Story by Johnna A. Pro / Photos by Steve Mellon Former Merchant Marine member Henry Kazmierski holds a single carnation at the Clairton War Memorial in honor of "the boys," former U.S. seamen killed in World War II. Kazmierski dove into the frigid waters of the Barents Sea in January 1944 after the SS Penelope Barker was hit by a torpedo. Ten of his shipmates were killed. Clairton's memorial pays tribute to all veterans, including those who served in the Merchant Marine.

When Edsel Bryner tried to join the Navy in 1944, recruiters homed in on the fact that he was color-blind, and he was rejected. William E. Hoza had a similar experience three years earlier, when Navy doctors feared that his bad ears made him unsuitable for combat and the sound of dropping bombs.

Henry Kazmierski in a 1944 shore pass photo. U.S. Merchant Marine    For more information about the United States Merchant Marine and their service in World War II or for information about obtaining discharge forms or benefits information, write to the U.S. Maritime Service Veterans at Box 2361, Berkeley, CA 94702-0361 or visit their Web site at www.usmm.org.    For more information about local Merchant Marine Chapters, contact Leo Bebout, president, Three Rivers Chapter at 412-831-7145, or Robert W. Downey, president, Mon Valley Chapter at 412-466-0250.    There are also chapters in Altoona, New Castle, Brownsville and Jeannette. Related article WWII seamen recall onboard battles

But while Bryner and Hoza were both rejected by the Navy, neither was turned away from service during World War II.

The U.S. government, in the form of the War Shipping Administration and military recruiters, and a slick red, white and blue advertising campaign, sent thousands of men instead to the United States Merchant Marine.

These civilian volunteers, rather than draftees, were trained by the military, outfitted in uniforms and served their country under the auspices of the military. Some were even recruited from the military, told by their commanders that men were desperately needed to man troop and supply ships on the high seas.

These men, and even a handful of women in the early days of the war, were killed in action, taken prisoner or, in many cases, left to float in frigid waters for hours and even days or weeks after their ships were blown out from under them as they ferried troops overseas and delivered beans, bandages and bullets to the Allied forces. They were subject to the military code of conduct, earned awards and could be court-marshaled. They suffered the highest casualty rate of any service in World War II.

"When final victory is ours," said Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower, "there is no organization that shared its credit more deservedly than the Merchant Marine."

Despite his words, and despite even more glowing praise from President Franklin D. Roosevelt, men of the Merchant Marine returned home from the war only to be told they weren't veterans.

Edsel Bryner tries on the hat that he wore when he was a teenager in service (below) with the Merchant Marine during World War II. Bryner, of Chartiers, had dropped out of Washington High School at age 16 to join the Navy but was rejected because he was color-blind. Navy recruiters directed him to the Merchant Marines. Click upper photo for larger image.

It was a shock to men like Bryner, who at 16 dropped out of Washington High School motivated only by a desire to serve his country.

"The Navy said I was colorblind. That's the excuse they used," said Bryner, of Chartiers. "The Navy recruiters were directed to point people to the Merchant Marine."

Bryner went willingly and within days was in Sheepshead Bay in New York, marching in unison, learning how to man a gun and practicing lifeboat drills. By the time he received a draft notice a few months later, he had already completed one trip across the Atlantic, ferrying troops and supplies. The military told him to stay put. He was where they needed him to be.

"I wanted to serve the country. That's all I wanted to do," Bryner said. "I had no inkling I was in anything other than the service."

But with Roosevelt's death in 1945, the Merchant Marine lost its staunchest supporter and any chance to share in the accolades afforded others who served. The War Department, the same government branch that recruited them, opposed the Seaman's Bill of Rights in 1947 and managed to kill the legislation in a congressional committee, effectively ending any chance for seamen to reap the thanks of a nation.

For 43 years, the U.S. government denied them benefits ranging from housing to health care until Congress awarded them veterans' status in 1988, too late for 125,000 mariners, roughly half of those who had served.

"It's one of the injustices of American history," said Brian Herbert, author of "The Forgotten Heroes," a book about the Merchant Marine of World War II that was published last week. "These men were torpedoed by their own government after the war."

Even today, survivors struggle for acceptance among their military brethren and the public.

Nationally, the Veterans of Foreign Wars won't accept Merchant Mariners as members. Locally, including in Butler County, there are still battles to fight for recognition as simple as having the Merchant Marine emblem on war memorials and monuments, even though they are included on the national memorial dedicated this weekend in Washington, D.C.

Joseph Dugan, executive director of Soldiers & Sailors Memorial Hall, which fully recognizes the veterans' status of members of the World War II Merchant Marine, said it is frustrating for the old sailors not to share in the respect that other veterans receive.

"They were more in harm's way than probably 50 percent of the U.S. forces on a daily basis. And a lot of them have seen more combat than probably 60 percent of some of veterans who served in World War II," said Dugan, himself a decorated veteran of both Vietnam and Desert Storm. "The military and the U.S. government put this onus on these people. In this country, that's unthinkable."

