situated at a good size lake and we were occupied with archery, canoeing, volley ball, a new one to me, and swimming. I was introduced to archery, also a new one, except for home-made bows back in Norway as a youngster. Competition between groups were a big thing. One could rent bicycles. Ann and I spent considerable time, on two, or three occasions, discovering and getting lost in the surroundings. Blueberries were already ripening. Quietly, I was wondering if Ann was attempting to discover more about me at ‘closer’ quarters, as it were. Whatever, I was having a time not really contemplated, an opportunity not generally available to a Seaman, which I was to some degree, albeit unintentionally.

The week was soon over, the weather had been ‘cooperating’. I thanked the camp officials for the hospitality, and Ann and I took the train back to Brooklyn via New Jersey. it was time to get back on the ship, for Ann to get back to work. The ship was getting readied for another trip to Bombay.

We had docked at Hoboken, New Jersey, where I also came onboard this ship. I had to take some amount of ribbing about,-"what was the name of that place again, Lutherland?". I gave as good as I received and the Captain said he was glad to have me back onboard. Passengers came onboard as we finished with the cargo. Two American women to meet their military husbands; a woman about thirty five with a young daughter. An American couple, quite devoted. An American business man and an Indian business man completed the passenger list.

When Claire was onboard it was her duty to copy the "press" and distribute four copies, two to the crews aft-, and a copy each to the Officers mess and the passenger salon. She was thus a natural interface with the passengers, the entertainment on a passenger cargoship otherwise quite limited, especially in war time. The ‘press’ job now was my duty.

This press was like a demand on a ship for the crew ordinarily. I made myself more available, as necessary, for the passengers enjoying the company. It offered a break in the usual routine and my way to and from the radio station was via the boatdeck, which served as the passengers’ recreation area, as such. My duty hours also served as a buffer; I was conscious, too, of their privacy limited as it was. The passengers ‘allowed’ for my lack of typing prowess...

Lingering in the messroom after supper one evening the fourth engineer seemed to wish to fill me in on his relationship with Claire. I was "nonplused", in a sense. Trying to understand why he had as if a need to detail... I was trying to hide a disinterest in their relationship. It is likely he wished to find out if I had fired her because of him... The cook apparently also had a need to fill me in further about the Steward’s contact in Brooklyn, as if it bothered him. I was unfamiliar with the idea of hearing confessions; why me?; -Must be the war?...

(Our Steward was married in Norway. The cook also noted that while I was away on vacation he, the Steward, had brought a woman he was seeing at Brooklyn onboard the ship. She visited the ship with her two young daughters again as I returned to the ship. The Captain asked me about the woman and children in the Steward’s quarters. I related as much as I knew. The Captain just shook his head.)

The Hoegh Silverlight, (I liked that name!), joined a convoy sailing from New York bound for the Mediterranean area. it seemed the war was in its last stages in Europe; the atmosphere on the ship was relaxed; summer-time weather. We had received a "Walkie-Talkie" radio system for use by the Officers on the bridge. It was short range and intended for use only during emergencies, as when a submarine already knew our position with a convoy. The first day out of New York the Vice Comodore ship signaled us by light to try this radio. The short antenna, almost like a car radio antenna, was attached to the railing on top of the bridge house. I could not make contact, however, although I could hear the call to us. "We’ll try again tomorrow", I was told by light signal. Taking the antenna down I found that someone had twisted the antenna in its base breaking the internal connection to the co-ax cable. It was promptly re-soldered. Contact was established with the Vice Commodore’s ship in good order. The Captain expected I would fix it.

Approaching Gibraltar the convoy was split into a Commodore and Vice-Commodore section, apparently to facilitate passing through the Strait of Gibraltar. Our ship was in the latter; apparently also this section was to proceed towards the Suez Canal. Heavy fog had developed as we proceeded. (I had informed the Captain I’d occupy the station till we cleared through the strait). The Commodore broke radio silence because of an expected imminent submarine attack; (too soon the relaxed atmosphere we started with?). Via Morse Code the convoy was ordered to take a 45 degree emergency turn to starboard. Passing the message immediately to the Chief Mate in the chart room he answered that orders already were received from the Vice Commodore, via the "Walkie-Talkie", we were to stay our course.

