Sea Devil Four: Mv Sea Monster

By Mark Newell Douglas

USS LST-666, in Kaoshiang, Taiwan, in a back water bay, part of the 7th fleet. That is, until the Korean War began. Abruptly, she was pulled from the sleepy Taiwanese port and began moving troops and supplies into the Korean Peninsula as that war expanded. Originally, she was part of the Inchon invasion force. As MacArthur moved troops to the East Coast of Nora Korea, she participated in troop and supply landings beginning at Wonsan, then moving North to Iwon, then Hungnam, Songjin, and Chongin. Thre, the LST suffered some unusual damage, returned to Sasebo for repairs. Now, things were bad. She returned to Hungnam to help remove USA USMC, and civilians, as the Chinese and Noroth Korean descended upon that port city. An important member of the recalled crew was BM2 Abner Luxor of Philadelphia of Luxor Studebaker new and used car fame, was seriously wounded and transported to Naval Hospital Phila where his paramour took care of him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543939507

Book preview

1951

One

April 1, 1951

Studio B

National Broadcasting Company

The Blue Network

Radio City Music Hall

Manhattan, N.Y.

The talent, a middle-aged, over-weight man with thinning grey hair, burst into the studio, banging the door behind him, ran to his chair, and skidded into it. He was dressed in a short-sleeved pale yellow shirt, loose green bow tie, baggy brown trousers and scuffed two-tone brown and white shoes, chewed yellow pencil cocked behind his ear, and a scruffy brown fedora on his head. He glanced at the clock on the wall . . .

95 seconds to go.

. . . and slowly sat down at his special small table.

87 seconds to go

. . . A regulation American railroad telegraph key with a small speaker attached, was at his right hand and he fondled it;

45 seconds to go

. . . he picked up his script and read swiftly.

37 seconds to go

. . . Glancing at each sheet, he came back to the first sheet and read it carefully. He looked at the clock . . .

31 seconds to go.

. . . and then, cocking his head and looking at it again, he looked quizzically at his producer.

Is this for real, Dick? He asked.

18 seconds to go

That’s what we were given, by an anonymous provider.

The Floor Director looked at the talent, waved his fingers at him, and said

STANDBY . . . Five Four Three Two . . .

The Red door-light came on and began flashing. The director’s finger urgently pointed to the talent in front of the microphone. The talent reached out to the telegraph key and began sending his American morse code signature clicks of dots and dashes. That staccato Morse Code clattered from the speaker.

"GOOD EVENING, MISTER AND MISSES AMERICA

AND ALL THE SHIPS AT SEA.

THIS IS YOUR REPORTER, WALTER WINCHELL, IN NEW YORK CITY.

LET’S GO TO PRESS.

THERE IS AN ASTOUNDING STORY MAKING THE ROUNDS AT THE

PENTAGON IN WASHINGTON DC, ABOUT A NAVY VESSEL GONE

WILD SOMEWHERE IN THE WESTERN PACIFIC.

AS TOLD TO ME BY A HIGH LEVEL SOURCE, THIS SHIP IS FIGHTING . . . LET ME

REPEAT THAT . . . IS FIGHTING CHINESE PIRATES ARMED WITH SPEARS,

SWORDS AND CUTLASSES. . . . CUTLASSES! HUH! I CANNOT CONFIRM THIS . . .

BUT THE PERSON TELLING THIS TALE SAID NO MARINES OF TRIPOLI FAME

HAVE BEEN INVOLVED. . . . HAR HAR DE HAR HAR."

The morse code key rattled again.

IN HOLLYWOOD, MICKEY ROONEY . . .

APRIL 4, 1951

STARS AND STRIPES,

FAR EAST EDITION

TOKYO, JAPAN

Dateline: Associated Press, NYC, N.Y., Apr 3. A Walter Winchell broadcast day before yesterday has the Naval and Military commands in the Far East in an uproar. Walter Winchell reported a story out of the Pentagon about a Navy ship fighting Chinese pirates armed with swords and cutlasses. We have been unable to confirm this story. Usual sources in the Navy, Marine Corps and Army in Tokyo refuse to discuss the issue, saying, No comment.

