Over paid, over sexed and over here:
American sailors in Perth
Feature article by Merrill Findlay first published in About Town, December, 1981, pp 4-6,
Swan Publishing, Perth
Shelly
and Alma were trying not to cry.
‘Ted, throw
a wrench into one of the boilers,’ Shelly, the brave one,
shouted from the wharf in a half-hearted attempt at a joke.
‘Sabotage the
engines, Mike,’ Alma added. But tears were already rolling
down her cheeks.
Ted and Mike waved
and grinned from the deck of the U.S.S. Denver. They were already
in trouble for returning to ship six hours late, but they conspired
together for a moment then disappeared into the guts of the
huge vessel. They ran down flight after flight of narrow metal
stairs to a small but heavy sealed door just above the level
of the wharf. After struggling to open it, they swung themselves
out onto the quay and grabbed their grief-stricken girls for
a final desperate kiss. With that last loving gesture even brave
Shelley broke.
‘It’s
just as bad for the boys,’ Lieutenant Commander Mitchell
of the U.S. Navy commented as he watched Shelley and Alma sobbing
in one another’s arms while the tiny tugs dragged the
Denver out to sea. ‘Sometimes you meet someone in a port
and just everything goes right. And then you have to leave.’
‘I remember
a girl I once met …’, and the Lieutenant Commander
fell silent, reliving his own sad farewell at a foreign port.
‘You write
to one another but you never really know if she’s met
someone else. Or if she is just saying she’ll wait because
she doesn’t want to hurt you. And you are always wondering
if it would be the same if you went back …’
The scene has been
played a hundred times before. Usually the girls would never
see their sailors again, either for economic reasons or simply
because of the doubts and personal changes which occur when
lovers are separated by thousands of kilometres of ocean. There
have been a few happy endings, though. This year about six Western
Australian girls flew to the United States to be re-united with
their American sailors, eah hoping the magic of their brief
romance in Perth would lead to more permanent commitments –
and be strong enough to help them endue the long separations
that are part of being with a naval man.
During the year of
the Second World War it was just the same. Many older women
who were young girls in the 1940s farewelled their own American
sailors down at Victoria Wharf and shed a tear or two just like
Alma and Shelley. The former members of the Working Girls War
Effort Club (WGWE) in particular share the bitter-sweet memories
of those days … of the ‘devil-may-care’ submariners,
sailors and the pilots of the Catalina flying boats, the silk
stockings and the occasional pound of butter or a chicken on
the sly from U.S. naval stores, the dances and the fund-raising
nights … and the frantic rush to the air raid shelters
on March 10, 1943, when General MacArthur thought the Japanese
bombers were on their way to attack his submarine base at Fremantle.
The enemy planes
never came, of course. But for the 6,000 United States servicemen
estimated to have been stationed here, for the girls of the
WGWE, and for everyone else in the city, it could have been
another Pearl Harbour.
The 6,000 men of
our first ‘American Occupation’ seem an insignificant
number compared to the hordes of sailors and marines regularly
arriving in Perth these days. This year we had 40,000 of them.
Next year maybe more. That’s a lot of sad farewells down
at Victoria Wharf – but it is also a significant boost
to our economy, worth an estimated $30-70 million each year.
The last ships of
the United States’ Seventh Fleet to visit Fremantle for
1981, the USS Okinawa, the Denver and the Alamo, were here for
just six days. Their last port of call had been Mombassa in
Kenya more than a month before. Since then they had been maintaining
the American presence in the Indian Ocean. A community of 3,500
men crowded into three warships. No beer. No women. No privacy.
Just the routine of military life and the endless Indian Ocean.
With plenty of time to fantasise about those precious days of
liberty in Perth.
‘All you have
to do out there is think,’ said one young marine from
San Antonio, Texas.
‘Especially
on Sundays when they give you the day off. That’s the
best time to go up on the flight deck and stare at the ocean.
