Alfred Smith was quite willing to relate his story as an enlisted man in the US Navy. Al was born and raised on the family farm on Greenland Road. His parents, Gus and May Smith ran the small dairy farm and Al attended school in Ontonagon until the 10th grade. At the age of 17, in his own words, “being tired of farm life and looking to see the world,” he enlisted in the US Navy. This was in August of 1944.  

We asked Al just where he served in the war. Which theatre of the war? In reply, he said that he went to Chicago for training and was then sent to California to report to his ship, the USS Burleigh, APA-95, a Bayfield Class attack transport that carried troops and landing craft to the Pacific combat zone. 

“We were the flagship of the 18th Amphibious Squadron,” Smith said, with some pride.

The Burleigh made numerous trips over the Pacific to carry troops and equipment, the first of which was to Hawaii, then to Guam, Saipan, and nearly all of the Marianas Islands. The ship was involved in combat once, for which it received a Battle Star award. During the first three years of his enlistment, Smith remained with this ship, for the most part. In the last year of his enlistment period, when the war had ended,  he worked on three different ships as different vessels were being decommissioned after the Japanese surrender. 

Smith recalled, “After the war was over we hauled troops back to the states, making at least half a dozen trips. There were Army and Marines as well as US Navy personnel. We were shorthanded aboard the ship all the time. We went from 40 men in our division to only four. Our watch hours were four hours per shift, round the clock, which didn’t provide much time for uninterrupted sleep. My enlistment ended in 1948. I had been gone for 3 years without a leave…”

Smith continued; “We returned to the states via the Panama Canal, and I was discharged at Norfolk. I had served on three different ships in the last year.”

Now we asked Al what his actual duty with the Navy was. He explained: “I had my own boat to run around and deliver troops. My boat was hanging outboard on the starboard side (of the Burleigh).” 

Al related that in crossing through a passageway from starboard to port he saw some fellows working in a compartment in the middle of the ship. He paused, out of curiosity, to look and watch and soon learned that the men were operating radar equipment. 

Radar was quite new to the US Navy, first being used in 1943-44. This was strictly high technology. 

Al went on: “Inquiring about the radar department, I was invited to transfer to this department. I was only a 10th-grade dropout and I didn’t think my transfer would be approved but it was! There was a program to earn different ratings based on hours of schooling. I had basically 40 people in the radar department answering my questions and helping me with my training. The vacuum tubes were the size of quart jars.” 

This was how Smith became a specialist.

“I became a radar operator and eventually got to be in charge of the ship’s radar,” he said.

He explained that a part of his job was correcting navigation charts.

“This is very detailed information such as the color of buoy lights and flash intervals, and landmarks. I only had to take care of where we were going to be in our area, but a lot of the islands didn’t have any harbors so there were buoys to guide, and torpedo barriers (nets) to protect the ships.”

Al mentioned one historical event: “We were there when the USS Indianapolis (a Portland Class heavy cruiser) delivered the atomic bomb that was to be dropped on Japan. This ship disappeared on its way home… nobody knew where it was. It turned out that it was sunk by a Japanese submarine.” 

The loss of the Indianapolis was especially stressful. Reportedly, 150 of the crewmen were attacked and eaten by sharks as they struggled in the water.   

“When we left there, they had found a few survivors...we had passed within 50 miles of where the Indianapolis was hit.”  (In relating this incident, Mr. Smith became emotional with the memory.)

We asked Al about collisions with other vessels.

“I was in three collisions….. The first was when we were entering Saipan and a big LST drifted over, and we sideswiped it,” he said, sharing there was minimal damage.

The second collision; “There are rules for the road, like on a street. As we entered a harbor, this other ship was supposed to do the signaling and maneuvering because we were coming in from the high seas. I was on the flying bridge at the time. We hit them amid-ships and put a big gouge on the starboard side….it started to take a lot of water. They patched us up temporarily; there was a big gash on the bow, so we could get back to the states for permanent repairs. While there, we heard the bomb had been dropped on Japan.”

When the war ended, there was a scramble to decommission vessels that were no longer needed for the war.

Smith went on; “I was on a destroyer, a destroyer escort, and then was transferred to a new destroyer…there was equipment I had never seen. We were given only a few days to learn how to operate things…there were manuals but all we could figure out was how to turn it on and find the frequency.  We had to learn how to operate the jamming equipment. As we were in port,  we practiced on a local TV station and jammed it.”

This effectively took the station off the air temporarily.  

There was quite a shortage of Naval personnel and Smith was called back for the Korean conflict after a year and a half, during which he had worked as a lineman for the Ontonagon County REA. 

“I had signed up for inactive reserve….I was called back in early 1950.  I was stationed on a  carrier…the USS Wasp.”

“Shortly before the big carrier was put back in commission, we redesigned the electronics and the flight deck.” 

