Max B. Semmelroth
Era: World War II
Military Branch: Navy
Max B. Semmelroth entered the Navy February 10, 1943. Served as an Aviation Boatswain's Mate Second Class and catapult crewman on an aircraft carrier in the Marshall Islands, Leyte, Linayen Gulf, Iwo Jima, Okinawa, Namsei Shoto, and Japan. Discharged on April 14, 1946.
Source: Hometown Heroes: The Saint Louis County World War II Project, 290.
Mr. Semmelroth entered the Navy February 10, 1943. His rank was Aviation Boatswain's Mate Second Class.
Mr. Semmelroth served as a member of the catapult crew (V1 Division) aboard the aircraft carrier USS Saginaw Bay in the Marshall Islands, Leyte, Lingayen Gulf, Iwo Jima, Okinawa, and Namsei Shoto, Japan.
He attended Aviation Machinist Mate school in Norman, Oklahoma. He then attended catapult school in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and fire-fighting school in Tacoma, Washington. While in Tacoma, he was trained on the USS Casablanca. Mr. Semmelroth was then assigned to the USS Saginaw Bay (CVE 82).
He was discharged on April 14, 1946, at the Naval Air Station Seattle, Washington.
Mr. Semmelroth was born in 1925 in Grand Rapids, Minnesota, the son of Max and Carry Semmelroth.
Source: Veterans’ Memorial Hall Veteran History Form; veteran speech (see below) --- Max B. Semmelroth A.B.M. – CP 2nd class gave the speech below for the Veterans Day program on Friday November 14, 2008 at the Proctor, Minnesota, City Hall.
(Background information: USS Mount Hood, a 13910-ton ammunition ship, was built at Wilmington, North Carolina, and converted for Naval service at Norfolk, Virginia. Commissioned in July 1944, she transited the Panama Canal in August and was assigned to the South Pacific area to provide ammunition to the fighting forces.
On the morning of 10 November 1944, while she was moored at the Manus Naval Base, Admiralty Islands, Mount Hood’s cargo of explosives detonated in a massive blast. The ship was utterly destroyed by the accident, which killed all those on board her. Damage and casualties were also inflicted on ships anchored as far as 2000 yards away.
"Personnel casualties on Mount Hood and on other vessels totaled 45 known dead, 327 missing and 371 injured." (The speech below is an eyewitness account of the explosion of the ammunition ship USS Mt. Hood (AE-11) as viewed from the flight deck of the aircraft carrier USS Saginaw Bay CVE 82)
Speech: By Max B. Semmelroth A.B.M. – CP Second Class A member of the catapult crew-V1 division:
"On November 3, 1944, we entered the huge anchorage of Seedler Harbor at Manis. This is a part of the Admiralty Islands group. We had just returned from 18 days at sea for the invasion of Leyte Gulf. The weather and heavy seas had been bad; in fact we lost as many planes while landing as we did from enemy fire. It is not easy to land on a small flight deck moving up and down ten to twenty feet. It felt good to be at anchor in the calm waters and the safety of not being in the forward area.
"Our purpose here was to replenish all the supplies needed for our next island invasion, wherever it might be. Smaller transfer boats were assigned to each ship to provide a means to get our supplies. (For the benefit of the Navy men here, these were LCM’s--landing craft mechanized).
"We were down on everything, bombs, rockets, and ammunitions of all kinds, food and supplies. Oilers would come alongside, top off our oil and aviations gas tanks. Best of all, it was time to have our mail catch up with us.
"The Navy was very good about providing entertainment in between invasions. Some days, we could go swimming off the ship, or go on a two-day beer party ashore. In the evenings we could see movies on the hangar deck and rarely live entertainers from the States. The forward elevator would be raised 6 or 8 feet. It made an excellent stage. Sometimes the natives would come alongside in rickety old boats with torn sails. We would toss coins into the water, and the kids would dive in to retrieve them.
"A week after we arrived, a work party of ten men was sent to the nearby ammunition ship, the Mount Hood, to pick up a load of bombs, rockets, and other ammunitions. They left at 7:00 a.m., and returned a couple of hours later. As the work party returned to the ship, it was announced over the PA system, “NOW HEAR THIS, we are now at condition baker,” this means a red pendant is flown from the bridge, there is no smoking or open flames allowed anywhere on the ship. Every man knew we were taking on ammunition on our fantail deck.
"At the same time, two of our catapult crewmembers, Russ and Oky, and myself were on the flight deck, painting new markers for our hold-down-and-release unit. I was standing looking aft---SUDDENLY A HUGE EXPLOSION OCCURRED. Black smoke and debris shot up 1,000 feet and, still going, it billowed out sideways, enveloping all of the nearby ships.
"Some of our pilots flying protective reconnaissance at 3,000 feet said the smoke went higher than that. When the concussion hit and the pieces of the ship began to fall, mass confusion took place at every entryway, because every man on the flight deck knew the explosion was the ammunition ship, but every man below deck thought it was our fantail that blew up. So every man outside wanted to get inside for protection from the falling debris, and every man below deck wanted to get out of what they thought was a sinking ship.