You’ve got all day to just sit there.’
This was his first
visit to Perth, but he had heard about it all the way across
the Indian Ocean from his buddies who had visited in 1980. About
the friendliness of the locals, their hospitality, about the
women, the nightclubs, the beaches, and all the unprintable
details that had been exaggerated across thousands of miles
of open sea.
‘Perth is known
for its hospitality but it is almost a disappointment to come
here. Not because Perth is bad but … it’s like how
Christmas is an anticlimax to a little kid. Like he’s
talked about it every day for a whole year. And it’s not
that it isn’t good, it’s just that it’s built
up to be so much,’ a young Pennsylvanian officer explained
on board the Okinawa.
His ship, an amphibious
assault vessel named after the biggest amphibious battle American
forces were involved in during World War II, was the first of
the three ships to berth at Victoria Wharf. Her guns were unmanned,
her radar system was no longer operating and probably only minor
trivia was being received from the military spy satellites overhead.
But from every porthole, from every opening and even brazenly
from the open deck, the latest in sophisticated American surveillance
technology -- the hand-held binocular -- was carefully focused
on the shore (or, more specifically, on the younger women there)
as each man prepared for his personal assault on the city.
A junior officer
named Ken was the first man off. He had a rope to attach to
the wharf. Part of his job, he said. But within a minute, his
rope still in his hand, he had begun his private assault. He
was 26 and not married. A fixed wing pilot with a major in literature,
he told me, almost all in one breath. And he had been 35 days
at sea without a beer or a … ‘and, ma’am,
you’re the first woman I’ve seen since Mombassa!’
Ken had been here
before. He loved Australia. He loved Perth. He only had four
more months ‘in the military’ and wanted to come
back here to fly geologists and businessmen around the mining
boom. And the women?
‘American men
and Australian women get along reeel well, ma’am,’
he said. ‘American men are different from the Aussies
and the women here appreciate that. We are more compassionate
and understanding. More sensitive.’
‘But the women
back home are spoilt. They take advantage of our sensitivity,’
he added.
A shout from his
commanding officer brought young Ken’s attention back
to the rope still in his hand. He quickly tied it to the wharf
and jumped back onto the Okinawa a hero: the first onboard to
chat up an ‘Aussie chick!’
Normally introducing
the Americans to the ‘Aussie chicks’ is one of the
responsibilities of Lt Commander Joseph A. Mitchell II, the
American Seventh Fleet’s representative in Perth. His
parties, thrown to promote Australian-American social intercourse,
have become famous. On this occasion, his party for the enlisted
men simply involved booking the overseas passenger terminal
at Fremantle, hiring a rock band and caterers, and advertising
the time and venue on local radio and the press. Perth women
did the rest. They got in free while the men had to make a donation
to the Crippled Children’s Association and buy the drinks.
It was like any other Saturday night ‘do’ only more
so.
The second party,
the one for the officers, was a much more sophisticated affair
and was called a ‘reception’. An invitation-only
event at the Ascot Inn down by the river in Belmont, with a
choice of pink, white or red carnations to be charmingly pinned
onto the women’s dresses by a gallant senior officer in
shining white with gold braid, while waiters hovered obsequiously
nearby with wine and canapés.
Competition for the
guests’ attention here was ferocious with older officers
even ‘pulling rank’ on their subordinates to parade
their medals and discuss, as though they were appropriate subjects
for light party conversation, the current political instability
in Iran and Reagan’s latest military budget. But when
it came to flirting, the younger men won convincingly –
after they had loosened their inhibitions with several glasses
of wine. And the ladies were impressed.
‘They are gentlemen,’
one elegant woman gushed. This was a repeat performance for
her. She said she knew what she was talking about because she
was wined and dined at Perth’s most expensive nightclubs
and restaurants last time the ships were in.
‘They are prepared
to spend a lot of money on you and not expect anything in return.
Australian men could sure learn a few things from these guys.’
