Old Navy: The Reservist and the Rustbucket

The USS American Legion (AP-35), affectionately known by her crew as the A. L. Maru, was typical of the ships of the amphibious force in the South Pacific during the early days of World War II. Built in 1921 as the SS Badger State, this 535-foot ship was show­ing her age when she was acquired by the Navy for use as a transport. She was an ugly duckling with vertical stem and stern, and almost complete symmetry in between.

On 26 August 1941, the American Legion was trans­ferred from the U. S. Army Transportation Service and commissioned as a U. S. Navy ship, with Captain T. D. Warner in command. Of the 30 remaining officers as­signed to the ship, only the executive officer, the senior medical officer, the ship's boatswain, and the carpenter were regular Navy personnel. The remainder of the offi­cers were mostly from Naval Reserve units, were recent graduates from the V-12 Naval Reserve Officer's Program (90-day wonders), or, like myself, were Merchant Marine Reserve officers recently ordered to active duty. I had graduated from the New York State Merchant Marine Academy in October 1940 and. at age 20. was the young­est officer on board.

In November 1941, work began on the ship to convert her to an attack transport. During the conversion, four three-inch, 50-caliber single action guns were installed along with eight 50-caliber machine guns. In addition, a five-inch 51-caliber gun was installed on the fantail to provide protection against submarines and surface attacks. The conversion also gave the ship a capability for carrying and handling 32 36-foot landing craft and two 50-foot landing craft, medium.

On 9 April 1942, the American Legion got under way from New York bound for Tongatabu in the southwest Pacific Ocean. Our passengers included Army officers, nurses, and enlisted personnel who were to establish an Army field hospital on that island. Upon departure from the Panama Canal, the American Legion became part of a convoy consisting mainly of the attack transports (APAs) and attack cargo ships (AKAs) which were to become the mainstay of the amphibious force in the South Pacific for the next several years.

During the uneventful voyage to Tongatabu, several of the deck officers, including myself, were qualified to stand officer-of-the-deck (OOD) watches under way. Upon arrival at Tongatabu, we spent several days off-load­ing our passengers and cargo and then set sail for Welling­ton, New Zealand, arriving on 20 May.

On 2 July, the American Legion embarked 1,740 offi­cers and men of the Fifth Marines, an infantry regiment of the First Marine Division preparatory to conducting an assault landing at an undisclosed location. Three days be­fore we got under way front Wellington, the American Legion received a shipment of 12 20-mm. guns and mounts, which were installed on the sun deck by the ship s force who worked continuously lor 48 hours to ensure that the battery would be ready for action by sailing time.

On 22 July, the American Legion sortied from Welling­ton harbor in conformance with orders from Commander Amphibious Force, South Pacific—Admiral R. K. Rimer -—and formed up with other units ot Task Force 62 bound for Koro Island, Fiji, for landing exercises. Plans called for troops from the American Legion and the USS Fuller (AP-14) to form the spearhead in the forthcoming inva­sion. My assignment was that of commander ot the fourth boat wave. While the rehearsals at Koro Island on 28 and 29 July were uneventful, they gave the various units of Task Force 62 an opportunity to work together and iion out the details for the first U. S. amphibious assault of World War II.

After reembarking our troops. Task Force 62 lortned up and proceeded in a northwesterly direction. The Amei icon Legion was assigned to Transport Group Xray (IG 62.1) consisting of ten APAs and five AKAs; Transport Group Yoke (TG 62.2), consisting ot tour APAs and tour fast attack transports (APD), made up the remainder of the amphibious units of TF 62.

On 4 August, the American Legion received a message confirming Transport Group Xray’s objective as Guadal­canal and"Transport Group Yoke’s objective as Tulagi. D-day was designated: 7 August. The next afternoon, a meeting was held in the wardroom, and all officets were informed of our destination. Although I knew that the task force was heading in the general direction of the Solomon Islands, I had never heard of Guadalcanal. However, it was a name none of us on board the American Legion would ever forget, as we were destined to pay many more visits to that island during the next 15 months. For the boat wave commanders’ briefing, the navigator produced sev­eral charts of the island showing the location ot Red Beach.