Historical launch

One of the staunchest advocates for the men of the Merchant Marine in the region is Leo "Brooks" Bebout of Bethel Park, who joined the Merchant Marine at 16. Today, Bebout is president of the American Merchant Marine Veterans Three Rivers Chapter and in July takes office as a regional vice president for the organization. Bebout is on the forefront of lobbying efforts to get Merchant Marines cash bonuses from the state and federal governments to make up for the benefits they did not receive after the war. Click photo for larger image.

The United States Merchant Marine traces its roots to Colonial America and the Revolutionary War.

The group's storied history began on June 12, 1775, in the weeks after the battles at Concord and Lexington.

Word of the victories in New Hampshire and Massachusetts had reached Machias, Maine, where citizens were waiting for supplies from Boston that were being delivered on British ships.

The ships traveled under the protection of the Margaretta, an armed British schooner.

The British troops forced Colonists to buy the supplies and, in exchange, took lumber that would later be used to build housing for the Royal Army. And as a final insult, the colonists were forced to agree in writing to protect British property at all times.

The residents of Machias, though, decided instead to battle the troops and strip the supply ship of its goods.

The British fled on the Margaretta, but the Colonists, led by privateers Jeremiah O'Brian and Benjamin Forster, were not far behind. Forty men armed with guns, swords, axes and pitchforks pursued the British schooner on two ships.

On June 12, 1775, near Round Island on Machias Bay, the patriots crashed into the British ship and captured its crew, supplies and ammunition in an hourlong battle.

It was the first sea engagement of the Revolutionary War, and it marked the beginning of a symbiotic relationship between merchant mariners and the United States government because the fledgling nation's Continental Navy had just 31 ships.

As a result of the patriots' success, the government issued Letters of Marque to merchant ships and commissioned privateers, essentially turning mariners into warriors.

For the remainder of the Revolution, and indeed through the War of 1812 (which was fought in part over shipping), the Spanish-American War, the Civil War and World War I, merchant mariners fought the fiercest of battles, captured millions of dollars worth of supplies and kept shipping lines open to supply troops whether here or abroad.

Roosevelt and the Merchant Marine

Merchant Marine veterans celebrate Maritime Day each year on May 22. Locally, the Mon Valley Chapter of the Merchant Marine Veterans hosts a service in Elizabeth Borough, which includes the tossing of wreaths into the Monongahela River to honor deceased mariners. At last week's ceremony, Karl Mastele of North Huntingdon holds the Merchant Marine flag while Navy veteran Walt Kuzma takes pictures. Click photo for larger image.

By the mid-1930s, America's commercial and military ships were little more than floating hulks, barely fit for peacetime work and hardly capable of wartime service.

The nation's mariners numbered just 55,000.

Congress, at the urging of Roosevelt, passed the Merchant Marine Act of 1936, which established a 10-year program for building ships that would be used for commerce during peace time and would be converted for use by the Navy during times of war or national emergency. It also provided a training program for seamen that linked them to the military in wartime, specifically the Navy.

It was a prescient piece of legislation.

By 1939, war raged in Europe, and the battle for control of the Atlantic Ocean was well under way as German submarines traveling in what were called "wolf packs," or groups of submarines, prowled the oceans. Their mission: to sink supply ships in an effort to isolate Great Britain and Russia from oil, raw materials and food.

By the time the United States entered the war at the end of 1941, the East Coast, including the Chesapeake Bay and the Outer Banks, was crawling with German submarines. That year, the Germans sank 1,232 Allied and neutral ships worldwide, including those manned by the Merchant Marine.

The following year was even worse. The Allies would lose 1,323 ships, while Germany's submarine losses totaled just 87. More than 1,000 seamen would die within sight of the East Coast, and it wasn't uncommon for inhabitants of the seashore to find their bodies washed up on the sand.

By then, Washington's military and political powers knew that if the Allies were to win the war, an aggressive shipbuilding campaign was needed. Roosevelt had already spoken repeatedly of building a bridge of ships across the Atlantic to stop the German war machine and, even before the bombing of Pearl Harbor and America's entry into the war, mass production was well under way.

The Liberty Ship, otherwise known as the Ugly Duckling, a prefabricated hulk that could be built in less than eight weeks, would come to represent the largest shipbuilding program in the nation's history.

In a four-year period from 1941 to 1945, American produced nearly 3,000 Liberty Ships. And while the ships were being built, thousands of young men, some just 16 years old, were sent to training centers throughout the country, including Sheepshead Bay in Brooklyn, N.Y. The number of mariners would swell from 55,000 to between 215,000 and 250,000, according to varying sources.

Among them was August V. Pace, a 19-year-old North Sider who was rejected by the Army and the Navy for having a bad heart valve but who didn't make it out of the recruiting center.

