Escape from Archangel: An American Merchant Seaman at War

Mama, I'm Going to Sea

Mama, I'm Going toSea The European war remained far off at first, something exciting you heard on the radio or read about in newspapers. But it brought unexpected economic expansion to the farms and factories. Ingalls Ship Yard in nearby Pascagoula suddenly came out of the depression doldrums as steamship lines placed orders for new vessels, and clangs and bustle filled the once silent ways.Jac's father and the fathers ofhis generation got better work, and there was a little more money. The Smith family moved to a house in Biloxi near the railroad station. It had electricity. This was long before America's entry into the war, butU.S. merchant seamen were already dying in the NorthAtlantic. President Roosevelt had managed to induce Congress to pass the Lend-Lease bill, under which arms, munitions, and other war material was "lent" to the Allies, whose resolute resistance to Hitler was keeping war away from our shores. "We must be the arsenal of Democracy,"he told the nation in late -/5- 1940. Allthese goods had to be shipped across seasswarming with U-boat wolf packs, which torpedoed merchant ships with little regard for their flags of registry, and in these encounters American seamen were blown up or drowned or died of exposure on unrescued life rafts. Few Americansknew about these losses to their merchant shipping, because such figures were classified information. But the people of Mississippi's Gulf Coast knew something was happening. Freight rates for shipping had doubled and doubled again. A subsidized program of shipbuilding had been launched, and yards were swamped with orders for naval and merchant vessels, British and American. Roosevelt had set a goal for the construction of 8 million tons of shipping per year, an unheard-of total. Then one Sunday morning in December 1941, war itself seized the United States. The only way America could participate was by way of her ships, carrying men, fuel, weapons, and supplies to the battlefields of a two-ocean war. Jac Smith was in high school at the time of Pfearl Harbor. He turned eighteen in 1942 and knew the draft would catch him soon. Like a lot of restless youngsters, he didn't want to wait until he was called up. All around him, he saw and felt the excitement of a nation arming herself. Among the orders pouring in to Ingalls was one from Britain for four "baby" aircraft carriers, the H.M.SS. BATTLER, HUNTER, CHASER, and PURSUER Fast, newly designed hulls, which had been intended for merchant ships, were fitted instead with flight decks and superstructures. As the carriers were readied, British crews were sent to Mississippi to man them and were housed in the only available quarters, abandoned CCC (Civil Conservation Corps) bar- -76- racks in Magnolia Park near Ocean Springs. The Smiths, like many families on the Coast, invited the newcomers into their homes. Jac listened to their talk of convoy duty, the need for American supplies, and the fact that Britain could not hold out without help. He made up his mind. Shortly after that visit, O. M.Smith,Jr. informedhis family that he was going to join the Merchant Marine. He made the announcement calmly at the dinner table. After he had heard all the arguments about why he should reconsider, and after his mother's tears had dried, he said it again, quietly but firmly:"Mama, I'm going to sea." Early the next morning he walked half a block to the railroad station and caught an L & N train to New Orleans. The cars were crowded with businessmen, soldiers, sailors, a family or two, and a group of Catholic nuns. Jack watched the morning light shimmering on the Gulf waters as the train clacked across the wooden trestle that spanned Bay Saint Louis, then trundled, steam whistle blowing, past Waveland, Clermont Harbor, English Lookout, the Pearl River, the narrow spit of land between Lake Pontchartrain and Lake Borgne. There were rows of fishing camps along both sides of the track, and the train stopped there to pick up passengers who flagged it down for a lift into town. Then at the foot of Canal Street, they reached the terminal: New Orleans. Jac strolled down Canal marveling at the numbers of people of all kinds crowding the sidewalks, pouring in and out of the great stores, stepping on and off the street cars, crossing the intersections...