Around the first of every month, a deeply laden cargo vessel of the Isthmian Steamship Company sails from her New York pier outward bound on a regular, scheduled cargo service around the world. She proceeds through the Panama Canal, thence to the Hawaiian Islands, Philippines, Japan, China, Dutch East Indies, Malaya, Arabia, and returns to New York about 4½ months later via the Suez Canal and Port Said. Outbound she carries steel products and general cargo of about 9,000 tons and homeward bound the same amount of products of the Far East, such as rubber, latex, tin, hemp, tapioca, coconut oil, tea, coffee, spices, etc. Also there frequently comes back, on the after deck, a consignment of wild animals from the interior of Malaya, Sumatra, and Australia. The SS. Steel Traveler sailing from New York early in September, 1937, on another voyage around the world, was one of this large fleet of cargo vessels of the Isthmian Steamship Company.
At sea, October 28, 1937, on board the Steel Traveler, 7,056 gross tons, New York registry, Captain T. J. Flannery commanding, the 1200-1600 watch was on the bridge—second officer in charge—vessel steaming on course 210° true, speed 12 knots, south of the Korean coast and bound from Shimonoseki Straits, Japan, for Hongkong, China.
Direct radio communication had been established during the morning watch with the U.S.S. Augusta, flagship of the United States Asiatic Fleet on station in Shanghai. We were now waiting for the return answer to our request for information regarding the advisability of entering the port of Shanghai, for the regular discharge of cargo. The Captain had been on the bridge for several hours when suddenly the awaited reply came through from the Augusta, the message as received on the bridge from the radio-room being as follows: “Safe under the circumstances—(signed) Yarnell.”
The first and last word of this message was all, and also exactly what we wanted. A brief discussion in the chartroom, an inspection of the local charts, and orders were received on the bridge from the Captain to steer for the Yangtze River fairway buoy, clearing Socotra Rock and North Saddle lighthouse 5 miles to the northward. Course was altered to 241° true and the remaining part of the 1200-1600 watch, save for the all-important pot of fresh coffee bubbling on the shelf, was uneventful. Two hours later, at 1800, all hands, except those on watch, were mustered on deck at No. 3 hatch. When everyone had reported present and accounted for, Captain Flannery stepped out on deck and, knowing his men to be dependable, clearheaded, and loyal—most of them having sailed under his command on previous voyages—informed them in detail of his decision to enter Shanghai the following morning. The announcement was well received and was followed, for the rest of the evening, by mildly excited discussions and much joking back and forth by members of the crew.
The monthly round-the-world cargo service of the Isthmian Steamship Company included Shanghai as a regular port of call.
As a general precautionary measure against mistaken identity from aloft and afloat off the China coast, we had painted the national colors on the vessel’s port and starboard sides as well as across the entire width of Nos. 2 and 4 hatch tarpaulins. This had been done during our recent stay in Osaka, Japan, from October 23 to October 26. While there we had also been cautioned by the American Consulate in Kobe that lights along the China coast had been reported irregular or out.
Approaching the Yangtze fairway buoy the following morning, October 29, our engines were put on stand-by at 0530, stopped, and arrival made at 0600. The weather was clear, overcast with moderate northeast wind and sea. Two Shanghai pilots boarded us from the near-by pilot vessel. The United States destroyer Bulmer hove up alongside, lowering two launches for the purpose of placing a detachment of fully-armed, steel-helmeted sailors in charge of an ensign on board the Steel Traveler. With the Bulmner, our escort, leading about 100 yards ahead, we then proceeded up the Yangtze, while a Japanese destroyer circled our stern, apparently for a closer inspection, then sped ahead and was soon lost from sight. The armed detachment on board was stationed forward, midships, and aft on the upper decks, their rifles and a number of submachine rifles ready for instant action, if needed. Our own deck crew commenced boarding up all side windows on the navigation bridge with mattresses and heavy 3-inch hatch boards, leaving only the forward windows of the wheelhouse exposed. This was done in order to protect those on the navigation bridge from possibly stray bullets along the Whangpoo River.
Proceeding up river and shortly after we had passed Tungsha Spit light vessel, the rolling thunder of distant guns direction of Shanghai was heard. A general feeling of tension and expectancy was felt throughout the ship thereafter. From Kiutoan light vessel on up we began passing various units of the Japanese Third Fleet, anchored just off the fairway at regular intervals on our starboard side. We also met several black-painted Japanese troop transports coming from Woosung, presumably returning to Japan for additional replacements. Very noticeable was the complete absence of the usual countless numbers of Chinese cargo and fishing junks and sampans on the Yangtze and Whangpoo. Our Shanghai pilots, in spite of the personal safety enjoyed on board their station vessel, were glad and very anxious to be going back to Shanghai. They had not been home for many weeks due to the fact that, since “Bloody Saturday, August 14,” the few Shanghai-bound foreign deep-water merchant vessels had proceeded only as far as the outer quarantine anchorage off Woosung in the Yangtze River.
