This account of Hillard Gerhardt’s military experience was told to and written by his granddaughter, Hillary. It is part of his life story, written in February 2009 for the Joseph Gerhardt Family History. Hillard died in a car accident in March 2009. He was a native of Boonville, with four brothers, Hubert, Elmer, Rudy and Edgar Gerhardt, and one sister, Helen McClary.
My experiences in World War II and the U.S. Navy perhaps would be better off buried, forgotten and never dug up. After 64 years it still flashes back at night and keeps me awake.
I went through boot camp at Great Lakes Naval Training Center, just north of Chicago, in January 1945. It was cold and miserable. Originally, the training was a 16-week course but given the circumstances it was cut back to six weeks. We were shipped to Norfolk, Virginia, to go to Machinist School, or so they said. When we arrived, the orders read that three of us would go on board ship- the USS Enright APD 66. It was a converted destroyer escort and was one of the smallest fully seagoing ships of the Navy. Originally, it was designed for convoy escort work in the Atlantic. After they knocked out all the German submarines, six of them were converted to APD. When we went aboard, they pulled up the gang plank behind us and we were under way within minutes. I asked if we were going out for a little cruise. They laughed and said, “Mack (all sailors were called Mack back then), you just kissed the good ol’ USA goodbye. We are headed for the Pacific.”
APD stood for Amphibious Personnel Destroyer. We carried four landing craft on top and had a flat deck fantail where they tied down Jeeps and light artillery. The idea was that we were much faster than the clumsy cargo ships and drew less water so could go in closer to shore to launch our landing craft. The bad part was we were closer so made a better target for the Enemy. We sailed from Norfolk around Cape Hatteras, North Carolina, {this is considered to be some of the roughest water in the Atlantic, seasick wow, I think I heaved up every thing including my socks} on down to Miami, took some supplies to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, then through the Panama Canal up to San-Diego and over to Hawaii.
While in the Hawaiian Islands for training, they decided they needed another gun crew. When asked if I had ever shot a gun before I said, “Sure, we hunted rabbits, squirrels and quail all the time with a shotgun.” They replied, “You shot them on the move? Great! You are the gunner.” I had never seen a 20MM anti-aircraft gun before. After only a couple days, we were on our way to the Battle of Okinawa. Since we had the latest in radar and sonar equipment, we were sent straight on to the Picket Line (that was the first line of defense between here and Japan). Our normal day was four hours on and eight off. However, there were constant air raids and we were often at our guns for 16 to 20 hours, and we seldom got more than two or three hours of sleep at a time. We had six single 20mm and five twin 40mm. plus a five inch closed turret gun. A lot of fire power for our size, There was a turret of twin 40 MM just aft of ours. When they swung forward and low they fired right over our heads---less than two feet, and we were only ten feet in front of their muzzle. When they fired it would plaster our clothes against our body and knock our ears out. They would holler over to us --you better duck the next round is going to part your hair. It took 60 years for the VA to accept the facts and give me hearing aids.
It was very crowded on board. Our bunks were four high, with only room to walk between. Sometimes when it would get too crowded, I would go up to the bow and hang over the life line and listen to the water swish by. Occasionally, the water was perfectly calm, like a sheet of glass with the sun setting and leaving a path of gold stretching from the ship to the horizon and on to eternity. As I stood there, I wondered, “Will we be here to see it rise in the morning?”
We were Flag Ship of our division with five other APD’s under us. Of the six, we were the only one not to get hit, but we had some close calls. One morning, there was a light fog and a Japanese bomber came in right on the water, under our radar and was being chased by one of our P-38 Fighters. He was looking for a place to unload his bombs and we were it. He dropped five 300 pound bombs at us. They were supposed to hit us in the side, but the water was choppy so they dug in and exploded, leaving us in the clear. If the pilot had hit the bomb release a fraction of a second sooner or later, one would have hit right where I was on the deck. Another close call was when a torpedo was headed right for us. The captain called for a full starboard rudder and flank speed on the port screw and full reverse on the starboard screw. This laid the ship on its side and the torpedo missed with just inches to spare. Yes, the good Lord was watching over us.
