Destroyer Life

The lyrics of an old pre-WWII sailor’s song.

Destroyer Life

The boys out in the trenches have got a lot to say

Of the hardships and the sorrows that come a soldier’s way,

But we destroyer sailors would’ve liked their company

On a couple of trips in our lousy ships when we put out to sea.

 

Chorus:

OH, IT’S ROLL AND TOSS AND POUND AND PITCH

AND CREAK AND GROAN YOU SON OF A BITCH,

OH, BOY, IT’S A HELL OF A LIFE ON OUR DESTROYER.

 

The damned tin can destroyer was never meant for sea,

You couldn’t keep it steady in a lousy cup of tea,

We carry guns, torpedoes and ash cans in a bunch,

But the only time we hit our mark is when we shoot our lunch.

 

Chorus:

OH, IT’S ROLL AND TOSS AND POUND AND PITCH

AND CREAK AND GROAN YOU SON OF A BITCH,

OH, BOY, IT’S A HELL OF A LIFE ON OUR DESTROYER.

:

We have heard of muddy dugouts and shell holes filled with slime,

Of cootie hunts and marches which fill a soldier’s time,

But set beside destroyer life, it all seems dull and pale,

When the clinometer hops, the barometer drops, and we line up on the rail.

 

Chorus:

OH, IT’S ROLL AND TOSS AND POUND AND PITCH

AND CREAK AND GROAN YOU SON OF A BITCH,

OH, BOY, IT’S A HELL OF A LIFE ON OUR DESTROYER.

 

And when we’re back in dry dock, we stagger like we’re drunk

And wonder how we stood it, and why she never sunk.

You lay out your civilian clothes, but just before you switch

Your sea bag’s on your shoulder and you sign up for one more hitch

 

Standard

USS Midway

USS Midway

“There was Truly Magic Here”

By:  Garland Davis

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I wrote this in tribute to a great ship, a rewarding period of my life and an homage to my Midway shipmates.  I borrowed liberally from “The History of Midway Magic” and the San Diego Aircraft Carrier Museum for facts and dates.

The onset of World War II saw the greatest shipbuilding program of modern times.  The progression of American aircraft carrier design led to larger and more heavily armored battle carriers.  USS Midway CVB-41, to be the lead ship of new large carriers, was ordered on August 7, 1942.  She had the distinction of being the first carrier named after a WWII battle.  The battle between U.S. and Japanese carriers at the Battle of Midway in June of 1942 turned the tide of WWII and proved conclusively the value of Naval Aviation.  CVB-41 was the third ship and second carrier to bear the name Midway.  The first Midway, a fleet auxiliary, was changed to USS Panay in April 1943.  The second ship bearing the name was a jeep carrier CVE-61, which was changed to USS St Lo in September 1944.

Midway was constructed at Newport News Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Company.   Midway was the lead ship of three 45,000 ton CVB’s.  Her sister ships were USS Franklin D Roosevelt (CVB-41) and USS Coral Sea (CVB-43).  Two additional ships of the class were canceled.  The Midway class hull arrangement was modeled on the canceled Montana class Battleships and was a new much larger design intended to correct problems in the Essex class design.

Midway was launched on March 20, 1945 and was commissioned on September 10, 1945.  She was the largest warship in the world for the first decade of her service.  Every aspect of Midway’s construction included the most modern innovations possible. Twelve Babcock and Wilcox boilers powered four Westinghouse geared turbines which developed 212,000 horsepower for a maximum speed of 33 knots. Midway was designed with two catapults, fourteen arresting cables, and six barriers. Her design aircraft compliment was 137. In their early years, the Midway-class carriers were the only ships capable of operating nuclear strike aircraft.

Early in 1947, operating off the East Coast Midway operated F4U-4B Corsairs and SB2-C-5 Helldivers. She conducted three training cruises in the Caribbean before sailing from her home port at Norfolk, Virginia, on another experimental mission. On that landmark cruise, she was accompanied by scientific observers as her crew fired a captured German V-2 rocket from the flight deck on September 6, 1947. The purpose of Operation SANDY was to see if a large rocket could be launched from the deck of an aircraft carrier with little to no modifications. The actual ship launch test was only conducted once. There were prior tests carried out at White Sands on a simulated aircraft carrier deck to see what effects the rocket would have if it were to explode on the deck. This test marked the first time such a weapon was fired from a ship at sea or a moving platform. It decisively demonstrated the potential of large rocket fire from surface ships.

