After most of the Kemp's crew quit, my life and work aboard the Kemp was pleasanter and easier. I became "one of the best steward's the Kemp ever had". My standing and popularity increased aboard and ashore. I was elected to represent the crew at the Second Union Convention in Cleveland, where I was elected to the two most important committees: the Trial Committee and the Legislative Committee. The president of the union, Joe Curran, even offered me a job in the union; but I refused because it would entail moving my family to another section of the country. We had bought a house; and two daughters, Ruby and Stella, born eighteen months apart, had been added to our family. Felipe, Jr., had begun first grade and Shirley was busy taking care of our family.

     As I write this part of my story, a strange coincidence occurs. Today is December 7, 1987, and I am writing about another December 7th in 1942 forty five years ago. I remember that day. I was still on the Kemp. We were on our way back to Houston from Marcus Hook. It was afternoon. We were playing poker in the messroom when someone shouted, "Hey, the Japs are bombing Pearl Harbor!". The game ended then and there, and we went to the nearest room that had a radio. Because the cooks were in our poker game, they also were listening to the accounts of the event at Pearl Harbor and forgot the time. For the first time I can remember, we ate cold cuts for supper while at sea. But no one complained.

     The German submarines drew nearer and nearer to the American East Coast until finally they were sinking our ships within sight of land. We were caught unprepared for this war. None of our merchant ships was armed. We did not have naval protection until the latter part of 1942, when we sailed in convoys.

     The Kemp had a narrow escape in early February 1943. We were on our return voyage to Houston after discharging our cargo of oil at Marcus Hook, Philadelphia. The ship was empty, so we were able to hug the coast. About a mile from us and headed in the opposite direction was another ship, the Venore. She was loaded with cargo and thus had to be in deeper water. At about three in the morning, general alarm was rung. In no time, we were on deck with our life jackets on and the life boats swung out. The Venore had been torpedoed and we anticipated being sunk next. We had no means to defend ourselves against the torpedoes or the deck guns the Germans were using to sink our ships. We did not see any planes nor any of our fighting ships. We watched as the Venore burned. We could not stop to help, as we ourselves were fleeing the enemy. Our radio operator sent an SOS message while we watched the burning ship fade into the distance. It was an eerie sight.

     When we docked in Houston, many of the crew quit. Only the second cook, Vincent Villa, remained in the steward department. The union was unable to supply all the replacements, so I had only one cook and one messman at sailing time. The ship stayed in port until the required men in the engine and deck departments were signed on. When the captain asked me if my department was complete, I replied I was short three men but, with one cook and one messman, I could manage. No minimum number of men in the steward department was required by law. I assigned the cook to serve the officers, while I did all the cooking. The three of us worked together cleaning the messroms, the galley, and the officers' quarters. My captain would never forget me and my two men for that. I worked harder on that trip than any trip I ever made.

     In late March we were ordered to go to the Chester, Pennsylvania, shipyard to have guns installed on the Kemp, a job that took weeks. Only the captain was kept aboard. The crew was discharged. Captain Hansen told me he would pay my fare to rejoin the Kemp when she sailed again in a month and we parted with misty eyes.