When we left Camp Shenango by train, we went across Pennsylvania into New Jersey and ended up in Camp Kilmer.
That was a way station for people going overseas. We were given additional uniforms, especially summer uniforms, as well as some different shots; and then on June the 10th, we went into New York harbor and boarded the Santa Paula. We left harbor on that day and pulled out into the Atlantic, where we joined several other ships to form a convoy across the Atlantic.
For a guy from Tioga county who had been in the mountains all his life, it was quite a sight—to see the water from horizon to horizon. There were some other ships, of course; and there were destroyers and smaller craft that were diving in and out and circling around the convoy, searching for any enemy submarines that might be in the vicinity.
Something different for me was the sight of porpoises leaping beside the ship, gracing it and diving through the bow wave put up by the ship, as we plowed through the water.
Another thing that we did was learn where our posts would be in case an alarm was sounded to abandon ship. We had to know what lifeboats or life rafts to be by, and so on. Our sleeping quarters beneath the deck consisted of about five-high canvas bunks stretched between two iron pipes. Of course, it wasn’t the best place to sleep, because the fellows were often seasick; and being five-high, especially if you were in a lower bunk, wasn’t really nice.
We made it across the ocean in good shape. I think there was a time or two an alarm sounded, and we heard depth charges going off in the distance; but as far as I know, nothing was sunk by our escorts.
On the morning of June 21st, we sailed into a harbor and caught sight of quite a few sunken ships, with some capsized and lying on their sides. Some had sunken straight down, and just their superstructures stuck out of the water. We learned that the port was in Oran, Algeria, North Africa, and that the sunken ships had been scuttled by the French navy to keep them from falling into the hands of the Germans and the Italians when they took over that area of North Africa. This was the first war damage we had seen.
From the port, we walked up a hill. They called it “Lion Mountain,” but it was just a short distance above the port. There were tents waiting for us, each of which would accommodate 10–14 guys. This was a place for us to wait for transportation to take us further east. During this time, I got my first sight of some things that were different than I was used to in Tioga County. In fact, instead of a team of horses hitched side by side, most animals hauling farm machinery or carts were hooked in single file; and I didn’t see many horses at all. There were some oxen, steers, donkeys, and an occasional camel hauling their vehicles around. It was just different.
For a guy from Tioga county who had been in the mountains all his life, it was quite a sight—to see the water from horizon to horizon. There were some other ships, of course; and there were destroyers and smaller craft that were diving in and out and circling around the convoy, searching for any enemy submarines that might be in the vicinity.
Something different for me was the sight of porpoises leaping beside the ship, gracing it and diving through the bow wave put up by the ship, as we plowed through the water.
Another thing that we did was learn where our posts would be in case an alarm was sounded to abandon ship. We had to know what lifeboats or life rafts to be by, and so on. Our sleeping quarters beneath the deck consisted of about five-high canvas bunks stretched between two iron pipes. Of course, it wasn’t the best place to sleep, because the fellows were often seasick; and being five-high, especially if you were in a lower bunk, wasn’t really nice.
We made it across the ocean in good shape. I think there was a time or two an alarm sounded, and we heard depth charges going off in the distance; but as far as I know, nothing was sunk by our escorts.
On the morning of June 21st, we sailed into a harbor and caught sight of quite a few sunken ships, with some capsized and lying on their sides. Some had sunken straight down, and just their superstructures stuck out of the water. We learned that the port was in Oran, Algeria, North Africa, and that the sunken ships had been scuttled by the French navy to keep them from falling into the hands of the Germans and the Italians when they took over that area of North Africa. This was the first war damage we had seen.
From the port, we walked up a hill. They called it “Lion Mountain,” but it was just a short distance above the port. There were tents waiting for us, each of which would accommodate 10–14 guys. This was a place for us to wait for transportation to take us further east. During this time, I got my first sight of some things that were different than I was used to in Tioga County. In fact, instead of a team of horses hitched side by side, most animals hauling farm machinery or carts were hooked in single file; and I didn’t see many horses at all. There were some oxen, steers, donkeys, and an occasional camel hauling their vehicles around. It was just different.