Midway spent the following years operating in the Atlantic Ocean and Mediterranean Sea.  In January 1954, Midway deployed to the Mediterranean for the seventh time. Just before entering port in Athens for a state visit, Midway collided with a replenishment ship, USS Great Sitkin, AE-17. Occurring in the Aegean Sea about 1700 on a Sunday, the ships were conducting a side-by-side transfer of materials in rough seas. Swells were reported to be about 15 feet between the ships. Upon casting off the last securing lines, the Great Sitkin began a sharp starboard turn. This caused her port stern area to sideswipe the Midway’s aft starboard side, just above the waterline, crushing one of the starboard weather deck 5″ gun mounts. There was no fire and damage control made temporary repairs while underway. Also during this cruise, a major fire on the flight deck occurred when an F2H bounced over the barrier and went into the pack. Casualties were four pilots and approximately four crew. This cruise was extended an additional month due to their relief, USS Bennington having a catastrophic port catapult machinery explosion, which killed about 100 of the crew. Bennington had to return to CONUS for repairs before finally departing for the Mediterranean. Midway returned to Norfolk in August of 1954.

In December 1954, with Air Group One aboard, Midway departed Norfolk on a world cruise, which culminated in her transfer to the Pacific Fleet. Joining the Seventh Fleet off Taiwan in February 1955, she became the flagship of COMCARDIV Three, operating from the Philippine Islands and Japan. Shortly after her arrival in the area, Midway participated in the evacuation of 24,000 military and civilian personnel of the Republic of China from the Tachen Islands, off the China coast. She remained in the area patrolling the Taiwan Straits and the South China Sea until June. For this operation, Midway was awarded the China Service Medal. Midway left Yokosuka, Japan and returned to NAS Alameda, California in July 1955. She entered Puget Sound Naval Shipyard, Washington and was decommissioned for the first time in October 1955.

While the gradual removal of armament helped to curtail the burden of excessive weight, the advent of the angled carrier deck not only added additional tons of displacement, but became a serious factor in stability. Built as axial, or straight-deck carriers, the problem of cycling and spotting aircraft for either launching or recovery operations remained a detriment to combat efficiency since only one function could be performed at a time. The angled flight deck, pioneered by the British, changed all that.

After being decommissioned in October 1955, Midway underwent a modernization project to give her the capability to operate high-performance jet aircraft. She was fitted with two steam catapults on the bow and a shorter steam catapult in the new angle deck. The purpose of the third catapult was to allow ready deck launches while keeping the landing area clear for recoveries in an “alert” situation. Additional improvements included the installation of a hurricane (enclosed) bow, moving elevator number three to the starboard deck edge aft of the island, enlarging the number one elevator to accommodate longer aircraft, new arresting gear, jet blast deflectors, and the largest aviation crane ever installed on an aircraft carrier. On recommissioning in September 1957, Midway’s load displacement had grown from 55,000 to 62,000 tons

Midway was again decommissioned in February 1966.  During the intervening years she had operated in the Pacific Ocean and with the Seventh Fleet conducting combat operations during the early years of the Viet Nam War.  After decommissioning she underwent the most extensive and complex modernization ever seen on a naval vessel. This upgrade would take four years to complete, but yielded a much more capable ship and made Midway operationally equivalent to the newest conventionally powered carriers. The flight deck was increased in surface area from 2.82 acres to 4.02 acres. The addition of three new deck-edge elevators could now lift 130,000 pounds compared with 74,000 pounds of her sister ships, Franklin D. Roosevelt, and Coral Sea. Two powerful new catapults on the bow, three new arresting gear engines, and one barricade were installed and rearranged to accommodate a change of 13 degrees to the angle deck. The smaller waist catapult was removed since it was ineffective in launching the now heavier aircraft. Modern electronic systems were installed, a central chilled water air conditioning system replaced hundreds of individual units, and Midway became the first ship to have the aviation fueling system completely converted from aviation gas to JP-5. Delays, caused partially by the simultaneous construction of USS Horne and modernization of USS Chicago, and unscheduled repairs to the fire-damaged USS Oriskany, drove the initial modernization estimate from 87 million dollars to 202 million dollars.

On April 16, 1971, Midway began her sixteenth deployment 13,000 tons heavier than her original full load displacement. Arriving off the coast of South Vietnam with Air Wing Five embarked and a crew of 4,500, she relieved USS Hancock, CVA-19 on May 18. This was the beginning of single carrier operations, which lasted until the end of the month. During this time, the ship launched over 6,000 missions in support of allied operations in the Republic of Vietnam. Departing Yankee Station on June 5, she completed her final line period on October 31. Midway returned to Alameda on November 6th, after spending 146 consecutive days at sea. For this deployment, Midway was awarded the Meritorious Unit Commendation.

