The Bird Farm

by Philip Kaplan

  4. Add celery, nuts, and apples to salad dressing mixture. Toss well to coat pieces.

  5. Place one lettuce leaf on each serving dish, add salad. Cover, refrigerate until ready to serve.

  Benny L. James was serving on the USS Enterprise in the autumn of 1944. “My brother came to visit me while we were riding at anchor in Ulithi in the hot Pacific. I was standing watch on gun mount number five when I heard my name called. I turned around and saw my older brother. We had not seen each other in three years. He was stationed on a destroyer, the USS Halsey Powell, which was anchored up in the north anchorage. He stayed all night and ate supper with me. We had a good visit and I showed him around the Big E. We talked most of the night and slept while on the gun mount. He was supposed to be back at his ship by 0800 hours. As the time approached for him to go, we could not find anyone who was going in that direction. We asked several coxswain if they would take him to the north anchorage, and they all responded in the same way—they wouldn’t take him for a hundred bucks. I said that it was only fifteen minutes up there, and they said they wouldn’t do it for two hundred dollars. Finally, in desperation I asked a boatswain mate if he would take a gallon of gedunk (ice cream) for making the trip. He looked at me hungrily and said: ‘Make it two gallons and you’re on.’ I said I would throw in a pint of chocolate syrup and he about went nuts.

  “When I went down to get the ice cream, the man who ran the freezer said that no one got any gedunk until after 1100 hours, and then only the flyers and officers. When I explained the situation he relented and slipped me a couple of gallons in a box and said not to tell anyone for at least thirty years. I said, for a pint of topping, I would clam up for fifty years. When I got back up to the aft port crane they were ready to shove off—without my brother. When I finally got the boatswain mate’s attention, and let him know what I had, he motioned my brother to come aboard, ice cream and all. The last I saw of them, they were dipping into the ice cream and heading north at full speed. I later got a letter saying my brother was only fifteen minutes late for muster.”

  Former U.S. Navy fighter pilot Jack Kleiss, at right, enjoying a bit of shore leave in Hawaii during his World War Two career.

  Wardroom menu for dinner, HMS Illustrious, Wednesday, 16 June 1999

  Crab and prawn salad with warm vinagrette & French bread

  Boeuf a la mode

  Pork alentago

  Vegetarian to order

  Risilees potatoes

  Macaire potatoes

  Red cabbage with bacon

  Roasted parsnips with almonds

  Brandy crepes & whipped cream

  Selection of cheeses and biscuits

  HMS Illustrious General Mess menu for dinner, Monday, 7 June 1999

  Baked gammon with cumberland sauce

  Chicken Maryland with sweetcorn fritters

  Lamb Madras with plain rice

  Swiss cottage pie

  Savoury vegetable stew

  Roast and boiled potatoes

  Straw Carrots, brussel sprouts, creamed swede

  Fruit pie with custard sauce

  Selection of cold sweets

  “Apart from flying, there were three big events of the day: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Not that the food was that good, just that eating was something to do, a popular diversion. The officers had two messes. One was on the second deck. It was more formal and run by the black shoes (the naval aviators wore brown shoes). It was set up buffet-style and enlisted personnel assisted with the clean-up and beverage refills. There were specific protocols seemingly designed to keep the aircrew out. One was the requirement to wear khakis. Flight jackets were also forbidden. Aircrew wore flight suits, unless prohibited by having to stand watch or some other function. So, having to change uniform in order to eat was not worth the effort. Thus the aircrew ate in the ‘dirty shirt’ located on the 03 level, just two knee-knockers from our ready room. The dirty shirt was also buffet-style and had a small eating area. There were no waiters. Eating on the ship can be compared with many other facilities that feed thousands, such as hospitals, colleges, and airlines. Most of the food was mediocre. We had names for certain food items. Rollers are hot dogs, and sliders are hamburgers. The reasons for the names become apparent during heavy seas. Trail markers are brussel sprouts, and bug juice is Kool Aid. Auto-dog is not a food, but a machine for dispensing soft ice cream. Most guys would spiral the ice cream on a dinner plate, or lay it down in a straight line, hence the name. Another machine related to eating was the cake dryer, rumored to have sucked all the moisture out of cakes and other baked products.