Australian men do
not generally agree. The Americans have been their rivals for
years.
‘I think they
are jealous,’ a 19-year-old marine from LA volunteered.
To illustrate his point he described a typical scenario. The
Australian men, he said, would take their girlfriends out to
a tavern or nightclub and, leaving them sitting in a corner,
would got to the bar to order their drinks and yarn for half
an hour. Enter the Americans. With an ‘Excuse me ma-am,
are these seats taken?’ and a ‘Wow, aren’t
you girls lonely? Would you like a drink?’ they would
take over from where the Aussie’s had not even started.
And by the time the Australians returned, they were no longer
welcome. The Americans would then leave … but with the
girls on their arms!
‘You always
get into fights at nightclubs and place like that,’ another
marine, a sergeant on the USS Okinawa commented. ‘The
Australian men, they say ‘Hey, you’re a big, bad
marine man, you wanna go outside?’
‘Everyone wants
to take you on, especially if you are in uniform.’ Which
is probably why this particular ‘big, bad marine’
was in his civilian clothes, although they made him no less
conspicuous. In a dove grey crepe suit that clung in all the
right places and a delicately floral vest, he looked like a
television stereotype of a Harlem spiv. He was, in fact, a married
man from Hawaii with five children whom he missed desperately.
But he also loved dancing and beautiful women, and at nightclubs
like Pinocchio’s he had enjoyed both, despite what he
called ‘harassment’ from local males whose pride
was hurt to see their potential dates preferring the company
of a good-looking foreigner.
The staff and management
of the nightclubs and restaurants, hotels and taverns where
the servicemen congregate for some of the comforts of home,
welcome their presence. With quickly-chalked signs out on the
footpath tempting the American with ‘see-through girls’
or favourable rates of exchange for their American currency,
even the sleaziest bars and ‘adult bookshops’ increase
their turnovers when the ships are in. The travel companies,
too, join the rush for the Yankee dollar with attractive deals
for one-day bus tours and brief stopovers at tourist resorts
in the State. And the taxi drivers, of course, have a bonanza.
For everyone associated with the service industries the American
Navy means Big Money. Millions upon millions of dollars added
to the Perth economy. Although no-one is certain just what the
sailors and marines are worth to us.
Richard Balfour,
manager of the Perth Branch of Thomas Cook Pty Ltd, conservatively
estimates the total value of the American naval presence here
as between $50,000,000 and $70,000,000 this year [1981]. He
says the trade is worth $15,000,000 to his company alone through
its function as a clearing house for American currency. But
a spokesman for the Bank of NSW, Len James, the man responsible
for actually changing the servicemen’s pay packets into
Australian dollars when the ships first dock, disagrees with
Mr Balfour’s estimate. He suggests the total turnover
would more realistically be between $30,000,000 and $40,000,000.
But for many Perth
and Fremantle residents whether we get $30,000,000 or $70,000,000
out of the American servicemen is immaterial. For them, no amount
of money can compensate for the potential threat imposed upon
Western Australians by the American military presence here.
Amongst those who feel most strongly are Fremantle playwrights
Mark Blumer, Brian Peddie and Di Shaw, who recently presented
their fears to enthusiastic audiences in a play called ‘Kiss
your Arsenal Goodbye.’
Down in the basement
of Papa Luigi’s in Fremantle, the characters of the play
were discussing the latest influx of American sailors and marines.
‘Just what have you got against the Americans?’
Sandra, a young feminist journo, played by Sue Russell, asked
the local ‘nutcase,’ Prudence (aka Di Shaw).
‘Nothing, nothing,’
crazy Prudence mumbled. ‘I don’t mind working for
an American company, I don’t mind driving American cars,
smoking American cigarettes or eating American takeaways. I
don’t mind watching American TV shows, or listening to
pseudo-American voices on the radio. I don’t even mind
American helicopters flying overhead all day when the ships
are in.’
