USS DOUGLAS H. FOX DD 779, 1946-1947
With the war's end in August 1945 the Navy experienced a huge loss of
experienced personnel in both the enlisted grades and officer grades.
Ships were being "mothballed" and those that remained in active service
were manned in many cases by men without much experience. In the fall of
1946, of the fourteen officers aboard, only the Captain, the Exec, and the
Gunnery Officer had served during the War, and under them were eleven
Ensigns, all in their first year at sea. Of these, four were recent
Academy graduates, and the remaining seven were V-12/NROTC graduates.
(This lack of experience contributed significantly to the tragedy
experienced in September, 1947, which is covered in VIII which follows).
At the same time the Fox along with the Massey, Zellers and Owens seemed
to be the only Destroyers available for assignment. From September 1946
thru August 1947, the Fox was at sea on plane guard, anti-submarine duty,
or involved in other training exercises 210 days. Here is some of what
happened then.
We departed Newport on September 17, 1946 for Guantanamo Bay, Cuba and
operated out of Guantanamo until September 20 then joined a task group
that included the battleship Wisconsin
and the carrier Leyte.
We went through the Canal and stopped at Panama City for several days,
then proceeded down the west coast of South America to Valparaiso, Chile.
En route we crossed the Equator and had the full indoctrination into King
Neptune's realm, when the "Shellbacks" took over the ship and inducted
(beating) the pollywogs pretty severely. We ran the gauntlet in our
skivvies and got whacked with some canvas truncheons dipped in salt water.
We got tarred which was tough to get off. We got our hair cut by the royal
barber and then dunked in a pool with all of the clippings floating
(Photo 005).
The last and most
harrowing part was crawling through a canvas tunnel, sized for only one at
a time. It was about 20 feet long filled with chicken entrails and at
mid-point they made sure that our faces were pushed into it. At the end
of the day, the ship was turned back to the Captain and the pirate's flag
was lowered.
When we arrived in Valpariso, which has a beautiful bay ringed by hills,
ships from Brazil, Argentina and other countries were in the harbor all
decked out with pennants flying. Some of these were WW I four-stack
destroyers and other ships of that date including light cruisers. The
celebration was in honor of the newly elected president of Chile, and
Five Star Admiral Leahy (Photo 003),
President Roosevelt's wartime Naval Advisor was aboard the Wisconsin and
represented President Harry Truman at the inauguration.
After a week in Valpariso which included attending great parties at the
U.S. Embassy and the Chilean Embassy, there was a huge reception at Vina
del Mar, the famous resort area south of the city. This was most interesting
as the South American Naval Officers wore 19th century uniforms with
gold-fringed epaulets and fore-and-aft hats, the type usually seen on the
HMS Pinafore. From Chile, we sailed north to Lima, Peru, where we spent a
second week enjoying the same hospitality. Then we sailed back north, going
again through the Canal on up to Norfolk for repairs and rest. As we neared
Norfolk, the full complement of 90+ aircraft flew off the Leyte to the Naval
Air Station, but two of the planes went down before arriving. December was
spent in Casco Bay, Maine, tied up along side a tender for Christmas. After
a few weeks in New London we joined Task Force 29 for Atlantic Fleet Tactical
Exercises. Those lasted for six weeks and for the first three weeks we were
several hundred miles off Cape Hatteras in a violent storm. During that
period the ship pitched and rolled (45 degrees many times) as noted by
watching the inclinometer on the bridge. No one kept a meal down in the
first three days, and on at least one occasion, the Captain and one boot
Ensign were the only ones in the wardroom at dinnertime.
During these exercises we were involved in submarine infiltration and
detection work, A firing exercise at towed sleeves was cut short when the
40mm (I was stationed at) started up the cable toward the tow-plane. Main
battery firing (only time in the year we did it), and other fun things were
included in that exercise, and in the debriefing afterward we heard that a
5" shell had fallen back down the chute but without mishap. (I began to
wonder if this really happened but it was confirmed at the 2002 reunion
by Jack Walsh, GM3c on mount I, "who said when we ceased firing the
loader on Mount II had a projectile in his hands, so he pushed it back
into the empty chute. It fell to the deck below, where somebody grabbed
it out of the cage and heaved it over the side". We crossed the Atlantic
to the Azores got a little vacation stop in Bermuda, then spent a week up
the Potomac at the Marine Corps base at Quantico.
In June Gunnery Officer, Lt.JG Don Korte and eight of the Ensigns left the
ship (discharged), and a new complement of officers came aboard. In late July
the ship departed for Gibralter, visiting, Sardinia, Toulon and San Rafael
in France, Malta, Trieste, Piraeus (Greece), Crete, and lastly Venice,
Italy. On Monday September 29, 1947 after departing from Venice for Trieste,
the Fox struck a mine killing three and injuring twelve. The full account
of that incident, the Court of Inquiry which took place in Europe, and the
Court Martial hearing held in 1948 follows in VIII.
Summarized by Bill Oliver , 1946-47, the ASW and Assistant CIC Officer.,
with primary expertise in liberty ashore.
Lester Melton, RM 1C 1946-1947
Bill,
What a small world it is !. My husband was aboard the Fox when I met him in 1946. He was RM1 Lester
Edward Melton , 272-87-57. Yep, shortly after I met Lester, I think the Fox went to Cuba and I know
they did a trip to South America. He wrote every day so I had my own ship's log when he was at sea.
