When the Fort Ridgeley returned to the Gulf for another load of gas, I quit. I planned to take a cargo ship the next time.

     When I reported to our union hall to register for another job, Mack Hankins, the acting agent who was a friend of long standing, asked me if I would work as a patrolman (the official who meets the ships, collects dues, and settles minor grievances of the crew). Because of the volume of work, the branch needed another patrolman. I accepted on the spot and the following day I became the first Filipino to serve our union as an official. Though the pay was much less than what seamen made, the job was prestigious. Too, it was the common practice for seamen to hand their union officials no less than ten dollars and as much as fifty or one hundred dollars when they had a large payoff. (I gave two of them one hundred dollars each when I paid off on the Wall Knot after a thirteen months trip, when the crew was paid off in five hundred dollar bills the first and only time. This happened at the end of the war.)

     So without thinking or considering the offer, I became one of the patrolmen in the port of Mobile. I was home every night, half a day on Saturday and off on Sundays.

     The taste of being a union official, even though in a lower echelon, was exhilarating and I decided to run for the office of Business Agent for Mobile when Mack Hankins said he would not run. The bi annual election of the National Maritime Union was scheduled for 1945. Both Mack Hankins, the agent pro temp, and the other patrolman, Charles McCarthy, said they did not intend to run for the office. The December, January, and February 1945, issues of the union paper, "The Log", reported I had no opposition.

     When the National Maritime Union was founded, it was generally known that many of its top officials were members of the Communist Party. The president, Joe Curran, was charged as being one but no one, not even the government, could prove that he was. A couple of vice presidents and the secretary were avowed Communist party members. I was invited to join the Communist Party when I was at the Cleveland Convention in 1941 as a delegate, but I refused. Being an alien (Filipinos were not eligible for American citizenship at the time), I knew that I could be deported for belonging to the Communist Party even though, as a merchant seaman, I participated in the war efforts that helped the Communist country of Russia. Unbelievable, but true!

     Now that I was running as a port agent, I was again invited to join the Communist Party, this time by one of the New York union officials. He pointed out it would be to my advantage, since I was running for an important office. Again, as in Cleveland, I refused to join.

     Shortly after this last refusal to join the Communist Party, a high official in New York, Clyde Ganaway, became a candidate for the office I was running for. I knew then that the Party was opposing my candidacy. The election came and though I did well, I lost by several hundred votes out of the several thousand cast.

     I though about joining the Seafarers International Union which had a contract with Waterman my old company.

     In the 1936 37 rank and file Seamen's strike, Waterman vowed it would never let the strike affect any of its ships. Waterman succeeded because they had help from Scotty Ross and the old officials of the now defunct International Seamen's Union. When the NMU was formed, they tried to organize Waterman, along with the other large steamship companies. As Waterman vowed, every time the majority of a Waterman ship joined the NMU, Waterman laid off the ship and the crew for a week or two, then reactivated it. They called Scotty Ross' newly formed AF of L Seamen's union, the predecessor of the Seafarers' International Union (SIU), for men.

     Waterman did this more than once and the NMU sued Waterman for the wages of the fired seamen. This case went to the Supreme Court and it cost Waterman around a million dollars to pay those men who were fired. But in the end, I think Waterman won. To this day, Waterman has never been taken over by the NMU. Moreover, the SIU, which was originally organized to fight the NMU and the Communist influence on the maritime industry, is now the dominant maritime union in America for unlicensed personnel.

     Because of the large number of ships being built, the demand for seamen, especially rated men like chief stewards, continued. Both the NMU and the SIU were taking in new members indiscriminately. Many of the SIU members in Mobile were my former shipmates. I was thinking of switching unions, when I learned that a restaurant in the A F of L building was for sale. It was just down the block from the SIU hall. It was not much but I thought I could make a fair living out of it. Shirley and the children helped me to clean the place and I opened it for business. Cigarettes and meats and other products were rationed and, to my disappointment, my rations were very limited. Before the week was up, I decided to give up the restaurant business. I decided, too, to give up my membership in the NMU.

     Many of the members of the SIU, along with other AFL workers and officials, patronized my restaurant. They had their coffee and sandwiches at my place, so they could buy cigarettes. Cigarettes were rationed and could be bought by the pack only. I saved my cigarettes for the members of the SIU.

     I finally applied for membership in the SIU and an investigating committee of five men was selected to examine me. One of the committeemen was a rooming house mate of the new agent of the NMU and he swayed the SIU members to reject my application. So, I was turned down by this committee.

     I then used the knowledge I had picked up through my association with union officials. It's not who you are and what you can do that will take you places. It's who you know.

     After a week, I told the business agent to pick certain men as committee members to pass on my application for membership. This he did. I gave him the names of those whom I had sold most of my cigarettes. I had made it a point to let them have the cigarettes. When they acted on my application, it was accepted at once.

