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In the harbor at Mers el Kebir, Algeria (the sea port for Oran which was a short distance inland even though we usually considered Oran as our objective) was a tanker which had been disabled by a German torpedo. It had been towed into shallow water and allowed to settle to the bottom. The cargo of fuel oil was intact and it served as our supply ship to top off our fuel supply. The crew of the tanker was French, and they lived a fairly easy life - even to having their wives living aboard. They seemed to enjoy the luxury of having an adequate supply of wine aboard to honor the French tradition of a glass of wine with their meals. 

Back to the Robinson - Two of the crew, Robert L. Cooke (EM1/C) and "Corky" Gonzales BM1/C had just been promoted in rate and a celebration of this event was in order (after the traditional passing out cigars). They managed to get aboard the tanker and purchase a full gallon of potent red wine. Suitable containers for the wine were unavailable so they did the "next best" thing. They marked the bottle half way down and Cooke proceeded to drink his half and turned the bottle over to Gonzales to consume his half. It wasn't long before there were two uproariously drunken sailors wandering through the ship. Cooke made some rather candid but unacceptable remarks to the Chief Gunnery Officer, while Gonzales made some rather uncomplimentary remarks to another of the officers. Both were "busted" in rank at Captain's Mast the next day. One can only imagine the hangovers that they suffered - certainly worse than being demoted.

Joe C. McGee - ex EM2/c, Email:  fmrobinson@attbi.com

"Join the Navy and See the World"

   Who hasn't seen or heard this wonderful "come on" on posters and other enticements to gain new recruits. It's true that there are many new and strange sights to be seen all over the globe. For convenience, the Navy often marks these points of interest with large signs, with the words:

 "OFF LIMITS TO ALL ALLIED MILITARY PERSONNEL". 

    This is a sure way to attract interest in what otherwise might be passed up as dull and uninteresting. Such was the case on one of the Robinson's earlier cruises that carried us eastward in the Mediterranean to Tunisia and Bizerte, where there was time enough for liberty for all hands (port and starboard). Not too surprisingly, a considerable number of the crew were picked up by the shore patrol for a large number of (generally minor) offenses. All appeared the next morning at "Captain's Mast" before Captain Johansen...  He looked over the rather repentant crew and said, "I know none of you men would do anything wrong ("Oh no, sir!") and besides it is unlikely that we will ever see this port again." "Dismissed".

Joe C. McGee, Email: fmrobinson@home.com

    There was one man in the Robinson's crew who was known by all aboard - and on other ships of the squadron - renowned, not for any extra-ordinary deeds of daring, but for the size of his "manhood". A fireman first class, whose name I will not mention here. He was a good man to go on shore leave with when in New London, as his "fame" was known to many of the young ladies of that city and his appearance usually attracted them like flies to honey. He was normally attracted to the "fairest of the fair", but the others were there for the rest of us to flirt or dance with at one of the local bistros. On the evening I have in mind, he had attached himself to a particularly gorgeous blonde, tall, with a truly striking figure. As we sat there sipping our beers, the Skipper (Johansen) came in, crossed to our table and greeted each of by name, bought drinks all around, sat down and turned his attention to the blonde bombshell. A fireman first class is no real competition for a Lt. Commander with handsome good looks, and the Skipper soon exited with the blonde in his arm.

Joe C. McGee, Email: fmrobinson@home.com

    If you can stand one more, again concerning the Skipper - At one of the many ports of call on the East Coast - don't remember just which one. A group of us from the engineering section were sitting in the after crew's quarters enjoying a taste of good whiskey which one of our fellows had been able to bring aboard. As we sat there, laughing and telling stories, one of our number who had just returned from leave remarked that he still had his leave papers. Wishing we had one more drink, some one came up with the idea of sending him back ashore to get another bottle. Everyone there pitched what money they had left into a quickly passed hat. Amounts probably ranged from a couple of dollars to perhaps twenty dollars. Off he went - and returned shortly, not with "a" bottle, but with a canvas bag full of bottles. We sat there passing bottles around and each man took a drink and passed it to the next man as we sat there laughing and telling stories. As might be expected the "party" got louder and louder. Eventually it was nearly out of hand - that's when the "Skipper" showed up and demanded: "What have you men got back here? A woman or a bottle?" Someone answered, "A bottle, SIR". "O.K." he answered, "I don't want any women aboard". Not fully realizing, I'm sure, that we had multiple bottles, he simply ordered that we quiet down and departed. When orders were passed some time later to "Light off the Ship" (light the boilers and get up steam for the electrical generators and main propulsion), it was a sorry bunch that went to their stations below decks. It was a wonder that we managed to do it without damaging the whole propulsion system.