There was just one problem with this: apparently not all the ships in the Vice Commodore section had been supplied with this type radio, or maybe it was ignored. I was standing in the radio shack door, life west right handy, acutely aware that we had a considerable part cargo of ammunition in our holds, wondering about the two conflicting orders. (I remembered the condition with the envelopes with orders in the convoy with Ringulv, when our Officers could not read the signal flags.).

Suddenly, out of the dense fog surrounding the convoy, another ship is looming up heading for our ship, port side, (left side), responding to the Morse code 450 order over the main radio. Fortunately our Chief Mate was on the port wing of the bridge, either he or the Captain hollered: -"rudder full starboard!", (to the right). The approaching ship also seemed to come to her port beam, to the left, away from us. But it was never clear to me how our ship managed to evade the other ships moving ahead behind our ‘line’, convoy speed, as we moved at an angle, from the number two position port side, clear through the convoy moving ahead, to emerge out on the starboard side of our section of the convoy. (We were in the third row of four ships from the front in ‘our’ section).. Apparently Lady Luck, whoever she is, was onboard. The Chief Mate said later there was just some visibility, enough to save our skin... The passengers seemed unaware of the close call. Passing through the Strait the convoy proceeded without further incidents, of that type anyway.

Coming off watch late one evening in the Mediterranean my usual habit was to glide, hands on the banister feet in the air, to the boatdeck. I was in sandals, summer shorts and shirt. Half way down I spotted the Steward and the lady with the young daughter embracing in the deck chairs. Unable to stop, my feet hit the deck. I tried to disappear quickly before they realized who it was. Nothing further was said. I learned from the cook, more confessions?, that the lady had a standing order of a bottle of scotch, about every other day; apparently a shipboard romance was in progress, besides the apparent fact she imbibed... The war again; -must be his uniform...

The Stewards on the ships took onboard stores of cigarettes, etc. for the crew and passengers. Liquors for the passengers only. (I did not smoke but remember buying ten cartons of cigarettes at fifty-five cents a carton, reselling at Bombay for three dollars a carton, as part of my pocket money.)

Arriving at Port Said, the usual wait at anchor for our turn to proceed through the Suez Canal; no swimming this time, the Australian A.B. had paid off. Proceeding southward it was standing order to man the radio station all the way through the canal. We received regular Morse code orders to anchor up at Bitter Lake to let northbound ships pass, apparently more important than us.

Proceeding towards India we stopped at Karachi, in Pakistan. We anchored up in the river to prepare to take on coconut oil in two special tanks under the midship. (Once the tanks were filled the oil had to be kept at a constant temperature. I didn’t really inquire how)... The oil was pumped onboard from a lighter. The lighter crew had a small dugout-type canoe which I managed to borrow for some sight-seeing. I paddled across an arm of the Indus river, (or the delta of). A Royal Air Force flying boat passed uncomfortable close overhead and landed on the river a couple of hundred yards down. They likely never saw me; I remember ducking my head as if that would have helped.

Paddling in among the dhows, traditional small cargo sailing boats with a "Latin" sail, I stood up to greet an Indian on the deck of one dhow. I was in bathing suit only, blond and tan. The Indian greeted me and held up a young child to see me. The child promptly started bawling and the Indian apologized. "No, no", I stated, "I should apologize for disturbing", and excusing myself paddled away. The Indian smiled broadly and waved good-by.

Arriving at Bombay to dock again in the Alexandria dock we watched the same procedure tying up before entering the locks and on into the dock. After discharging the cargo, except the coconut oil, we went through the same routine with Indian workers for bilge cleaning and dunnage removing. And we started taking cargo for New York. The Steward advised we were to have some passengers.

The Radio Officer from another Norwegian ship paid a visit and advised their crew had been challenged to a soccer match by a local, Indian, soccer club. They did not, however, have enough players to form a team on their ship and invited the crew on our ship to join and form a team. This was accomplished and adequate soccer shoes were found among the crew for a meet at one of the soccer stadiums.

The local soccer team somehow insisted it had to be a team from the ship they had contacted, and believing that, they felt a practice game was not necessary. The combined team from the two ships assured them this was fine and never let on we were from two different Norwegian ships. I played ‘left forward’ because of my ability to kick equally well with both feet. Perhaps the deception worked against us because the combined team was beaten, by a couple of goals, by the local team. Also, about half the local team were playing barefoot. The other sparks noted, half in jest, perhaps we could say we were afraid to tackle the barefooted players; but we decided to admit we were just beaten, no excuse. The rest of the crews on the two ships felt we had tried, and that was important, too.

