“There were swabbies who fancied tabooed raisin jack,

old salts their torpedo juice cocktail.

There were boots sniffing zinc chromate,

their complexions turning quite pale.

But the guy who ran the milk machine,

called affectionately "the mechanical cow",

cranked out the best damn milk in the fleet,

from Big E's cast iron cow.

Took time to acquire a taste for it,

Nothing' like the milk back home.

But after weeks and weeks at sea,

'Twas better than condensed sea foam.

As I sit here in my twilight years,

conjuring those days gone by,

I dream of swigging that 3rd deck brew,

just one last time 'fore I die, HA HA!

Just one last time 'fore I die.

A.R. "Jack" (Arlond) Banks led the Enterprise (CV-6) US Navy Band #51 down the Avenue of the Americas during the 1945 Navy Day parade in New York City.

If it hadn’t been for World War II, Charles Clarence Wheeler might have spent his life in Redondo Beach, Calif., working fishing boats, and having an ordinary life.

But two big things happened in Wheeler’s life — The Great Depression and World War II.

“I joined the Navy when I was pushing 20 years old,” said Wheeler, adding that it was “economics, primarily” that drove him into uniform.

In those days, a new sailor earned $21 per month while in boot camp, and $30 a month after graduation, according to Jack Green of the Naval Historical Center.

The other reason for joining the Navy was foresight.

“We could see something was going to happen with Germany or Japan. Maybe both. Me and my friends were not going to wait to be drafted,” Wheeler said.

While his friends went into different branches of the service, the Navy called to Wheeler.

“I was raised in a coastal area (of California) and it was like living in Gulf Shores. I was making about a dollar a day on a fishing boat when I was 16.”

Joining the Navy made good economic sense. While the pay wasn’t that great, it was stable. You got three square meals a day. You had honest work. And you got to see some of the world. Not that bad a deal for a young man from Redondo Beach.

Unless, of course, a war breaks out.

Wheeler served as a Chief Petty Officer specializing in aviation ordinance aboard Enterprise (CV-6) during some of that ship’s (the most decorated ship in World War II) most iconic battles.

He now makes his home in southern Baldwin County with his wife, Barbara, and volunteers a few days a week at the Pensacola Naval Air Museum, which houses some “Big E” artifacts. While he’s getting on in years, and is somewhat deaf, he’ll gladly talk about his wartime experiences.

“I was talking at the museum, and a (former) admiral who runs the museum on Ford Island (Pearl Harbor, Hawaii) heard me,” said Wheeler. “He invited me to come and speak at his museum.”

The tour to Pearl Harbor and to other points in the Pacific was a high point in his long and exciting life.

“I can’t believe they wanted to hear an old sailor,” said Wheeler.

Wheeler says that shortly after boot camp, he found himself aboard Enterprise (CV-6), then docked in Pearl Harbor.

“We left Pearl on 28 November, 1941 to take some Marines and their planes to Wake Island,” recalled Wheeler. “I can remember (Rear Admiral) Halsey came on the loudspeaker to tell us were sailing under wartime conditions, and that if we see a hostile vessel, we will sink it.”

To keep prying eyes off the mission, Enterprise sailed an indirect course to Wake Island. A storm delayed the 761-foot vessel’s return to Pearl Harbor, which should have been in its berth next to the Battleship Utah on the morning of Dec. 7, 1941.

That may be the luckiest piece of bad luck in history.

“You could throw a baseball from Enterprise to Utah,” recalled Wheeler, who added that it was his firm belief that if Enterprise had been at Pearl during the attack, he would have ben killed, and the ship sunk.

As it was, three of the Pacific Fleet aircraft carriers that would normally be at Pearl Harbor that day were away on other business. The Japanese attack did not harm them. The Japanese crippled the American fleet, but missed an important chance for mastery of the Pacific.

“The American Navy was the only one powerful enough to stop the Japanese Navy,” said Wheeler. “As it was, the Japanese controlled the Pacific.”

The American Navy, though crippled, had two important advantages, Wheeler says.

“We had radar, and we had broken their codes,” said Wheeler. “We could see them and we knew what they were planning.”

Still, it was going to be a long haul to drive the Japanese out of the territories they had occupied.

Enterprise was in the middle of things, fighting battles, sinking ships and downing aircraft throughout the Pacific. Then, the ship was ordered to Pearl Harbor for repairs.

“I can recall the admiral using some ugly words,” said Wheeler. “He said, ‘We’re out here to find the Japanese and kill them.’”

Still, the ship did get some repairs, and Wheeler says the ship left Pearl Harbor on 28 May 1842.

“The word came over the loudspeaker,” said Wheeler, ‘We have reason to believe that the Imperial Japanese Navy is going to attempt to occupy Midway. We will attempt to counter attack.’”

For all the Navy’s fighting spirit, however, Wheeler says, “We were caught with our britches hanging down.”

The biggest problem was, Wheeler says, “We couldn’t find the enemy. For three days we were off Point Luck, and were looking for them.”

