New Home 

(Bremerton, Washington:13 October 1941)

It’s my new home: the United States Ship Colorado (BB-45), also known by its crew as the “Buckin’ Bronco.” All 624 feet and 32,000 tons of her. Almost done with a fresh overhaul and renovation right here at Puget Sound Navy Yard. I looked up a little of her history and found out she was “born” (launched) one year before I was. We’re just about the same age. One of the senior medical guys told me that a few years ago this ship was searching for Amelia Earhart. Now it’s likely we’ll be searching for somebody else. After I came aboard, they gave me this nice little “Sailor’s Souvenir Handybook” that I can use as a diary on those days when something especially worth noting occurs.

Infamy 

(Bremerton, Washington: 7 December 1941)

The Japanese attacked us today at Pearl Harbor. Details sketchy. More we hear the worse it sounds. There’s no doubt it’s time for us to rise and shine. Last bit of re-fit completed. Time to get us out of our safe docks and into the ocean where we can live up to the oaths we swore so easily at time of induction.

Romance 

(Somewhere on the Ocean: 14 February 1942)

It’s Saint Valentine’s Day. But instead of mailing a card back home to Luiza, I’m getting ready for my first “real” action of this war. Popular opinion on board the Buckin’ Bronco is we are finally going out to meet the Japanese fleet. I welcome the opportunity. The past weeks of routine patrolling of ports on the west coast have been less than stimulating. (Location of where we are heading is not yet disclosed.)

Jealousy 

(San Francisco, California: 3 March 1942)

Arrived in “Frisco” yesterday. One of my shipmates from the Bay Area told me most residents here never call it “Frisco.” He claims it’s mostly tourists who call it that. He says he calls it “The City.”  Regardless of all that, in the afternoon I had my first extended liberty since being assigned to the Colorado. Lots to do and see compared to Oregon. I won’t tell Luiza how semi-tipsy I got at dinner out with a few crew-mates. We had thin spaghetti in thick red sauce—and several pitchers of Anchor beer. I’m feeling okay. Physically, I mean—but mentally . . . well I just wish we had seen some real action already beyond these routine patrols and practice drills. It’s embarrassing when we run into guys from the other ships who’ve actually been engaging with the enemy.

Boom 

(Somewhere on the Ocean: 27 March 1942)

Mild weather today. Had a firing run, testing some Buckin’ Bronco big guns, especially the two new 38 caliber 5-inchers. Might need some stronger ear plugs.

Pen Man Ship

(San Francisco, California: 31 March 1942)

Back in San Francisco after our latest practice sessions. Will be here a few days awaiting revised orders. Gives me time for writing letters to Luiza and to Mom.

Craving More Dope

(Somewhere on the Ocean: 14 April 1942)

Finally—something kind of definite. Going out to Midway they say. But not much advance dope on what we’ll be doing. But at least, at last, it feels like real action—actual service. Yeah, finally!

Salad Days 

(Long Beach, California: 10 May 1942)

Back in California for a couple of days for more routine maintenance. No shots fired at the enemy yet—haven’t even had them in our sights. For all they keep saying about us “protecting” the Bay Area from Japanese invasion, I think some guy with a lot of fruit salad on his chest is afraid to let us get right in up close.

Clean Up

(Somewhere in the West Coast Waters: 13 May 1942)

I think we’re just heading back to San Francisco. Again. Most productive thing we’ve done out at sea is dump some garbage overboard.

Yon Yawn  

(San Francisco, California: 15 May 1942)

Yup—San Francisco again. Frisco! The City! Whichever! Ho-hum.

Head Is Up 

(Somewhere on the Ocean: 31 May 1942)

At last—maybe something significant? I think we may be headed for the Coral Sea.

Have A Heart 

(Long Beach, California: 19 June 1942)

Again. Another fake. Maybe they don’t know what they actually want the Colorado to do. If all we are is a decoy . . . a scarecrow . . . instead of a Buckin’ Bronco . . .

Is as Good as Mine

(Somewhere on the Ocean: 22 June 1942)

Rumor is we’re going somewhere other than back and forth around the Golden Gate Bridge.

Waiting for the Earthquake

(San Francisco, California: 24 June 1942)

That old song: “California, here I come! Right back where I started from!” Frisco is starting to really bore me.

Board Game 

(Somewhere on the Ocean: 19 July 1942)

Same old, same old. We’ve been doing this routine so often lately it doesn’t feel like we’re really in the war.

Possible and Plausible 

(Somewhere on the Ocean: 1 August 1942)

Just swimming in circles?

Back to the Beginning 

(Pearl Harbor: 14 August 1942)

This is the place where it started . . .

Credibility

(Somewhere on the Ocean: 2 September 1942)

Looks more like it. Maybe we will get a chance to wipe off that insulting “Fisherman’s Wharf Commandos” nickname. Sometimes annoying to run into some of the battle-tested sailors at the bars around Market Street.

In the Hold 

(Somewhere on the Ocean: 11 September 1942)

Nothing yet. A sailor can get discouraged.

Street Smarts 

(Somewhere on the Ocean: 1 October 1942)

I guess the upper brass thinks we are hopeless. It’s tiresome being called a “Fisherman’s Wharf Commando.” Although I suppose it’s no worse than being called a “Market Street Regular.” Or even “Irregular.”

Dress Rehearsal? 

(Somewhere on the Ocean: 20 October 1942)

Can’t they tell we’re ready?

Noses Supposes 

(Pearl Harbor: 22 October 1942)

Nothing but the smell of oil and grease. And something fouler my nostrils can’t identify.