Two

0830, APRIL 24, 1951

THE WARDROOM

MV SEA DRAGON

DOCKED JAPANESE SHIPYARD

SASEBO, JAPAN

Captain Ezekial ‘Zeke" Carter LCDR USNR, Executive Officer Bob Smith LTJG USNR, Chief Engineer Ralph Aronson LTJG USNR, Amphibious Officer, Abner ‘Luxie’ Luxor LTJG USNR, Deck and Gunnery Officer Jake Grunart LTJG USNR, and Communications Officer Alan Fenson Ensign USNR—USS LST-666 (aka Sea Dragon, nee Sea Devil) Senior Officers, were gathered in the Wardroom for briefing and discussions. Three Chief Petty Officers and five Leading Petty Officers were also present. UDT commander LT Roger Brewster USN, sat at the foot of the Wardroom Table. Lesser officers and petty officers were about their business outside of the wardroom.

Zeke looked around the wardroom as he rubbed his nose with his index finger and looked at his Executive Officer. Are we clean, Bob? . . . I mean, no one can overhear us?

LTJG Bob Smith shook his head. No problem, Captain. Every Jap shipyard worker is off the ship now.

Zeke, nodded, wiped sweat off his brow with his napkin, put both hands on the table and stood, looking down the green-clothed Wardroom table.

"Okay, I talk better on my feet, Gents. First of all, we need to discuss our next set of orders. . . . We are going to the Philippine area and will be augmented by several officers, chiefs, thirty sailors, . . . and others.

The Wardroom came to silent attention as they began to listen with care. Chuckling, he said, the Marines want to get into the act, too. ComNavFE has placed that request directly in my lap: that is, do I want some Marines he made quote signs with his fingers, in the rigging, shooting down on the pirates?

There were shouts of laughter and chuckles from all points.

Friggin’ in the riggin’, one young officer shouted, along with the catcalls and raucous laughter.

Frowning, Zeke looked down the wardroom table, and waved his arms to quiet them down.

I have not said no, gentlemen. They are ferocious battlers and sharpshooters. The real question I was asked, is how many Marines, if I accept them. . . .

He saw restlessness and unease around the Wardroom Table. Zeke looked around the Wardroom and cleared his throat. We’ll talk about two points: acceptance and numbers. We are going to be pushed to accommodate more personnel. Our ‘marketing adventure’ may be dropped. We don’t know about that yet. Several groans from people who had enjoyed that operation.

I have it from Commodore LST Squadron Two, Commander Jones, that CINCFE will give us just about anything we want. You will recall, I believe, we have been using the U. S. Coast Guard Naha Rescue helicopters to transport our wounded and dead. I understand we will have the same service from the Filipino Coast Guard from several ports, as well as U. S. Coast Guard Phil. This is important because we know how many of our people have been killed or wounded in the past, and in need of airlift to a nearby military hospital. Shocked, sucked in breaths, came from several of the new people in the Officers’ Mess. They really didn’t understand this: that they were going to be real war; just not the Korean War.

Now . . . New weaponry: we will have three or four of those 3-inch recoilless rifles, either Army or Marines, or both. We will still have the Chinese Nationalist (ChiNat) Team, and the added Navy Bazooka teams. How many and how much armament is still open to question. That completes my briefing, so far as I know, to date. He paused, looked around. Zeke sighed and leaned back. There was quiet about the Wardroom as all officers glanced at each other absorbing what the Captain had to say. Zeke looked around at all his officers.

And now, let us discuss Walter Winchell’s radio report and the Stars and Stripes article the other day. . . . Any comments . . . from anyone? He asked, looking pointedly at his Amphibious Officer, LTJG Abner ‘Luxie’ Luxor, a sleek, recently commissioned Lieutenant (Junior Grade) officer whose naval and battle skills were acknowledged.

Abner raised a finger from the green table.

Lux?

He groaned. Well-l-l-l, Cqp’n, I can think of two sources—maybe more. Marjorie was pissed that I was not in bed in the Yokosuka Naval Hospital, and demanded I turn myself in. I thought that was funny. I think it is conceivable that she whispered in someone’s ear of our private conversation about pirates. The better choice is that the M.A.R.S. operators, hearing everything, thought it a good story and passed it along to someone. That’s my thoughts, Cap’n. Several laughs, cats calls, and chuckles followed his confession.