Joe C. McGee, Email: fmrobinson@home.com

  Not long ago the Destroyer Escort Sailors Association's bi-monthly newspaper, The DESA News, carried a listing of all Destroyer Escort sailors killed in WWII - listed by ship. One name was missing - a member of the F. M. Robinson's crew. I wrote to them and pointed out that one sailor's name had been omitted but received no reply. Here's the story:

  Between convoys, all hands turned to, to make repairs, clean and adjust equipment, paint decks, - you name it. It was a time of work as well as a time for shore leave (liberty). Each division took care of their own equipment and work areas. One of the electrical gang, Benjamin Copperman (EM3/c), one of the few married men on the ship, was assigned to clean up the switchboard in the No. 2 Engine Room. This chore could involve cleaning and polishing switches and contacts with very fine grained sandpaper, or simply using compressed air to blow away any accumulations of dust or contamination. The job could be dangerous when working with high voltage equipment but no one ever paid much attention to such potential dangers. We were young and invulnerable (we thought). Later in the afternoon someone had a message for Ben and wandered around the ship looking for him without success - calls over the PA system brought no response and a rather disorganized search was begun. In a few minutes, his inert body was found behind the main switchboard in the No. 2 Engine Room. All efforts to revive him proved futile and he was pronounced dead by the ship's physician. It was generally believed that he may have been thrown off balance and inadvertently grasped one of the "buss-bars" for balance when a barge bumped the ship as it approached to deliver supplies. There was no glory in the way he died, he was just an ordinary guy doing what he thought was right. Some may have forgotten - I cannot. Perhaps it is better that his story be told on the Robinson's website. I hope you agree.

Joe C. McGee, Email: fmrobinson@home.com

  Sometime around mid 1958 we had a young Seaman report aboard the Robinson. I seem to think he was a Radarman or Electronic Technician, at any rate he had just gotten out of technical school. In conversations with this young man, he always stated that he wanted to climb the mast and work on the antennas.

  On December 31 1958 (New Years Eve) I was PO of the watch, on the quarter deck. I want to say it was the 20:00 to 24:00 watch. Early in the watch a messenger from the Squadron arrived with a message stating that Fidel Castro had just entered Havana and taken over the city. Batista had relinquished and was fleeing to the US. The Robinson and the Wilke were ordered to travel to Havana post haste to assist in the evacuation of any US Citizens who wanted to return to the US. We were to get underway with any remnants of crew we had. The Bushnell (a submarine tender) would bring any remaining crew to us the next day and we would do a transfer at sea. Remember this is New Years Eve in Key West FL. Anyone who did not have duty was ashore. And the majority of them were drunk. The Shore Patrol and the Key West police were rounding up as many crew of the ships involved as possible. I think they were even making PA broadcasts from police cars.

  So, as you can imagine, what crew did actually return to the ship were all drunk as skunks. Certainly no fit for duty. One of those celebrating the new year was the young Seaman which I mentioned earlier. When he came aboard we had a few words, mostly incoherent on his part. I advised him to go below an go to bed. He indicated that he would. About 45 minutes prior to my watch concluding, the
Security Watch called my attention to something on the yardarm. After studying the object for some time, I finally decided that the young Seaman had fulfilled his wish of climbing the mast. He had climbed the mast, got out on the yardarm, laid down, and gone to sleep. The Security Watch asked for my advise on what we should do about the Seaman. I was afraid that if I woke him he might get startled and fall. He certainly could not stay there while the ship was underway. At the same time neither the Security Watch nor myself were capable of carrying him down the mast. Soon afterwards my relief arrived. About that time the Officer of the Deck also arrived. My relief asked if all was secure. I stated that it was, but he might want to do something about the man asleep on the yardarm, before we got underway for Havana. The OOD advised me that this was no time to be kidding around. I
pointed to the man on the mast and told the OOD that there was a man up there or someone had put a lot of laundry on the yardarm. At which time I departed the quarter deck for my Special Sea Detail station.

  When we got underway, we had about 40% of the crew on board. The next day we were relieved by the Bushnell and transferred about five or so crew. The remainder were waiting for us on the dock in Key West.

  I never found out how they got the man off the yardarm. The next opportunity I had to talk to him, he had no recollection of the incident. I think the Boatswains had something to do with his extraction from the yardarm.

