Mike Lacche Boxing Magazine: December, 2012

This month had a wonderful Army/Navy football game with Navy pulling through with a 17-13 victory. Congratulations to both teams on again showing all that is good with collegiate athletics.

On December 26, 2012 - we honor the 94th anniversary of the birth of Joseph "Joe" N. Ermer. A wonderful, strong, funny, kind mentor, Mr. Ermer's legacy is very much alive and well today. Here is an excerpt from his journal.

In later invasions, Joseph "Joe" N. Ermer, crew mate on the U.S.S. Elmore, found himself part of a convoy sailing up the East China Sea for the next series of offenses. The U.S.S. Elmore got stuck in a punishing typhoon, which put at risk the team's timeline and mission. (Click here for audio version).

"The Admiral in charge ordered continued sailing at high speed. The wind was so strong that it blew off the tops of the waves and the air was semi-liquid. Our ship came close to the turn-over point. We were somewhat top heavy with all the landing craft on deck. Three destroyers in the group didn't make it; they capsized with large losses of life.

Rescue was almost impossible in those conditions, plus we had strict orders to maintain course. Some survivors were picked by the trailing escort vessels. I later met one of the surviving sailors on the troop train from New York to San Francisco.

We had a great Skipper, Captain Drayton P. Harrison, an Annapolis grad. At first, he was a three striper, Commander; he got his fourth stripe on board years later; I saw him in 90 Church St. with Rear Admiral boards on his shoulders.

U.S.S ELMORE - photo credit - Wikipedia.org

Captain Harrison was well-liked and respected. One time, he was sitting with a bunch of other officers outside the officers' mess (the Captain had his own). One of the Junior Ensigns came up after putting in a hard four hours training in the landing craft and was tired and sweaty. The Ensign announced, "OK! one of you deadbeats get off your lardass and let a working man sit down." Without a word, Captain Harrison got up and walked away.

We stopped once in Noumea, New Caledonia. The population was mostly Vichy French. For some reason I hadn't done any drinking (too busy beach combing); in the boat returning to the ship, most of the sailors started getting violently sick. It turns out that the liquor and beer had been highly adulterated.

That is also the place that we almost went aground on a leper colony. Noumea Harbor is surrounded by mountains. The wind can funnel through it in almost hurricane velocity. We were anchored in our assignment anchorage just off the leper colony. The wind got so strong that we started to drag our one bow anchor (we lost the other one). The Skipper had us drop the stern anchor, which was much lighter and not much help. He then ordered the Engineering Department to get up steam. They actually had it on the jacking lever, which meant they were producing a small amount of steam. That took care of our generators.

So we were dragging our anchors and heading for the rocks. The cliffs above them were lined with lepers, watching us. Finally, the engineers got up enough steam so that we could make slow headway against the wind. We up-anchored and got the hell out of there.

Joseph "Joe" N. Ermer, WWII

I mentioned losing an anchor. It happened in the Russell Islands, part of the Solomon chain. These islands were just peaks of mountains stuck up out of the water, with very deep water in between. We probably missed our anchorage by a small distance.

The old man yelled for us to drop the hook. At this time, we still had two bow anchors. I was on the anchor detail and hanging over with sound-powered phones on, calling on the fathom markers on the chain as it paid out. There was always a lot of noise and rust in the air. The chain just kept running and running. Apparently, it never hit bottom!

The brakeman was trying to slow the run out, but those breaks were never meant for anything like that. The brakes were disintegrating and Barrett, the brakeman, was being peppered with break lining. The First Lieutenant, Flaherty, ordered everyone other there. They all started running out when he noticed I was still hanging over calling out markers. He ran up to me, grabbed me around the middle and ran back. The phones popped off my head and almost immediately the anchor chain came to the bitter end.

Each link in that chain was a massive foot long and weighed over 20 pounds. The flailing end of that chain just about obliterated the part of the bow where I had been. We had to make do with just one anchor for the rest of the war.

Although our Ship was never directly hit by a bomb or torpedo, there were quite a few casualties among the crew: officers and men. Most occurred during the various invasions, in the small boats and on the beach. The most casualties on board were the gravely wounded that were brought back to the ship.

I don't like to think about some of the grossly mangled, poor souls who spent their last hours on our Ship and wounded up being buried at sea.

Kind of makes one a Pacifist.

I really would like to see all the war-mongering politicians out in the front of the rest of humanity where they would be the first to go.

I apologize for the length of this memoir. It actually felt good to get it out of my system. It is part of our family's background and history and deserves to be remembered. Love you all."

-- Joseph "Joe" N. Ermer

Joseph "Joe" N. Ermer Memoirs (click links below to view/hear):
Celebration of Life: Joseph N. Ermer
Celebration of life: early childhood: Joseph N. Ermer
Celebration of Life: sports in the early years: Joseph N. Ermer
Celebration of Life: early years: Boy Scouts: Joseph N. Ermer
Celebration of Life: WWII part one: Joseph N. Ermer
Celebration of Life: WWII part two: Joseph N. Ermer
Celebration of Life: WWII part three: Joseph N. Ermer
Celebration of Life: WWII part four: Joseph N. Ermer