  “Entertainment was difficult on the boat. Fortunately, you were usually busy with flying, collateral duties, watches, etc. The ship had a TV station that played movies, news, and canned videos provided by contractors, relating to ship and aircraft. The most popular show was the thirty-minute workout video shown in the morning, of women doing exercises to music, a tradition that has probably gone the way of the politically correct Navy. The plat (ship’s TV) was also constantly on to monitor flight deck operations. VCRs and computers were staples in the staterooms and in the ready room. Personal computers were life savers, not just for work, but also for entertainment. While on cruise, I taught myself how to program in dBase and wrote programs to assist me in my collateral duties. We had a few computer games to pass around. The advantage of email then would have made life seem much less isolated. Playing cards was another favorite diversion. Generally, there was a poker game running within our squadron several nights a week. Each new game was named after the last port call, and the stakes were small and usually friendly.

  “The ship provided several diversions. On occasion flight ops would be suspended and there would be a flight deck picnic. Grills were moved to the deck for a meal of steaks and chicken. Some would set up chairs and towels to bask in the sun and just relax. Others would jog. Once my RIO (Radar Intercept Officer) and I were assigned to stand ‘Alert 5’ during the flight deck picnic. One would expect that the alert would have been cancelled due to the presence of a thousand people on the deck, obviously preventing any launches. Wrong.

  “The most legendary tradition on the ship occurred when we crossed the equator. Pollywogs, people who haven’t crossed the equator before, become shellbacks and are given a certificate commemorating the event. The entire ship is transformed into a gigantic hazing exercise, with both officers and enlisted men utilizing leftover food, grease, hoses, and water to unpleasant effect. Shellbacks count their ‘graduation’ certificates among their most prized possessions, in order not to have to do it all again. The best diversion, though, is the next port call.

  “Port calls are the light at the end of the tunnel. Morale peaks just prior to a port call and, of course, the end of the cruise. The PAO (Public Affairs Officer) sends in an advanced detachment to set up tours and hotel packages, and squadron officers also go in early to set up the admin and establish hotel accommodations. The admin was usually a suite which was the central meeting place for the squadron officers. It was run and maintained by junior officers who were allowed (required) to stay there and protect the booze locker and the squadron memorabilia (flag, mascot, etc.) Often, the advance det would hand out flyers to any half-attractive females to come to a party held at the admin the first night in port. This never came off quite as well as anticipated. Apparently, spending too much time on the boat obscured and distorted one’s vision and perspective on female beauty. Most guys would go to the party, put in their required ‘face time’ and then go elsewhere. Port time was normally spent in typical tourist activities, sight-seeing, dining, and visiting the ‘hot spots.’ Booze on the ship was forbidden yet obtainable. There was always someone who had a stash for nights when a little ‘medicinal nourishment’ was needed. The point was never to overindulge. To get caught with alcohol meant extra duties, less flying, and being placed ‘in hack.’ This meant that you were to remain aboard the ship during the next port call. After months at sea, the last thing you
wanted was to be left on the boat while your squadron mates were on the beach. There was one time when alcohol was allowed, in fact, distributed on the ship. Beer Day came about when the ship had gone more than forty-five days at sea without a port visit. We had spent more than ninety days, and were rewarded with two beers a piece, distributed under the supervision of the military police, and it had to be consumed on deck.”

  —Frank Furbish, former U.S. Navy fighter pilot

  Life, within doors, has few pleasanter prospects than a neatly arranged and well-provisioned breakfast-table.

  —from The House of the Seven Gables by Nathaniel Hawthorne

  “I remember J.T. ‘Boats’ Boatwright of the V-5 Division, USS Enterprise (CV-6), from Thanksgiving Day in 1942. We were in Noumea, New Caledonia, being repaired by the Seabees after being hit pretty hard in the Battle of Santa Cruz. Our planes were on the beach and ‘Boats’ and I were sent ashore to repair the synchronizer on one of our SBDs, with orders to stay on the job until the plane was operational. I was Third Class, having just come aboard in Pearl the first part of October. Boats was the old timer at First Class.