Phil Carlton
(770) 641-7382
pacsalot@aol.com
    The Robinson was escorting a convoy back to the States when we received the news of Germany's surrender. As you might expect, everyone was mighty relieved and the question was: Where do we go from here - what's next? A letter from the Navy Department was posted on the bulletin board asking for volunteers for "Underwater Demolition Teams" - UDT's (an early version of the Navy Seals - though without the fighting abilities).  Their mission would be to clear minefields in preparation for the eventual invasion of Japan. Volunteers would get two weeks leave and then receive intensive training in clearing mine fields. After six months of demolishing mines, survivors (if any) would receive an immediate discharge from the Navy. Sound great?? At least a dozen of the crew signed up immediately, and upon reaching the States, were detached from the Robinson. The physical examination for acceptance and training was indeed thorough, and only one man passed the test - Robert L. Cooke, a fellow electrician's mate. I have tried to locate him, without success - don't know if he survived the war or not. I do remember that he was originally from Idaho - anyone know what happened to him?
    I was reassigned to the USS Pembina, AK 200, a slow-moving (about 14 knots, flank speed) cargo vessel and sent through the Panama Canal bound for the Philippines in preparation for the eventual invasion of Japan. An uneventful crossing - we sighted only one other ship during the 40 days it took to reach Manila. We used the same route as the Indianapolis a few days earlier when we reached the Philippines. As we reached the area where the Indianapolis went down, all hands not on watch were on deck looking for signs of a periscope. I have read much about the secrecy regarding the cargo of that ship, but somehow we had heard, then, that she carried the first "Atom Bomb". None of had ever heard of an "Atom Bomb" and were inclined to underestimate the importance of that cargo, wondering what the he-- is an "Atom Bomb". Don't understimate the ability of Navy scuttlebutt to get around - don't ask me how. 

Joe C. McGee, Email: fmrobinson@home.com

  As any DE sailor can tell you, training exercises of all sorts are a part of the daily routine for all hands. This extends to the ships officers as well - which recalls this little story which may be of interest to some. 
    After bringing a convoy safely back to the States, the F.M. Robinson headed towards New London for a little R&R. It seemed to be a good time for the officers to improve their skills at "dead reckoning" navigation, whereby the course is set by the compass heading and the speed determined by the "pitlog", a device which extends through the hull into the water below. It is closely akin to the pitot tube used to determine the speed of an aircraft and measures the amount of water that is forced through a small hole. The amount of water passing through is proportional to the speed of the ship - more water passing through, the greater the speed. My watch station at the time was in the gyro compass compartment below the forward crews quarters and my duties included watching over the operation of the pitlog which was located forward and below the paint locker which was, in turn located below the CPO's quarters. To check on the pit log, one must go through a hatch in the CPO's quarters - through a hatch into the paint locker - then through another hatch into a tiny compartment where the pitlog was housed. This last hatch was secured by eight sturdy bolts which had to be unscrewed manually to reach the pitlog compartment. The pitlog was then pulled up into the compartment far enough to blow air through it to get rid of any accumulation of seaweed - re-lower the device, re-seal the hatches and return to my watch station. The air in the long unused compartment was foul and short of oxygen, tending to make one a little "queasy".  
    During my watch, I had made three round trips to clear the pitlog - just as I returned from the third trip, the communicator to the bridge squawked, "What's the matter with the pitlog?". My patience was somewhat frayed and I was just a little queasy as I snapped an answer. "I'll be f---ed if I know"!! I immediately realized that I had made a serious error and quickly added, "I'll check it right away, SIR", and hurried out to check. I had visions of being "busted" back to seaman, but apparently some of the officers on the bridge thought it was rather humorous and nothing was done other than a caution, "Don't do it again". 

Joe C. McGee, Email: fmrobinson@home.com

Anyone on the ROBINSON on Jan.1,1959.

Does anyone remember going to Havana, Cuba with DESDIV 601 to protect Americans when Castro entered Havana with his army? I remember (I think) being there. Maybe 42 years has dulled the memory...  I left Robbie as an EMFN in 1959.

Paul Burke
Email:
Wildcats54@msn.com

    I wonder if anyone out there remembers the Robinson's mascot? A small female dog of uncertain parentage, less than a foot tall, short haired, and called "Gismo" by the crew. She was cared for, for the most part, by our Pharmacists Mate and slept there in "sick bay" with him. She roamed the deck when the weather permitted under the watchful eyes of the crew. One time, in port, (don't recall just which port), she fell over the side when we were moored to the dock. Two crew members went over the side immediately to save her, while others grabbed fenders and poles to keep the ship from crushing her between the ship and the dock. There was as much or more concern for "Gismo" as the crewmen. Most of the crew saved choice bits of food (mostly meat) to whet her appetite - and made her expect only the best to dine on. I have often wondered just what happened to little Gismo? Anyone know??

Joe McGee 
Email at: fmrobinson@home.com

    You can see a picture of Gismo in the "Life on a DE" section under 1944.