The three days, Wheeler added, were put to good use, refurbishing the ship.

“Those were our ‘get ready’ days,” said Wheeler. “We were more than ready.”

“One of the PBYs found them (the Japanese),” recalled Wheeler. “The pilot sent the message that he had found the Japanese fleet, but didn’t send a position report. There were a lot of guys who wanted to kill that pilot.”

Wheeler says he got a chance to speak to that pilot later, and learned that when the young pilot started to give the fleet’s position, a Japanese “Zero” fighter started stalking him. The PBY pilot evaded the more agile, better-armed Zero by heading into a cloud bank.

“He said he stayed in the cloud bank for 20 minutes,” Wheeler said. “When he came out (of the clouds) he was over the Japanese fleet again, so he zipped back in, then sent the message.”

Wheeler credits “our guardian angels” for Enterprise coming relatively unscathed from the battle.

Her sister ship, Yorktown, was not so lucky.

“The Japanese bombed Yorktown,” said Wheeler. “We could see the explosions from our deck.”

Yorktown’s captain, certain that the ship was sinking, ordered all hands to abandon ship.

A twist of fate made things worse.

When the carrier did not immediately sink, a salvage party went aboard, hoping to make the ship seaworthy enough to limp into port. The destroyer Hammond tied up alongside, and provided electrical power for the salvage crew.

“While they were occupied with fixing Yorktown, a Japanese sub using the debris in the water as cover got into position,” said Wheeler.

The sub fired three torpedoes, one of which finished off Yorktown. Another torpedo struck Hammond.

Hammond “broke in half,” said Wheeler.

Hammond also had depth charges aboard, some, Wheeler says, were already set to explode at a certain depth, a violation of common practice. The exploding depth charges killed many of the sailors thrown into the water.

Of course, there were some funny moments during the war as well. One of them got Wheeler promoted.

“The guns and the propellers had to be ‘synchronized,’” said Wheeler.

This was important so the airplane’s bullets would not chew up its propellers when the guns were used. It was a tricky, fussy, and exacting job. Wheeler and his buddy, Carl Hagenbeck, were working on an aircraft at 2 a.m.

“I was having trouble, so I asked Carl if he was having as much (salty language) trouble,” said Wheeler. “I heard a voice behind me asking if I was having trouble. I didn’t look behind me and replied that of course I blankety-blank was.”

Wheeler still grins with embarrassment when he tells the rest of the story.

“I turned around and realized the person behind me was Admiral Halsey,” said Wheeler. “I just about melted off that wing and came to attention.”

The usually irascible admiral was impressed the pair were working on an airplane so late. Wheeler said Halsey asked a few good questions, and then took Wheeler’s name. Wheeler was certain he’d be on bread and water for the rest of the war.

“A few weeks later, I was on the Chief’s list,” said Wheeler. It appeared that the admiral remembered Wheeler and decided that he was worthy of promotion.

“They truly are the greatest generation,” said Barbara. “I think someone needs to say that.”

After the war, Wheeler said he found California was “too crowded.” He came to the Gulf Coast to earn a teaching degree on the GI Bill, and taught “shop” in the Montgomery area.

He retired, moved to the area, and began volunteering as a tour guide at the Naval Air Museum in 1993. He relishes the chance to give visitors one of the few remaining firsthand accounts of the war.

“There were no heroes,” said Wheeler firmly. “Everyone did their duty.”

Postscript

While Wheeler went home and had a normal life, the same can’t be said for his ship.

After World War II, Enterprise received a tumultuous welcome in New York City Oct. 27, 1945 during Navy Day celebrations. It is estimated that a quarter of a million visitors came aboard her while she was moored to Pier 26 in the Hudson River.

She also sailed to Southampton, England,and became the first ship outside the Royal Navy awarded the Admiralty Pennant. Enterprise was then was used to carry service members home from the European theater. She then made her way to a mooring in New Jersey. Her boilers were shut down, and she was never to sail under her own steam again.

In 1947, the “Big E” was decommissioned, and it was determined that she could not be modified in a cost-effective manner to handle the demands of modern naval aviation. A new Enterprise, this one nuclear-powered, was under construction.

But her old shipmates had not forgotten her.

“We raised $330,000,” said Wheeler. That was a fabulous sum in those days.

“Admiral Halsey was our PR guy,” said Wheeler. ”He went to see (secretary of the Navy Thomas S.) Gates, and he was told there was to be no shrine. Besides, they were building CVN-65 (the nuclear Enterprise) and they didn’t want to have any confusion.”

Wheeler continued that Gates told Halsey that it would cost $1 million to buy the historic vessel. That was more money than her old shipmates could raise.

However, Wheeler says some of the money raised to turn the “the Galloping Ghost” into a floating museum was donated to the Navy Relief Fund, and some parts of the ship were preserved.

“You can’t believe some of the dirty words the guys said,” recalled Wheeler sadly.

Enterprise was sold for scrap in July of 1958. By early 1960, she was gone.

“They turned her into razor blades,” said Wheeler, his voice catching slightly.