Theodore C. Mason - Battleship Sailor

Battleship Sailor

Battleship Sailor

THEODORE C. MASON

NAVAL INSTITUTE PRESS

Annapolis, Maryland

The electronic version of this book was brought to publication with the generous assistance of Edward S. and Joyce I. Miller.

This book has been brought to publication by the generous assistance of Marguerite and Gerry Lenfest.

Copyright 1982

by the United States Naval Institute

Annapolis, Maryland

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission from the publisher.

First Bluejacket Books printing, 1994

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Mason, Theodore, 1921

Battleship sailor.

1. United States. NavySea life. 2. Mason, Theodore, 1921 3. United States. NavyBibliography. I. Title.

V736.M27 359.00924 [B] 81-85440

ISBN 978-1-61251-156-6 AACR2

To all my shipmates in the USS California
and especially to
Melvin Grant Johnson, RM3, USN,
and Thomas James Reeves, CRM, USN, Medal of Honor,
and Tom Gilbert, S1, USN,
who sleep forever at the
National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific
in Honolulu

In 1940, with the nation not yet fully recovered from the Great Depression, the prospects of going to college seemed bleak to Ted Mason. The job outlook was not much better, even for an honor grad of the local high school; nor was there much else of interest to look forward to. The Naval Reserve, however, offered the jobs and adventure that were so scarce in Placerville, California, and the lad volunteered for a years active service as a radioman. His first duty station, after initial training, was the battleship California in Pearl Harbor, where he expected to be no more than twelve months. Afterwards he would return home far more employable, with interesting tales to tell. He did not expect to be in a war.

Mason, along with most of his buddies, was unaware of the ominous forces at work in the world and their possible impact on him. But understanding was dawning when the United States declared an emergency and extended all enlistments, his included, for the duration. And then everything became clear to everyone on 7 December 1941.

Through a twist of fate, courtesy of the USS Californias watch, quarter, and station bill, Ted Masons battle station on that shattered Sunday morning was in the open maintop of the proud battle-force flagship. Through another set of circumstances, there was nothing up there to fight with. Mason and his maintop mates, listening with avid, white-knuckled attention to their telephone headsets, could only be spectators at the most humiliating failure in American naval history. Until heavy ammunition boxes were painfully hauled up the mast there was nothing to do but curse the enemy, dodge fire from strafing aircraft, and watch the horrific attack.

Early on, they felt the California begin to heel over under them. With utter disbelief they watched the Oklahoma likewise begin to listand then roll over and turn almost completely bottom up. They felt the incandescent heat and were racked by the insane roar when the Arizonas forward magazines exploded, tore out the battleships entire forward section, and peppered a half-mile radius with zinging chunks of hot debris.

Mason viewed this thunderous scene from a front-row seat. Despite the emotional involvement that this position afforded him, his description of the attack is highly disciplined, his prose always under control. Partly because of this his account is remarkably powerful. Although he writes from the perspective of forty years later, Mason skillfully maintains the point of view of his enlisted youth. A strict adherence to this outlook serves him particularly well in his convincing portrayal of enlisted life on the California during the months preceding Pearl Harbor. Mason recreates in microcosm the battleship navy of a time long ago, when shipboard ice cream was mediocre, cigarettes dirt cheap, and short-arm inspections routine. And he tells about his and his buddies forays to familiar sailors hauntsbars, bordellos, and YMCAsand some not-so-familiar visits to churches and theaters.

Masons account of these sometimes rambunctious liberties, salted with the small details that evoke time and place, give his book an authenticity lacking in a lot of popular wartime fiction and motion pictures. Along with the shrill call of the boatswains pipe we hear the nostalgic strains of Glen Millers In the Mood; from the stuffy confines of the main radio room, filled with the odor of sweat and the ubiquitous navy joe, we are taken down a Seattle street glaring with Christmas advertisements that cater to a public just recently released from the tightest grip of depression. Battleship Sailor is, in fact, a sort of social historyfresh, entertaining, and honest. Ted Mason succeeds admirably in bringing to life these times, as they were, in peace and on the first day of war.

After that day, Mason felt fury. Blame for the disaster he deals out from the standpoint of a young sailor who had been conditioned to place unquestioning faith in the high-level planning that controlled his life, and who felt betrayed when this planning was demonstrated to be a complete fiasco. Many of Masons closest acquaintances were killed deep below decks, including Chief Radioman Thomas J. Reeves, who died in the passageway alongside his submerged main radio while organizing an emergency ammunition train. Mason, as well as so many others at Pearl Harbor and elsewhere, attributed the demise of shipmates and friends, and the terrible damage inflicted on the great ships, to some profound shortcoming of the navy that suffered them to happen. Hurt and anger lend validity to his indictments.

In the vivid pages that follow, upon which Mason has set down his experiences of forty years ago, he performs for us a most valuable service by illuminating navy enlisted life, and an infamous day, in a way that allows us to see what we have never seen before. Ted Mason tells us what it was like, in those days, to be a battleship sailor.

EDWARD L. BEACH

Captain, U.S. Navy (Retired)

Upon writing finis to a book project, an author can perhaps be forgiven his conceit in fancying himself an intrepid Captain James Cook, home safe from the sea after years of exploring uncharted waters and landing on hostile beaches. Only then, when riding to anchor, can he take time to drink a toast to his good fortune, look back with some satisfaction on what has been accomplished, and thank those shipmates who made the long voyage possible.

Battleship Sailor could not, of course, have been written without them. In reconstructing the battleship navy of forty years ago and peopling it with real ships and real sailors, the fog of the decades was, in patches, rather dense. Lacking the extended conversations and correspondence with old shipmates and others who are knowledgeable about the navy of the 194041 era, I couldnt have hoped to pierce it. My heartfelt thanks go to all those listed below and to those others who provided illumination, however fitful.

A few areas of reduced visibility remain. This is inevitable in a book that deals with countless thousands of elusive facts and murky events, many not subject to verification or open at this remove to more than one interpretation. Even if my research had been as pure as the old Ivory Soap was advertised to be, there still would remain a residue of errors sufficient to give glee to critics.

Some readers may not agree with certain of my explications, criticisms, and conclusions. This book was written from the viewpoint of an enlisted man, an involved participant, and not a dispassionate observer. While I made every effort to be accurate, the opinions expressed are my own, unless otherwise noted, and must not be imputed to any former officer or enlisted man who has generously given his aid.