On 6 August, final preparations were made for the as­sault; the landing crafts’ engines were rechecked and the boats each fitted with two 30-caliber machine guns. I had the 2000-2400 watch on the bridge and can remember nothing unusual except that we were blessed with trequent rain squalls which made detection by the enemy more un­likely. In the troop quarters, our assault troops were com­pleting their last-minute preparations for the next day, some were trying to sleep in the hot, humid compart­ments, some were checking their weapons for the last time, and others were engaged in bull sessions and card games. Since the ship had left Wellington, we had been on water hours, whereby the fresh water was turned on for 15 minutes every four hours. However, on 6 August, ration­ing was halted so that all hands could get a good shower in order to lessen chances of infection if wounded.

Reveille was early on 7 August. I was in the wardroom when General Quarters sounded. Donning my side arms, helmet, and lifejacket, I proceeded to my battle station at the after antiaircraft (AA) battery. As my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, I could make out the shapes of some of the ships adjacent to us in the formation and the black landmass of Guadalcanal to starboard. At 0614, I saw a large flash to starboard, followed by a thunderous roar. Initially, I thought an enemy shore battery was firing at us but realized a second later that our support ships had opened fire on enemy positions on Guadalcanal. Thus, the first shot was fired in what was to be a long and costly campaign.

At first light, the American Legion hoisted her battle flag. Soon after, she arrived at the transport area and com­menced lowering all boats to carry out the ship-to-shore movement. At this time, Condition Two, Modified was set, and most of the personnel manning the guns during General Quarters left to assist with the boats and to open the cargo hatches. I left my battle station and proceeded to embarkation station number four on the port side, for­ward, where I climbed down the embarkation net into the landing craft for the assault phase. Weather conditions were excellent for the invasion. The sky was clear, ensur­ing good flying conditions for our support aircraft and. as so often happens at dawn in the tropics, the wind was calm and the sea flat; thus, our Marines would not be weakened by seasickness when they reached the beach.

My boat left the ship at H-80 minutes and proceeded to the rendezvous area where I assembled the other landing craft of the fourth wave and then proceeded toward the beach. During this part of the trip, 1 used my binoculars to study the beach and the verdant mountains beyond, but no sign of enemy activity was visible. At H-6, the support ships commenced a barrage of Red Beach and continued to work over this area until the first wave was almost on the beach. Support aircraft did the same. My fourth wave arrived at the line of departure slightly ahead of time but managed to arrive at Red Beach on schedule at H plus 13. Since leaving the ship, our boat’s crews had been manning the two 30-caliber machine guns in each boat, but, fortu­nately, they were not needed; complete surprise had been achieved, and no enemy opposition was to be encoun­tered. Once the wave had landed, I left my boat to expe­dite the unloading of the other landing craft of the fourth wave, so we could clear the beach and make way for the succeeding waves which were scheduled to arrive at five- minute intervals. After retracting from the beach, the boats in the wave were released to return to their ships to commence off-loading cargo.

The trip back to the ship was uneventful. We did not have long to wait for the enemy to react to the landings. Luckily, coastwatchers stationed on Bougainville sighted a strike group of twin-engined Japanese bombers headed our way and alerted the ships of Task Force 62. During the next few years, the coast watchers provided a valuable contribution to the Allied cause. At 1324, a flight of ap­proximately 20 enemy bombers was reported at a range of about five miles and at an estimated altitude of about 8,000 feet, flying in a Vee formation. They were first taken under fire by the ships of the support group, and I located the formation by observing the black flak bursts from their guns. Soon after, I saw two of the planes burst into flames, drop out of the formation, and spin into the sea. When the planes reached the extreme range of our three-inch guns, the gunnery officer passed the word to “Commence Firing, Zone Eight.” We opened up with our three-inch guns. The 20-mm. and 50-caliber guns joined in soon after. The other amphib ships followed suit.

