The Sixth Voyage of the George D. Prentice   By Ted Day, AB as Told to Bill Richmond

I was referred to the George D. Prentice in October 1945, San Francisco, CA, myself and Jack Cuthbert, an SIB member from Buffalo, NY who had sailed Libertys from the east coast. The ship was manned by one port engineer who had steam in one boiler and heat in the foc'sle. The main reason for two AB's being hired was to on-load an oil burning galley unit and off-load the coal unit when it had been replaced.

The oil unit arrived and Jack checked it and said it was pretty heavy, so we winged a boom over the side at #4 hatch. The port engineer gave us steam on deck. Jack drove the winches and I signalled. As I was removing the slings a small man of about fifty or sixty and about five feet tall and wearing a suit out of the 1920's approached me and said in a very loud voice that I should have moved the galley unit on my back and carried it aboard.

I asked him who the hell he was and he yelled back, "I am the master of this vessel." That's how I met Captain Louis LeBounic. I felt like walking off right there. But I had never sailed on a Liberty and the opportunities were diminishing. I also got along well with my fellow AB and future watch partner. So I just said, "In the future I'll try to second guess you better." This did not seem to thrill him, but I was still mad.

Following is roughly how the rest of the trip went, and looking back it was a hell of a lot of fun.

They then hired enough crew to move the ship from Pier 92 to Pier 45 right at Fisherman's Wharf. This was the first time I had really gotten to know the area, and it was a lot of fun in 1945. One of the crew was a fireman from San Diego, one of the brightest and funniest persons I have ever met before or since.

In the next two or three weeks I think that I only left the wharf area two or three times. The food in those days was great and cheap, and there was always something to do.

The First Mate was P. E. O'Berry or "Mr. Mate" or "Chief." I cannot remember the second and third mates names. I called them "Mr. Mate." I sailed the whole voyage on the 12 to 4, and the Third Mate was officer of that watch&endash;a really nice guy. I didn't know the Second Mate very well.

The Bos'n's first name was Eddie. The carpenter, who's name I can't remember, was called Chips. These two would influence things on the trip until Bos'n Eddie was locked up in Bilibid Prison for stealing two laundry bags of new sheets and trying to sell them in Manila.

We had a huge deck load of heavy crates. I don't remember what was in them. The runway forward was higher than the boat deck. With all gear topped we left San Francisco a short time after signing on in early November 1945.

We sailed great circle to Okinawa where the deck cargo was consigned. I have no recollection of the date we arrived. Loaded to the gunnels, it must have taken us close to a month to move the voyage.

This was my first trip with no armed guard or cadets. There was just the crew of 33 I believe, and we soon knew who our friends and non-friends would be. The 12 to 4 consisted of Jack, myself and an ordinary called Shorty. We had our problems at first but ended up good friends.

Jack had a lot of sea time and was a very good AB. I had only 10 months, and I had a lot to learn and Jack was patient. I tried hard to learn from what his experience had told him was right. Seamanship is more than knots, splicing, rigging and standing watch. It's more of which knot, which splice, which rigging for each job and when. Jack helped me a lot.

I know we were in Okinawa on New Year's Day 1946. We had trouble with our Jumbo Gear and had to order a new part; the lower block on our 50 ton Jumbo. It took about two weeks to get. The Jumbo rigging took at least a week to repair. At last we got a book on the subject from another ship. The Jumbo finished, we off-loaded the deck cargo and headed for Manila. It took about a week to make Manila.

We spent a lot of time at anchor, and I don't remember when we got to, I believe, Pier 45 in South Harbor. We might have off-loaded part of the cargo at anchorage, but we finally got to the pier, the only pier left in South Harbor at the time.

The old walled city was just a few blocks away and it was still as it was when the army retook Manila&endash;destroyed! The bridges over the Pasig River were intact or rebuilt and it was an easy trip to downtown Manila.

Some new buildings were being built right next to big piles of rubble on Razon St and Quezon Blvd. We took trips to Cavite and watched service baseball teams play. Somewhere on Dewey Blvd we lost our Bos'n as previously noted. He was replaced with my watch partner Jack Cuthbert.

We acquired another AB, but I can't even remember him. An AB called Pappy moved to the 12-4. He was the only man on deck with a wife and family. We received word that we were going to Toamasina, Madagascar and then on to Marseilles, France. It sounded good to us. We'd never been to Europe.

After off-loading we had gone back to the hook for some period of time. We managed to paint most of the hull, and we were all ready for France. We left Manila some time in February 1946. We sailed the Straits of Malacca to Singapore. Only the purser, the deck engineer, one officer, and one AB went ashore. We were there less than one day. We took on ballast to get the screw down.

We spent over three weeks headed for Madagascar. En route we received a change in orders. We were to proceed to Cape Town. This was the most enjoyable time I ever spent at sea. The weather was fantastic all the way to the Horn. There we encountered some heavy seas. I read a lot of good books. One of the firemen was teaching me how to box. We all had a terrific time.