"The Merchant Marine grabbed me in a minute. They had to move them supplies and the troops. I was gone within four days. I didn't know what hit me," said Pace, who first worked on troop transports in the North Atlantic and later gasoline tankers in the Pacific.

"I made nine trips over the North Atlantic. Every time we went over, the wolf pack attacked us."

Warriors or not?

The problem for mariners who served during World War II was the complex relationship between them and the military.

Mariners were civilian men and women who were employed by private shipping companies and were represented by the National Maritime Union to carry goods and supplies on cargo ships around the world.

With the onset of war, though, the War Shipping Administration took control of all shipping. The private companies would deliver the troops and supplies needed for the war effort and pay the mariners through contracts with the government.

In turn, the government, through the U.S. Maritime Service, recruited and supplied the necessary seamen by opening training academies around the country, where a rigorous 90-day boot camp readied them for life at sea. With a wink and nod, many men deemed not fit for the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines or Coast Guard were quickly sent to the Merchant Marine.

John Ludwig of Dawson, Fayette County, was already in the Merchant Marine (below) when War World II started. Over the next several years, he would serve on several ships that were torpedoed. In one attack, he was thrown across the ship's engine room and left partially paralyzed with a fractured backbone. En route from Scotland to New York on a hospital ship, he taught himself to walk again. Just weeks later, he went back to work as a merchant seaman. "Hell, I don't give a damn what they say," said Ludwig. "I am a veteran." Several of the ships he was on are cited in "A Careless Word ... A Needless Sinking," an essential reference work about the Merchant Marine of World War II. Click photo for larger image.

"We marched and marched from morning until late at night," said Michael McKee, 78, of Stowe, who joined the Merchant Marine after being rejected from Marine Corps four times. "It was very regimental. It was strictly military. You enlisted. You were under military law. You had shore patrol. Everything was the same as if you were in the Navy."

When training ended, newly commissioned seamen headed to dock side union halls and were assigned to ships that carried troops, supplies or ammunition.

In the early days of the war, most cargo ships weren't even armed, so crews disguised telephones poles mounted on the ships to look like guns, their only recourse against the stealthy wolf packs.

Later, traveling in convoys with Navy armed guards, seamen would find themselves working alongside the gunnery crews, fighting desperately to save their ships and their own lives against German torpedoes. Because of the danger, other ships traveling in the convoy were not allowed to stop and help ships that had been attacked.

"At night, if you saw a light or a flare, you knew a ship got hit," recalled McKee, who was on two ships that were torpedoed and a third that was damaged in an accident with an Allied ship.

By the war's end, roughly 7,000 mariners were killed at sea on more than 800 American ships that were sunk. Countless mariners died on shore of their injuries after their ships were shot at from the air, hit by torpedoes or blown up by floating mines. Some 600 mariners were prisoners of war, and another 11,000 were injured.

Seamen who served during the war were exempt from the draft as long as they were not off a ship for more than 30 days. And contrary to the popular myth of inflated pay, seamen's wages were commensurate with those of other servicemen. And they were paid only while the ships were in the water.

A seaman torpedoed off his ship was off the payroll the minute he was injured, landed in a lifeboat or hit the water. Surviving seamen had to beg, borrow, plead or work their way back to the United States from places such as Murmansk, Russia, so they could be reassigned to another ship. Until that happened, they weren't paid.

But perception often becomes reality, and mariners found themselves the target of a smear campaign orchestrated by two powerful members of the media: Walter Winchell, the popular radio broadcaster, and Westbrook Pegler, a prominent vitriolic columnist.

Winchell and Pegler both attacked the Maritime Union and the seamen, calling them draft dodgers, criminals, riffraff and an assortment of derogatory names that tainted them in the public eye.

The union subsequently sued Winchell for libel and won, but the damage was done and the residual effect would last for decades.

Bittersweet victory

Finally, in 1988, the mariners successfully sued in federal court and won veterans' status for those who served between Dec. 7, 1941 and Dec. 15, 1945. Ten years later, President Bill Clinton signed a measure that extended that cutoff date to Dec. 31, 1946, the same date as for other branches of the service.

It was a bittersweet victory, given that most former mariners were too old to make use of veterans' benefits offered to their World War II brethren, such as money for college, low-cost home loans or job preference.

But even in old age, they continue to fight for recognition and cash bonuses to make up for benefits they were denied for so long.

In Pennsylvania and Washington, D.C., legislation that would earmark money for mariners is being considered by various committees as a belated thank-you for their service.

But the pace of government moves slowly, and without a sophisticated lobby behind them, many of these senior-citizen mariners will, in seaman's parlance, cross the bar before ever seeing the matter resolved.

After so many years, veteran seamen would be happy to accept a bonus from a government that ignored them for so long.

More important, though, they long for the thanks and respect of a grateful nation.

Said William Fullgraf of Cecil, a seaman who took part in the D-Day invasion: "Recognition is the foremost issue."