This was the first time that we had fired our three-inch or 20-mm. guns for any reason other than test firing, so I was not surprised that the firing was ragged and inaccu­rate. The same was true of the fire from the other amphibi­ous ships and soon the sky was filled with black flak bursts, many of which were far wide of the bombers. For­tunately, the support group's accurate fire apparently had unnerved the Japanese bombardiers, as they jettisoned their bombs between the two groups of ships. Even so, 1 was relieved when the planes passed directly overhead and no bombs fell on the American Legion.

Later in the afternoon, a flight of seven aircraft was sighted attacking the amphibious ships and escorts of the Tulagi group. When some of these planes broke off and approached Transport Group Xray, the American Legion again opened fire, but I do not believe that we scored any hits. After this action, we secured from General Quarters and resumed unloading cargo. However, the unloading of the landing craft on Red Beach was not going well because of inadequate Marine working parties, and boats were slow in returning to the ship for additional cargo. The

American Legion closed the beach and anchored at short stay with steam up to the throttles. During the night, the ship was darkened except for the dimmed cargo lights needed to work cargo.

At 1042 on 8 August, the American Legion went to General Quarters after receiving a warning of approaching enemy aircraft. Orders followed to get under way and form cruising disposition. At 1200. a flight of about 20 bombers was sighted approaching from the east. These planes dropped bombs in the vicinity of the cruisers and destroyers of our outer protective screen and then headed toward our formation. Several were headed straight for the American Legion at altitudes of between 50 and 100 feet, and I assumed they were making a torpedo run. After re­ceiving the order to “Commence Firing” from the gun­nery officer, I directed the after battery to two of the planes which were skimming the water and heading to­ward the after part of the ship. One of these planes passed from starboard to port directly over the stem with guns blazing. All the after starboard 20-mm. and 50-caliber guns took this target under fire, and tracers hit the plane repeatedly before it crashed into the sea, close aboard the port quarter. Glancing back to starboard. 1 saw the second plane approaching the ship and directed the after guns onto it. Numerous tracers hit this plane before it passed over the ship just clear of the mastheads and was taken under fire by the port battery. It crashed about 800 yards off the port beam.

After the second plane passed over the ship, I saw a plane crash into the starboard boatdeck of the USS George F. Elliott (AP-105), which was directly astern of the American Legion. Flames immediately arose from that vessel, and the crew was forced to abandon ship as the fire raged out of control.

One of our crew members, Seaman First Class Charles Kaplan, who had been standing close to me, was seriously wounded, apparently by strafing from the plane which crashed off our port quarter. Almost simultaneously, a third plane commenced a strafing run from about two points on the starboard quarter and was first taken under fire by the after 50-caliber guns. These guns shot out the plane’s windshield, and flames came from the port wing as it flew past the ship on a parallel course at a distance of about 100 feet. The starboard 20-mm. battery of six guns fired point-blank into this plane, raking it fore and aft, and

it crashed into the sea some distance ahead of the ship.

A few seconds later, a fourth plane passed down the starboard side of the ship at a range of about 800 yards and ^was taken under fire by the entire starboard battery until it passed on the far side of the USS Fuller, firing was ceased to avoid firing into the Fuller. As a result of this action, the American Legion was officially credited with downing three enemy aircraft and assisting with downing another. Other ships of Transport Group Xray performed equally well, and few of the attacking planes survived to return to their base.

Several hours later, the ship arrived back at the trans­port area and resumed cargo operations. Later that eve­ning, Naval Reserve Lieutenant (junior grade) A. R. Gib­son and 19 men from the American Legion were transferred ashore as part of the local Naval Defense Force; this contingent was not relieved from this assign­ment for about four months.

During the evening of 8 August, the American Legion lay to about a mile off Red Beach discharging cargo when­ever a boat returned to the ship troin the beach. About 0145 on 9 August, a green parachute flare dropped through the low-hanging clouds. We immediately doused the dimmed cargo lights and went to General Quarters. When 1 arrived at the after AA battery, the whole ship was bathed in the eerie green glow from the flare. When the first flare dropped in the sea, another appeared to take its Place, keeping the amphibious units illuminated. Shortly after the first flare was dropped, heavy gunfire in rapid salvos was seen from the vicinity of Savo Island. The flash from the guns was plainly visible, and numerous tracer shells were observed in their trajectories. An almost con­tinuous thunderous roar reverberated over the water as the fierce battle progressed. On board the American Legion, we stood by our guns and awaited developments. Finally, things quieted down, and, at 0312, we secured from Gen­eral Quarters with no inkling as to the battle s outcome except that the enemy force apparently had retired.

