Cover: red and blue stripes on edges
From: Lt(jg) CR Cummins
USS LST 661
FPO San Fran Cal.
To: Mr. and Mrs. CM Cummins
6109 Greenwood Ave.
Chicago, 37, Illinois
Stamp: 6¢ Airmail
Postmark: [top torn away] NAVY, center 12 OCT 1945
Censor: none
11 Oct
1000
Hello, folks,
This has been a hectic few days—probably the roughest weather we have ever seen or will ever see (I pray!).
At my last writing I believe we were in Buckner Bay. From there we were sent to Il [?] Shima, an island off the west coast of Okinawa (where Ernie Pyle was killed). There we were to beach to load 5th Air Force equipment for Chimu Wau, a bay just north of the larger Buckner Bay (on the east coast of Okin.) Our beaching order were cancelled because of an approaching typhoon, and the next day we left Il Shima to join a 50 ship LST convoy to ride out the strorm.
We formed into 5 columns, ten ships per column. Our position was 2nd ship in the middle column, directly astern of the convoy commander. Each column had a guide ship an LST group commander (a navy three-striper).
The first day the water was calm, but the following day the sea began to get rough and the wind stiffer. In the late afternoon the ship began to have to fight for its existence. The waves were tremendous, the velocity around 120 knots, the rain a waterfall driving horizontally—each drop would seem to put a dent in one’s exposed face.
The ship would reach the peak of one wave, then begin falling with the bow pointed almost pointing straight down—to bury itself in the next mountainous wave as if she weren’t coming up again. Each time the bow hit the bottom of a trough the ship would act like a bow (as in bow and arrow) twanging in the middle (like a short length of huge guitar string. The forward half of the ship would be covered with a flood of water. The fresh water from the sky was almost as dense as the sea water below. It was impossible to see more than a few feet. Radar was of some assistance. The days were nearly as dark as the nights.
If a wave would hit us broadside we didn’t know whether or not we’d come up again. We wondered if the mast would blow away. Most of all we wondered if the steel of the ship would hold together. The first few typhoons we didn’t mind so much, but now we dread any storm warning. Before this one we were concerned, and all of us felt uneasy throughout this one—keeping our lifejackets near—as if they would be of any help. The sea is still heavy.
The next morning 15 of the 50 LST’s were visible. Most of the others caught up to us during the day. The radio picked up several SOS’s from ships in this vicinity. We were lucky to escape with very slight damage.
It was impossible to do much but stand watches eat and lie down in one’s bunk—
Bob