    I was aboard the "Robbie" from Feb. '48 to Mar '49.  I am puzzled about something.
    In Sept of '48, we took the "Robbie" to the yard in Charleston Navy Yard, Boston, MA.  I remember very clearly that the replaced the single mast with a tripod mast.  Yet, in every picture I see, the single mast is still there.  Am I getting senile or did they remove it?
    I remember changing the small numbers on the bow to large numbers.  Also, painting the front of the Flying Bridge white.  I also seem to remember that the "Robbie" was chosen to fly 2 flags from the mast at sea.  We were supposed to be testing the new nylon flag.


John Ryan, S2c
Email: Jsryan28@aol.com
    I read an article in the home town paper a few weeks ago about an attempt to recover a cargo of gold that was aboard a Japanese submarine that was sunk in the Atlantic during WWII. A deep diving, remote controlled, robot was used to locate the wreckage in the Atlantic. The sub was reportedly sunk by planes from the USS Bogue. It recalled to mind our trip with the Bogue and the sinking of the RO 501 by the Francis M. Robinson. Not long after that action, another submarine was detected, and attacked by the escorts of the Bogue - including the Robinson. One of the escorts worked it over pretty good with depth charges while the Robinson stood by and attempted to retain sonar contact. As a result of the attack, the sub was forced to surface and the Skipper (Johansen) came about and prepared to ram the now surfaced sub. Before we were able to do so, one of the planes from the Bogue torpedoed the surfaced sub. Word was that the Skipper was so angry that the plane had robbed us of a "kill" that he was nearly ready to open fire on the plane. In reality, the Robinson lowered the ships boat to inspect the wreckage and make sure there were no survivors (there were none). Among the debris was found newspapers, written in Japanese, leading us to conclude that it was, indeed, a Japanese sub. The location and timing suggests that the sub probably was the one carrying the "golden" cargo. The wreckage lies on the bottom at a depth of more than two miles - it is probable that the cost of recovering this treasure is more than it's worth. 

Joe C. McGee, ex. EM 2/c

    Does any one remember the Christmas of 1955 (could be 1954) when the Commanding officer, LCDR Bernie G. Fold, came back to the ship (after a party !!!!) and got the Bosn'mates out and had the numbers on the ship painted red and green?  They got one side painted before the EXEC got there to stop it and take the Captain home.

Orville L. Smith, RMC Ret. Left the Robbie as RM3.
Email: retchief@bellsouth.net

    This is in response to Orville Smith's question about Xmas of 1955 or 1954: Orville, I reported on board the Robbie in July of 1955 and the skipper of the ship was Commander Al Cox.  I have a news clipping from the Key West Citizen showing the CDR receiving the 2nd battle efficiency that the ROBBIE won. She won it 3 yrs in a row 1954,55,56. I hope this helps.

Paul Burke 

    Does anyone remember the time we were protecting Cape Kennedy against Russian Trawlers and were supposed to be relieved by another DE out of Key West (I can't remember her name) in a week? Unfortunately, the radioman missed the message, and we remained on station.  After two weeks the other DE sent us a light asking why we hadn't left yet. 

The ex-radioman that missed the message...

I have one question
 Who was the RADIOMAN that missed the message that kept the ROBBIE off Cape Kennedy for two weeks and what year did this happen ?
Paul Burke   
(Robbie 1955 to 1959)
If any shipmate can recall the trip...especially the debacle of anchoring off Sable Island, and the decision to sail into Lunenburg rather than Halifax (as the crew so much desired) after, what I believe was 3 months at sea)...remember the powdered milk, powdered eggs and powdered potatoes towards the end? Does anyone remember the one and only taxicab in Lunenburg which transported 6 to 7 guys to Halifax? Remember the midnight curfew? Remember how half of the Liberty Party STAYED in Halifax...the cab just couldn't handle all that traffic. We were anchored in the bay at Lunenburg. Finally, the decision was to take the ship to Halifax...where everyone, including myself, had the greatest liberty ever. We were tied up the pier at the Canadian Navy facility. Who remembers taking a walk through the park with all those thousand and thousands of beautiful flowers. I remember relating this story to my wife and 4 children (up to that time)...later came three more. 

Another memory, does anyone remember Gunner's Mate First Class Scruggs and what happened in Halifax that got him dropped in rate to GM2. I believe the year of all this was 1949 or early 1950.

How about John Harper, BT2, and the incident in the forward boiler room one evening. I'd like to get the "rest of the story". All I recall was that he came aboard ship with a pistol and fired it while on watch.

Hope my dissertation above clears some cobwebs will bring forth some fill-ins as well as corrections to my 72 year old mind. 

Norm G. Gignac, Email: normgee2@juno.com or see him here.

 
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