Albert M. Olmstead, Merchant Marine
Editor’s note: This is the third of three parts.
Into the Army
With his duties as a Merchant Marine completed, Albert M. Olmstead decided that he wanted to keep serving his country. He joined the U.S. Army in September 1946. He was sent for training at Fort Dix in New Jersey, and spent six weeks in boot camp there. Next he went through infantry training at Fort Eustis in Virginia and then it was off to Camp Stoneman in California for more physical fitness training.
Olmstead’s first assignment as a soldier was to board a ship for Yokohama, Japan. This time, he would ride as a passenger and be able to enjoy the sights and the sailing. However, it wasn’t a relaxing trip! The ship hit a typhoon, and for three days they sailed through wind and waves and danger. To Olmstead and the others aboard the ship, those three days felt like three weeks but they made it through to the other side of the storm and safely reached their destination.
Arriving at Yokohama, Olmstead received orders for Inchon, Korea. There he was assigned to the Army’s 3rd Battalion 6th Army Infantry. He was a rifleman, charged with guard duty. He had to protect a 70-mile area in South Korea. After this stint was completed, he was reassigned to the Army’s motor pool, and his job was to service and maintain Jeeps and 2/2 tracks. Olmstead’s break came when he was assigned to the mail run, which involved a 70-mile run each day to pick up the mail and return to the camp with it. But this leisurely job didn’t satisfy Olmstead for long, and he requested a new assignment.
Back at the camp, he was now assigned to the post engineers. It was a job that Olmstead felt would help him secure employment after his time in the service was over. Olmstead had heard the sad stories from WWII veterans, stories of proud and capable men returning home from defending their country only to hear that their military service did not include practical job skills. They were turned down for jobs because their experience involved firing weapons and protecting men and supplies, moving over dangerous terrain and securing land previously held by the enemy. These skills didn’t translate to factory jobs and sales, and these heroes found themselves out of work and broke.
Becoming a civilian
In March 1948, Olmstead left Korea for Fort Lewis in Washington state, and was handed his discharge papers. After his time in the Merchant Marines and Army, Olmstead spent four weeks relaxing and catching up with his friends and family. Then, a job offer came with Jamestown Metal. Olmstead accepted the offer and began his job soldering radiators. All was going well until the company went on strike over working conditions. Olmstead left and enrolled in the Detroit School of Electricity. He graduated in September 1948.
On Nov. 12, 1949, Olmstead married Esther Green. They would go on to have five children together, Joanne, Cynthia, Beverly, Brian and the late Dianne.
In February 1950, Olmstead landed a job with the Niagara Mohawk Power Corp. His first job was in the storeroom, then he moved into the line department. He worked his way up to the top lineman’s job, with the title of “Hot Stick Lineman.” The job required intelligence and physical strength, as Olmstead had to maintain line voltages of up to 13,000 volts.
As years passed, Olmstead put in for and received a job as a diagnostic operator and field trouble tester, working on testing meters and other machinery and equipment. If there was a problem with irregular voltage, low voltage or other unexplained problems, Olmstead was dispatched to find the problem and fix it. He retired on Dec. 30, 1984, after 34 years and 10 months on the job. He didn’t do this without some sadness, since he had worked with some of his best friends, Harry Ludemann, Robert Schlia, David Wagner, Joe Dominico and Willard Bull.
Now, Olmstead is the proud grandfather of eight grandchildren and one great grandchild.
A good man
I knew Albert Olmstead from my days when I worked for Niagara Mohawk. I was a lineman. We would meet up at high voltage substations near Clymer, Sherman and Findley Lake, but never once did we talk about our days in the service. When we finally sat down and shared our stories, it was amazing to learn we took similar paths in our youths. We both knew men who didn’t get to see their 20th birthdays, and talked about how that knowledge was hard to carry around.
When Olmstead started his story, he said he went into the Merchant Marines because he didn’t want to go into the Army! But I understand that in the 1940s, all he had were the accounts on the radio and in the newspapers and reports came in daily of Army soldiers who lost their lives. Olmstead didn’t hear about how dangerous the Atlantic and Pacific were to Merchant Marines, too, and how one of the enemy’s main goals was to cut off supplies for the Allies. The enemy celebrated every time they sunk a ship full of ammunition and food for Allied troops – it meant fewer bullets would be shot at enemy soldiers and weaker, sicker Allied soldiers.
After hearing about how dangerous service in the Merchant Marines was, I asked Olmstead, “Were you crazy? You actually signed up with the Merchant Marines over the Army?” A big smile covered his face and he nodded his head. He said “Yes I did. The benefits were great.” He also realized just how badly those men over in Europe and the Pacific needed supplies. Whether or not those ships made it across the oceans meant life or death for troops overseas.
The Merchant Marines made it possible for the Allies to win the war. Without those supplies, the Allies would have been defeated by 1943. A year after WWII, Winston Churchill stated that the Merchant Marines and the L.S.T.s (Landing Ship Tanks) won the war.
Enjoying life
Now that he’s retired, Olmstead likes to watch a little television – not a lot, but he likes to keep up with what’s going on in the world. In the fall, he supports his home team in football. He likes to watch baseball now and then. He also enjoys spending time with his family.
Since World War II ended, 68 years have passed. There have been dozens of movies made about the war, hundreds of books written, and countless opinions shared about what was done and what should have been done. But it would be hard to find anything dedicated solely to the men of the Merchant Marines.
