Why I Joined the Navy

Powell Black

March, 2006

In 1941, I was a student at a business college in Roanoke, Va. and had completed two years. As I had no desire to join the Army and live in rain, snow, ice, mud and the other such stuff the Army guys had to contend with, I wanted to beat the draft. I was only twenty years old and "ripe" for the draft to come calling.

On Sunday, December 7, we had finished dinner after church and for desert my mom sent me to the store to get ice cream. I had obtained it and was heading home, when I heard on the car radio that Pearl Harbor had been bombed. I had never heard of Pearl Harbor, but I hurried home as fast as I could and listened to the radio news accounts the rest of the day and night and days and nights following. (No TV back then.) Two weeks later I joined the Navy. Since I could type, the Navy enlisted me as a Yeoman Third Class, an office clerk.

Before the war ended, I had changed my rating from Yeoman to Mailman and was first class when discharged. Could have made Chief but was ready to return home to my wife and son. As my shipmates will recall, mail was more important than payday.

I was sent to Norfolk for boot camp and the CPO drilling master was a famous baseball player: Bob Feller. The weather was cold and I stood many watches along with the other sailors. For those who boot-camped at Great Lakes, I'm sure they would feel the weather there was much more severe than what we faced. I had played the tuba in my high school band and the marching at boot camp came easily to me; in fact, I enjoyed it.

My first assignment after boot camp was in the Exec's office aboard the USS RELIEF, a hospital ship. We sailed up the east coast to Maine and stayed there several months. One day I was detailed to Great Diamond Island, off the coast of Portland, as Yeoman for a newly established Fleet Communications office. There, we received messages from convoys heading to and returning from the war zone. We teletyped them to Boston, our "home office," and sent Boston's messages to the ships at sea.

From there, I was sent to Miami for sub chasing school but before completing the course, was transferred to Washington and served a year or so in the office of Naval Personnel.

From there I was sent to Pier 92 in New York City for "further transfer" to whatever ship needed a Yeoman. The ship to which I was to be attached was a Navy Transport ship and when I was loaded on the truck delivering sailors going to different ships my stop happened to be the last one. Unfortunately, or fortunately for me, the ship had sailed and I was returned to Pier 92. It was from there that I was transferred to the USS EURYALE AS22 as a plank owner to put her in commission (ready for sea duty.) My fellow shipmates know the rest of the story, as Paul Harvey says.

I was sent to Norfolk from Sasebo, Japan, in November of 1945, discharged in December and returned to Roanoke. In 1947 I began what turned out to be a ten year struggle (literally) to obtain a commission in the Naval Reserves. (The name has now been changed to simply Navy Reserves.) Because I did not have a college degree, the Navy turned down every effort I made to get one. My career was as City Manager, and I had been manager of two cities when I became manager of Aiken, SC. My city attorney, Henry Busby, had been an enlisted man in WW I and was a law partner of our "favorite son" Strom Thurmond. Henry had sent several letters to Strom explaining my situation and stressing my desire for a commission. In 1957 -- ten years after I began my effort -- Strom was on a China visit with other senators and Naval officers. He was able to "tell my story" to the then Chief of Naval Personnel. Subsequently, later that year, I received a direct commission as a Lieutenant. (Same rank as a captain in ther Army and Air Force.) Fortunately, I was able to skip Ensign and Ltjg.

During the next twenty-eight years I was Commanding Officer of several Reserve units in several different states. My last command was CO of the Navy's East Coast Training Command, only such unit on the east coast (there also was only one on the west coast.) My unit's mission was to retrain in-coming sailors should we go to war with Russia during the Cold War era. At one time we were on stand-by when the Cuban crisis happened. Subsequently, I was fortunate to be appointed CO to every unit to which I was assigned except one. Weekend travel to drills took me from Florence and Sumter to cities such as Raleigh and Wilmington, NC; Greenville, Charleston and Columbia, SC; and as far away from Birmingham, AL to Charleston, SC. I thoroughly enjoyed my Navy years.

In 1981 I reached the mandatory retirement age of sixty and received a "Dear John" letter from the Navy thanking me for my "dedicated service, etc., etc." I was shifted to the Fleet Reserve. At the time I had risen in rank to Captain and was only one year short of getting in the zone for consideration for promotion to Rear Admiral. I may never have obtained it, but I felt it an honor to get that far. For a kid who had been reared in an orphanage and to come this far, I have thanked God many times for what He did for me in my City Hall career (30 years) and my Naval Reserve career (4 WW II and 28 reserve = 32 years.)

I could add more experiences to this but feel this pretty well summarizes my experiences. As my shipmates realized so well, as enlisted personnel we served where we were sent by the Navy and had no way to get on a war ship to see action at sea. Requests for transfer to do so were not encouraged nor accepted, so far as I know. Matter of fact, I had requested such a transfer to serve with the captain of a troop transport who had been my Executive Officer when I was on the RELIEF but the request was turned down. The XO was a full Commander, and I thought he "hung the moon." Naturally, I was disappointed; however, as things turned out they seemed to have turned out for the best.

(My brother was a minister with a church in upstate New York. He joined the Army and was a chaplain with Patton's Third Army and returned home before I did after war was over.)

Powell sends an invitation to all of you to send in your story:

I think it would be a good idea if some of the other shipmates would send their stories like I did to let us know what happened to them and their families after the war. For instance, Bill's story was great and led me to send mine; however, I know nothing of his career after he was discharged. Same with the others. --Powell

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