###

Back in the early days of 1942, World War II was in full swing and the Japanese had intentions of gaining ground nearly everywhere in the Pacific theater. Pearl Harbor was fresh in every American’s memory, having occurred only a few short months before. The United States, following the initial shock, now had to fight a full-scale war with the Germans across the Atlantic to the east and the Japanese to the west.

The various branches of the military were, for the most part, ill-equipped and unprepared for such a sudden undertaking. The Navy had, by fortunate circumstances, managed to hold onto what would soon become its most valuable warships: the aircraft carriers that had not been at Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7. The Air Corps, at that time part of the Army, was flying mostly obsolete aircraft, with too few planes capable of challenging those of the Japanese. Finally, the Army and the Marines had to immediately boost both personnel and equipment for the island-hopping campaigns in the years to come.

With all these factors in mind, the military was painfully aware that there were a couple thousand miles of virtually unprotected and unpatrolled United States coastline susceptible to landing parties or penetration by aircraft. For the most part, any kind of large invasion was not expected, but sabotage and the mere presence of the enemy on the shores of the United States could easily cause panic and a loss of morale among the population at large. The electronic wonder of radar was still in its infancy, and thus it was quickly realized that organized patrols and lookouts were a necessity for the East and West coasts.

This job fell to the Coast Guard, the smallest branch of the military. The Coast Guard’s primary function before the war was the protection of life and property in the event of trouble at sea involving commercial or pleasure craft. The service maintained navigational equipment along the coastline, including buoys and lighthouses. During Prohibition, the Coast Guard had chased many a rum runner attempting to smuggle illegal goods into the United States.

The young men from the Midwest who enlisted in the Coast Guard in the spring of 1942, and who were eventually formed into Company C, 12th Regiment, may have had visions of speedy patrol boats and action at sea. It is doubtful that any of them had any idea of the duty that lay before them in the months ahead.

###

The men, who came from all parts of the Midwest, were formed into a unit at Omaha, Nebraska. From there, they took a seven-day ride on a military train, arriving on the West Coast in mid-July. Formation and training of the unit had been somewhat delayed while the new base at Alameda was completed. There, the unit of 80 men underwent six weeks of basic training before assignment to duty. After basic training, the unit boarded buses for a long trip up the coast to Eureka and Humboldt Bay.

Receiving their orders and boarding the buses for the trip north, the men still had no idea what they would actually be doing. Upon arrival, they were shown their temporary quarters at the Naval Section Base on Samoa. This base was located between the present-day boat-launching ramp and the Coast Guard lifeboat station. At that time, the boat ramp and surrounding area were part of the Navy base.

The question of their duties was quickly answered. The next day, they were out on patrol.

Those early days on the beach were filled with long hours coupled with a lack of equipment and communications. The communications and equipment problem was no one’s fault. It was simply a case of a job having to be done quickly and with the materials available.

Seaman First Class Willis (Ty) Tyson, fresh from Duluth, Minnesota, on his first day of arrival in Humboldt County, found himself on night patrol on the beach at Clam Beach.

Willis J. Tyson, who still resided in Eureka at the time of writing, spent his early days at Samoa on patrol and was later assigned to transportation of supplies and personnel for the unit. He recounted that the early patrols consisted of two men assigned to one or two miles of beach. The pair would walk the beach together for shifts that often lasted twelve hours, from dusk to dawn. The men would patrol two nights and then have one night off. Later, when shifts were cut to about six hours, they worked four nights and then had one night off.

Virtually all patrolling was at night, except during periods of heavy fog, when a skeleton crew was sent out to beaches obscured by the cold, damp fog. Communications consisted of a few radios mounted in vehicles. There were no portable radios or walkie-talkies. In the beginning, vehicles were scarce. The first patrols sent out the day after the unit arrived were transported to their patrol areas on a dump truck borrowed from the Coast Guard lifeboat station.

There was also a lack of heavy-weather gear to protect the men from the cold, damp nights on the beaches. The men were equipped with sidearms — .38-caliber revolvers — though initially there was often only one gun for each two-man patrol.

The men were told to report anything suspicious. All friendly ships, including fishing boats, had to be blacked out at night; no running lights were allowed. Although there were never any major alerts along the Humboldt coast, there were occasions when fishing boats or similar craft forgot to douse their lights and caused alarm.

Throughout the war, however, the Japanese did make appearances elsewhere along the coast. Reports surfaced of a Japanese submarine surfacing off Seaside, Oregon, and firing rounds from its deck gun at Fort Stevens. There were reports of attempted sabotage of oil reservoirs in the Santa Barbara area, as well as sightings of single Japanese aircraft launched from submarines. Locally, the torpedoing of the tanker Emidio off Blunts Reef and Cape Mendocino caused authorities to investigate suspicious activity or lights along the Humboldt coast.

The beach patrol was not alone in its watchful vigil. The Navy operated a blimp based at Samoa that spent its days aloft over the ocean searching for submarines. Crash boats stood ready for use if aircraft from the Navy-controlled McKinleyville airport went down at sea. Civilian-manned posts scanned the skies for enemy aircraft. The State Guard was assigned the task of guarding bridges along the highways. Automobiles driving roads bordering the ocean were required to use blackout-style headlights.