Gents, Zeke’s brow furrowed, you may think this is funny but General MacArthur is furious, which means ComNavFE is angry, that means Commodore Jones is going to jump my ass in the next few hours. I will play it innocently, which may or may not work, he snarled. . . . It’s been a long day. Shore leave for officers and liberty for the crew commences immediately.

Zeke got up and stretched, immediately copied by everyone else in the Wardroom. He waved them to their seats in amusement and departed for his favorite chair, on the Bridge, settled into it with a sigh, and sipped his coffee mug he had taken from the Wardroom.

Three

0815, APRIL 25, 1951

THE MAIN DECK FOREPEAK

MV SEA DRAGON

DOCKED JAPANESE SHIPYARD

SASEBO, JAPAN

COMLSTRON TWO ARRIVING

Now, what the hell does he want?

Startled, LCDR Ezekial Carter USNR, Commanding Officer of the USS LST-666 aka MV Sea Devil aka MV Sea Dragon, hopped out of his bridge chair, trotted to the ladder, clattered down to the Main Deck, and sped to the Quarterdeck.

Saluting Commodore Jones, he said. Good morning, Commodore. To what do I owe this pleasure? he anxiously asked.

Is he going to roust me about the leak to the press?

Returning Zeke’s salute, he put his hand on Zeke’s back and said whispering, we have to talk privately, and I mean right now. His tone was urgent; his brow was wet with sweat, as well as his khaki short sleeve shirt.

My stateroom, Commodore? Zeke noticed the Commodore was carrying a tan brief case.

That will be fine.

They settled; Jones in Zeke’s chair; Zeke on his bed.

What’s going on, Commodore? Zeke asked.

The commodore’s face was grim. LT Landorf, my Ops Officer, had a heart attack and died about two hours ago: just keeled over while eating breakfast. He paused and looked at Zeke. I need a replacement immediately. He opened his brief case and withdrew a set of orders and passed it to Zeke. Zeke looked at the orders and stood.

Jesus Christ!

Commodore, Bob is my Executive Officer! You can’t do that to me, sir, almost yelling, breaking into further sweat in the humid Captain’s Quarters.

It’s a done deal, Zeke. I already have ComNavFE’s approval for this transfer. You need to get him packed up right away. He can come along with me in the jeep.

Gawd almighty damn! Zeke angrily reached for his phone and pushed the Wardroom line.

Sanchez speaking, sir.

Mister Smith, Sanchez.

Smith here, Captain. What’s up?

Please join me in my stateroom now, and slammed his phone down.

In a moment, LT Bob Smith knocked on the door and entered. Zeke handed him the orders transferring him to the staff of LST Squadron TWO immediately. LT Bob Smith was stunned by the orders; shaking his head no.

Oh my god.

Oh Shit.

I don’t want to go.

Wow! Can I refuse these orders, Commodore? I really like this ship and crew. Bob asked.

Commander Jones shook his head. No, and explained his problem: that his number One officer had keeled over dead shortly before.

Now, get a couple of stewards to help you pack. You will come back with me as soon as you are ready. Understood?

Aye aye, Commodore.

Fuck.

LT Robert Smith’s response was less than enthusiastic.

Abner sat in his favorite spot at the Fore Peak, sweating like a pig. He wanted to take his shirt off and enjoy the heat of the hot sun. Looking aft, seeing the heat vapors rising from the deck, frowning, as he considered what the Deck crew must do after they got underway, he broke out one of his West-by-God-Virginia special cheroots, lit up, leaned a cheek over and let loose a proud blast, and began puffing his cigarillo and the morning sun. He stood, stretching his arms in appreciation of the morning’s sun.

He spotted the Captain heading his way, perhaps to join him in the Peak.

Wow. What the hell does he want?

He stood, somewhere between smiling and frowning. Good morning, Cap’n. What can I do for you this fine morning? He asked, uneasily. Zeke waved his hand to indicate Abner should sit down; he sat. He did, looking at his Cap’n expectantly.

"Abner, I have a real problem with you. . . . You are a very junior officer in my