Evidences of recent heavy combat were to be seen as we swung left out of the Yangtze into the Whangpoo River and passed what was left of the formerly crowded settlement of Woosung. All was leveled off except the partly standing ruins of the Medical College and the quarantine and railroad stations. Deep shell holes were everywhere in the sea wall and the roads; occasional human and animal corpses floated in the river; and many Chinese junks were wrecked, piled up, or sunk over on the Pootung side.
In passing Woosung close aboard we could see the Japanese Army busily effecting repairs and using the site as a hospital, landing and supply base. Army pack trains were to be seen along the bank (road and rail tracks had been torn up) leaving Woosung and proceeding in the general direction of Shanghai. Farther up we passed an air field which the Japanese had established near the Chapei Electricity and Waterworks, diagonally across from the Gough Island Texaco property. A good many planes, showing the insignia of the Imperial Japanese Army, were coming and going continuously near here.
We were now roughly about 10 miles down river from Shanghai and again passing Japanese warships which were secured to mooring buoys in the middle of the river, their guns trained on the left bank (Pootung Peninsula). The Chinese forces, having retreated from the advances of the Japanese, were now entrenched all along that side of the Whangpoo. American and British flags were prominently displayed wherever possible over the properties, wharves, and godowns of their respective owners. Large numbers of Chinese refugees from Woosung, carrying their few belongings in bundles, were aimlessly wandering back and forth near the comparative safety of Texaco and Standard Oil Pootung wharves.
Our first baptism under fire occurred as we were about a half mile below our regular discharging berth, the Jardine Pootung wharf. At that moment we had started to maneuver out of the stream towards the wharf, our stern barely clear of the guns of a Japanese destroyer and gunboat, when both opened fire into Pootung. They were soon followed by other Japanese warships close by, and a squadron of Japanese army planes appeared directly overhead, coming down one by one in power dives, dropping bombs and zooming up again. The concussions tugged at our clothes, and the sharp vicious crack of 3-inch and the deeper report of 5- or 6-inch guns, while we were busy getting lines placed on the wharf, were not exactly soothing to our momentary general nervousness. Thus our introduction to the—as we then thought—rather intense activities around the International Settlement. We had secured ship fore and aft by 11:45 a.m.
There had been no return fire from the Chinese forces. Firing ceased shortly thereafter, the planes came down once more and, flying low, machine-gunned this section of Pootung and then disappeared in the direction of Woosung.
Our naval guard was relieved by a detachment of marines from the U.S.S. Augusta in charge of a lieutenant and remained on board throughout our stay at Jardine wharf. The representative of the U. S. Steel Corporation, who is our Shanghai agent, his wife, and several reporters and photographers from local newspapers boarded the ship and were cordially received by Captain Flannery. Shortly after, about 1:00 p.m., the Captain was informed that a boat from the Augusta had come alongside bearing the Chief of Staff, his aide de camp, and others for an official visit. He welcomed these officers on board at the gangway. The Chief of Staff presented Admiral Yarnell’s greetings, compliments, and his pleasure at seeing an American merchant vessel to be the first foreign ship in port since “August 14,” also extending to Captain Flannery the Admiral’s personal invitation to luncheon on board the flagship the following day.
A Chinaman would say we had “made much face” that day for ourselves, the Isthmian SS. Company, and American residents around Shanghai in general.
We found out later that the sudden shelling and bombing while we were docking was for the purpose of laying down a barrage into Pootung, to discourage the Chinese entrenched there from firing upon an outgoing troop transport. The Chinese trenches and the soldiers therein were plainly visible from our upper bridge deck at this wharf.
We had about 3,000 tons of general cargo for Shanghai discharge, and the usual cargo operations commenced about 2:00 p.m. Another half hour bombing close by later in the afternoon did not in any way interfere with the work, nor for a moment even did it stop the steady singsong of Chinese coolies as they trotted steel plates, bars, etc., from the dock into godowns. These particular coolies were serving the dual function of discharging our cargo in the daytime and then taking up their regular duties again as soldiers in the trenches directly behind the godowns at our wharf, between 5:00 p.m. and 7:00 a.m. We had orders to darken ship every night and those not going ashore were forced to remain under cover below decks or run the risk of being struck by flying shrapnel.
