February 2010 Archives

I also liked Bruce's assessment of himself toward the end of his story when he reflects on what the war meant to him.  He explains that he never understood what horrors others might be experiencing.  For him the war was never threatening.  Like many young people Bruce thought he would live forever.  He lived life for the moment and acknowledges that it was probably due to his immaturity. 

The war had real horrors for some of Bruce's brothers.  Ivan, who served with the Army in the bloody campaigns in North Africa and Italy, committed suicide in 1948 with his army pistol. Nile, who was wounded twice in France, didn't take his own life until some twenty years after returning, but some of the contributing factors can no doubt be traced back to his time in the military.

Like most people who write their own stories, Bruce writes "from the inside out." In other words, he reports what he saw with his own eyes  (at least what he remembers as noteworthy), but he does little to place his experiences in historical context.  When Dawn and I teach life story writing we stress that people need to research their own lives.  For most people this is a new concept.  "I lived my life--why would I need to research it?" they say.

The problem is that most of us do not fully appreciate how our lives were fit into the greater historical drama that is unfolding around us.  Our descendants, however, will find it more interesting if we weave contextual facts into the story.  Today there is a huge library sitting on our desks in the form of a computer connected to the Internet.  When I was younger I would have to drive many miles to a large library, then wait while somebody went into the stacks and found some books that might contain relevant information.  There was a good chance that some of the books on local history wouldn't even be there.  Today with just a few Google queries we can usually find all the background we need--with pictures!

I won't keep you waiting for Bruce's story any longer.  At the end, however, you might want to keep reading and learn some interesting background facts I picked up from my research.

Bruce's Story

After graduating from Provo High School in May 1943, I worked during the summer on the construction of Geneva Steel Plant.  First, I dug trenches for A.S. Schuleman Electric, but I was fired because I was caught sleeping on the job.  Everyone on our crew would take a short nap after lunch, but one day the other fellows slipped away and left me asleep.  When the boss came by, that was it.  The experience taught me a good lesson.  Next I found a job with Fuller Construction, but when their contract was completed, I was out of work again. Then I went to work delivering milk for the local dairy, starting each morning at about 12:30 a.m. and getting off about 7:30 a.m.  I would eat, go to bed until for three or four in the afternoon, then I was free to go out and take part in whatever was going on until 12:30 a.m.

My friend, Jack Clayton, and I were born on the same day.  We palled around together and I would help in his family's store on occasion. The war was on everyone's minds, of course, and Jack and I would often discuss the draft and our future options. We decided the best course was to join the armed forces before our eighteenth birthdays so as not to be drafted into the Army.  We tried for the Army Air Corps, but I failed the physical exam due to my poor eyesight and Jack just missed passing the written exam. Needless to say, we were quite down. One morning, a few days before our eighteenth birthday, Jack came over to my house, got me out of bed, and said, "Come on, we're going to join the Navy."  So we went down and talked with the recruiter and then with our parents. 

On September 30, 1943, we were sworn in as members of the United States Naval Reserve.  I was the seventh son in our family to enter the service.  We left Salt Lake by train and reported to boot camp at Farragut, Idaho. The Navy recruiter had recommended radar school and said we were sure to get ahead in that field, but we could not make that selection until boot camp.  When we arrived they stripped us, gave us a series of shots, cut our hair and outfitted us with Navy clothes, blankets and a sea bag.  I got "cat fever" from the shots and was in sick bay for three days.  During that time our company went to make their duty selections.  When I went in, after getting out of sick bay, I found we were given three choices, so I put "Radar" first, "Storekeeper" second and "Yeoman" third.  I later discovered Jack also put "Radar" first, but put "Electrician's Mate" second.  We hadn't discussed anything except trying to get into radar school.  As it turned out, we were both given our second choices, so after boot camp we were separated.

In boot camp we had to be put in shape through calisthenics and drilling. Our muscles ached and our chests burned after strenuous exercises and running.  We also learned to handle a rifle and shoot on the firing range.  We were required to stand guard duty and one night I fell asleep in the wee hours and was placed on report.  That meant extra duty, scrubbing toilets and working in the mess hall scrubbing pans and floors.  Another day while showering I slipped backward on some soap, did a complete twist in the air, and when I landed my chin hit the concrete deck.  I received a gash about an inch long and when I went to sick bay they put metal staples to hold it, instead of thread.