  “We finished the job and went to an Army mess hall. The Navy didn’t have much there at the time. Their cook said they had cleaned him out and he didn’t have any food left. After Boats told him our plight he said, ‘Wait a minute,’ and came back with two bottles of beer and two oranges. We went outside and sat under a coconut tree and had our Thanksgiving dinner. Boats said we could tell our grandkids about it in years to come. It’s the only Thanksgiving dinner I remember.”

  —Wilbur West, formerly with V-5 Division, USS Enterprise

  “I love the Flora-Bama. Some people say it’s a dive, but I think it’s great, especially in the winter months when it’s just the locals and the flight students. It’s right down there on the beach. Completely tawdry. I love it.”

  —Shannon Callahan, Naval Flight Officer student, NAS Pensacola

  Galley fires happen occasionally and the cooks have to be able to contend with them. They practice fighting them.

  “Beans, beans, and more beans. And sometimes potatoes for breakfast. But Navy food was seldom disappointing to me. Meals have never been high on my list of priorities. As a ‘near vegetarian’ I was always popular as a chow buddy, being quite willing to swap my steaks, ham, or pork chops, for desserts. Navy breads and pastries were usually tasty, and even the reconstituted milk wasn’t bad if it was cold enough. Holiday meals were truly exceptional, with all the trimmings except flowers on the table. The ‘chemist coffee’ ensured my life-long aversion to that beverage, and I doubt that anyone ever really adjusted to standing in line so long for meals. Even today I avoid eateries with slow service. Still, many of us carried books to read and others studied for exams, so the time in the lines was not entirely wasted.

  “It wasn’t all work, by any means. Movies were often shown on the hangar deck, and impromptu shows were staged by talented personnel. The forward deck elevator, lowered about half-way, made a satisfactory stage, and the ship’s sixteen-piece band was exceptionally versatile. There was a glee club, a hillbilly band, a ship’s radio station with disc jockeys, and a well-stocked library. There were Judo classes, basketball, boxing, and weight-lifting … even model airplane building.

  “After extended periods on station conducting missions off the coast of Korea, we would enter the harbor at Yokosuka, Japan, for replenishment of supplies, to off-load battle-damaged aircraft, and to spend a few precious days on liberty. The first visit there was a culture shock, as we were not prepared for the food, the language, or even the procedure for buying souvenirs. We quickly adapted and, although we seldom had much spending money, prices there were very low at the time, and we found many items that were useful for shipboard living. There were inexpensive shower shoes which were held on by rubber strips that fit between the first two toes. They felt strange at first, and if one tried to back up they would slide off, and they soon became known as ‘go-aheads.’ In addition to shopping, we took side trips on the efficient railroads to places such as Tokyo and Kamakura. During one visit to Yokosuka, a team of Japanese carpenters came aboard to repair flight deck damage caused by a prop plane that had crashed on deck. Our deck had a layer of teak wood on top, chosen because, when hit it would harmlessly ‘powder’ rather than fragment into dangerous splinters. The ship carried spare teak planks and it was fascinating to watch these skillful workmen in action.

  “The Kearsarge ported in Hong Kong and we were immediately surrounded by small craft with vendors eagerly shouting up to us about the wares they were selling. We had been alerted about the poverty prevailing, however seeing at first hand the contrast between the high-rise buildings, upscale stores, well-dressed and prosperous people … and the wretched people crammed aboard the tiny boats, cramped together in the scummy waterways, was truly depressing. Sailors seldom have much spending money, but we were rich in comparison to these boat people, and it was hard not to feel guilty about our good fortune in having been born Americans.

  “A legendary Hong Kong business lady named Mary Soo had organized a group of industrious Chinese to serve as side-cleaners for the U.S. Navy ships. This was among the most miserable chores involved in maintaining an aircraft carrier, yet here were people who were delighted to have work of any sort, eagerly scrubbing away while we were off exploring the wonders of Hong Kong.

