WWII’s civilian sailors also deserve remembrance

Veterans Day is coming up with a parade in San Francisco on Sunday and formal observations around the country on the legal holiday on Friday. There will be a lot of patriotic talk about sacrifice, service and heroism.

Maybe it’s time to talk a bit about some veterans of World War II whose service has been nearly forgotten — the 250,000 or so civilian seafarers who sailed in the merchant marine. They were overshadowed by the millions of men and women who were in the wartime military. But the civilian sailors crewed the ships that carried the troops, the ammunition and the sinews of war across the Atlantic and Pacific. Their contribution was pretty much forgotten until this spring when Congress presented the surviving merchant marine vets with a Congressional Gold Medal celebrating their “dedication, heroism and public service,” in “a crucial role in World War II.”

In her role as speaker of the House, Nancy Pelosi presented the first medals at a ceremony in the Capitol last May. A few others — like Bill Fairfield of the Yolo County town of Dixon — got the medal in a San Francisco ceremony from Rep. John Garamendi, the local congressman who sponsored the legislation.

It’s a beautiful big medal, gold, bigger than a one of those old-time silver dollars and twice as heavy. But it’s kind of a low-key medal. Tom McGarvey, who served on 36 different ships during and after the war, got his in the mail at his San Francisco house the other day.

He had read about the medal in the sailors union paper and thought, why not? One of his daughters filled out the papers and sent them to Washington. In due time the Congressional Gold Medal came in the mail. No fuss. No ceremony.

McGarvey celebrated by organizing a little party a couple of weeks ago with his pals at the Ambrosia Bakery on Ocean Avenue, where he has coffee every morning. “I brought the medal with me and showed it around,” he said. “I bought a big cake, with an inscription, you know, ‘Congratulations Tom,’ and we all had coffee cake and sang songs. I sang ‘God Bless America.’ ”

That’s typical of men of their generation, who grew up in the Depression, did duty in wartime, never talked about it much, and went on to other things. After the war, he went home to Dixon, which was then a small farm town. He thought about becoming a veterinarian but couldn’t afford college. He went into the fire service. He was the fire chief in Dixon for 36 years.

McGarvey left the sea after 10 years and then became a fixture on the San Francisco waterfront. He and his brother Mike bought a little lunch place at Pier 32 and named it Red’s Java House. The McGarveys ran it for 40 years. Red’s Java House is one of the rare survivors of an older San Francisco.

And so is Tom McGarvey. His brother died years ago, but Tom, who is 95, is as feisty as ever. “I know what’s what, and I get along with everybody,” he says.

He likes to talk about the old San Francisco, but it’s not a romantic story. The good old days were rough, he says. “We lived in a shack on a dirt road on Potrero Hill,” he said. “We were always broke, and I had to shine shoes for a nickel, and peddle newspapers on the waterfront,” he said. His mother died when he was 11, and he was pretty much on his own, hustling for jobs. He wasn’t much interested in school and he ended up in reform school — “a very tough place,” he said — and in foster homes.

When he was 15, he got a local politician, Tommy Maloney —“the greatest man in the world,” he says — to get him seaman’s papers.

His first ship was the Matson luxury liner Mariposa, which had been converted to carry troops. He sailed from San Francisco to India and Africa, and off Oran in North Africa, the ship had a close encounter with the enemy.

The next year, on another ship in the South Pacific, he was aboard a ship carrying ammunition when Japanese torpedo planes came over. “I jumped up on the 20 millimeter gun starboard side,” he said. “I wasn’t supposed to, but I beat the Navy gunner.”

“Those planes came in low, real low, and I’m looking right at that guy,” he said. “He dropped torpedoes. and they hit another ship. It was the John Penn. I even remember the ship’s number — PA23. Ninety-three guys went down on that ship. No survivors.”

He worked on other ships, tankers, freighters, troopships, passenger ships. He worked as a seaman, steered the ship, ran the winches, ran the deck gang.

Fairfield’s experience was a bit different. He joined the merchant marine right out of high school and found himself on a seagoing tug on long, slow voyages across the Pacific.

Fairfield was the third mate. The tug had a tough, slow and absolutely necessary job — towing barges full of oil or aviation gasoline. His vessel was in several invasions. In the Philippines, the Japanese targeted the fuel barges with air and artillery attacks. The sight and sound of it seared in his memory. “I am lucky to be alive.”

Fairfield has slowed up a bit and has trouble walking. He’ll be 97 on Nov. 18. When he got his medal, he told the Fairfield Republic, his hometown paper, that he had one regret: that the medal hadn’t come years ago. Only about 12,000 of the merchant marine veterans are still with us.

Carl Nolte/The Chronicle Tom McGarvey served on 36 ships with the merchant marine during and after World War II. Then he and his brother Mike bought a place at Pier 32 and named it Red’s Java House and ran it for 40 years.