When the war in Europe ended, the Roosevelt was too big to fit through the Panama Canal, so it sailed around South America to the Pacific. With the news of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the men on his ship asked each other, “What’s an atom bomb?” In all of that time at sea, the Roosevelt did not engage in a major battle. After Japan’s defeat, those servicemen who had been in the military the longest and had been stationed overseas got more points toward discharge. Bill had enough points to get out but stayed an extra ninety days when Lieutenant Rau asked him to train new gunner recruits. After the tragic accidents he had witnessed, Bill always stressed safety.
Discharged in 1946, after returning to Pittsburgh, Bill couldn’t help calling the wall the “bulkhead,” the floor the “deck” and the stairway the “ladder.” The city had a football draft for the pro teams of the Honus Wagner League that played baseball in the summer and football in the winter. Bill was drafted for the Oakland Rangers football team as a wide receiver. A first-round draft pick, he received fifteen dollars a game. The Rangers played at Sullivan Field in Oakland against teams from Aliquippa, McKees Rocks and Homewood.
Bill Gruber worked wherever he could make the most money. His day jobs changed through the years. He first worked at an A&P grocery store warehouse, then as a brakeman on the B&O Railroad out of Hazelwood and then making resins at Neville Chemical, where he became a member of the oil workers’ union. He took the Pennsylvania State Troopers test and the civil service test and decided that he would work for whomever called him first. The North Side Post Office called first. Bill worked for the post office until his retirement in 1986. He is the only surviving brother in his family. Although he never married, he spends time with many nieces and nephews and their families in the area.
Bill observed firsthand the rise of the middle class when the returning GIs wanted change. Postwar America accomplished this with higher hourly wages, overtime pay and workers’ compensation, resulting in a high standard of living for all. Because of the good wages, homeownership rose and more people were able to afford a car. Opportunities opened up for the average man. Bill was able to use his four weeks’ vacation to travel extensively, once an activity reserved for the rich. In retirement, he does a lot of volunteer work because, as one of the “Greatest Generation,” he knows how to be of service.
FAITH TO CARRY THEM THROUGH
Frederick T. Seifert,
As told to Karan Kranz
Throughout the military history of the United States, the country has been defended by the young. This was especially true for the United States during World War II, when millions of boys either enlisted or were drafted as young as age eighteen. As a result, a generation of Americans was quickly thrust into adulthood. To get them through this tumultuous transition, further complicated by the brutality and horrors of war, many of these young soldiers, remarkably, turned to faith in God. One such soldier was Frederick T. Seifert.
Fred was born on February 21, 1925, in the Pittsburgh suburb of Penn Hills. He attended Corpus Christi grade school, “a good fine Catholic school,” as Fred notes. He continued high school in the Catholic tradition by attending Central Catholic High School. Despite his good grades, Fred quit school and enlisted in the United States Navy on February 20, 1942, one day before his eighteenth birthday. Knowing that he would enlist on his birthday anyway, his parents reluctantly consented and signed to give their permission. He was “gung-ho” to fight the “Huns” and the “Japs.” Fred was not the only young man eager to enter the war. “Everybody seemed to want to get in because you don’t know what war is like, you just wanted to go,” Fred says. “In fact, you went down with your buddies, and if they failed, they were upset. One kid actually cried because they wouldn’t take him,” he recalls.
Many thousands of area recruits left Pittsburgh for military training through the Pittsburgh & Lake Erie Railroad Station of 1898. In keeping with the blackout, its stained-glass skylights in the Grand Concourse were painted over. The P&LE building is now part of Station Square. Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh.
Fred took a train from the P&LE Station and headed for boot camp. This was only the second time in his young life that Fred had been in downtown Pittsburgh.