 We attended church services while in Farragut and I became a charter member of the "Abstinence Club."  I later learned it had originated in the Blackfoot Seminary where my future wife, Gene, had become a charter member.

After finishing boot camp we were given leave to return home.  While on leave, I met Rae Adams and dated her.  I also kept up a correspondence with her while I was in the Navy.  When we returned to Farragut, we were assigned to an OGU (out-going unit), where we spent time on work details around the camp.  We had a lot of spare time and spent much of it playing cards.  We played for money and over a two- or three-month period I managed to stay a little ahead, but after that I repented and quit playing for money.  I arranged for an allotment taken out of my check for United States savings bonds and had the bonds sent home.

About a month after our leave, Jack was assigned to electrician's mate school at Ohio State University.  I stayed in OGU for quite awhile longer before finally being assigned to storekeeper's school in Farragut.  During this period I made new friends.  One was a bunkmate, Jerry Weaver, who was particularly close.  We went on liberties together to Sand Point, Coeur d'Alene and Spokane.  He was not Mormon.  One time I took him with me to an LDS Church dance, but after we arrived he wouldn't dance or mingle with the girls.  I found out later that his church didn't believe in dancing and his mother was terribly upset when she learned he had gone.  Jerry asked me to write to her and explain the situation, which I did.  She accepted the explanation and called me her son and after that she was always "Mom Weaver."  I met her in person when she came to Spokane to visit Jerry.  Much later, near Christmas, when our ship docked in Seattle, Billy Branyon and I hitchhiked to Wenatchee and spent a day at the Weavers' house.  In Seattle, it was rainy and quite warm, but on top of Snoqualmie Pass there were ten-foot deep snowdrifts and we about froze while waiting for a ride at the junction.  We had a lovely visit at the Weavers, where I met Jerry's father and brother.  

At storekeeper's school, there were several of us who bunked close together and we would study together for our classes. This helped a lot with the exams.  We also went into the woods behind the base and took pictures.  When we graduated in May 1944, I was advanced to Storekeeper Third Class for being near the top of the class.  Some of us were selected to attend aviation storekeepers school in Jacksonville, Florida, with leave enroute.  While on leave in Provo, I was ordained an elder in the LDS Church.  We traveled by train to Florida, via Chicago.  Quite a number of us had to go through Chicago and managed to get on the same train.  As we went through Georgia, a couple of girls got on in Macon, going to the beach.  We became quite friendly with them.

The base in Jacksonville had concrete courts where we played basketball for exercise.  One Friday, I had played several hours and got blisters on the bottoms of my feet.  That night, I went on a weekend pass.  I spent Saturday on the beach and Sunday at Church.  By the time I returned to the base Sunday night, I had an infection in both feet and had to go to the base hospital, where I spent a week recovering.  Classes started every two weeks and the courses were so concentrated I had to go into the next class.  As a result, Jerry and the others graduated two weeks before I did.  Their class was assigned carriers on the west coast.  When my class graduated, assignments were being made to the east coast.  I was assigned to the pre-commissioning detail at Norfolk, Virginia, for a new large aircraft carrier.  After Major Doolittle's raid on Tokyo, using Army bombers launched from aircraft carriers, President Roosevelt made a speech in which he said that perhaps the bombers came from Shangri-La.  Our ship's name was immediately changed to "Shangri-La."  My new rank was Aviation Storekeeper Second Class.

While in Norfolk, I attended church at the local branch and met three girls from North Carolina and a fellow from Salt Lake.  Wilma Mooring, her sister, and Betty Strickland were the girls, and Darrel Monson was the fellow.  He invited me to sing in a quartet with him and two others.  We sang "The Teacher's Work Is Done."  I wrote to Wilma and thought it was quite serious.  She went out to Utah to attend BYU but when I finally got home on leave after the war ended, I discovered she was engaged to another fellow. 

After working at stocking the ship with parts and supplies, we had our shakedown cruise in the Caribbean Sea and stopped over in Port of Spain, Trinidad.  Some of the guys smuggled a sack of fresh limes on board ship and we had fresh limeade. Really great!  On our shakedown we had maneuvers with air groups practicing takeoffs and landings.  One air group had heavy dive bombers and when they approached to land, if they were too low, they had to rev up their motors fast, bank and turn.  In doing so, the torque would spin the plane and they would end up diving straight down in the water.  The prop then pulled them straight to the bottom.  We lost several planes and some pilots that way. 