And, of course, there was the crossing of the equator. There was a lot of looking for lost shellback cards and taking of oaths that they crossed on such and such a day, such and such a year. The King Neptune Board was convened and laid down the law. With no valid card, you were a polliwog and you would stand initiations. The crosstrees were full of gooney birds waving their hands and making strange noises. The throwing of a heavy shackle overboard while connected to ones genitals with sail twine, a haircut, crawling through garbage, a leap from the boat deck to a pool constructed next to #4 hatch, and kissing Queen Neptune's ass concluded the festivities.

About five days from Capetown Chips and the 2nd cook, a black fellow named Joe, got into a fight. Chips broke Joe's jaw. His jaw swelled up along with his whole face. He looked awful. We had no one to set his jaw. He had to tough it out on codeine.

We made Capetown sometime in March 1946. Crowds in fishing boats, pleasure boats, fire boats met us. I never found out why. The battleship Mighty Mo probably received ovations no more joyous than the little George D. Prentice did in Capetown. There was a large crowd on the pier when we tied up. A Capetown official gave us some advice on where not to go in Capetown. Capetown it seems has wards, and we were advised to avoid, we'll say, Ward 3 and 5. After port passes were issued our biggest problem seemed to be how to get to wards 3 and 5.

Joe, the 2nd cook, was taken ashore to have his jaw mended. I never saw him again. It wasn't until years later that I realized that poor black Joe had been put ashore in one of the most racially biased places in the world. I hope that Joe's US citizenship put him in good stead, and that he was soon home. We were in Capetown for two or three days. We sailed for Takoradi to load manganese.

I believe it was on the northward leg that Chips was in trouble again. He had purchased some grass in Capetown. Between the booze and the grass he was crazy. He picked a fight with the chief mate and O'Berry promptly flattened him. Chips was taken to his quarters and told to stay there until he sobered up. He stayed there about five minutes. Chips was big enough and mean enough to scatter quite a few people. Thank god he was slow. The Chief Mate appeared at the rear ladder to the deck with the purser, who would be useless, and a side arm which might be useful. Chips was sitting on the starboard side of the #4 hatch watching the approach of the vigilantes. The first mate was big, about 6 foot 2, and weighing 240ish. Chips had remembered that O'Berry had whipped his ass earlier. He didn't move, that is until he saw the handcuffs. The mate told the bos'n to get a couple of ABs and stand by. This was a matter of safety of the ship. Jack got a big kid from Sacramento and myself and we fell in behind the mate. Chips finally gave in and was escorted to the old armed guard quarters aft. He was handcuffed to a bunk and told to lay there until he sobered up.

The posse broke up and went forward. Two hours later Chip's screaming could be heard all over the ship. He then dismantled the bunk rack with his bare hands. He made it to the passageway with the bunk rack. But when he reached the storm door to go out on deck, he could not get the bunk to fit through the door. He sat down on the deck side of the door. It was getting dark. The next morning Chips was himself. A school teacher from Oregon, he was as nice a guy as you would want to know. Drunk he was something else.

I have no idea of how long it took to get to Takoradi. I'll say 10 to 15 days. We arrived and it looked beautiful from the anchorage. We could see the manganese loading docks with their conveyor belts. Takoradi was a very small town or village. Sekondi, a bigger town, was not far. Accra, beyond, was called a city. Some of the crew went to Accra a few times and said it wasn't really a city. I don't know. I never went.

One morning the captain, the purser, and the deck engineer took our life boat, which we had put over the side, loaded it with about 4 cases of cigarettes, and headed for shore. Only a couple of people saw this. About 6 hours later the deck engineer and the purser returned. The purser had a full high pressure uniform on when they left, and he returned completely naked. No captain and no cigarettes. The deck engineer was feeling no pain. The chief mate sent one of the other mates, an AB, and the deck engineer back ashore to find the captain. They were back, captain and all, in about an hour. About three weeks later in Freetown we ran out of cigarettes. There purser bought some English cigarettes that came in a round box. No one liked them, and most of us smoked Bull Durham or bought American cigarettes where we could find them. This incident was only important because the captain accused the crew of stealing cargo in Manila. This accusation was made to the Coast Guard after we reached Philadelphia. The crew countered with the cigarette theft.

We pulled along side the manganese pier and took on more than ten thousand tons of unshored manganese ore in about three days. The conveyors were really fast. When we went to leave the pier we found that the bow was aground. The tug that was assisting our departure managed to get the stern away from the pier. It then proceeded to try and pull us free stern first. We gave it full astern. Between our engine and the tug we were freed in an hour or so. We went back to our anchorage. A small boat checked our draft fore and aft and said it was alright. I don't remember if any of our officers were on that small boat or not.

We headed for Philadelphia. Three days out our engine's main bearings and the thrust bearing over heated. We reduced RPMs, and had fire hoses going on the bearings. I heard about this. I never saw it, and I know very little about the engine room. It was decided to make for Freetown which we did at a very reduced speed. We made Freetown and anchored.