Your mentioning the music brought back memories of my introduction to the radio shack of the Fox. When
I walked in, the record "Margie" was going full blast and after that came "Texas Tornado" in honor of
my roommate who was with us and was a Texas girl. She dated a fellow named BG Allen. John Hickman
remained our friend all through the years and he and Lester did duty together in Washington DC at the
Navy Department. Hickman died several years ago of cancer. He called me shortly before he died and we
said goodbye. BG was a small man but Lester said he was the fightingest sailor he had ever seen. There
was also a man named Fox that I met but he was not one of my favorite people. I had no intention of
running on and on when I started this email, but it has been a long, long time since I have thought
about all these things and I guess I just got carried away.
Margaret Melton, April 5, 2006
I Was a Sailor Once
I liked standing on the bridge wing at sunrise with salt spray in
my face and clean ocean winds whipping in from the four quarters of the
globe. The Destroyer beneath me feeling like a living thing as her
engines drove her swiftly through the sea.
I liked the sounds of the Navy: the piercing trill of the
boatswains pipe, the syncopated clangor of the ship's bell on the
quarter-deck, the harsh squawk of the 1MC, and the strong language
and laughter of sailors at work.
I liked Navy vessels: nervous darting Destroyers, plodding Fleet
Auxiliaries and Amphibs, sleek Submarines and steady solid Aircraft Carriers.
I liked the proud names of Navy ships: Lexington, Saratoga,
Coral Sea, Midway, Valley Forge, Yorktown. All named in memory
of great battles won, and tribulations overcome.
I liked the lean angular names of Navy "Tin Cans" and
Escorts: Stormes, Massey, Zellars, Fox, Damato, Leftwich, in
memory of heroes who went before us. And the others : San Jose, San
Diego, Los Angeles, St Paul, Chicago. Named for our cities.
I liked the tempo of a Navy band blaring through the topside
speakers as we pulled away from the Oiler after refueling at sea.
I liked liberty call and the spicy scent of a foreign port.
I even liked the never ending paperwork and "all hands working
parties" as my ship filled herself with the multitude of supplies, both
mundane and to cut ties to the land and carry out her mission,
anywhere on the globe where there was water to float her.
I liked sailors, officers and enlisted men from all parts of
the land, farms of the Midwest, small towns of New England,
from the cities, the mountains and the prairies. From all walks of life.
I trusted and depended on them as they trusted and depended on me for
professional competence, for comradeship, for strength and courage.
In a word, they were "shipmates," then and forever.
I liked the surge of adventure in my heart, when the word was
passed: "Now set the special sea and anchor detail. All hands to
quarters for leaving port," and I liked the infectious thrill of sighting
home again, with the waving hands of welcome from
family and friends waiting pier side.
The work was hard and dangerous and the going was rough at times.
The parting from loved ones was painful, but the companionship
of the robust Navy laughter, the "all for one and one for all"
philosophy of the sea was ever present.
I liked the serenity of the sea after a day of hard ship's work,
as flying fish flitted across the wave tops and sunset gave way to night.
I liked the feel of the Navy in darkness, the masthead and
range lights, the red and green navigation lights and stern light, the
pulsating phosphorescence of radar repeaters that cut through the dusk
and joined with the mirror of stars overhead. And I liked drifting off to
sleep lulled by the myriad noises large and small that told me that
my ship was alive and well and that my shipmates
on watch would keep me safe.
I liked quiet mid-watches with the aroma of strong coffee, the
life-blood of the Navy, permeating everywhere.
I liked the hectic watches when the exacting minuet of haze-gray
shapes racing at flank speed kept all hands on a razor edge of alertness.
I liked the sudden electricity of, "General Quarters, general
quarters, all hands man yours Battle Stations," followed by the
hurried clamor of running feet on ladders and the resounding thump of
watertight doors as the ship transformed herself in a few brief seconds
from a peaceful workplace to a weapon of war, ready for anything.
And I liked the sight of high-tech equipment manned by youngsters
clad in dungarees and sound-powered phones that
grandfathers would still recognize..
I liked the traditions of the Navy and the men and women who made
them; Nimitz, Halsey, Farragut, John Paul Jones, and Burke. A sailor could find
much in the Navy: comrades in arms, pride in self and country, mastery
of the seaman's trade. A teenager could find adulthood.
In years to come, when sailors are home from the sea, they will
still remember with fondness and respect the ocean in all its moods,
the impossible shimmering mirror-calm and the storm-tossed green water
surging over the bow. And then there will come again a faint whiff of
stack gas, a faint echo of engine and rudder orders, a vision of the
bright bunting of signal flags snapping at the yardarm,
a refrain of hearty laughter in the wardroom and the
chief's quarters and mess decks.
Gone ashore for good, they will grow wistful about their Navy
days when the seas belonged to them and a new port of call was ever
over the horizon. Remembering this, they will stand taller and say,
"I Was a Sailor Once."
Adapted from "I Was A Sailor Once," by Vice Admiral Harold Koenig, USN (RET, 1998), M.D.
Submitted by Robert V. Kremer, Ensign (USNR), 1946-1947.