Due to a sudden North Vietnamese invasion of South Vietnam, Midway left on April 10, 1972, for a third Vietnam deployment, seven weeks prior to her scheduled deployment date. On this deployment, Air Wing Five aircraft played an important role in the effort of U.S. forces to stop the flow of men and supplies into South Vietnam from the North. On May 11, aircraft from Midway along with those from USS Coral Sea, CVA-43, USS Kitty Hawk, CVA-63, and USS Constellation, CVA-64 continued laying minefields in ports of significance to the North Vietnamese. Thanh Hoa, Dong Hoi, Vinh, Hon Gai, Quang Khe, and Cam Pha, as well as other approaches to Haiphong. Ships that were in port in Haiphong had been advised that the mining would take place and that the mines would be armed 72 hours later. On August 7, an HC-7 Det 110 helicopter, flying from Midway, and aided by other planes from the carrier and USS Saratoga, CVA-60, conducted a search and rescue mission for a downed aviator in North Vietnam. The pilot of an A-7 aircraft from Saratoga had been downed by a surface-to-air missile about 20 miles inland, northwest of Vinh, on 6 August. The HC-7 helo flew over mountainous terrain to rescue the pilot. The rescue helicopter used its search light to assist in locating the downed aviator and, despite receiving heavy ground fire, was successful in retrieving him and returning to an LPD off the coast. This was the deepest penetration of a rescue helicopter into North Vietnam since 1968. HC-7 Det 110 continued its rescue missions and by the end of 1972 had successfully accomplished 48 rescues, 35 of which were under combat conditions. In October, an aircraft crash landed on Midway’s deck. This aircraft ran into a group of parked aircraft and destroyed eight of them, killed 5 crewmen and injured 23 others. On January 12, 1973, an aircrew flying from Midway was credited with downing the last Mig of the war. Upon the signing of the cease-fire on January 15, Midway returned home. The Presidential Unit Citation was awarded to Midway and Carrier Air Wing Five for exceptional heroism for the period April 30, 1972 to February 09, 1973. This award was a rare presentation during the Vietnam War. During this time Midway was on her third Vietnam combat cruise and spent 208 line days on Yankee Station. CVW-5 had five air combat victories including the last downing of a Mig during the Vietnam hostilities. CVW-5 suffered 15 combat and five operational losses in this period.

On September 11, 1973, Midway left Alameda on one of her most important voyages to date. Arriving in Yokosuka, Japan on October 5, 1973, Midway and Carrier Air Wing Five marked the first forward-deployment of a complete carrier task group in a Japanese port as the result of an accord arrived at on August 31, 1972 between the United States and Japan. Known as the Navy’s Overseas Family Residency Program, Midway’s crew and their families were now permanently home-ported in Japan. In addition to the morale factor of dependents housed along with the crew in a foreign port, the move had strategic significance because it facilitated continuous positioning of three carriers in the Far East at a time when the economic situation demanded the reduction of carriers in the fleet. It also effectively reduced the deployment cycles of her sister Pacific Fleet carriers.

In April 1975, Midway returned to the waters of Vietnam. On April 20, all fixed-wing aircraft of CVW-5 were flown off to NAS Cubi Point and ten USAF 40th Aerospace Rescue & Recovery Squadron H-53’s were embarked. Midway, along with USS Coral Sea, CVA-43, USS Hancock, CVA-19, USS Enterprise, CVAN-65 and USS Okinawa, LPH-3, responded to the North Vietnamese overrunning two-thirds of South Vietnam. On April 29, Operation FREQUENT WIND was carried out by U.S. Seventh Fleet forces. As South Vietnam fell, the H-53’s from Midway flew in excess of 40 sorties, shuttling 3,073 U.S. personnel and Vietnamese refugees out of Saigon in two days, bringing them onto the ship. Midway’s HC-1 Det 2 Sea Kings then transported the evacuees to other ships. One South Vietnamese pilot flew a Cessna O-1 Bird Dog observation plane with his wife and five children out to Midway. He passed a note asking permission to land. The angle deck was cleared and the pilot made a good approach and landed with room to spare. The crew of Midway met him with cheers. For her role in the operation, Midway was awarded the Navy Unit Commendation and the Humanitarian Service Medal.