Without radar, the American Legion had no w'ay ol de­termining her position while lying to during the night. The only thing visible was the burning, drifting hulk of the George F. Elliott. Daybreak revealed that we had drifted partway out through Lengo Channel. When visibility per­mitted, the ship got under way for the vicinity of Red Beach; at 0625, we formed up in maneuvering formation awaiting an air attack which never materialized. Later, in the morning, while we were discharging, we received word at the after debarkation station to prepare to receive survivors from HMAS Canberra. I thought, “My God, the Aussies have lost a cruiser.” But no ship came along­side and it turned out that the Canberra survivors had been taken elsewhere. Soon after, we received word about sur­vivors from the USS Vincennes (CL-64), Astoria (CA- 39), and Quincy (CA-39). This was how we learned of the tremendous losses we had suffered during the early morn­ing action off Savo Island. We also began wondering if the Japanese Task Force would return to finish the job now that four cruisers of our protective force had been sunk. Luckily, we were too busy to have much time to dwell on that unpleasant possibility.

Upon receiving word to stand by to receive survivors, we rigged the boom at number five hatch over the side and attached a rectangular spreader to the cargo hook which would allow us to hoist four litter stretchers simultane­ously. Shortly before noon, the USS Ellet (DD-398) came alongside our starboard side with survivors from the USS Quincy. Those who were fit climbed aboard using the de­barkation nets which were lowered to them; the seriously wounded and dying were brought aboard using the cargo boom and litter-lifting rig. By 1400. the transfer of survi­vors was completed, and the landing craft which were not to be left at Guadalcanal were hoisted aboard ship.

By this time, the boat’s crews had been working practi­cally continuously from dawn 7 August until now with almost no sleep and meals consisting of sandwiches and a cup of coffee whenever they returned to the ship for an­other load of cargo. Despite the cargo-handling problems on the beach and frequent interruptions because of air raids, these boat’s crews managed to get the vast majority of the American Legion's, cargo on the beach before we were ordered to withdraw.

At 1424, the American Legion got under way with the remainder of Task Force 62, bound for Noumea, New Cal­edonia. Our medical personnel had started attending to the survivors, many of whom had received serious wounds and burns. This work continued around the clock for sev­eral days, hampered somewhat by our small complement • of two doctors and one dentist.

On 10 August, all hands were called aft for burial-at-sea services for four men from the Quincy who had suc­cumbed to the wounds that they received during the Savo Island action. Two days later, similar services were held for the American Legion's only fatality. Seaman Kaplan, who died of injuries he received on 8 August.

On 13 August, the American Legion arrived at Noumea, and a few days later transferred the Quincy survivors to the USS Argonne (AP-4) and the USS Wharton (AP-7).

The invasion of Guadalcanal was only the first chapter in the story of the American Legion's participation in the reinforcement and consolidation of the Solomons. During the next 16 months, she crisscrossed the South Pacific and played a major role in landing reinforcements on the island and in evacuating those troops who had served their time there.

On 1 November 1943, the American Legion's luck ran out during the invasion of Bougainville when she struck an uncharted coral reef and sustained major damage to her bottom. While still stranded on this reef, she was attacked by enemy aircraft but escaped unscathed. After the inva­sion, she was ordered to return to San Francisco for re­pairs, arriving there on 8 December 1943.

By the time repairs were completed in April 1944, the tide of war had begun to turn in the Pacific. New construc­tion amphibious ships were being commissioned in ever- increasing numbers. Thus, the aging American Legion, now designated APA-17, was assigned to the Amphibious Training Command in San Diego. For the remainder of the war, she was engaged in the important but unglamorous task of training Marine and Army units in amphibious warfare at San Clemente Island and Camp Pendleton.