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The Pioneer aground in the St Lawrence
The Pioneer, Japan bound
The Pioneer with snow at sea
SS Alcoa Pioneer
Rough Seas

SS Alcoa Pioneer

On November 18,1944, while anchored
at San Pedro Bay, the SS Alcoa Pioneer received damage from a Kamakaze. 

Three planes came out of the sky.  Two were destroyed by Navy gunners aboard.  The
third was on fire when it crashed.  A bomb from one of the planes fell on the
Pioneer.  Five Navy gunners were killed.    Fourteen others, including merchant seamen were wounded. 

The three forward holds were carrying gasoline.   Hoses were brought out and
blazes battled on the forward deck.  

It was merchant crew who quickly had the
fire under control.  Then they stepped up to help man the guns. 

                           Also on board at the time
                             was Skipper, the Captain's
                             Boston terrier.  When his
                              master was wounded and
                             unconcious, the dog, also
having a shapnel wound of his own, licked
the Captain's forehead to revive him. 

Earlier, a screen door had been erected to keep the dog from entering the Captain's quarters without permission.    After this...permission granted. 

Although heavily damaged, the Pioneer
made it back home under her own power.

*Story told to share part of the history of the
SS Alcoa Pioneer during WWII
Ernest was not on board during this time period.



The Yankee Man-Of-War

'Tis of a gallant Yankee ship
That flew the stripes and stars,
And the whistling wind from the west nor'west
Blew through the pitchpine spars,
With her starboard tacks aboard, my boys,
She hung upon the gale; on an autumn night
We raised the light on the old head of Kinsale.

It was a clear and cloudless night,
And the wind blew steady and strong,
As fairly over the sparkling deep
Our good ship bowled along;
With the foaming seas beneath her bow
The fiery waves she spread,
And bending low her bosom of snow,
She buried her lee, cat-head.

There was no talk of short'ning sail,
by him who walked the poop,
And under the press of her pond'ring jib
The boom bent like a hoop!
And the groaning waterways told the strain
That held her stout main tack,
But he only laughed as he glanced aloft
At a white and silv'ry track.

The nightly robes our good ship wore
Were her own topsails three,
Her spanker and her standing jib,
The courses being free;
Now lay aloft! my heroes bold,
Let not a moment pass!
And royals and topgallant sails
Were quickly on each mast.

What looms upon our starboard bow?
What hangs upon the breeze?
'Tis time our good ship hauled her wind
Abreast of the old saltee's.
For by her ponderous press of sail
And by her escorts four,
We saw our morning visitor
Was a British man-of-war.

Up spoke our noble captain then,
And a short ahead of us passed,
Haul snug your flowing courses!
Lay your topsail to the mast!
Those Englishmen gave three loud hurrahs
From the deck of their covered ark
And we answered by a solid broadside
From the deck of our patriot bark.

Out booms! Out booms! our skipper cried,
Out booms! and give her sheet,
And the swiftest keel that ever was launched
Shot ahead of the British fleet,
And amidst a thundering shower of shot
With the stun-sails hoisting away,
Down the north channel Paul Jones did steer
Just at the break of day.

From ~www.contemplator.com
Sequenced by ~Lesley Nelson
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Photography by Ernest Anthony Yates
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All Rights Reserved
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