His family had no car, and he had been sheltered and rather isolated. It was not until he arrived at Great Lakes Naval Training Center for boot camp that he realized how naïve he truly was. Fred remembers his embarrassment during a thorough physical exam. He says, “The shock of my life I think was that you had to strip. You had to be completely naked. I’ll never forget. You had a folder with all your IDs and everything. And where do you think I was holding mine?” Perhaps worst part was not knowing when to be embarrassed. Fred’s blushing face, when telling another story, demonstrates his inexperience when he left for the war. “So they’re checking this, they’ve been checking that, and I had to go and talk to this one guy. I didn’t know what a psychiatrist was. So I go in there and he says, Are you ashamed of yourself?’ I said no. Oh, but first he said, ‘Did you ever kiss a boy?’ Like an idiot, I said ‘yeah,’ thinking of my dad or something like that. Then he said, ‘How about a girl?’ I said, ‘Well I’m not too good at that!’” Still shaking his head sixty years later, Fred admits he didn’t understand what the doctor was getting at. It didn’t occur to him until later.
Pittsburgh-area inductees undergoing a physical exam. These men are seeking admission to the U.S. Army Air Corps, which had higher educational requirements and a top age limit of twenty-seven. The Pittsburgh Examining Center experienced a higher application rate than other cities. Carnegie Museum of Pittsburgh.
Anatomy and sexuality were not the only things that were new to young Seifert. He encountered new daily routines and a harshness to life he had never experienced before. Fred describes his first morning in the chow line where, to his amazement, they had baked beans for breakfast. He had never heard of eating such a thing in the morning. “You don’t eat baked beans for breakfast,” he remembers thinking with astonishment. Later that day, they had bean soup for lunch. Fred also recalls the difficulty he had adjusting to new sleeping arrangements, using hammocks instead of beds. He and some of his peers had trouble balancing in the hammocks. Therefore, the group would sleep on the floor. This adaptation proved a suitable solution until Chief Petty Officer Ripley discovered their practice. “He would not tolerate this. You did as you were instructed and not what you thought best. Chief Ripley, wow was he tough.” Fred later realized, “That’s part of the process of being inducted into the navy.” Of boot camp he says, “It was quite an experience!”
After a seven-day leave, Fred remembers being asked what he would like to do. Being young and enthusiastic, all he could think of was action. “Some of us young guys, we were gung-ho. We wanted to go to battle. We wanted to get in as soon as we could on a big ship and fight the Japanese.” Therefore, Fred entered an OGU (outgoing unit) and headed cross-country for two weeks of gunnery training at Treasure Island Armed Guard Center, near San Francisco. Fred describes how once there, “They said, ‘You are in the armed guard.’ And I said, ‘What in the world is the armed guard?’ I don’t want to guard something. I’m thinking I’m going to be guarding something like a building.” Later he realized this meant he would be a gunner on a merchant ship.
Next, Fred headed for anti-aircraft training at Point Montana, California. He recalls training drills where biplanes flew overhead pulling a sleeve, which gunners aimed and shot at. “A couple of the guys were so young and naïve that they were shooting at the biplane! Up in the tower they yelled, ‘You dumb blankety-blanks! You don’t shoot at the biplane, you shoot at the sleeve!’” Despite such errors, most of the young sailors received ship assignments after training. On June 15, 1943, Fred was sent to Portland, Oregon, and was assigned to the SS Ephraim W. Baughman, a new Liberty ship from the Henry Kaiser shipyard. From Portland, Fred went to Long Beach, California, to pick up supplies. The trip was also a “shake-down cruise.” “We were assigned to take trucks, je
eps and other equipment to India. Of course we didn’t know at this point it [the destination] was India where the cargo would help build the Burma Road.” Fred remembers they took so many supplies that every available space on the ship was used for storage. The ship was packed, cargo holds were filled and “stuff was even on the deck.”
The Baughman ready, Fred and his shipmates sailed to Wellington, New Zealand, where they refueled and obtained water, and then to Perth, Australia, where they got orders. Next the ship sailed to Colombo, Ceylon, where they dropped off supplies to make the ship lighter so they could navigate the Hugli River to their final destination, Calcutta, India. During the journey the sailors were warned that many of the surrounding islands were occupied by the Japanese. They were given strict orders to sound general quarters if they saw anything suspicious. Fred recalls, “So I’m up on the bow and I’m looking out at the water and I saw something in the water on the horizon, and I said, ‘My God, what’s that?’ I said, ‘It has to be a plane.’ I pushed the alarm for general quarters. Everybody was running to their battle stations and all of a sudden it flapped its wings. It was an albatross! I was never so embarrassed in all my life.” Inexperience was no excuse for such a mistake. As a result, Fred adds, “boy I got razzed good!” About a week later in the Indian Ocean, he saw something else but decided against reporting it. Fred explains, “See, I didn’t want to make two mistakes. I’d rather die, but I’m not going to make two mistakes in one trip.” The bridge did eventually report the object. General quarters were once again sounded. The gunnery officer said it looked like a Jap sub, so they started firing at it. The captain came out, looked and shouted, “It’s a sea turtle!” The concerns of the sailors were not unfounded, as they soon saw firsthand. Two weeks before they arrived in Ceylon, the Japanese had bombed the harbor. Ship masts could be seen sticking out of the water.