Al now related one of those incidents that make for an unforgettable episode at sea.

“On the shake-down cruise, one evening we had two aircraft out and one was a twin-engine jet.  One of the engines went out….(the engine that provided power to the brakes on the aircraft.) We were moving at flank speed (24 knots).  The aircraft was approaching from the stern, without brakes.  We had the USS Hobson (DD-464 Gleaves class)  a destroyer, doing pick-up duty to rescue the pilot. We turned and hit the destroyer cutting it on two. 176 personnel on the Hobson went down but we saved about 61. The aircraft did make a successful landing aboard the carrier and hit the crash barrier.”*

“We lost 80 feet of the bow of the Wasp…..after picking up survivors, we headed back for the Brooklyn Navy yard. The weather began to get bad and the bow section was threatening to break off completely and then broke off, hanging onto the ship. Finally, it broke free. Personnel in the front quarters had to leave and some had to sleep on the hanger deck.  One of my other jobs was finding a place to sleep. I found a perch high in the superstructure.  

The seas got so bad we headed for New York in reverse to avoid caving in the forward compartments.  This incident took place in April of 1952.”

Upon arriving back in New York, Smith related, “The WASP was next to the USS Hornet, a sister ship which was in the same yard awaiting similar repairs to the bow.  There was a complete bow section waiting to be installed on the Hornet. Instead, the new bow section slated for the Hornet was now fitted to the WASP. “

We asked how long it took to make the repairs to the Wasp, and he recalled it was only about two weeks. 

Going on, “After being refitted, the Wasp was sent to Cuba….I was sent ashore in Cuba for advanced training in radar communications at Guantanamo, the Marine Base there. 

The radar training school was located on a mountain top. Smith’s record showed no formal training.

“My schooling was described as the school of hard knocks.” 

It seems that the radar instructor was a bit skeptical of Smith’s qualifications, but he was proved wrong.

Smith grew a bit pensive before relating the next part of his story. 

“Back on the Wasp, I was given the keys to the radar department. I was summoned to the quarter deck…I was introduced to two fellows from Hudson Motor Company. I was told by the officer on deck to show these guys around the ship and allow them to photograph anything and everything.  Parts of the ship were restricted areas…especially the radar and new antennas, etc.  The officer demanded that I follow his order to show these civilians around. When I protested,  I was told that if I didn’t, he would write me up.  

I took these civilians around and they took their pictures…I was also directed to explain the operation of the equipment.  There wasn’t a piece of equipment that wasn’t photographed in that department.  I fired the radar up and ran some navigation programs. I didn’t do anything that I didn’t absolutely have to do and explained as little as I could get by with.”

Smith explained that none of the other officers in charge were aboard or available so he had no recourse but to follow the orders of a single officer on deck and no way to double-check on this business of letting unauthorized personnel into high-security areas. 

“I finally told them to get out when they wanted access to the top security area. I later told the operations officer about the photographer and note taker who had invaded the ship. I was asked to repeat the story to a higher officer….word for word.  Several days later my division officer was asked about the conversation while on the quarter-deck. He was told to never bring the subject up again.”

This breach of security has continued to haunt Smith for nearly 70 years and he feels still a bit of guilt about complying with the order he had been given. The officer who had ordered him to violate the security areas was not identified and Smith does not recall seeing him aboard the ship again.  

“I was out of the Navy in 1953. I had always had an interest in aviation. I used my GI money and learned to fly at the old airport. Signe, my future wife was in nursing school at Marquette. I had a small  Taylorcraft at the time and would fly over to Marquette to see her. We were married in 1954. Our children are; Linda is the oldest, then there is David, James, Steve, Nancy, and John. 

I started with the REA as a lineman in 1949, then to the Navy again, then back to the REA and  then to UP Power Company.” 

Al retired in 1970 and continues to live in the house where he and Signe raised their six children. His recollections of his war years are clear and he tells a vivid tale of tragedy and possible intrigue. To our best information, Alfred D. Smith is the last World War II veteran in Ontonagon County… the last man standing. 

* On the night of April 26, 1952, the Hobson was a support ship for the aircraft carrier U.S.S. Wasp (CV-18), which was conducting flight operations 700 miles west of the Azores (38 degrees 27 minutes north/41 degrees 21 minutes west). It was on its way to visit 20 different Mediterranean ports.  The Wasp began a turn into the wind to prepare for aircraft recovery. The Hobson needed to maneuver to maintain its correct position in reference to the Wasp. A tragic miscalculation took place on the Hobson bridge that night. The Hobson turned to port in a maneuver that required crossing the bow of the Wasp, instead of simply falling behind the Wasp and turning in the carrier’s wake. The Hobson was struck amidships by the Wasp. The collision cut the Hobson in half. She sank in less than five minutes. 176 of her crew were lost at sea, many asleep in their berthing compartments.