Our second night in port proved to be the most exciting one as far as we were concerned. For the first and only time during our 4-day stay at Jardine-Pootung wharf the Chinese field artillery, located some distance behind the trenches, opened up with what sounded like 6-inch guns. This occurred about 10:00 p.m., seemingly taking the Japanese warships by surprise. A few minutes later, however, all hell broke loose around us when Japanese warships in our immediate vicinity (there were about 8, including the flagship Idzuma) commenced firing broadside after broadside into the Pootung area, as well as firing many rounds of tracer bullets into the air in case of an unexpected aerial attack from Chinese planes, then based at Nanking. Our position alongside the wharf was exactly midway between the two lines of fire. With the exception of a single light burning in the dining saloon (and the curtains were drawn across the portholes there), we had extinguished all other lights. Several of us had a good view out of the portholes of darkened cabins at what someone once aptly termed “the greatest show on earth.” So it was, for the time being, and we not only had a ringside seat but were right in the very middle of the ring that night. Our only concern was that the shells coming and going across the ship in an endless procession would not fall short of their intended mark. Not much sleep that night for any of us. We discovered the next morning that one shell had exploded quite close to the ship, falling short as it were, and several others had burst in nearby godowns. Many pieces of shrapnel, time fuses, and the like were picked up by all members of the crew for souvenirs.
Inasmuch as the Japanese had advanced from Woosung up as far as Soochow Creek and occupied the Hongkew section of the International Settlement bordering on the creek, shore leave into the city presented difficulties, the company launch being the only means of transportation and making but one trip daily to and from the Customs Jetty on the Bund. In doing so, the launch had to run the gauntlet of Japanese guns. On orders from Japanese Headquarters, all traffic on the river ceased between 5:00 p.m. and 6:00 a.m., and curfew in the city was strictly enforced from 11:30 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. The usual well-known gayety of Shanghai at the numerous clubs and cabarets had a decidedly forced note; elsewhere nothing but bewilderment, grief, and despair. Barbed-wire entanglements and sandbag barricades were everywhere, in particular around the boundary lines of the French and International Settlement. These were guarded by Americans, British, French, and Italian marines and soldiers. Large numbers of Chinese refugees crowded the streets of the International Settlement and thousands of others were held back at the gates leading in. Hospitals were filled to overflowing. The American Club on Foochow Road, Hamilton House, and Metropole Hotel were crowded beyond capacity with the families of foreign residents forced to evacuate homes in the vicinity of Jessfield Park, the Columbia (American) Country Club, and the Hongkew section for the comparative safety of the central part of the International Settlement. The Japanese Army had taken possession of Broadway Mansions, the Astor Hotel, and other large buildings in Hongkew. All bridges across Soochow Creek were closed to traffic and heavily guarded by Japanese on one side and British Ulster Riflemen on the opposite side.
The ship was shifted on the fourth day since arrival, and again under fire, from Jardine wharf down river to Standard Oil Pootung wharf to continue discharging. Excepting a daily and nightly bombing attack behind the oil tanks and godowns, there were no activities at this wharf. On the second day of our stay here, a Japanese army plane crashed just a few feet outside the wall surrounding this property. A barbecue, given to the ship’s company by the Vice President of the National City Bank (Shanghai branch), was held in the spacious canteen at Standard Oil wharf. On invitation, several officers from the U.S.S. Stewart, also at Standard wharf, attended this affair and soon, with the aid of “Cape Horn Piano,” song after song rang out across the Whangpoo, effectively drowning out the explosions of another bombing attack near by. An excellent opportunity to get more acquainted with ships and personnel of our Navy, and they in turn with us, was provided during our stay in Shanghai. There was much visiting back and forth, numerous invitations accepted and friendships formed; we were all rather surprised to find out how little one had really known about “the other fellow.”
At the end of the third day at Standard Oil we shifted ship down river to Texaco Oil Pootung wharf. Everything was quiet here. We completed discharging and sailed from this wharf on Sunday, November 7, the ninth day in port since arrival. No casualties had occurred on board our vessel and we steamed out of Shanghai that afternoon unmolested, under escort of the Stewart, also outward bound. After disembarking the Shanghai pilot down the Yangtze near Kiutoan light vessel and exchanging farewell signals with the pilot vessel and the Stewart, course was set for Hongkong, our next port of call. Followed by a northerly gale, the Steel Traveler made record time steaming down the China coast.