The engine bearings, it was said, could be repaired by the crew, but the thrust bearing surfaces would have to be machined smooth and square. A 60+ year old English machinist was hired for the job. Every morning for over a month he arrived early in the morning with his black helper in a steam launch. They left daily late at night. They set up a cutting tool on the thrust unit, and then turned the shaft over with the jacking engine. It looked like 1 rev every 5 minutes or so. It took a hell of a long time to finish the cutting. In the meantime we continued our chores on deck.

The only place for recreation was the hotel. All the Englishmen hung out there. It was something out of the 19th century. The English did not approve of black bars and dances and such. All they had was their jobs and the hotel. It was really dull. Most of the crew attended the black functions. A lot of these people were well informed and could argue politics and economics very well and in English.

Just before the work on the thrust bearing was finished, one of the ABs named Mogan was hospitalized with some large lumps in his groin. The captain discharged him as a VD case. We checked with the doctors, and they said it was not VD but a lymph infection or something. As we were ready to leave, Mogan was still in the hospital, and we felt that we should protest. It was felt that if we refused to sail, it could be called mutiny. It was mixed up. I don't remember all of the arguments, but when it was time to sail, we sailed.

In a very short time we had bearing trouble again. We came back to Freetown, and it was decided to try to make Dakar at a reduced speed where we could have the thrust bearing removed and sent to a machine shop for repair. At sometime it was also decided that we were drawing too much forward. I assume that this was attended to, but I don't remember how or when.

We checked with Mogan who was still in the hospital, and told him when he was released to get a medical description of his illness and try to make it to Dakar. I never saw Mogan again. Mogan was a pleasure to be around. He was also a very fine artist. He made many sketches of places we had been. I would really liked to have bought some of them, but that's life.

We left for Dakar, sailing very slowly. I don't know how long it took to get there. We arrived in Dakar probably in late April. We were there a very short time compared to Freetown. We tied up to the breakwater.

French workers removed the top of the fiddley, ladders and other obstructions to the engine room. An offshore crane was pulled up alongside, lowered its hook into the engine room, and lifted the piece of shaft that the thrust bearing was a part of, and took it ashore to be machined in a shop.

Dakar was the best place, in my estimation, we had been on the whole trip. Nice shops. Good restaurants, bars, hotels, and white women. It was a very clean place. A lot of the crew purchased jewelry, carved ivory, scarfs, etc. All very African and very reasonable. The bearing was gone about a week. It was replaced along with the ladder, etc. I would say we were there less than two weeks. We put to sea to test the repairs. They seemed alright. It was great to hear the old Hendy engine turning its normal 75 or 76 rpms or whatever is normal.

We headed for Philadelphia. Two days out we found we had two French stowaways on board. They were employed in the steward's department scullery, tending to garbage, peeling, etc. Nobody in the crew talked French, and the stowaways spoke very little English, but they could pantomime anything. One would walk in front with his hands up. The other behind using his fingers as a gun and carrying a small American flag. I guess that was what they expected in the USA. They were always laughing, and everyone liked them. I hope they got to stay in this country.

We hit some very rough weather off Cape Hatteras, and it caused some concern about our unshored cargo, but it was no problem.

We arrived in Philadelphia some time in May 1946, and everyone was very glad to be home. We unloaded somewhere on the Delaware. We could take a train near the docks that went right to Market St. The Coast Guard hearings were always in the background. There was a lot of discussion about them. I was never notified that I would have to appear. I never was really involved. There were a lot of hearings, and then it seemed to peter out.

Suddenly we were told we were going to be paid off on a certain date, but at the last minute we were told that we were going to take the ship to Bayonne, NJ for dismantling. We took the ship to Bayonne where I thought dismantling was started. Since, I have learned that the ship was in service until 1954. I must have been wrong. This all happened 46 years ago. I know that what I have described did happen in the main. The details are probably how it seemed logical to me. The chronology may be wrong, that's the way I remember it.

We were paid off in June. Four or five of us from California flew out of Newark, NJ on a DC-3 cargo plane. We left the same night as the second Joe Louis-Billy Conn fight, and one of the aircrew would come out at the end of each round and tell us how it was going. We flew by way of Chicago, Omaha, Salt Lake City, Sacramento to Oakland. A few of us from the Bay Area kept in contact for a year or longer. Since we didn't live in the same cities, we just lost touch.

I was home a short time when the 1946 strike started. I stood picket duty from 6 pm to 12 am for a couple of weeks at one of the Matson docks. I was in the Hall getting my strike card stamped when a Victory was calling for a complete crew. I threw in my card and got a job. The ship was cleared for the strike, and I started over again.

We checked with the Hall on Mogan. They said he had gotten home and got his wages retroactive. That's about it. The Liberty, with its smaller crew, was much more together feeling than any other ship I was ever on. I liked them very much. I would love to do it once more, but at 65 I don't feel it will ever happen. But I do have memories, and right or wrong, you have them too.

Theodore Carl Day
Able Bodied Seaman
1/15/28 - 10/15/96

As told to Bill Richmond

Jazz

Paris

Family

Tour of Alameda

Tour of San Francisco

Clinton Day Music