Peter Leibert's Page

There came that day when “schooling” was finished. By then I was under the impression that I would be going to a patrol squadron which was located in Hawaii and so therefore probably would spend most of my time on Waikiki Beach. Hawaii is where I understood that my Uncle Mandy spent his extended youth. I say that because Mandy was 52 years old before he got married and by that time of his exciting life, he had traveled all over the place - Hawaii, the Philippines, Mexico, and I am sure numerous other exotic places.

Things about him that I remember are his taking a number of boat rides from San Pedro to Hawaii, and his taking an airplane - probably the Pan American seaplane - from San Francisco to Hawaii. I learned later that Mandy was in the fruit importing business - in fact, he co-owned the “Tropical Fruit Exchange”. But the thing that I recognized early in my youth was that Uncle Mandy regularly brought the “Riverside” Goethals and Leibert families all kinds of tropical fruits - pineapples, coconuts, guavas, papayas and cherimoyas, and probably others that I don’t recall.

Before I left for Hawaii, my Mom had given me the addresses of a couple of our relatives that lived in Honolulu whom I was supposed to look up - they were on my father's side. Personally, I could hardly wait to meet those hundreds of hula girls that must be waiting for the likes of a young sailor like me.

The day came when the members of our class at FAETUPac received our shipping orders. Yes, we were being split up and sent to all sorts of places in this world. The first thing I did was to open the envelop that contained my orders and check to see where I actually had been assigned. It read - proceed to Navy Transport AP115.

The key item in the tabulated list of orders was on the final line that confirmed to me that I had been assigned to report to VP25 in the Territory of Hawaii. This was a PB4Y2 patrol squadron and they were stationed at Barber’s Point, Hawaii.

I rushed back to my North Island barracks, packed my sea bag, and went out front trying to locate the bus that would take me to that AP115 troop transport. This ship was supposedly docked at North Island. As I lined up to carry my sea bag up that ships gang plank, the name was the General G. M. Randall.

We very slowly moved up the gang plank and were checked in by the Petty Officer of the Watch. We got directed to a lower deck where we eventually found our assigned room. This room was chuck full of bunks. There were five bunks high with only 18 to 20 inches between each canvas covered “rack”. I threw my sea bag onto a bunk that was second bunk from the bottom. Well, not too bad, I thought to myself.

But, I soon was informed that I had my sea bag on the wrong bunk and had been assigned to a different bunk. With the assistance of this seaman-deuce-boson- striker, I found that my assigned bunk was on the fourth tier and located on the starboard side of the compartment. Let’s see - port is left and starboard is right - and “room” is a “compartment”. After an hour or so things settled down and as we looked around there were a lot of empty bunks. Later during the evening, we reassigned ourselves to the bunks we preferred.

After we had done some exploring of the ship, things began to come alive and started to happen. Whistles from the Boson Mate were being heard over the intercom - “Now Hear This! All hands are to blah, blah, blah.” Ship whistles were being sounded. A lot of us “troops” started going up onto the upper decks and were checking things out. It seemed like it was an hour later when the ships crew began to “cast off” the lines. Slowly, but very slowly the ship started to move away from the dock and we were underway.

Remember this was my first time aboard a ship - any ship (other than the battery-operated “love boats” at Fairmont Park back in Riverside). It was thrilling to be aboard this big ship. About a half hour later we were starting to clear the San Diego harbor. It wasn’t long before porpoises began circling our ship. Where is my camera - it is at the bottom of my sea bag down below! Then there was a call for dinner. It was a hard decision, but I soon found myself standing in line on the mess hall deck.

After dinner, I went up to the front part of the ship - oh yeah, that’s the bow. We couldn’t get onto the deck where the anchor chains were, but a couple of us finally found a corner of some place where we could see the waves breaking away from the bow. It was beautiful. I think it was phosphorus in the ocean water that sparkled on the waves. The bright moonlight overhead made the scene even more stimulating and exciting. I really became enthralled and remained out there in the spray of the ocean drinking in that scene for a very long time. It was quite an experience.

The next afternoon our ship, which by now we were calling our home, was coming into the port of San Francisco. Up ahead was the Golden Gate Bridge. At that time in my life, I was not aware of the fact that my Aunt Grace had walked across that bridge on the day it opened on May 28, 1937. I also did not know that my great grandfather John Grant Leibert had been the mason contractor that built the Fort Point facility under the south pier of this remarkable span.