On our way back to Norfolk, we ran into heavy seas off Cape Hatteras, North Carolina.  The waves were so high, they broke over the flight deck at times.  Many of the sailors got sick, including me.  After the worst was over, some of us went to the bow forward of the hangar deck to enjoy the fresh air.  I had just taken my glasses out of my pocket and put them on, when a huge wave came over the bow.  I grabbed the cable railing and hung on.  When it subsided we ran back to our storeroom to change.  When I reached up to take off my glasses, they were gone, washed overboard.  I looked for them, but no luck, so I had to buy a new pair when we docked.

My supervisor was Billy Branyon, First Class Aviation Storekeeper.  We became close friends.  After our shakedown cruise, we took on supplies and sailed through the Panama Canal on our way to San Diego, California.  We stopped at Cristobal, Canal Zone and Balboa Heights, Panama, where we were given liberty.  Billy and I were assigned shore patrol duty in Panama City.  We saw some of their beer halls and prostitute shacks.  The prostitutes would grab your arm as you walked by and try to pull you into their places of business.  We used our nightsticks to fend them off.

While in San Diego, we had two days of military inspection at sea to determine our ship's fitness for combat duty.  After taking on more supplies, rockets, passengers and extra planes for ferrying to Pearl Harbor, we left San Diego and docked at Ford Island.  By the time we arrived, two of the large carriers had been badly damaged, so they sent the USS Saratoga--an older carrier they were using to train air groups in landings--on to the task force and we stayed in Hawaii in her place.  We spent our time in training the air groups in both day and night landings.  There were calls to general quarters during these training runs.  My storekeepers group was assigned to the ammunition bunkers, on the fifth deck down, where we would load shells or powder charges onto an elevator which took them to the five-inch guns.  After the call, we would unload them again.  After several of these events, the brass decided that we aviation storekeepers were needed in the storeroom to issue supplies during combat so the mechanics could be freed up to work on the planes.  They built bunks in our storeroom area and from that time onward we were assigned to our storeroom during all general quarters calls.

While on these training runs, I was able to watch from the walkway outside our store room (just forward of the fantail of the ship on the port side).  I would sometimes have to duck when a plane was waved off.  The flagman had a safety net to the side which he would dive into. 

We had lots of liberties in Honolulu.  We visited the pineapple plant and went swimming on Waikiki Beach, near the Royal Hawaiian Hotel.  The hotel had been taken over by the armed services for rehabilitation of servicemen injured in the war.  We also went to movies and to church at the LDS stake center.  I never found anyone who was Mormon aboard our ship so I would always go to the Protestant services while on board.  Whenever we were in port on Sunday, I attended a local ward. 

Our favorite activity ashore in Honolulu was to get banana splits (they were big!) and go to a movie.  George Feick was my buddy on most of these adventures.  The rest of the gang went in for other activities, like drinking, and the like. The others in our group were Walter Cheeley, Harold Rauschenberger, Leland Porter, Billy Branyon, Scott Taulbee and Antonio Ramirez.   

About a month after arriving in Pearl Harbor, the USS Saratoga was badly damaged, as well as two of the big carriers.  We continued to train air groups until 10 April 1945, when we proceeded alone to Ulithi Atoll and were refueled from a tanker.  We joined the USS Iowa and two destroyers in proceeding northward to join Task Force 58 off Okinawa.  Planes of the Shangri-La made their first attack against the enemy-held island of Okino Daito Jima on 25 April 1945.  We were in the thick of it.  After more than two weeks of fighting, we returned to Ulithi Atoll for recreation and the hoisting of Vice-Admiral J.S. McCain's flag aboard. 

We were allowed shore leave for four hours at a time on tiny Mog-Mog Island for beer and games.  I learned the repair ship USS Ogallala (Jack Clayton's ship) was also there, so I took the liberty boat back to his ship instead of mine.  We had a nice visit but there was no way for me to get directly back to my ship.  I had intended to take the liberty boat again the next day, but became concerned early the next morning when we saw some carriers start sailing out to sea.  We couldn't tell from the distance whether the Shangri-La was one of them.  Finally, at 8:00 a.m., one of Jack's friends who was on duty dispatched a boat to take me to my ship.  Luckily my ship was not leaving right then.  I was also fortunate that Billy Branyon was nearby when I boarded and intervened on my behalf, saying I was returning from a trip for supplies.  Later he really chewed me out for pulling such a stupid stunt.  I could have gotten into serious trouble, but I learned from that mistake.  We left two days later for the Okinawa area, where we spent three weeks in combat, returning to Leyte Gulf in the Philippines for refueling and taking on supplies.