     I went to Waterman with the good news. I asked my old port steward, Harry Fagan, to put me on a ship going to the Far East. The war in Europe was now over and our war efforts were being concentrated against Japan. My new union allowed their steamship companies to select their chief stewards, which increased my chances of getting the ship and run of my choice. Luck was with me again. There was a new motor ship being completed in Beaumont, Texas. It was to be chartered by the Navy and would be commissioned in a week's time. I was assigned to this brand new ship, the M.V. Wall Knot.

     Five days after I left the NMU, I was on my way to a new SIU ship in Texas. The captain and the three department heads, chief mate, chief engineer and chief steward, were hired days ahead of the rest of the crew on new ships. This allowed us to receive supplies for the voyage and have everything ready for the new crew. Shipyard workers, well experienced and trained for this task, did the work.

     After two days taking on supplies, the rest of the crew was hired and we signed on ships articles on May 15, 1945 for "ports in the Pacific".

     We loaded over 10,000 cases of meat in Gulfport, bombs in New Orleans, and topped off with mixed cargo in Mobile and we began the longest voyage of my seafaring career. We went through the Panama Canal, then to Honolulu. I was overjoyed when I learned we were to stop and load in Honolulu.

     We arrived in Honolulu early one morning. The sunken ships could still be seen at Pearl Harbor. When we docked, an immigration officer and a uniformed ship's guard came aboard. To me, it seemed strange for immigration officers to board an American ship that had not come from a foreign port.

     A Greek seaman and I were called to the messroom where the immigration officer took our seamen papers. We were told we were restricted to the ship because we were not "American citizens". What a bureaucratic injustice! I had lived in the U. S. since 1924 when the Philippines was a U.S. possession. I had served this country faithfully since "Pearl Harbor". I had gone through enemy submarine infested waters. Yet I was not allowed to go ashore in my first American home to visit my benefactors, the Hall family. I am not ashamed to write here that I begged tearfully to be allowed to go ashore, even for a couple of hours, to visit with the Halls. I had not seen them since I left in 1927. The immigration officer was sympathetic but said the law must be obeyed. And so, for the two days the ship was in Honolulu, I did not even set my feet on its soil. However, I did manage to send a message to Mr. Hall at the Honolulu Iron Works plant which was not far from the docks. I received the answer that Mr. Hall had retired and had moved to California with his family. That news, though disappointing, somewhat eased my feelings.

     We loaded with beef and more beer for the armed forces. I make a joke that this was the only ship in my maritime career that carried the three B's for cargo bombs, beef and beer.

     I watched with amusement the Hawaiian stevedores coming out of the ship's hold. They were high from drinking the cargo they were loading. The ship's crew and our Navy gun crew stacked cases of beer under their bunks. Even some of the officers had beer stacked in their rooms. After meals, I gave the stevedores the leftovers which they always enjoyed. They, in turn, asked me if I wanted some beer. I told them they could put some in my store room. When I checked the store room before locking it, I found stacks and stacks of beer over 100 cases. I just left them there. Some one said we were helping the armed forces by taking some of this beer from them. That way they wouldn't be too drunk to fight the japs. My "beer gifts" came in handy in the days to come.

     The Wall Knott was the only merchant ship chartered to the Navy. Because of its shallow draft, the ship was able to go in shallow water. We discharged our cargo at the different atolls of the Marshall Islands: Enewetok, Majuro, Tarawa, Kwajalein, Ponape, and others. We remained in some atolls for days, sometimes weeks, when the Navy did not have anything for us to deliver.

     We were relieved when no questions were asked about our cargo of beer. I don't think any one even counted or checked that cargo. As a cargo hold was emptied, the last thing hoisted up were empty beer cans. I could not believe that the Hawaiian stevedores could drink so much beer in the two days we were in Honolulu and still come out of the ship's hold on their feet!

     At our home port of Kwajalein, I got acquainted with a Chief Petty Officer named Harrison. I learned that the Chiefs had built a new CPO club and needed beer for their opening night. They had only five cases. I did not drink and I had planned to give my beer to our crew, but they still had plenty left. So I offered my new Navy Chief friend 25 cases of beer. He offered to pay me but I refused. The poker games aboard ship and in the Chiefs' new club house were enough for me. That gift of 25 cases of beer made me the most popular man in Kwajalein and I was made a member of the Chiefs' Club. I treasure my Chiefs' membership card to this day.

     I have never found as fine a bunch of men as I found at Kwajalein. Chief Harrison, who was from Birmingham, Alabama, was a grand Navy man. We became great friends. He even put another cot in his tent so I could play poker with them late into the night. The last liberty boat was at 10 PM when they took the Navy personnel and the Wall Knott crew to their ships at anchor after the evening movies. I was able to obtain unlimited amounts of food from the Navy supply boats. Good and choice steaks. This made me popular with the men on the Wall Knot, including the Navy gun crew. Another advantage I enjoyed was that I received my mail faster than the rest of the men on the Wall Knott. I had Shirley mail all her letters to Chief Harrison. He got my mail in two or three days instead of weeks.

     There were always several Navy vessels in the Kwajalein waters, some stationed there permanently and some just for supplies. I was told they sometimes served over 2000 servicemen at their mess hall.