The Golden Gate Bridge really defines San Francisco. When we got close to what we were approaching, we were quite pleased. No cheers, but everyone aboard knew that our ship was approaching the city of San Francisco.

After watching our ship get pushed and pulled into a dock at the north end of San Francisco, I surprisingly heard the ships Bosom Mate inform all passengers to disembark by the aft gang plank with full gear and all belongings and to stand by for transport to Treasure Island. I had not read the small print, evidently.

We were to be assigned to Treasure Island for about four or five days. Every morning on TI, sharply at 8 am, there was muster, and work assignments were made. There was three types of work. Mess duties, haul beer to the various clubs, or mow lawns. Sometime about 3 pm, we would start lining up to pick up a liberty card and head for the beach. My destination was the Morgan’s place at 1331-12th Avenue in the Sunset area.

My cousin Mary did the honors of taking me to see places in the city. My earlier visits to San Francisco had been spent riding street cars everywhere and playing in the wide spaces of the nearby Golden Gate Park. This time, Mary made sure that I saw the inside of the museums and other facilities in the park. I remember even taking an electric-boat ride on a lake there - probably on Stow Lake.

The day finally came when we were informed during muster to get our sea bags and prepare to go back aboard the General G. M. Marshall. And so we did. A few hours later and we were going west under the Golden Gate Bridge on our way to the Territory of Hawaii.

I have already told you that I was a novice at this boat riding business. Well, the navy must have decided to provide us new sailors with a test of our skills. The first day out the weather took a turn for the worse. The waves, which had been nice and rolly during our first day, began to show us their stuff. A lot of us spent most of our time riding our bunks, or up on deck riding the rail. I even did that a few times. It must have been about the third day out when a situation arose that I clearly remember even to this day.

I had missed a few meals and was getting somewhat hungry, so I went up to the mess hall to have lunch. I got in line, picked up my tray and had it filled up, and found me a place to sit and eat. I looked at the food a little bit, heard my stomach turn and twist, and then looked at it again. It seemed kinda warm in here. I took a little drink of my milk.

I then started thinking I shouldn’t be here, but I was hungry. I picked up my fork and took a bite. Ooohh! I think I better go out on deck. Ooahh! Aawh! Too late. I had sprayed almost everyone at that table. All I could do now was to get out of there and head for some clear fresh air.

We really knew that we were approaching Hawaii when we saw the landmark known to us all as “Diamond Head”. It really stood out. Deep blue ocean, with a lighter blue sky and beautiful white clouds.

It was about an hour later when we started down the gangplank, where we were directed into an area from where we got marched to the Pearl Harbor Receiving Station. The expected routine was now carried out by collecting your “orders” folder, and being assigned a barracks and a bunk.

The next morning we reported for muster and quite soon I was sent to another line where I eventually got told that there was a problem with my orders. It seems that the patrol squadron (VP25) where I was to report had been disbanded during the previous year. Probably as a result of being put at the bottom of the list of hundreds of others that had come in on the Randall, I found myself still at the receiving center five days later. Every morning, I had been packing up everything I owned before muster so I could leave at a moments notice.

It finally happened that my name was called, and I learned that I would be assigned to the Fleet All Weather Training Unit - Pacific, which was located at the Barbers Point Naval Air Station.

On February 18, 1950, I boarded a bus, with a half dozen others, and headed for Barbers Point. As we turned left at the main gate of Pearl Harbor we headed west down what was then a rural road. After a half dozen bars and other related buildings, we were surrounded by what looked like the cane back home, except that this cane was generally shorter and more stocker. I soon was told, or learned somehow, that this was sugar cane. The first town we passed through was named Waipahu, and it had a big sugar plant. The next town was named Ewa, and it had a smaller sugar plant.

The road got narrower and narrower and the sugar cane got bigger and bigger, but soon we knew we were getting close to Barbers Point. An eight-foot fence on the left side of the road was the clue. The bus dropped us off in front of a building that had the sign “Barbers Point Naval Air Station”. We gathered inside the entrance of this building and after a few moments I saw a familiar face on the other side of the counter. It was Don Middleton, from Riverside, class of 1947, who was a yeoman assigned to Barbers Point NAS. This is where I learned that it pays to know somebody within the system. He showed me exactly where and how to report in at FAWTUPac and gave me a quick orientation to the base facilities. And so on that date, I finally found my new home.