I invited the other ‘sparks’ onboard for some refreshment. once in the radio shack I excused myself and returned with a large bottle of cold Canadian Black Horse ale, explaining we had brought a couple of hundred tons of this for the Canadian forces in India. During unloading the Steward had paid the Indian stevedore deck Chief 20 rupees to have him stop a sling of 48-bottle cases at the rim of the cargo hold, just long enough to be able to secure a case and take it below into the large refrigerator.

The Chief Mate was otherwise occupied, hence the chance to purloin, or whatever, a case of the favorite Canadian ale. The twenty rupees bribe was more than the stevedore Chief and his crew would make in a day. Both the Chief Mate and the Captain "found" bottle of cold ale in their cabins, and nothing more was heard about the incident.

Finishing lading at Bombay we were to sail to Colombo, Ceylon, now Sri Lanka, for more cargo. As we sailed down the Indian I was curious about Portuguese Goa. The numerous chart room charts opened my eyes to other Portuguese enclaves north of Bombay, the port Diu and Damao, or Daman. Goa had a kind of "renown" for brothels with European type girls. These Portuguese occupied areas apparently dated from Vasco da Gama’s period. (In 1961 India under Nehru marched across these borders and returned them to Indian control).

Ceylon would be a first for me and I looked forward to visit, only about a day. One was told the place was famous for precious stones, rubies among them; stories followed about precious stone "bargains" by way of trading acumen. Lack of knowledge about gem value as well as bargains likely being oft repeated fantasies steered me away from that commodity.

Colombo also was famous for carvings of various size elephants in teak wood, all black. Wondering about something to bring back to Ann from this place I settled on a pair of elephant book ends, about 9 inches high, with ivory tusks. I have no recollection about the price; I remember I was in a predicament about any gift to bring back. It was a short trip ashore and memories about the city are the barest. (No tourist, this kid).

Starting on our return voyage we stopped again at Aden, now in South Yemen. I remember mostly that I was bothered by the heat. (On our way east from Aden toward Karachi, across outer part of the Gulf of Oman, it seemed to be too hot to stand on the deck in the breeze created by the ship’s speed, at about 11 knots, about 12.5 miles pr hour, as an example.)

I accompanied the Captain ashore for traveling orders. We picked up an additional crew, a motorman, who had been left behind from another ship; I did not probe the reason, that was the Captain’s prerogative.

The day after we left this motorman brought a small deer, about the size of a goat kid, on deck. one was used to crew members having a dog or a cat, but there was concern about this deer. Someone advised it would be a quarantine problem in the U.S. Why had he bought it to bring aboard? It turned out he had been left behind by another ship, apparently just messing’ around; but risking being left behind at Aden?

Bringing the little creature onboard seemed to explain a part attitude problem. (The deer problem ‘solved’ itself, as it were; the day after we passed the Strait of Gibraltar the little deer was found dead on the deck, apparently from the weather change.) The Suez routine was a break of sorts, passing by Bitter Lake this time, but anchoring at Port Said. The money changer came onboard again, visiting the Chief Engineer and Chief Mate.

I never did go ashore in Port Said, don’t recall why. It was apparent ships generally lay at anchor here awaiting pilot to take them through the canal. Enterprising Egyptians came alongside in small boats with tall masts, an Egyptian "sitting" in the mast top hawking wares. Foremost among the wares seemed to be aphrodisiacs, which I remember the doctor going to Bombay on the Tai Shan frowned on, both because of wishful effect and unknown sanitary contents. If the name, aphrodisiacs, were not known, the ‘pills’ were almost lore, at sea as on land. Coming through with the Tai Shan one was told secure the crew quarters aft against slim Egyptians being known for climbing through the portholes, from the masts, to "rifle" the cabins.

