Our carrier, the U.S.S. Yorktown, dropped anchor on September 16, 1945 in Tokyo Bay.

Emil Guimeno Arvada, Colorado

The next day about twenty of us men from our Division (V1A) were volunteered (the navy way) to go ashore to bring back paint to use to paint the ship. I was the first to go aboard a whaleboat followed by Earnest Montoya and Kenny Glassman, both close buddies from East Denver. I immediately sat at the bow of the whaleboat. The whaleboat took us to a Yokohama pier.

There were three Japanese men standing by a warehouse. One of the Japanese walked to the stem on the pier. Since I was at the bow of the whaleboat, the boatswain mate asked me to anchor the whaleboat. The Japanese standing by the stem and facing us were bowing from the waist. When I jumped off the whaleboat to the pier, the Japanese straightened up. It scared the hell out of me since we’d been told that many of the Japs would commit suicide to kill Americans! Instead, the Japanese took the line and helped me anchor the whaleboat to the stem.

When we were off the whaleboat, we noticed to our port side that there were many small submarines. We walked toward the small submarines to get a better look. Looking up to our starboard side, we noticed that it was a 2-Man submarine assembly line. We decided to walk uphill (about two city blocks) to see how the small submarines were assembled. Walking up hill we observed many steel columns and overhead I-beams and small cranes to move the assembly line of the manufacture of the 2-Man submarines. At the top, we all separated to better see how the small subs were assembled.

At the top of the 2-Man subs, small round hoops in various sizes were tack welded or clamped together by strips of steel and then hauled down to the next station where steel plates were welded to the steel hoops. Then the frames and the steel plates were turned around so that the steel plates would be attached to the bottom. Then machinery and batteries were positioned in place. Then the gadgets and controls were installed and the steel plating was welded over the submarines.

At the top, looking to my right I could see hundreds of small subs. I assume they were finished and ready to be delivered. We assumed that the 2-Man submarines were to be used in the defense of their homeland.

Later, while on liberty in Tokyo and Yokosuka, I found the Japanese civilians to be very friendly. The purpose of going to Yokosuka was to obtain paint for painting the ship. From where we anchored the whaleboat, we walked about three city blocks between warehouses eventually coming to a cave in the side of a hill. This is where the paint was stored. We walked into the cave, walking between rails which were used by rail cars to haul paint in and out of the cave. It was dark.

We were walking through what we thought was puddles of water. Only the lieutenant and the chief, who were in the lead, had flashlights so us men followed by placing a hand on the shoulder of the man in front of us. We were ordered to carry two five-gallon cans of paint in each hand. Upon reaching the cave entrance, we discovered that, what we thought was water, was actually spilled paint. The paint cans had been opened and emptied in the cave in order to keep us from using the paint.

The next day, and for weeks following, we scrapped and painted the ship. In the armory we did what we called the Yorktown shuffle. We placed large pads of steel wool on the deck, we placed our feet on a pad of steel wool and we shuffled across the deck to the sound of the most beautiful music ever written in the 1940’s music that got us thinking of home and our families.

The U.S.S. Yorktown was never hit (full force) by Kamikazes. To this day, I believe the Yorktown escaped being hit because Father Moody blessed the ship. I am now eighty-six years old and I believe that no greater guys have existed than my buddies from the Yorktown.


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Later, after the war, General MacArthur was flying to Japan in a big bomber. He was escorted by several army fighter airplanes. At a certain point our navy pilots from the ship were to take over and escort his bomber to a small airport outside of Tokyo, which was not necessary since the war was over. One of the pilots from the ship got an idea. He got a fartsack (a bed sheet) and had a message printed in big letters on the fartsack for the glory-seeking general to see. It read,


“THE YORKTOWN WELCOMES YOU GENERAL”

 Then the pilot flew to a small airport and he convinced the Japanese person in charge to unfold the sheet on the building as the general stepped off the bomber. In the meantime, the small airport was surrounded by army MP’s to protect the general. Anyway, it was later related that MacArthur exited the bomber.

He walked down the steps and, as he set foot on the ground, he noticed the message from the Yorktown. He became furiously angry and he sent a message to our ship to have the insolent pilot properly punished. Of course, hell would freeze over before any body aboard the ship would reveal the name of the pilot.



More loyalty to Yorktown shipmates by Yorktown sailors


During my time aboard Yorktown and I suppose for all times, men who became bonded together by job assignment or exposure to dangerous activity developed a loyalty to one another that often superseded or outweighed loyalty to ship and country.


Anyone who served aboard Yorktown and was ever on a working party to rig and unrig for a movie remembers it was a hard, aggravating job especially if everyone on the party list didn’t show up.


Mess deck benches were heavy and hard to manage while snaking them up two decks then unfolding and placing them into position behind the officers chairs.


The same working party unrigged and brought the benches back to the mess deck. It was a pain in the butt job to put it mildly.
After being on this assignment a couple of times I was thankful to be on watch during movie time because most of the movies we were shown weren’t worth the trouble.


Often the petty officer in charge, usually a boatswains mate, didn’t bother with a roll call if an eyeball inspection determined enough men were on hand for the job. I wasn’t on this particular party but two of my division mates in another watch crew were. The two 2nd division men decided to skip the movie and the working party choosing instead a black jack game down below.
Because the BM was shorthanded he took a head count and these two men found themselves on report. In those days depending on the mood of the captain an offense like this could mean anywhere from ten to twenty extra duty hours and no telling, if he decided an example must be set.


The two criminals sought the help of a third man who did show up for the working party and asked him to lie to the captain, saying the BM was mistaken, they were there. This is expected of close friends
It was his word against the BM’s and even if no resolution could be reached and the BM was given benefit of the doubt the friend’s testimony would at least lighten the sentence.
 

The two men were called before the captain together with their witness who was off to one side and out of hearing range of the proceedings.
Seeing the captain was in a good mood and dishing out light sentences they decided to admit guilt and throw themselves on the mercy of the court.
“Captain I was just so damn tired I could hardly put one foot in front of other, I’m sorry, it will never happen again.” “See that it don’t, dismiss these men”.
 

All this time faithful friend is to the side and couldn’t hear the guilty plea and disposition of the case. The captain was about to leave when he saw him and asked what he was there for. “Captain I’m here to tell you both of those men were at that working party, I was there, I saw them and I am willing to swear they were there” 


“Son you stuck your neck out for your friends and I like to see that kind of loyalty among the men in this crew, but you lied to me and I don’t like that; twenty hours extra duty.”  The man accepted his punishment and only stayed PO’ed at his friends for a few days. Like all men of good will, once a friend is in their good book, mistakes are forgiven.

Willie LaGarde




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