After leaving Ceylon and going up the Hugli River to Calcutta, Fred found many more life lessons awaiting him. There he encountered an alien Indian culture. He remembers how the people there were either very rich or very poor. “I was surprised by the lack of respect for human life in India.” Several events he experienced lent credence to this viewpoint. On one occasion when an Indian shoreman was unloading deck cargo, a large truck fell down and landed on top of the Indian man. As the Americans tried desperately to get the man out, the Indians just sat around. Fred is still shocked by this casual concern for life. He showed a concern for human life in the face of the many who lacked it. One evening a bunch of the guys went to a “house of ill repute,” and Fred went along with them. When he got there, he met a girl who couldn’t have been much older than fourteen. He was shocked to see the depths to which some would sink in their struggle with poverty. Even now, with deep emotion he relates, “I felt so bad, I just couldn’t do it. So I gave her all the money I had, about a hundred rupees, and waited for the other guys outside.” When the guys asked him to join them next time, he said no.
But there was another side to India. Fred learned more about the goodness of people there. Although he wasn’t much of a drinker, calling himself a “shameful Irishman,” from time to time he would go out with the guys. On one particular occasion, he left behind several of his personal possessions at the nightspot. Once he realized he had lost the items, Fred thought for sure that they were gone. The next morning, much to his surprise, there was a poor little Indian boy standing outside the ship with his things. Fred stood there, amazed that this boy who had nothing would return his stuff. His eyes begin to swell with tears as he continues to recall how he took the little boy out to buy him some new clothes and gave him his remaining rupees. The money and clothes he gave seemed to be the least he could do in return for the lessons that he had learned.
From Calcutta, the Baughman went back to Ceylon. There, Fred notes with a tone of shame, he went out with a few of his buddies and came back with a tattoo of a navy symbol. Perhaps it was an act of camaraderie, possibly a moment of rash fun or a way to escape the intensity he encountered in India. It was not why he got a tattoo but more what he had tattooed that bothers Fred. As he rolls up his sleeve to reveal the tattoo on his arm, he explains that it was an English navy symbol, not an American one. “So young, I never thought to explain [to the tattoo artist] which navy symbol.” This mistake was one he would keep quiet when he returned home, particularly because of his Irish background. “My mother would have killed me,” he notes with a stern face.
The fleet left Ceylon and went through the Suez Canal to Alexandria, Egypt. Then they crossed the Mediterranean Sea on their way to the Straits of Gibraltar. Of this leg of his journey Fred recalls, “We were warned that the Germans were disguising themselves as Swedish merchant ships. Of course being young, you’re looking at everything.” It was not until they pulled into Alexandria, however, that Fred and his fellow sailors saw their first German bomber. Even though the plane was out of range, Fred admits, “everyone wanted to fire. You wanted to get into battle. Here we are, we didn’t even know.” The sailors remained alert through the Mediterranean as news of a supposed alliance between France and Italy spread. Fred heard rumors that France might send spies out to attach bombs to Allied ships. Thus, his ship dropped depth charges off the sides as they went through the Mediterranean to blow up any possible subs or spies. Once past Gibraltar, they crossed the Atlantic for home.
Despite all the dangers, Fred “made it all around the world, twenty-five thousand miles,” entering the port of Baltimore. Although they were back in the United States, Fred recalls that they were quarantined during Thanksgiving. They were given an elaborate spread, but Fred most vividly recalls he “drank milk until it was running down [my] chin.” He was quite fed up with powdered milk. Finally, on December 6, 1943, he was released from quarantine.