There is no calendar day dedicated to what they did for the Allied forces, or dedicated to the survivors of the Bataan Death March. These brave Americans, most younger than 20, sacrificed the best years of their lives to serve this country and stop evil where it spread like another plague through Europe and Asia. How do they feel when they see calendar days like “Bosses Day” and “Secretaries Day” and “Sweetest Day” set aside in bold print? We have Veterans Day and Memorial Day, but that isn’t enough. There should be a day set aside to honor different military branches, and the men who survived or lost their lives in specific, infamous battles and attacks, like the Bataan Death March. We should have Merchant Marine Day, L.S.T. Day, and more. We need to pay our respects to these men and let them know that we appreciate their sacrifices and honor their memories. We need to stand up and say “I know what you did for me, for my family and for our country. I know I am free because of you.”
Thank you, Mr. Olmstead. You are our hero of the week.
Albert M. Olmstead, Merchant Marine
Editor’s note: This is the second of a series. Part one began on Oct. 27.
Making the choice
When one of Albert M. Olmstead’s employers passed away, Olmstead had to make a choice. The farms were getting smaller, and deferments were getting more and more rare. The Merchant Marines became an appealing option. Being in the Merchant Marines meant good pay with benefits, seeing the world and helping troops in need. Choosing the Merchant Marines over the Army was a no-brainer for Olmstead; however, he knew nothing of the dangers of sailing the Atlantic when the world was at war.
Because of his life of working and playing outdoors, Olmstead passed the physical fitness tests with flying colors. He also scored high on the seamanship tests. With visions of sailing the world on one of the Merchant Marines’ new ships, Olmstead was soon off to eight weeks of training in Sheepshead Bay.
When he’d completed his training, Olmstead held in his hand his Merchant Marines license. This document allowed him to travel to Los Angeles, Boston or Philadelphia, or to stay in New York, and put his name on a board. Once a Merchant Marine’s name was selected, he would be assigned to a ship and told his departure date. However, no information was shared about the ship’s cargo, travel route or destination. These things were kept secret to help ensure safe deliveries of supplies to troops. The enemy would love nothing more than to get ahold of those ships’ plans and sink them, leaving Allied troops without things like food, clothing and ammunition.
Before signing onto his first mission, Olmstead was told to head west because many merchant ships were gathering for large convoys. He had earned a 10-day leave, so he went home for a quick visit before taking a five-day bus ride to Los Angeles. He had never seen that much of the country before, and he loved meeting new people at every bus stop, hearing their stories.
At sea
Olmstead reported to the Merchant Marines docks in the Los Angeles Newport area. He counted 100 ships being loaded, repaired, serviced or setting sail for the Pacific. After Olmstead had handed over his paperwork, a clerk wrote down a dock number on a slip of paper, passed it to Olmstead and told him to report to the captain of the ship that was tied to that dock. No ship’s name, captain’s name or ship’s color was revealed.
He did as he was told, and found that he was assigned to the MV Cape Henry, a diesel-powered ship. The captain told him that he and the rest of the crew would be informed of their cargo and destination once they were safely out at sea. The next morning, the MV Cape Henry set off for Bremerton, Wash., to pick up an Army support group to defend the ship if need be. On the deck sat a 105mm Howitzer and a set of twin 40s. Out in open water, the Merchant Marines watched the soldiers target practice with wooden targets they pulled behind the ship.
The crew was advised that they were headed for Okinawa, Japan. It had been taken by the U.S. Marines at a very high cost. Almost 12,000 men had lost their lives. The island had been a crucial win because of its airstrips. Large bombers could land there, which would help the Allies invade Japan’s mainland.
After unloading at Okinawa, Olmstead and his fellow Merchant Marines sailed again and docked at Honolulu, Hawaii. The deck was cleared, then loaded with half tracks, 6x6s and ammunition, food and mail. No destination was given, as usual. The next day, at sea, the men learned that they were headed for Enewetak in the Marshall Islands. After that, the remaining cargo was unloaded at Ulithi.
On June 18, 1945, the Cape Henry was to meet up with the largest convoy being formed. It consisted of Merchant Marines ships and Navy vessels. The ships would be loaded with supplies and ammunition to stock troops so that the Allies could invade Japan’s mainland. The Cape Henry arrived at Okinawa, her crew ready to do their part in an invasion that would decide the war’s end.
Bomb drop
The sun shown brightly on the morning Olmstead learned the United States had dropped a bomb like no other on Hiroshima. This new type of bomb was so devastating that it wiped out the entire Japanese city. Civilians were evaporated where they stood, and for miles the bomb’s fallout coated the city and its suburbs in a heavy death blanket. A few days later, another atomic bomb was dropped on Nagasaki. Radiation poisoning killed thousands more people for years to come. The dropping of these bombs remains a controversial topic to this day, but at the time, U.S. President Harry Truman made that choice to end the war that brought our boys home in body bags every day, leaving mothers without sons and making sad widows of young wives.
Peace time
With the world finally at a hard-won peace, Olmstead headed for San Francisco. It was Nov. 20, 1945, and he was on leave. He was 19 years old, he had seen much of the world, and he was glad to have his feet back on U.S. soil. He celebrated Christmas in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and from there went to Chicago. He made it home and then spent the next 10 days telling stories of his life at sea and of islands in the Pacific that no one in Chautauqua had ever heard of.
Soon, a call came and Olmstead learned what his next duty station would be. He went to New Jersey and a shell tanker, the S.S. Mammoth. That ship was longer and wider than any military ship Olmstead had ever seen. She was a super tanker, carrying various fuels, and she was on her way to Houston, Texas. On the way there and back, the ship stopped at various distributors, and Olmstead was happy to see more of the United States. He spent his last few trips on smaller ships, and finished his career sailing from Cleveland to Buffalo. Even though he wasn’t out on the Ocean or headed for the Pacific Islands, Olmstead had some memorable trips on the waters of Lake Erie.
Next week: Part three.