A study in contrast: The pilots required to take the ships through the canal were English. It is safe to assume there were some Egyptian pilots though we never saw them. The Egyptian canal officials handling the papers work for the fees, etc., two always came onboard, spoke French among themselves. I was always with the Captain at these meetings in case of radio orders. Mentioning the hot weather in French I let officials know I understood. During talks with the English pilots their feelings were that Egyptian pilots generally would be incapable of replacing them as a group. (I was working in Kingston, New York, when Nasser nationalized the Suez Canal in 1956 and England and France went to war over this, briefly. The pilot duties were taken over by the Egyptians, apparently without missing a beat).

The memory of the Arabs during the prison time in North Africa made this place almost like ‘deja vue’, or, ‘you’ve seen them once you’ve seen them all’. Egypt, as such, likely represented just famous ruins and more sand than romance to a 26 year old. I was anxious to get back to New York hoping to see Ann again, especially since I had a present I hoped she would accept. As an aside, years later when settled in the U.S. to the present, affinity for classical music made Rimsky-Korsakov’s Sheherazade a favorite. From reading the story about Ali Baba and The Thousand Thieves, I call it, the music, my "traveling music". It’s like a travel back in time; listening to it I can fairly recall the smell and din of the streets in addition to the hustle and bustle of the Arab masses in motion.

In my quiet time in the radio ‘shack’ I was sort of harboring mixed feelings, (might wish to use ambivalence today), about the future. The idea of possibly settling in the U.S. seemed remote. At the same time Norway seemed remote, a far away place I had not yet reestablished contact with, the war just about coming to an end. "What could I expect to go back to", was on my mind. Unsure if it was, or had been, home...

One of the passengers, a civilian American Army employee, took seriously ill a day after we had passed through the Strait of Gibraltar. An American nurse also was a passenger and diagnosed the condition as needing doctor’s advise. I told the Captain I could contact Radio Rome Medical Service, available to all ships by radio for medical emergencies. But I decided first to use a general assistance call, now that the war was over in Europe and the radio was available for general use.

The American passenger ship Santa Rosa answered the call. She was about a day away further west and eastbound. They had doctor available like any passenger ship. I was occupied, the rest of that day and the next, transmitting the nurse’s diagnose and receiving the doctor’s advise about treatment. our Second Mate, mentioned before holding a radio license, came to relieve me so I could eat, etc. At the end of the second day, as the east bound Santa Rosa would pass out of ordinary radio contact, the passenger was improved enough not to require further contact. I forwarded our Captain’s thanks to the Santa Rosa and the Santa Rosa Captain forwarded his wishes and stated they were happy to have been able to help. I felt it was a usual part of my job, what I had been trained to do, feeling good about the job done at the same time. Our Captain noted he felt my attention to the job was commendable, duty or not. A personal message to me from the Radio Officer(s) on the Santa Rosa: "well done Sparks" was gratifying; our Captain stated he agreed. (Kudos from an American passenger liner’s Radio Officers to a cargo ships’ Sparks was quite satisfying).

The passengers expressed approval as I passed the daily news ‘press’ around, wondering how I had time to do that too. But, I noted, it was just part of the job. The attention was OK, though. The war had ended in Europe. I copied information from other ships that seemed to indicate dumping of unwanted ammunition at sea. Discussing this with the Captain I sent a radio message to our ‘home’ office in New York requesting information as to our ammunition. The return message tersely ordered the opposite: -bring it back to New York.

This answer bothered me. Moving our ship to the ammunition pier in New Jersey would entail tug boat assistance and extra longshoremen crews pay. Ammunition now was expendable. The extra charge to the ship was easily avoidable!....

A few days after arriving at New York Captain Aslaksen came back onboard and announced: "We’re going home!". "To Norway?", I queried. The answer was no. Hoegh Silverlight was to return to her prewar charter which would entail about a six month round-trip between Seattle, Washington and the Far East. Captain Aslaksen and I had developed a fine mutual working relationship. But the mere thought of being confined on a ship on LONG journeys across the Pacific did not appeal to a roamer like me and, or to use a "twentyfive-cent word", was antithetical to my future aspirations. I made up my mind to leave the ship; I was truly sorry to leave, it had been a fine duty. Captain Aslaksen gave me a really fine letter of recommendation, which I still have. Possibly Ann also figured into my decision. Something I apparently had to sort out....