The back half of the flight deck had large cables across about every fifteen feet or so on lifters to raise them about a foot above the deck.  These caught the plane's tail hook to stop it.  Opposite the ship's superstructure were a series of three barrier cable units about six feet high with three cables about a foot apart going across.  If the hook didn't catch a cable, the barriers would.  There were a number of instances when these barriers did stop a plane but, of course, there would be damage.  More than once a plane would veer off and actually hit the superstructure.  One time a plane came in low and struck the end of the flight deck and the tail went down and wedged between the flight deck and the fantail where twin forty-millimeter gun mounts were.  I did not see these incidents at the time, but did see pictures of them.  During rushed landings a plane sometimes had to be pushed over the side to let others land.  The ship had two elevators from the flight deck to the hangar deck and they were kept busy during landings.

On 1 July 1945, we steamed out of Leyte on a trip that lasted seventy-eight days without going into port.  When we finally were able to pull into a port it was Tokyo Bay, after the war had ended.  When the armistice was signed in Tokyo Bay, our ship had patrol duty off the coast to make sure no enemy planes or ships interrupted the ceremony.  I don't recall knowing what was actually transpiring in the bay at the time.  Ours was simply duty as usual. 

We docked on 16 September and were given liberty in Tokyo.  It was quite a sight to see all the bombed areas.  I bought a couple of Japanese dolls to bring home.  During that seventy-eight days at sea, I experienced many of the sights and sounds of war.  I saw enemy planes shot down.  Kamikaze planes nearly hit our own ship.  We watched as the USS Missouri fired its eighteen-inch guns at the Japanese coastline.  The concussion from those salvos was so great that it would nearly knock us over while watching from our flight deck a quarter of a mile away.  I don't recall being afraid, but I did some serious praying.  Also, during that time, I did some reminiscing, and wrote the following.

REMINISCENCE

As I lean on the rail and watch the sky
While the ship sails o'er the ocean blue,
I am thinking of the days gone by
And of the things we used to do.
In fields of beets so young and green,
Growing in rich brown soil;
With sharpened hoes we could be seen
Starting our daily toil.
The morning sun with fury beat down
As we worked without a shirt,
And our backs soon turned to darkest brown
While sweat was mixed with dirt.
Noontime came with a shout of joy
As each rushed to get his lunch,
And then relaxed in the shade to enjoy
A tasty repast he could slowly munch.
After dinner the cool green grass
Served as a bed for a few moments sleep.
Quick as a flash the time seemed to pass
And back to our work we would creep.
Late in the evening when we finished a row,
Tired and weary and baked by the sun;
We stopped our toil and lay down the hoe,
Glad that at last our day's work was done.

We finally loaded up with soldiers to ferry back to the States, and were on our way to Okinawa to pick up more soldiers, when a typhoon changed our plans and we headed straight to Bremerton naval yard near Seattle, Washington.  It was while in Bremerton that Billy Branyon and I hitchhiked to Wenatchee to see Jerry Weaver's family.

From Bremerton, the ship sailed to Terminal Island (Long Beach) California and we were given a thirty-day leave.  I flew home--my first commercial airline flight.  Several days later I received an empty airmail envelope from the ship and passed it off as a joke of Billy's.  This is the leave I mentioned when I found both my girlfriends were engaged to other fellows--without even a "Dear John" letter, yet!  I attended a few MIA dances and met some girls attending BYU.  I learned later they were roommates of the girl I was to marry.

Upon returning to Terminal Island the day before Thanksgiving, I found my ship had sailed without me.  They gave me a one-day pass for the holiday, so I spent Thanksgiving with my brother Walter and his wife Elda.  Friday morning they began processing me as a new enlistee, with physical and dental exams, new gear, including bedding and the works.  About mid-morning as I waited in line for the dentist they called me into the office.  They had located my ship in San Diego and gave me orders to the San Diego Naval Base instead of my ship.  I decided to hitchhike down to save bus fare and arrived at the station about 5:00 p.m.--too late for processing.  So they gave me a weekend pass and I went into town.  I met some of the gang from the ship and had a good weekend.  I attended church and was invited out to dinner by a member family.  Monday morning they cut my papers to transfer me to my ship and I reported aboard shortly after noon--five days late!  They had me listed AWOL during that time and I had quite a time explaining why I hadn't called the ship when I got their letter.  Luckily, they had sent out quite a number of empties, but apparently I was the only one who failed to call in for instructions.