  “Among our discoveries were store-fronts that were obviously aimed at attracting English-speaking tourists. One such was a shoe shop with the sign NO-SQUEAK JOHNSON. Other stores had tailors who could make low-cost suits, virtually overnight. There were a lot of wood-carvers too, so some of the crew returned to the ship with garments and large, carved dragons, bragging about their bargains. Imagine their chagrin later when the sleeves came off their hurriedly-made suits, and cracks began to appear in the carved dragons after a few weeks exposure to the sea air.

  “The Navy has a policy of rotating work assignments among the men. The reasoning was that there would be enough overlap in qualifications so that all requirements could still be met if part of the crew was on leave ashore. It was inevitable that more than a few people were given jobs for which they were entirely unsuited. Case in point: Algiers had an unsavory reputation, and it surprises me still that we were even allowed to go there. However, we were lectured in advance of our visit about cultural differences and warned about potential concerns, which ranged from unsafe drinking water, to being served dog meat, to encountering pick-pockets. In its wisdom, the Navy decided to send me to the Casbah, of all places, on shore patrol duty. I had no such qualifications, but attended a forty-five minute crash course on becoming an instant policeman, in which it was stressed that we must, at all costs, avoid agitating the natives, and we must not even look at the veiled women. We were told that our main purpose was to keep our sailors, especially the heavy drinkers, in line and out of trouble. I was already apprehensive when they issued us shore patrol armbands and billy clubs, explaining ‘We can’t give you sidearms because the natives might steal them and use them against you.’ Off I was sent, in company with another unqualified sailor, to take the midnight shift. ‘Don’t worry,’ we were told, ‘We’ll send a resident Casbah policeman along with you in case there might be any language problems.’ It turned out that the fellow spoke several tongues, none of them English. We made the rounds of several hot spots and, fortunately, encountered no drunks. We had decided that if we came upon any fights, we would simply let them kill each other. Mercifully, the hours passed uneventfully, and we returned to the ship, grateful to be back aboard.

  “Shopping was fun almost everywhere and, except for the French Riviera, we could generally afford at least a few souvenirs. Compensating for the sky-high prices on the Riviera, were the spectacular beaches and the even more spectacular swimming suits. Bikinis were a recent phenomenon that we had only seen in magazines back home, but in France they were everywhere. As a happily-married man, I was not shopping for female companions
hip, but must admit it was intriguing seeing those totally uninhibited demoiselles, some of them topless.”

  —Bill Hannan, former U.S. Navy jet engine mechanic

  “A couple of months after the [World War Two] started, the Enterprise paymaster asked for the confidential advice of the senior squadron officers. He had noticed that seven enlisted men on the ‘Big E’ were sending allotments to their wives, all to the same address. It was, however, apparent that only one woman lived at that address. Should the men be told or not? The final consensus was that the matter should be kept secret and the men should not be told as they would be devastated and their essential performance would suffer.”

  —Jack Kleiss, former U.S. Navy pilot

  “Imagine being part of 6,229 men having Thanksgiving together. Now imagine trying to shop for all the food needed to feed these hungry men, not only for Thanksgiving, but for an additional thirteen days. This group was made up of 4,710 soldiers who were headed home after two or more years of fighting the war in Europe, and 1,519 sailors who made up a skeleton crew that was necessary to sail the aircraft carrier Enterprise that was transporting them home.

  “The Enterprise had participated in and survived twenty-three Pacific battles in World War Two. She was reported to have been sunk six times by the Japanese, and had seen more action in the Pacific than any other ship. Operation Magic Carpet brought her home to a new assignment in the Atlantic, to bring troops home from Europe.

  “I was honored to be part of the crew as we sailed from Pearl Harbor, through the Panama Canal and north along the Atlantic coast to New York. Along the way the Enterprise had her last ‘flight quarters’ and her planes flew off to land bases. Following a great welcome in New York harbor, and the honoring of the fleet, Enterprise set sail for Boston to be fitted out. The hangar deck had 700 folding bunks five tiers high installed to accommodate 3,500 men. The remaining men were housed below decks. Next came the challenge of feeding our new ‘cargo’ as well as the crew.