Chapter 5: 1943-1944, Training Seabees

Another young man from Huntsville, Alabama passed through the military reception center in Anniston, Alabama in 1943. His name was Clayton Jones. Unlike Buford, however, he was destined for service in the United States Navy.

2 He scanned the sea of recruits for familiar faces. He’d heard that one of his buddies from Merrimack had also been assigned to the Navy. His name was Luke Miller, but he didn’t see him anywhere.

3 “He could be a million miles away from here by now, if he ever came through here in the first place!” Clayton thought. And, although he wasn’t aware of it yet, he had been identified as a candidate for one of the Navy’s construction battalions because of his background in things electrical and mechanical. He would not, therefore, be joining his friend in the ranks of the regular Navy.

4 Then, after he was informed of his fate, he was quickly put on a train headed for Williamsburg, Virginia. Clayton didn’t quite know what to expect when he stepped off the train at Camp Peary.

5 It certainly never crossed his mind that the place he was entering would one day be one of the most restricted places (in terms of public access) anywhere in the United States. Camp Peary was destined to one day be a training center for the CIA known as The Farm.

6 No, on that very hot day at the end of July, Clayton Jones was wondering what was next for him and his buddies. He didn’t have to wait long to find out. “You’re in the Navy now, boys!” exclaimed someone in uniform. “Line up in front of me as your name is called,” he ordered.

7 Next, they were marched to some barracks where they secured a bunk and their belongings and had an opportunity to splash a little cool water on their faces. After some chow, it was back to the barracks and then to bed.

8 They awoke to reveille the next morning. Still groggy and a bit undisciplined, they stumbled into formation and learned that they were about to receive yet another physical. It was like an assembly-line. Each man was stripped, poked and prodded.

9 “Next!” the nurses, technicians and doctors shouted. The line never stopped moving.

10 When that was finished, they were taken to another assembly-line. Here they were issued uniforms and footwear.

11 “This doesn’t fit very well,” Clayton sputtered. “Next,” the man in front of him shouted. They were instructed to put their civilian clothes in boxes for shipment back home.

12 A quick stop in the barber’s chair was next. As soon as he removed his cap, the barber took a couple of quick swipes over the crown of his head with his electric clippers, and all of his hair was gone. Clayton estimated that he had been in the chair about 30 seconds, but he didn’t recognize the man in the mirror looking back at him when he exited that chair.

13 From there, he was ushered into another large room where military pay and allotments were explained to him and the other inductees. Unexpectedly, there was time here for a few questions.

14 “Will that money go directly home?” one man asked. “Yes, that’s what I just said,” was the response.

15 After that, it was time to eat again. And it was a good thing too, because Clayton Jones was hungry by this time. As he glanced up from shoveling the food down his throat, he could see that his buddies were hungry too.

16 When lunch was finished, it was time to line up again and go through another assembly-line. In one line, a man shoved a sea-bag into their hands. In another line, they received coveralls. Next, each man was given a mattress. On and on it went, until every man there was exhausted.

17 Then came the coup de grace. They were ordered to load all of the items that had just been issued to them onto some trucks and prepare to move to their permanent barracks. The truck ride lasted about ten minutes.

18 “What in the hell have I gotten myself into?” Clayton wondered to himself. While that thought was still fresh in his mind, it was time to disembark and begin unloading all of the gear which they had just struggled to load on the truck a few minutes before.

19 Over the weeks that followed, Marine drill instructors whipped the men into shape. They marched endlessly around the parade field with sticks of wood carved into the likenesses of rifles. This all continued until, finally, they were all in sync with each other and performing to their instructors’ satisfaction. As with their counterparts in the Army, there were also training films to watch and instructions about general orders and guard duty.

20 Their basic training completed, the men were loaded into day coaches and headed north for Rhode Island. The train ride lasted all night, and the men were tired and sleepy when they arrived at their destination.

21 Even so, Camp Endicott proved to be a pleasant surprise for Clayton and his buddies. Their new barracks had air-conditioning, and there were cold water fountains at the ends of the hallways! The streets were paved. No more marching around in mud. Even some of the Quonset huts that were used for specialized training were air-conditioned here. Yes, Camp Endicott was clearly a step up from Camp Peary.

