I did not have an acquaintance with your Dad while aboard, However, I do remember seeing him on deck and exchanging greetings. He was always smiling and friendly. Your Dad was a Motor Machinist Mate and, as such, was a member of the "Black Gang" while I was with the deck crew and, as such, was a "Deck Ape". We stood different watches and had different battle stations so did not have the opportunity to get to know each other, even though we shared a home of steel only 300 feet long and 30 feet wide for a year and a half.

I'll tell you about some of the Dempsey's duties as I recall them from a deck hand's point of view. My duties were all above deck, which is just the way I liked it. I never struck for a rate because I proud to be called a "Seaman First Class". I liked to be out doors all my life (all 17 years). I liked seeing the ocean, it was the prettiest blue I had ever seen: to this day, I can't describe it adequately. Watching the waves break over the bow and seeing whales; porpoises; sharks and countless islands was always intriguing. We rode out many gales and one of the most violent typhoons of record. Seeing battleships; large carriers; cruisers, destroyers and hundreds of different ships was a real thrill for a 17-year-old kid from northern Minnesota. When we escorted a convoy to the Philippines, the ships seemed almost horizon-to-horizon.

We depth charged submarine contacts several times every month which was always exciting, However, we were never able to confirm a sinking.

In October 1944 all the ships at anchor in Kossal Passage (which was an anchorage at the north end of Babelthaup, the largest island in the group) were ordered out to sea to ride out a typhoon headed in their direction.

Several hours after departing Kossol Passage, the sea began to rise and wind and rain began. All hands were ordered below with the exception of the officer of the deck and one volunteer to be available for any on deck emergency that might arise. I was the volunteer. My thinking was that if we were to capsize, I did not want to be trapped in the upside down hull: my volunteering had nothing to do with bravery.

The storm lasted several hours during which time the waves were estimated to be in excess of 80 or 90 feet high. I rode the storm out on the Flying Bridge, which was 40 feet out of the water, and I looked up at the crest of the waves, which were twice as high as the bridge. The top of the mast was 40 or 50 feet above the flying bridge and the tops of the waves were as high, or higher, than the top of the mast. The wind was 170 plus miles per hour. The prow was under water more than it was above. The ship was rolling constantly between 40 and 45 degrees with the maximum roll being 48 degrees. It could have rolled more when I was not watching the clinometer. The rain was horizontal, feeling like sleet when it hit my face. When the ship rolled, I could look down into a frothing canyon. We were going full speed ahead to keep the bow into the wind. The waves were so high we took green water over the bridge. The only way the officer of the deck and I could talk was to cup our hands, press them around each other's ears, and shout. Even then it was barley audible over the roaring of the wind. It sounded like someone way off in the distance.

The navy lost several destroyers that rolled over. The bow was broken off of a Cruiser. Many small craft disappeared. I, of course, have no way of knowing the total loss; only the Navy can know that.

Our survival is a tribute to your father and his "Black Gang". If the Dempsey had lost power, we would have been swept broadside and capzied. None of us (including you) would be here. The swells were so high the day after the storm passed, you would only be able to see the tips of the masts of the cargo ships. The swells would then raise the ships so high you could see the red lead on the bottom and the turning screw would be completely out of the water.

Several days after the storm we were back on station at the north end of Peleliu protecting the cargo and troop ships unloading troops and supplies.

I had just gotten off watch at 24:00 hundred hours. I had been in the sack about 15 minutes and the ship shook quite hard three times within a few seconds. The first thought that came to mind was that we might have run into a log. General quarters immediately sounded. My battle station at that time was lookout for the starboard bow on the bridge. I had a good observation of our fight with some Japanese torpedo boats. We sunk one with shellfire; caused confusion with two or three others which turned off. None was able to get to the ships we were protecting. There were a dozen of so survivors in the water. Captain Webber ordered the whaleboat away to pick up the survivors. When the boat crew tried to grab the Japs to pull them on board, they would duck under the water or try to swim away. They would float on their backs and point their middle fingers between their eyes. It was obvious they would not surrender and wanted to be shot rather than face eternal disgrace, according to the Boshido code of the Samurai. It was imperative for our ship to get back on station: no further time could be wasted. Also, we were only a few hundred yards from the dozens of small islands that were between Peleliu and Babelthaup. The Japs could easily swim to the islands and we would possibly have to fight them again at a later date. We ended up shooting them except for one who did surrender. He was taken ashore and turned over to the Marines.

We later learned through interrogation that he said they fried two torpedoes at us. One missed completely and it was surmised that another passed under the fantail and over the propellers shafts and that the torpedo was hit on its side by our rudders. This would explain the three hard jolts that caused those of us, living aft, to think we ran into a log.

Again, when we needed it, the black gang came through.

Submarines, at that time, could only make about 4 or 5 knots while submerged but could do about 18 or 20 on the surface. Also, a surfaced submarine was hard to identify. We were assigned to escort our subs from Guam to as far north as enemy waters where they would submerge to begin their patrol. Sometimes we would rendezvous with subs coming off patrol and escort them back south.

On one occasion I remember us going south after dropping off a sub. It was night and no moon: the only light was from a billion stars. Our radar picked up a surface ship rapidly approaching us on the starboard beam. We went to general quarters. The ship came along side only several hundred yards away, slowed to our speed and sailed along with us. Being on the bridge on the starboard side, I could see the silhouette of the ship through my binoculars. It looked like a destroyer, as far as size went, but none that I recognized.

When ships meet, they are flashed a challenge. This is a code, similar to a password. I remember Captain Webber saying that we would not flash a challenge but he told Lt. Singleton (our gunnery officer) to tell all guns to open fire at the first challenge of light from the boggy. The possibility of another of our ships being in the area was practically nonexistent. Both ships sailed along for about ten minuets and the boggy turned off without challenging us and headed away from us at high speed.

I believe this was a Japanese destroyer and that they might have thought that we were a bigger ship than we were and did not want to take us on, or they might have taken us for one of their own. However, if the latter were the case, they would certainly have challenged us.

Back in those days, the rule of thumb was "the biggest and the most gun wins." Whatever motivated the skipper of that ship to break away will never be known. We probably would have come out second best if a fight had developed, even as good as our gunners were. The old rule of thumb probably would have prevailed because we would have been out gunned.

Let me go back to about July. We took on supplies in the Solomon Islands. Ordinarily we could go a month or so without re-supplying food. We sailed into Manus Island anchorage towards the end of September for supplies. What looked to me like the whole Pacific Fleet was in. There were large carriers; the smaller escort carriers; battleships; cruisers; destroyers and all sorts of supply ships. Supplies were drawn on a priority basis with the largest ships getting first call. We would not be able to draw supplies for three days and, of course, we were not allowed to lie around that long. The net result was we ran out of food and ended up eating all the rations out of the life rafts. We had no cigarettes and smoked tins of Chalsea (I think that's how it was spelled) that was in the life rafts. Morale was a an all time low. Our officers were finally able to get us "C" rations. They contained cigarettes and chocolate: both great treats.

I could go on and on about living conditions on a small ship, but, those and other sea stories can get pretty boring. I hope you enjoy this communication; I certainly enjoyed finding your web page.