With the war over there were discussions of plans for the future.  There were to be tests of the atomic bomb at Bikini Atoll in the Pacific and the Navy was looking for volunteers to ship over to man the ships.  Some of us thought it would be fun, but when our points totaled enough for a discharge, we bailed out.  So I left the ship in San Diego and travelled with a couple of other Utahns.  We took a train to Scofield Barracks in San Francisco, where we stayed while our discharge papers were being processed.  Finally, on 14 May 1946, I was discharged and I caught a bus to Corning, in California's Sacramento Valley, where I visited my brother Morris and his wife Barbara for a week before going home.  My plans at the time were to return to Provo and attend Brigham Young University, with a major in accounting.  After visiting Morris, who was a civil engineer, I thought I would enjoy surveying.  That is how I came to pursue a course in civil engineering.  I arrived home on 21 May 1946.

Post script:  As I look back on my war experience I realize that I didn't worry much about the hazards of the war.  Servicemen had free postage and I corresponded with my family and girl friends, but I never fully appreciated the fear and trauma that others might have been going through.  Since our mail was censored, there was a lot we couldn't write about.  The "real war"--the one with death and destruction--was not in my mind a lot.  Perhaps it was my immaturity.  During these years I seemed to live life only for the moment. 

Many sailors complained about the Navy chow, but to me it was great.  Growing up in a family of ten boys during the depression, I was used to a lot less.  We had a ship's canteen where we could always get candy and other treats.  I think I got my fill of candy bars because when I returned home I didn't eat any for years.  My wife couldn't believe it.  On the ocean there were a lot of ships in our fleet wherever we went, but I don't recall ever seeing any enemy ships.  We did see enemy aircraft, and watched some shot down.  When the kamikaze aircraft were around I was at my duty station, so didn't see much, but of course I heard about them.

Unfortunately, I was prone to seasickness.  Every time we left port, I would spend two or three days in my bunk with only soda crackers to eat.  After that I would be fine until the next time we were in port very long.  Short days in port were okay, but if we were there for a week or more I would get sick when we left.

During long voyages when not much was happening, I took up a hobby of making picture frames out of scraps of plexiglass from airplane windshields.  I made several small ones for individual pictures, then I made one large one with individual pictures of my brothers and me for Mom and Dad.  Each of these frames would pivot within the large frame.   It was my intention to put the boys' wives' pictures in back of each one.  The frame stood on my parents' mantle in our home on Eighth North in Provo for many years until Dad moved to Salt Lake and gave the frame back to me.

End of Bruce's Story - Interesting Background

Hi.  It's me again.  Here are some of the interesting background facts I picked up.  According to Idaho author Marianne Love, Farragut Naval Base, where Bruce had his basic training,

"rose almost overnight on wide-open fields and rolling hills that had once served as a seasonal stop for early Indian and pioneer migrations. In late 1941, the U.S. government snapped up the land ... to establish an inland naval base more than 300 miles away from the western coastline, where the nation feared a Japanese invasion. For the next nine months more than 22,000 men worked 10-hour shifts for 13 of every 14 days for Walter Butler Construction Co. to build mess halls, libraries, movie theaters, living quarters, chapels and other buildings....  Between its opening in September, 1942, and its decommissioning in June, 1946, this stunning expanse of 4,000 acres served as temporary home to almost 300,000 naval recruits.... Another group of soldiers -- some as young as 16 or 17 -- arrived at Farragut from Europe. Wearing shirts inscribed with "PW, " 750 German prisoners of war, many from Austria, worked side by side with American soldiers. They ran loose in camp and trimmed shrubbery or mowed lawns at the facility named in honor of the Navy's first admiral, David Farragut." Sailors Ahoy! by Marianne Love.

Now we get a clearer picture of what Bruce must have experienced during his basic training.