22 And, after they were settled into their new accommodations, Clayton began a four-week long course in refrigeration. At long last, the Navy had found something that he actually enjoyed doing. The course was easy for him. He quickly absorbed everything they taught him. In fact, Clayton found that he intuitively already knew much of what they were teaching him.

23 Even so, the Navy had not altogether abandoned their military training. The very serious nature of what lay ahead of them was underscored by the issue of real weapons here. In addition to the specialized training they received, they also spent time at the range learning to fire rifles, machine guns and mortars. They learned how to throw a hand grenade and how to protect themselves from chemical warfare. “This shit is for real!” Clayton thought to himself.

24 Although the occasional bus trips into Providence were fun, liberty was a short-term thing. The USO shows were also a welcome relief from the monotony of military life, but they did nothing to quench the longing for home. Hence, everyone was ecstatic when they were given ten days of leave in September. They all needed a break.

25 When they returned from leave, the men were ordered to turn out in their dress uniforms as part of an elaborate ceremony for the presentation of the Battalion’s colors. The following day, a notice was posted on the bulletin board informing them that they had been assigned to temporary duty in Maine.

26 Thus, their time at Camp Endicott was at an end. As the sun set on the first Saturday in October, they marched out to the train station in Davisville, Rhode Island and boarded the train for the long trip north.

27 The train stopped in Lowell, Massachusetts for approximately half an hour, and the men took advantage of every minute of it. “Bring us some beer!” they shouted from the windows of the train to the local town folks. Strangely enough, some of the good-natured citizenry of Lowell complied with their request. It was fun, even though more beer was spilled then consumed. Then the train continued on its way.

28 As they pulled into the station at Quoddy Village, the band of the 112th Battalion welcomed them to the platform. Clayton shivered as he stepped out into the cold air. The sun was shining brightly, but this place was frigid.

29 “I hope I don’t freeze my balls off up here!” he exclaimed. “Ain’t that the truth,” one of his buddies agreed.

30 They stayed in apartments and houses that had formerly been occupied by crews and leaders of the NYA. Although conditions were cramped, the accommodations were nice enough. And, more importantly, they were warm.

31 For the next three months, Clayton and his buddies were assigned to work details at Camp Lee-Stephenson. They repaired old buildings and constructed new ones. In short, their months of training and civilian experience were now being put to good use by the Navy. Very little new training was introduced during this period.

32 At the end of December, the thermometers registered some new lows; but their time in Maine had finally drawn to a close. They boarded trains for the cross-country trip to Port Hueneme, California. The Battalion split up into four groups in Bangor, Maine and took separate routes from that point to their new destination.

33 Clayton watched his buddies play poker and occasionally joined in a game himself on the long train ride west. He slept a lot and drank some beer at every opportunity that presented itself. He thought about what awaited them at the end of this train ride. He knew that this war was about to get real for all of them in short order.

34 The men of the 119^th Construction Battalion spent the next six weeks at the Camp Rousseau facility of Port Hueneme. Their time there was devoted to reviewing everything that they had learned in the previous six months. They drilled, marched and spent most of their time in the field. The men were issued Springfield rifles and marched to the range to learn how to use them.

35 The Camp itself was a sprawling collection of Quonset huts that extended all the way down to the docks. Its proximity to Los Angeles made the sparse amount of downtime that the men had more enjoyable. However, most of the time that was not occupied with training was spent helping to load the supply ships at the docks.

36 Then, in February, the men gathered their gear together and went aboard the U.S.S. West Point. The ship had been the S.S. America before the war. It was over seven hundred feet long and had two large, winged smoke stacks protruding from the superstructure of the ship. The West Point was painted in camouflage colors so that it would blend in with the surrounding ocean and make the journey across the Pacific less hazardous.

37 Clayton grabbed one of the top bunks in his cabin. “I don’t want to be on the bottom bunk when they get seasick,” he thought.

38 On February 22, 1944, the ship began making its way toward the open sea. Most of the souls on board were uncertain about exactly where they were headed, but they knew they were headed into harm’s way.