‘I don’t
mind the jibes and come-ons from the American sailors in the
street. And it doesn’t bother me that I can’t get
into my favourite tavern ‘cause it’s full of American
sailors getting drunk and getting into brawls. I just feel like
we’re an invaded country.’
Enter Chuck, a good
average middle-of-the-road marine played by Brian Peddie, who
looked as though he would rather confront a whole battalion
of Russians, or even Muslim extremists, rather than face dear
Prudence.
‘We could be
the first to go, you know. Because of you,’ she told him.
Prudence had just
received a message from God through a packet of cornflakes and
was doing a Noah with whatever animals she could find at short
notice (notably a couple of cockroaches and her pet budgie)
while she turned Sandra’s office into a bomb shelter with
some bags filled with the sand she had pinched from the sandpit
at the local kindy!
‘Yes, the Russians
might use us as an example to scare the Yanks. A limited exchange
of remote targets I think it is called. Perth is the perfect
place to bomb. It’s the most isolated city in the world.
It’s American aligned. We may have a United State’s
fleet home-ported here one day. Americans wouldn’t mind
if they bombed Perth. But if they bombed somewhere like New
York, Americans might get angry. They might see Red. I mean,
if they bombed New York, there’d be no more Broadway.
No more first nights.’ And she burst into song. The Bugs
Bunny overture accompanied by a soft shoe shuffle.
‘Think of all
those theatre-goers up in arms and putting pressure on the President
saying Give it to them Reds, Ronnie, don’t hold back.’
‘Whereas Perth
… I mean, where’s Perth on the world map? Nothing
interesting has happened at the Playhouse since 1952 and then
it was only someone flushing the toilet upstairs during Richard
III.’
‘Yes,’
she said, ‘we might be the first to go.’
Although Western
Australians have had a long association with the American Navy
dating back to even before World War II, it has only been since
the political instability in the Middle East threatened world
oil supplies, or more specifically, since the American hostage
crisis in Iran, that we have seen large numbers of military
personnel in Perth.
Before the trouble
in Iran, America maintained her military presence in the Indian
ocean with an occasional aircraft carrier or destroyer passing
through, plus a fleet of submarines equipped with nuclear warheads
all carefully armed at strategic targets in the Soviet Union.
Because the nuclear missiles only had a range of 2,400 nautical
miles or less, military specialists told us, the submarines
had to be in the Indian Ocean so the nuclear warheads could
reach their targets.
But in 1979 a new
submarine missile system with a range of 4,000 nautical miles
was tested to replace the shorter ranged missiles. According
to the former US President, Jimmy Carter, it would no longer
be necessary to have naval ships or submarines patrolling the
Indian Ocean because the new missiles could just as easily reach
their targets from the Atlantic or the Pacific. After the Iran
crisis, the new President Reagan reversed Carter’s decision,
however, and significantly increased the American presence in
the Indian Ocean by transferring his Seventh fleet of ships
from the Pacific. Since then the increased military activity
has been most easily measured by the increased number of American
military personnel seeking rest and recreation in Perth …
9,000 in 1980 to nearly 40,000 in 1981.
We welcome them now,
but would we continue to welcome them if, like Prudence in ‘Kiss
Your Arsenal Goodbye’, we saw them as a threat rather
than as a chance to get rich quick or be wined and dined when
the ships are in port?
The American magazine
Newsweek recently conducted a poll to find out what people in
the United States thought about the possibility of a nuclear
war. Seventy percent of the people asked said they believe there
was a chance of an all-out nuclear war with Russia within the
next 10 years. Thirty-eight percent believed there was ‘some
chance’, and six percent were absolutely certain. And
the chance of surviving the nuclear holocaust they believed
was probably coming? A great majority, 86 percent, thought they
would, at best, have a 50-50 chance.
Prudence might not
be such a ‘nutcase’ after all.
Story first published in Perth, 1981, first posted
on merrillfindlay.com 5 January 2005
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