After leaving Farragut, Bruce traveled by train to Jacksonville, Florida, for training to become a Naval Storekeeper.  The Jacksonville Naval Air Station was the main training station for Navy pilots and aerial gunners.  More than 700 buildings were constructed on the base during the World War II years, including an 80 acre hospital and a prisoner-of-war compound which housed more than 1,500 German prisoners of war. One of the first logos for the Jacksonville NAS was designed by Walt Disney.  Following the victory over Japan in 1946 the Navy Flight Demonstration Team, known as the Blue Angels, were formed there.

Bruce's ship, the USS Shangri-La, was one of twenty-four Essex-class aircraft carriers built for service in the war.  They were larger than previous versions, which had been limited by pre-war naval treaties.  Essex-class carriers were 872 feet long (about three football fields) and 93 feet wide. One author has called the Essex class "the most significant class of warships in American naval history," citing the large number produced and "their role in making the aircraft carrier the backbone of the U. S. Navy." Andrew Faltum, The Essex Aircraft Carriers (Baltimore, MD: The Nautical and Aviation Publishing Company of America, 1996), p.1.

Bruce mentions that he and his shipmates "were allowed shore leave for four hours at a time on tiny Mog-Mog Island for beer and games."  Mog Mog was part of the Ulithi atol in Micronesia.  It must have been overrun with sailors during the war years.  There were natives who lived on Mog Mog and I can only imagine the influx of Americans must have disrupted enormously the traditional lifestyle.  One journalist took a trip to Mog Mog in 1993 and reported a strange phenomenon.  Everywhere else he had traveled, if anyone spoke English it was the children, who would serve as translators for their elders.  On Mog Mog it was the adults who spoke English--few children could.   See Remote Pacific Blog, accessed February 15, 2010.  The author didn't offer an explanation as to why this was so, but I'm sure it is because the adults had lived there during the war years and learned their English from American sailors.

We can only hope that someone found an environmentally safe way to dispose of the tons of beer cans left on the Island.

Here is an enumeration of the action the Shangri-La saw in July and August 1945, just before Japan surrendered, which supports and elaborates on Bruce's description.

On 1 July [1945], Shangri-La got underway from Leyte to return to the combat zone. On the 2nd, the oath of office of Assistant Secretary of the Navy for Air was administered to John L. Sullivan on board Shangri-La, the first ceremony of its type ever undertaken in a combat zone. Eight days later, her air group commenced a series of air strikes against Japan which lasted until the capitulation on 15 August.

Shangri-La's planes ranged the length of the island chain during these raids. On the 10th, they attacked Tokyo, the first raid there since the strikes of the previous February. On 14-15 July, they pounded Honshū and Hokkaidō and, on the 18th, returned to Tokyo, also bombing battleship Nagato, moored close to shore at Yokosuka. From 20-22 July, Shangri-La joined the logistics group for fuel, replacement aircraft, and mail. By the 24th, her pilots were attacking shipping in the vicinity of Kure. They returned the next day for a repeat performance, before departing for a two-day replenishment period on the 26th and 27th. On the following day, Shangri-La's aircraft damaged light cruiser Ōyodo and battleship Haruna, the latter so badly that she beached and flooded. She later had to be abandoned. They pummeled Tokyo again on 30 July, then cleared the area to replenish on 31 July and 1 August.

Shangri-La spent the next four days in the retirement area waiting for a typhoon to pass. On 9 August, after heavy fog had caused the cancellation of the previous day's missions, the carrier sent her planes aloft to bomb Honshū and Hokkaido once again. The next day, they raided Tokyo and central Honshū, then retired from the area for logistics. She evaded another typhoon on 11-12 August, then hit Tokyo again on the 13th. After replenishing on the 14th, she sent planes to strike the airfields around Tokyo on the morning of 15 August 1945. Soon thereafter, Japan's capitulation was announced; and the fleet was ordered to cease hostilities. Shangri-La steamed around in the strike area from 15-23 August, patrolling the Honshū area on the latter date. From 23 August-16 September, her planes sortied on missions of mercy, air-dropping supplies to Allied prisoners of war in Japan.

Shangri-La entered Tokyo Bay on 16 September, almost two weeks after the surrender ceremony onboard battleship Missouri, and remained there until 1 October.   From the Wikipedia article on USS Shangri-La downloaded on February 15, 2010.

With that, I'll close.  I hope you have found Bruce's story and this background as interesting as I have.