Two weeks after arrival, the beach patrol moved into new quarters. The men occupied large barracks buildings formerly used by the Hammond Lumber Company adjacent to the present-day Samoa Cookhouse. Shortly thereafter, stations were established at intervals along the coast. Twenty men were assigned to the old Table Bluff Hotel off old Highway 101, home of J.A. Mouat. Other stations were established at Davis Creek, several miles north of the Mattole River; Centerville Beach at the Moranda Bros. ranch; Machado Ranch at McKinleyville; and the Christensen ranch on the Arcata Bottom. Eventually, the unit reached about 250 men.

###

While this work was underway, Tyson and seven or eight other men were sent to the San Francisco Bay Area for additional training and equipment. Until they arrived, they had no idea what awaited them. Tyson was sent to a warehouse to pick up equipment and discovered the mission involved horses. Waiting for him were 50 or 60 Army saddles that had been pulled from World War I storage. The saddles were in excellent condition and looked brand new. The men returned to headquarters with their consignment of cavalry gear, and shortly thereafter a shipment of Army horses arrived.

Most of the men were startled by the prospect of patrolling beaches on horseback, but it proved to be an effective idea. Each man assigned to patrol duty had his own horse and gear for which he was responsible. Stations near ranches now made use of existing facilities with the cooperation of local ranchers.

A genuine cavalry officer from World War I, U.S. Army Capt. C.O. Enge, was assigned to the unit as official Coast Guard veterinarian. He was described as “a great guy,” delighted to once again work with horses in the military.

The men now patrolled the beaches on horseback and could cover much greater distances. For this reason, shifts were shortened to about six hours for most patrols. However, in areas inaccessible to horses, lookout towers and foot patrols remained necessary. Dogs were often used in these areas. The dogs, mostly German shepherds, were trained attack dogs that could only be handled by their assigned handlers.

With the horses and dogs came the establishment of a landline communications system. Phone lines, strung on poles or occasionally buried underground, stretched from just north of Trinidad to the Mattole River. Every few miles along the patrol route were small shacks where the men could stop for coffee, rest and check in with headquarters. The phone system existed solely for the beach patrol and was dismantled after the program ended.

###

According to Tyson, Humboldt County offered excellent liberty towns. Local residents accepted the horse-riding sailors warmly and were glad to have someone patrolling the beaches. USO centers operated in Eureka, Arcata, Fortuna and Ferndale, where servicemen could spend their off-hours. Local families often invited the men into their homes for meals. Tyson recalled dining with other servicemen at the home of a Mrs. T.W. Hine on Fairfield Street in Eureka.

By this time, transportation had improved and vehicles regularly traveled to the various stations, giving off-duty men opportunities to spend time in town. The friendships that developed with local residents led many servicemen to marry local women and settle permanently in Humboldt County. Several, including Tyson, remained in the area after the war. Others who stayed included Russell Allen, Eldon Brom, James Cook, Lee Coyle, Robert Briggs, Edward Kennedy, William McDonald, Norman Mudie, Harry Stephenson, Roy Wilde, Arthur Byerly and Jerome Wilcox.

Although there were never any major alerts or emergency actions, the patrol was not without tragedy. Patrols near the Mattole River had to cross the river at its mouth by rowboat in order to patrol beaches on the north side. On one occasion, the boat contained four men, two dogs and their equipment. As the craft reached midstream, a large swell rolled in from the ocean, catching the boat broadside and capsizing it.

Weighted down by heavy-weather gear, the men had little chance of survival in the cold waters of the Mattole. Only one man survived to recount the details of the accident. This was the only fatal incident involving the Humboldt-area beach patrol during the war.

As the war progressed in the Pacific, the apparent need for the beach patrol along the West Coast began to diminish in the spring of 1944. Men were reassigned elsewhere, and the remaining skeleton crew moved into new barracks constructed near the site of the old Clam Beach Inn before the freeway was built in the late 1960s.

By July and August 1944, most of the men were gone, and those who remained were primarily maintaining communications systems. Their stay in the new barracks lasted only a few months as the program was phased out. Tyson, one of the few who remained until the end, went on leave and later discovered upon receiving new orders that he had been reassigned to the Coast Guard lifeboat station at Samoa, only a few miles from the original headquarters of the beach patrol.

In its nearly two years of full operation, from September 1942 to the summer of 1944, the program served its purpose well despite initial hardships caused by shortages of equipment and preparation time. The men in the original unit of 80 Coast Guardsmen from the Midwest performed their duties admirably and earned the appreciation of the local community for guarding beaches considered vulnerable to sabotage or other enemy activity.

Many members of the unit remained lifelong friends. After all, it was difficult not to know your partner well after trudging through sand together all night during those early days of patrol duty.

Yes, there really were mounted Coast Guardsmen galloping along Humboldt County beaches on horseback during World War II more than forty years ago. They may have seemed an odd sight then — and likely still would today — riding patrol along the damp, storm-plagued beaches of Humboldt County.

###

The piece above was printed in the May-June 1983 issue of the Humboldt Historian, a journal of the Humboldt County Historical Society. It is reprinted here with permission. The Humboldt County Historical Society is a nonprofit organization devoted to archiving, preserving and sharing Humboldt County’s rich history. You can become a member and receive a year’s worth of new issues of The Humboldt Historian at this link.