Two incidents at the Norwegian Seamen’s’ Center after I had paid off from Hoegh Silverlight seemed to bring the relation between me and the sea into focus. I was reminded of the third engineer on the ‘Silverlight’ and his account book money. At the shipping office I spotted a ‘bosun’ from one of the ships’ crews in the camps in North Africa. Greeting him he failed to recognize me. He was in company of a Norwegian official. The official confided later that the bosun had a complete mental breakdown after finding out that his wife back in Norway had taken up with another during the war. She had sold the farm he had such big plans for and had related to me when in the camp, because we were from somewhat the same area. Further, she had spent all the money he had sent her from his pay by way of a regular draft. It was sad to see this robust man reduced almost to a walking nobody... Truly a victim of the war now on the way back to some sanitarium, or whatever...

The second similar incident also was about a crew member from North Africa. One about my age, from the engine crew of another ship. I remembered he was a problem after too much wine at Sidi el Ayachi. Trying to greet him at the same center, later, he just looked straight past me. I was advised he had suffered a breakdown after surviving a sinking in the North Atlantic. Another victim of the war, now out of touch, to be "shipped" back to Norway...

S/S Rio Branco:

After about a week ashore enjoying visits with my Uncle and family, visits with Ann, and visiting my brother at the hospital I was ready to ship out again. The three thousand tons cargo ship S/S Rio Branco, sailing to South America, was looking for a Chief Radio Officer. I signed on 12/1-45. The Captain told me he had already inquired about me, meeting Boe Aslaksen. I learned later the reason for this was an imbibing problem with the previous Radio Officer.

The ship regularly sailed to Brazil, as far south as Recife, also known then as Pernambuco. We were to be calling on some ports faintly familiar from flying over the area after the Braganza affair. But there was also a little education, discovery, and incidents. As we were sailing past the area where the Amazon river meets, the ocean the amount of water flowing out from that river may be described by noting it was necessary to alter the ship’s course even as we were out of sight of land. Thus, rather than steering a south south-easterly course following the contour of the coast the course steered was more south-west to west before we passed the main flow of this immense river; the flow from this huge river taking the ship further out at sea.

The first incident had to do with a delay in the ship’s schedule making it necessary to advise the agent at Recife. The Captain composed a radio message to that effect. We were outside the coastal town of Fortaleza, and as the chart showed a radio station I figured it would be the quickest, and most economic, route for the telegram. I called the radio station, which was indicated as having 24 hour operation, using the normal operating "long’- wave. But several attempts failed to get a response from the station. Finally an answer came, to my astonishment: -"esta dormiro", (-am sleeping), which was readily understood as their ‘siesta time’. I expedited the message via short wave radio through our normally used marine station in New York. The Captain, who also had a radio license, felt this was OK and stated he was not surprised.

Another incident, which could have had serious consequences for the ship, took place at Natal. The harbor pilot was bringing the ship to the dock when it became evident the ship was on collision course with a floating crane at the end of the pier. The Captain called for "full astern" signal to the engine, and ordered both anchors dropped. The ship was stopped within a few feet from the floating crane. After the ship was tied to the pier it was the opinion of the Officers that the pilot likely was attempting to ram the crane since the ship would be liable. Besides noting this incident in the ship’s log, nothing else could be done about it.

During the unloading of dried cod fish at Recife an incident further emphasized the poor living conditions. This part of the cargo had been transhipped from Canada. (It is worth while noting that this type cod fish was a main export from Norway before the war.) The fish was shipped in bundles about three foot diameter, barely packaged.

As the fish was brought up from the hold in a sling, holding three bundles, the Brazilian winch man would first deliberately hit the ship’s railing causing pieces of fish to fall off; he then would set the sling down hard on a small flat car on the pier, causing more pieces to fall off. The Brazilians working on the dock as well as on the ships would then stuff their pockets with the dried fish pieces. I was surprised no attempts were made to stop this "stealing". The deck Officers just shrugged their shoulders; any interference on their part likely would cause a work stoppage.

One morning at breakfast a longshoreman passing by stuck his head in a porthole’, this was actually the second time. I made as if ready to empty my coffee cup at him. He stepped back and pulled a sheethknife from his inside jacket pocket. Putting the cup down and my hands up, sort of conveying I was kidding, he smiled and walked on; he was short, stocky, and a bit swarthy. It wasn’t really a mutual standoff...