Following his twenty-day leave in Pittsburgh, he was sent to an armed guard station in Brooklyn, New York. On January 5, 1944, he received his next assignment to the SS James Lykes, a C2 ship (an all-purpose cargo ship, noted for speed). Leaving from an ammunition depot in New Jersey, he knew they would be carrying explosives. What Fred says he did not know was how expendable the navy considered them to be. As the convoy crossed the Atlantic, headed for England, he said the Lykes always traveled in the corner of the formation. He now believes it was to prevent a hit on the Lykes from taking out the rest of the convoy. Fred also remembers the ships using flags and lights for communication to keep the enemy from picking up their radio signals. Once in England, the ship stopped at the east coast town of Hull and London to deliver the bombs. By the time he was in London, Fred says he was due for a second leave. However, an officer told Fred he was to round up six of his best men to go on a troop transport ship for the invasion of Normandy. Again Fred recalls feeling young and expendable, as he learned that they were not necessarily the best or the brightest but they were single. “We ran into the six married men we were replacing when we got on the ship and they were getting off.” Nonetheless, Fred Seifert became a third-class petty officer and gun captain assigned to the SS Lee S. Overman on April 17, 1944.
The Overman, carrying fusiliers or British infantry, headed down the Thames River. Fred thought they were heading for Calais, France, where many thought a battle would occur. To his surprise, however, they sat out in the open in the Thames Estuary for several days. “They [British infantry] were aboard for a couple of weeks. And we thought, ‘What in the heck? Why would we have them this long?’” Fred noticed that on the English shore, “what they had were tanks and trucks, but there was one thing…they weren’t real!” This inflatable weaponry on shore, he realized, were decoys. In addition, they were given very specific rules of engagement. Fred describes, “We were told [if we saw] any aircraft coming over, German aircraft, ‘do not fire at them unless they come at you.’ In other words, if they are flying over you, let them see you.”
While it did not occur to him until later, like the tanks on southern England, they, too, were serving as decoys. “We were put out there for bait,�
�� Fred exclaims, furthering his notion that young sailors were expendable to the navy. Fred admits that the decoy worked. Hitler expected Allied troops at Calais, the closest point from England to France. To the west, in Southampton, the real invasion force was embarking. Fred recalls how after their stint as decoys they headed to Normandy, to the primarily Canadian landing point, Juno Beach, to drop off the British troops. June 6 was rapidly approaching, and they realized that they would not make it in time for D-Day. While their fleet hurried toward Juno, German shore batteries fired as they passed single file between the Cliffs of Dover and the Calais shore. “We couldn’t see them…we couldn’t even fire back because those projectiles, they could hurl those twenty miles or more,” explains Fred. Although projectiles were all around, the Overman did not get hit; only one ship in their fleet did. Finally on June 8, 1944, two days after D-Day, the Overman arrived at Juno Beach in Normandy.
The New Year’s Day issue of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette featured a cartoon by the city’s beloved Cy Hungerford. This cartoon gives strong warning of the D-Day invasion, still more than five months away. Senator John Heinz History Center.
Even though he was a gunner, as part of the new transporter, one of Fred’s duties was to take soldiers from the ship to land. This gave him his first real glimpse of the tragedy of war. “When I saw that beach, it was a mess!” Fred says. “My God, there was litter all over the place.” Although he was not supposed to get off the landing craft, Fred says, as a curious young man, he ventured off a few times to see the excitement. “You could see the bursting of shells,” Fred remembers. “You could hear everything. The planes going overhead. It was like a real war scene. I don’t think you realize you are going through it at the time because you’re so keyed up.” A burly beach master instructed the men: “Get off the beach. Keep moving inland! You don’t stop! There are only two kinds of men here, the living and the dead. If you’re living, keep movin’!” The troops did not always heed such directions. Oftentimes, the men would gather souvenirs among the debris. Fred collected a Thompson submachine gun, German projectiles and a German belt. Fred recalls, “I picked up the stuff and thought, ‘I’m gonna bring it home.’ But what the hell am I gonna do with a Thompson submachine gun? Well, it ended up in the ocean because I got scared. They had this thing that, when [we] were coming back, not to bring anything. So I threw it all! And I could have snuck it in…but I was naïve.”
Pittsburgh Remembers World War II Page 8
