Time’s Up

Time flew and boot training was over after eight weeks. We garnered promotions from Apprentice Seaman to Seaman, Second Class, and sewed a badge with two little white stripes on the upper sleeves of our blues, and dark blue stripes on our gray seersucker haute couture. We also received white crowns that snapped into our dark blue bonnets and we now could wear the garrison cap, the type that folds flat, the type we always called “overseas cap,” without a brim. We made haste in purchasing those.

Of course, everything we did, every assignment to a new post, etc., was COG—at the convenience of the government—but at this point in history, the situation was a little different from the usual. President Truman and a few scientists had a secret they didn’t tell anyone else about. Therefore, we were allowed to state our preferences as to what job in the Navy we wanted and the location where we’d like to perform it. Again, in alphabetical order, we lined up. The Lieutenant asked me about my choices.

“I’d like a try at Officers Candidate School, Lieutenant,” I said.

She said, “OCS closed down several months ago, before you arrived at Hunter.”

Really! I wondered why. The war could go on forever. But there went my dream.

“Well, what’s the next best thing?” I asked.

“Personnel work.”

“I’ll take it, Lieutenant.”

“You’ve got it, Lindsley. Go to room 14.” Or whatever the room number was.

Another nice apartment building, but much smaller, became my home for the next four weeks. I was in Specialist (S) School with that (S) standing for “Supervisor.” What I learned to supervise were enlisted personnel, whether on the parade ground, in barracks, in class, traveling on trains, or anywhere else. (Other situations did turn up.) I had new friends. This time, we were a group of five for celebrating liberty and we’d got a pay raise. My best friend in this group was Paula Engmark. She might have applied for OCS too, but I never thought to ask. She was officer material. The other three girls just held on to us. All were really nice people.

Now let me backtrack a bit and talk about the war. On May 8, 1945, during the month I waited in Nashville for my orders to travel to New York, the Big Apple celebrated V-E Day (Victory in Europe). Although I was not there to see it, I can easily imagine it, for I was there on V-J Day (Victory in Japan) on August 14, 1945. We had several days of liberty and gathered on Times Square with thousands of others, to yell, dance, sing, shout, cry, laugh, wave little flags, and get hugged by servicemen, even by a few civilians. I hate to be in crowds but this one was different. World War II was over! Confetti, serpentine and even rolls of toilet tissue went fluttering down from several high and low stories into the streets. Our hats, hair, and shoulders became polka-dotted and we didn’t brush them off. It was a wonderful and tiring day and we headed back to barracks. But after we got off the El, we ran into an Italian Block party. To be continued.

♥