"Fourteen men from the Mt. Hood had just left the ship just 20 minutes before the explosion to go ashore, some to pick up the mail, and some for other business. They had just landed and were knocked to the ground from the concussion. They had to be the luckiest fourteen sailors in the Navy that day.
"People on shore two miles inland were also knocked to the ground by the explosion. Eight LCM’s still loading, plus 13 smaller ships were also sunk, with all hands aboard lost. Thirty-six other ships were heavily damaged, some more than a mile away. We were lucky that the falling debris hit no personnel on our ship, and damage to our ship was minimal.
"The largest piece that hit on the forward part of the flight deck where we were was a large saltwater shut-off valve; it was twisted as if it was made of soft wax. Our work party had just left the Mt. Hood 40 minutes before the explosion, or they would have been lost also.
"A call came out for all larger ships to send their doctors and core men to help with all of the wounded. Our doctor was on the way in just minutes. As luck would have it, the Navy had a photography crew to take pictures of all the buildings on the base. They swung their cameras around and caught the entire explosion and damage to the surrounding ships. The pictures also revealed the explosion rose to over 7,000 feet.
"After the war, the Navy declared the explosion of the Mt. Hood was the largest non-nuclear explosion of World War II in the Pacific. Guess what!!!! None of this was reported to the news media back home. This news was not released until after the war. It was the policy of the Navy to not release any information that might be of any benefit to the enemy.
"Of all our letters back home, everything was censored. We were never allowed to say where we were, where we had been, or where we were going. (What a difference from this tragic war of today in Iraq. When a roadside bomb goes off in the morning, with information of all the damage and how many were killed, it is reported on the 6pm news.)
"What a difference a war makes. Two days after the explosion, I was on a work party that went to shore to pick up supplies. We had to travel near where the Mt. Hood had been anchored. The bodies and body parts and the floating debris had been picked up the day before. The boatswain mate running our transfer boat still had to avoid hitting some of the larger floating pieces.
"The nearby ships were really hit hard. Much of the superstructures were all twisted and bent. The one I remember the most was a large tender. This is a mother ship to some of the smaller escorts in harbor service ships. There was a huge hole clear through near the bow. It had wiped out the entire sick bay, killing a doctor and two corpsmen.Another large ship had so many holes in its side it looked like a slat shaker.
"We continued on to the shore. A truck was waiting for us to take us to the various Quonset buildings where all the supplies were. After the truck brought us back to the dock, we unloaded it all, and then had to wait until our transfer boat returned. As we waited, and announcement came over the PA system, “NOW HEAR THIS, the burial detail will report to the cemetery.”
"I have no idea who this sailor was, but I strongly suspect he was one of the hundreds of men who were wounded from the blast. I felt so sorry for him, to be buried on this speck of sand and coral on the far side of the Pacific Ocean, a million miles from our homeland.
"Looking at this logically, it really doesn’t matter what happens once you are dead. Our crewmates had talked about this many times. None of us knew when or if our ship would be the next one to be sunk. It should not make a difference, but for some reason on this day, it did make a difference.
"Maybe it was because it was still fresh in my mind of all the hundreds of sailors that were lost at Leyte Gulf plus all of the ships that were lost. Two of our sister carriers were sunk plus all the other cruisers, destroyers, and supply ships, and the Japanese also took huge, huge losses in both ships and men.
"Then the Mt. Hood explosion, in a place a long way from the forward area. A place we felt was so much safer. It made me realize how uncertain and temporary our lives were. And then a bugler sounded taps. All of the men stopped talking. Slowly a profound sadness came over me as I visualized him being lowered into his grave. I felt I was losing it. I didn’t want to have the other guys see me if I couldn’t hold back the tears. I stood up and walked to the end of the dock and pretended to look at the hundreds of ships. It was such a relief when the transfer boat came. I was glad to start loading the boxes of supplies.
"On our way back to the ship, we were able to see more of the damaged ships. It was awesome. When we arrived back at our ship, we unloaded all of the supplies. It was good to be back. After all, this has been my home for over a year. I welcomed the walk across the hangar deck, up the ladders, over the catwalk to the catapult shack to be with my crewmates again.
"On this Veterans Day, I am sure you will be thinking of relatives, friends and neighbors that you will be honoring from the most recent wars of Iraq to Afghanistan all the way back to WWII. As I look out, I see the faces of many veterans from many wars; we thank each and every one of you for years of service.
"For me, I will be thinking of that day that I was standing on the flight deck of our aircraft carrier and watched the ammunition ship Mt. Hood, blow up and the deaths of hundreds of sailors and hundreds more wounded. They had been going about their daily work, and then, without any warning--in the twinkling of an eye--they made their transition from life to death.
"I will also be thinking of that one sailor whose funeral affected my life 64 years ago. He lies there still in that tiny speck of sand in the far Pacific…he will never come home."
Original entry to Veterans’ Memorial Hall website:
Max B. Semmelroth entered the Navy on February 10, 1943. He was an Aviation Boatswain's Mate Second Class and catapult crewman on an aircraft carrier in the Marshall Islands, Leyte, Lingayen Gulf, Iwo Jima, Okinawa, and Namsei Shoto, Japan. He was separated from the service on April 14, 1946.
