'twas a dark night at Guadalcanal
The ship's stood into the bay
Four "tincans" and two big boats,
For the foe in waiting lay.

All in line they came, off Savo's shore.
Ship's black, and deadly with hate.
The lookouts cried, they'd seen the prey
Standing in from the sea to their fate.

"Commence firing," the Admiral said,
the word passed to and fro.
With a roar of doom,
We opened up on the unsuspecting foe.

Not a scratch received, so we turned around
And started to go back through,
This time the foe was set for us,
Two cans were shot through and through.
The others were hit, one fatally, But, they kept on their fire,

The wagons were raising hell, blindly, it seemed they'd never tire
One can got home with the battleboats, The others lie 'neath the foam,
Still I wouldn't trade all the ship's we sank,
For one of those little homes.

Take one civilian, slightly green
Stir from bunk at early hour
Soak in shower daily
Dress in blue jacket
Mix with others of his kind and
Grate on Chief's nerves
Toughen with boot camp
Add liberal portions of beans and soup
Let stand on watch
Bake in 110 degree temperature
Let cool below zero
Season with courage and loyalty
Top with pride... and
Garnish with decorations
Serves 300 million people

After the Bremerton Navy Yard overhaul in 1945 we were headed south for California, the executive officer pulled a surprise inspection of the main engine rooms. At the start of the inspection in #1 engine room word was secretly passed, over sound powered phones, to the other engine rooms. For some reason the ventilation systems shut down to a bare minimum. With boilers and steam lines containing 850 degree superheated steam the engine rooms soon got very hot. The men standing watch in the succeeding engine rooms were dripping wet with perspiration. The exec. didn't realize or know that temperature conditions weren't normal.

The heat didn't slow the old boy down he completed his inspection of all four main engine rooms chewing me out all the way. Thank goodness he never found out of the attempt to get him to cut short his inspection.

We were anchored out from one of the islands in the Pacific and they let some of us go ashore for some recreation.

My shipmate Albert Fialka, who has passed away, and I decided to go hunting. We had only one gun between us. We saw these very large colorful chickens, but couldn’t get close enough to get a shot. We decided we would have one person stand while the other made a sweep around and try to drive the game towards the one with the gun. I noticed a mud hole with wild pig tracks, then I saw it again, and then a third time, I realized I was lost. I climbed the highest tree and when I looked out all I could see were the tops of the trees. I found a trail and decided I would follow it and see if it would come to some village. I followed the trail and it kept getting dimmer, finally it disappeared. I turned and headed back on the same trail, there along the trail Al was sitting waiting for me. "What took you so long?" he said. I said I was lost. I'll never forget that experience of being lost.

In March or April, 1942, the son of the famous actor and Hollywood swashbuckler of the same name was first assigned to the USS Washington as a Lieutenant. He arrived via small launch boat, with Henry Young, a lowly seaman deuce but qualified coxswain, at the helm. Young Fairbanks proceeded up the gangway, to report to the OOD (Officer Of the Deck). As he approached the top, the coxswain in the launch boat whistled for attention from up above. The OOD and young Lt. Fairbanks looked down. Hank Young, seaman deuce, was pointing to the lieutenant's seabag and luggage, still down below in the boat. He said very loudly, "What about these?" Lt. Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. ran back down the gangway to retrieve his possessions.

I was enlisted in the Navy February 6th, 1940 in Baltimore, Maryland. I was a Seaman 1st Class aboard the USS Vincennes when I was transferred in April, 1941 to the Philadelphia Navy Yard, receiving station; for duty aboard the USS Washington, being built there.

After commissioning May 1941, I was a Quarter Master Striker. During our first trip to sea, while proceeding down the Delaware River, I was manning the pelorus on the starboard wing of the bridge. (Taking bearings)

About dusk I looked up and saw an eagle perched on the yard arm. I stuck my head in the pilot house and reported, "There's an eagle on the yardarm."

Captain H.H.J. Benson was sitting in his chair, turned and said, "Enter that in the log."

I'm sure he saw it as a good omen. That is- the eagle being our National Symbol- perching on the yardarm of our brand new battleship on its maiden voyage.