Being directly involved in a crew type incident is worth reporting. During the war I was aware of the Officers complaining that because no new crew members were available from Norway, the crews had often become unruly’, some drinking, not very willing to work; one reason given was that they knew they could not readily be replaced. But now, that the war was over and new crew members likely would be available from Norway, the Officers figured things would shape up differently, situation now on their ‘side’.

Well, it did not develop quite that way. It seemed that some of the new crew members, from Norway, pretty soon figured out they were sort of a sought after "commodity". Some started behaving accordingly. Instances were reported where they were lazy and, most of all, would tell the Officers off. This was a shock to some of the old Officers who had been used to full compliance by the crews before the war, simply because of an implied threat of being replaced.

One of the "after-the-war" crews was the messman in our, the Officers’, mess. Though not unwilling to work, he had a drinking problem, more because of his youth than being habitual. He had not come back onboard for a couple of days, at Recife. He returned the day before Christmas Eve, "Little Christmas Eve’ in Norwegian. I was told later the Second Engineer was in the mess-room as he made his entrance. Irritated at his appearance, and lack of messboy service for the two days, the Second Engineer stated: "-you are just no good, you might as well go and jump overboard!".

The young mess-man, apparently in a sad mood for having been told off by the Steward and apparently ‘hung’ over, just took off down on the deck and vaulted over the railing into the harbor. I was occupied in the Captain’s quarters with some paper work as the Captain came running calling me to go after the now drowning mess-man. He apparently could not even swim! (The Captain had been watching the young third mate and I enjoying diving from the boat deck the evening before).

on a dead run, diving from the boatdeck, I swam about thirty feet and had to dive in order to reach the mess-man’s hair because he was already going under again. Bringing him up it looked like he was to grab hold of me, I prepared to slug him to keep him from dragging both of us down. But I noticed the lad was in no condition to grab anyone, turned him around, and pulled him toward the ship, about twenty feet away, calling for a rope and one of the deck crew to jump in and give me a hand. The mess-man was hoisted onboard more like a sack of potatoes. Pretty soon an ambulance arrived to take him to the hospital for observation.

The Second Engineer came and thanked me feeling he had been the cause of it. We both laughed: -"I was just following orders! how could you have anticipated the lad’s action?". The Captain gave a usual Christmas party for the Officers in his quarters that evening and offered a toast to "Spark’s feat"; but I was quick to respond I was only doing what was expected after having been showing off my diving prowess from the boat deck. (It was but half the height compared to Hoeg Silverlight’s boatdeck, anyway). I had written a prologue about "us out" in the war and "those who were back in Norway" for our Christmas party. The Captain read this for the others. The lad came back onboard the next day, ever so humble. He came to thank me. I told him not to be stupid again and the lad behaved just fine, apparently properly chastened.

The third mate had just come from Norway, too. He was a couple of years older than I, and was married. During quiet times on the bridge we had talked at length about conditions and changes in Norway, after the war. I couldn’t relate to him my plans were as if in a flux; maybe I was unsure here, myself. He understood about my disappointment over the Selective Service requirement.

The Captain gave a party onboard for shipping people of the city between Christmas and New Years eve. Three young girls/women came with their parents. They spoke little English, one of them spoke a little French. The Captain asked the Officers to be present; it was obvious the families were his friends. I noticed the third mate ‘tasting’ the potent liqueurs, - cacao, coffee, etc., despite my warnings about potency; these were also to sweet for me. After effects might also be sudden...

He thought he was OK, but he wasn’t. The Second Mate and I tried to get him outside but, alas, we were too late... The Captain managed divert his guests’ attention by calling me over and a Brazilian gentlemen told the others the Captain had told him about the prologue and ‘handling’ the kid who "fallen" overboard; apparently also some of my past during the war. It was done very smoothly, the guest were unaware of the third mate’s condition and "accident". The Second Mate and the Steward took care of the sick third mate, cleaning up. It was plain to see the Captain was very disappointed.

Breaking with the past:

Arriving back at New York, end of January -46, I made the decision to leave the Norwegian Merchant Marine. My Captain understood the reason for desiring more schooling, and the lack of schools in Norway. I had enjoyed working with and for him. Another reason has been stated before, that I could not accept serving 18 months in the Norwegian Navy because I had not served conscription time in 1940; (I was already a veteran!).