| Pet pigeon "Quove" is mentioned in Chapter Nine "Bread on the Waters" in l943 book "The Captain Wears a Cross" by Pacific Fleet ChaPLAIN WILLIAM MAGUIRE, hero on Dec. 7, l941 at Pearl Harbor Ch NINE IX BREAD ON THE WATERS from THE CAPTAIN WEARS A CROSS 1943 by Captain WILLIAM MAGUIRE Pacific Fleet Chaplain: Among the more trying tasks that faced me in my office was handling the requests of Navy wives to help them and their children to obtain berths on board the few ships that were avilable to evacuate families of service personnel to the mainland. It became necessary, in compliance with a despatch from Washington, to make up lists of those who lived in the Hawaiian Naval District and to embark them without show of partiality.At the top of each list were placed the names of the sick, but alas, it was impossible to please everyone.The telephone rang continuously and between calls, women came with their children to the office and stressed their reasons for claiming the right to be the first to leave. At one time in December, there were over three thousand standing by to take passage for home. It did no good to explain that I had little or no connection with the business of evacuation, for they were quick to remind me that my recommendations would no go unheeded.They referred to a statement of policy which they had read in the papers to the effect that medical officers and chaplains would be consulted regarding the merits of doubtful cases. I found it quite easy, however, to be patient with the individual problems of our Navy wives.For a quarter of a century in peace time I had found countless reasons for sympathizing with Navy families on account of their nomadic way of living. The greater part of a Navy man's life is spent at sea, and this may account, strange as it may seem for the fine family spirit he has of affection and loyalty. The Navy wife, unlike the Army wife who lives on a government reservation,always faces,when she arrives at the port at which her husband's ship is based, the strenuous business of house hunting. Among my most vivid memories are the strange shacks and boarding houses Navy people called home years ago on the Asistic Station. But they were cheerful about it, and they still laugh when telling of their experiences.They will tell you about the many times they went "broke".Even though the Navy furnishes funds for transportation and the shipment of household effects,change of duty usually means spending the family's savings.Moving from the tropics to northern zones requires buying a new outfit of clothing for the family. Furniture, on arrival, is usually in need of repair; and the rents seem to grow unusually high when the Navy comes to town. Departures of ships from Honolulu were made in military secrecy. Announcements of sailings came by telephone to the homes with only a few hours alloted for getting trunks and hand-bags to the dock.This uncertainty and the necessity of staying at all times near the family 'phone put ordinary shopping tours in the class of strategic planning. If someone failed to get the word about a sailing, there was always a willing substitute waiting with bag and baggage at the ship's gangway.Navy families for months literally lived "out of a suitcase." As was to be expected, in accordance with ancient tradition, word got around that the chaplain could "fix it." ...in Honolulu.When they found their names listed among those to go, not knowing that it would be unwise to load a ship entirely with sick people, they protested and suddenly thought,"maybe the chaplain can fix that too."Those without children who had jobs in the Navy Yard and in the city shops could not understand why they had to leave. Others, whose husbands were on duty on repair ships anchored in Pearl Harbor, felt they were being badly handled.The families of those who served in our cruisers and other ships who came in periodically for brief overhaul periods,wanted to remain because it would afford an occasional family reunion which they could not have had on the mainland.It was a dificult situation, and it was my job to be a sort of buffer between the wives and the Navy Yard officers whose unpleasant responsibility it was to make the final decisions. The work of assisting the evacuees required one or more trips to the Navy Yard to plead my cases.An office had been established in the administration building, which was called the "OVERSEAS TRANSPORT[ATION] SERVICE." The one in charge was an experienced officer of the regular Navy, Commander John B. Barrett. We had served together in 1930 in the Asiatic Fleet.I marvelled at the patience of this harried officer,and I have since wondered how he kept going. On entering his office, there was usually a crowd of women and children waiting for a chance to get the ear of one of Barrett's assistants or even the ear of Barrett himself.His job was anything but a sinecure. I actually felt sorry for him every time I came and presented, with a tear in my voice, the demands of some unhappy Navy wife who complained that the blackout was ruinous to her little boy's peace of mind, or the woman of wealth who had a palace in Pasadena which needed her personal supervision.Commander Barrett was so kind and sympathetic in squeezing so many of my clients on board that I became eloquently profuse in my thanks. He was particularly kind in helping me find a place on board a transport for Captain Barry Wilson's colored maid Claribel.One day with a smile on his freckled face, he exclained, "How can I refuse you? Don't you remember the night in Chefoo when my wife arrived alone from Tientsin? They told her there wasn't a room in town, not even a park bench. A ricksha coolie got hold of you, and you scouted around until you found a room in Wineglass's boarding house. I wish I could forget, but I can't. All I can say is, 'Take it easy, chum; you're running me ragged.'" The Chefoo incident had vanished from my memory. Unknowingly, ten years before, I had cast Chinese bread upon the waters. John Barrett was equal to the challenge of that heart-breaking emergency. I can still see him checking the long list of evacuees and shaking his weary head to the accompaniemnt of a woeful, pidgin English, "No can do." But he salvaged his sense of humor, always finding time for a friendly chat. I seldom left his noisy office without a new story. One afternoon with Father [Walter} Mahler in tow, I drove out to his home on the Ala Wai to pay my respects. I had not see Mrs. Barrett since that night of house hunting in Chefoo [1931].John was about five years old. He showed us his menagerie of stuffed animals.It was the best variety of wild beasts I had ever seen.It struck me that Commander Barrett's old shipmates had the boy's collection in mind whenever they went ashore in strange and foreign ports of the world.John had a little pigeon that came every morning for crumbs and sat outside the window while they both enjoyed the radio program.He flew away when John [left] for school but always returned when the child got back, for thyen it was time to play together on the front lawn.[The pigeon disappeared for a week or so...] then One morning he discovered his bird-buddy again standing outside the window-screen, chipper and as good as new. When orders came for Father Mahler and me to proceed to San Diego for a tour of shore duty, Commander Barrett again showed that he meant what he said about the little favor I had done him in China. He visited at least three ships before deciding that he had found the one that would suit us. He had little to choose from, and he was not a bit pleased with the results. He took us one day in June [1942] to a transport, a ship that for years had made the round-trip from New York to Havana, heavily laden with freight cars. It was really an old ferry-boat, but it was the best thing afloat at the disposal of Commander John B. Barrett, U.S.N. also on p 66 |
No comments:
Post a Comment