When we weren’t on the Picket Line we were escorting convoys. We went through so many typhoons I lost count. Once, we were out at sea for sixteen days and were caught in two typhoons. The worst was off the coast of Okinawa. The wind blew a steady 120 mph with gusts around 140 mph. They said the most we could roll and expect to come up was 40 degrees. We thought, “This is it.” Those were some of the longest minutes of my life. When we came in, the stripes on the flag were worn all the way to the blue, along with the first row of stars and half of the second. In war time, you never lower the flag when at sea.
When the war was over, we were with the main flotilla off the coast of Japan ready to escort them into Tokyo bay when we got orders to go back to Manila in the Philippines to escort a hospital ship up to Japan as fast as possible. We topped off our fuel tanks and headed for Manila. We pulled into Manila Bay on VJ Day, September 2, 1945.
That night every ship in the bay let loose with all their flares and fireworks. We even had a couple cans of beer on board. The next morning we re-fueled and headed back to Japan. We got into Tokyo Bay a few days later. We were there for six days, which was the longest we were anchored in one place for as long as we were gone.
Keeping any kind of diary or log of where you were or had been was strictly forbidden and punishable by court-martial. Most of the time we didn’t know where we were, or where we were going. We had a job to do and that was all that mattered. We didn’t have a calendar or map, --those were kept up on the “bridge.”
On our journey, we had covered areas from around the north islands of Japan, south through the Philippines to Borneo and west to Shanghai, China.
We were sent to Shanghai to evacuate the last of the American personnel. We were there over Thanksgiving 1945. While there, we were given orders to return to the U.S. Oh, what a happy day! We had to head back by way of Manila, then across the Pacific. Boy, there is a lot of water between there and the United States! We came back through the Panama Canal to the East Coast. I was discharged In St. Louis, May 21, 1946. We had traveled from Jacksonville, Florida by troop train--- that is the ultimate in luxury! They were old box cars with a row of bunks three high down each side. No windows just roll the doors back for light and air. There was a chain to hang across the door so no one would accidentally walk out when the train was moving. I had a relative short time in service. We had logged up enough engine miles to circle the globe three times at the equator. I was discharged nearly a year sooner than some. In the time that we were gone, we traveled farther, did more and saw more than most sailors who made a career of the Navy.
Yes, I am now an Ex-Sailor Combat Veteran of Foreign Wars, and I was still just a teenager. My brother Elmer wanted me to go to work for him and learn the building trade. I wanted to go to college but I knew I would have trouble sitting in a classroom. I would have flashbacks of being trapped in the engine room with a ruptured steam line and less than sixty seconds for eight men to climb twenty-five feet of ladder, unscrew the hatch and escape. Some nights were long as we fought the war all over again. I couldn’t talk to anyone-- they would think I was crazy.”
Hillard worked for Elmer for several years and one of his first craftsmanship projects was remodeling the sanctuary in the St. John’s Evangelical Church in Billingsville, designing and building all the components himself. Hillard and his family moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico for health reasons and he established a business building custom houses, remodeling and cabinet making.
After retirement he developed Parkinson’s disease, and during his daughter’s terminal illness he began woodworking again as a hobby. He said, “Yes, I shake and rattle like an old Model-T Ford. I am too stubborn to give in so I just keep on going. I can work in the shop when I am alone so there’s no one to distract me. I can do some very intricate work.”
His special skill was wood-turning, building segmented and inlaid bowls containing hundreds to thousands of individual pieces. A member of the American Wood Turners Association, his work is featured in a published wood turners book, and is in several foreign countries and twenty-four states. One bowl, containing over 7,500 pieces, holds the record for the largest and most complicated work shown in New Mexico and was on extended display in the Governor’s office.