Immediately following Operation FREQUENT WIND, Midway steamed south into the Gulf of Siam to Thailand and brought aboard over 100 American built aircraft preventing them from falling into communist hands. When they were aboard, the ship steamed at high speed to Guam, where the planes were offloaded by crane in record time.  After the offload in Guam and a brief stop in Subic Bay, Midway entered the Indian Ocean and operated there from October until the end of November. On November 25, 1975, during post “MIDLINK” exercises, a fatal accident occurred. While attempting to land on the Midway, an aircraft struck the ramp, bolted, impacted the barricade, and struck another aircraft. Flying debris injured two crew members. Midway returned to Yokosuka in time to celebrate the 1975 Christmas holiday.

In June 1976, Midway participated in Exercise TEAM SPIRIT, an exercise in intense electronic warfare and bombing missions over South Korea. In August 1976, a Navy task force headed by Midway made a show of force off the coast of Korea in response to an unprovoked attack on two U.S. Army officers who were killed by North Korean guards on August 18. Midway’s response was in support of a U.S. demonstration of military concern vis-à-vis North Korea.

1977 saw Midway participating in MIDLINK ’77, a two-day exercise hosted by the Iranian Navy, and included representatives of Pakistan, Turkey, and the United Kingdom.

February 1978 saw Midway joining in with the JMSDF (Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force) for the largest combined exercise to that date. On May 31, 1978, while docked in Yokosuka, Japan, a fire which originated in the exhaust ventilation system, quickly spread through the 3A boiler uptakes on the second deck, and terminated in the main uptake space. The cause of the fire was later thought to be from welding in a vent system containing a fine oil mist which ignited and spread.

Midway relieved USS Constellation, CV-64 as the Indian Ocean contingency carrier on April 16, 1979. Midway and her escort ships continued a significant American naval presence in the oil-producing region of the Arabian Sea and Persian Gulf. On August 09, while berthed in Yokosuka, Japan, a fire, caused by a broken acetylene line, broke out killing one worker and injuring 17 sailors. Also in August, the Vice President of the United States boarded Midway in Hong Kong for a courtesy visit. On November 18, she arrived in the northern part of the Arabian Sea in connection with the continuing hostage crisis in Iran. Militant followers of the Ayatollah Khomeini, who had come to power following the overthrow of the Shah, seized the U.S. Embassy in Tehran on November 4 and held 63 U.S. citizens’ hostage. Midway was joined on November 21 by USS Kitty Hawk, CV-63, and both carriers, along with their escort ships, were joined by USS Nimitz, CVN-68 and her escorts on January 22, 1980. Midway was relieved by USS Coral Sea, CV-43 on February 5, 1980.

Following a period in Yokosuka, Midway was again on duty on May 30, 1980, this time relieving USS Coral Sea on standby south of the Cheju-Do Islands in the Sea of Japan following the potential of civil unrest in the Republic of Korea. On July 29, Midway collided with the Panamanian merchant ship Cactus while transiting the passage between Palawan Island of the Philippines and the coast of Northern Borneo 450 nautical miles southwest of Subic Bay enroute to Singapore. While Midway sustained no serious damage, two sailors working in the liquid oxygen plant were killed, three were injured, and three F-4 Phantom aircraft parked on the flight deck were damaged. On August 17, Midway relieved USS Constellation, CV-64 to begin another Indian Ocean deployment and to complement the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower, CVN-69 task group still on contingency duty in the Arabian Sea. Midway spent a total of 118 days in the Indian Ocean during 1980.

On March 16, 1981, an A-6 Intruder from VA-115 aboard Midway sighted a downed civilian helicopter in the South China Sea. Midway immediately dispatched helicopters from HC-1 Det 2 to the scene. All 17 people aboard the downed helicopter were rescued and brought aboard the carrier. The chartered civilian helicopter was also plucked out of the water and lifted to Midway’s flight deck. In September 1981, the Chief of Naval Operations kicked off a tour of Far East Naval Units when he visited Midway while in port Yokosuka.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:  Midway Food Service was awarded the Edward F. Ney Memorial Award for excellence in food service in both 1982 and 1983 becoming the second ship and first aircraft carrier to win the award in consecutive years.  The author is proud to have been the Leading Mess Management Specialist and to have led a Kick-Ass Food Service Division during the period from 1981 until 1984.

In December 1983, Midway deployed to the North Arabian Sea and set a record of 111 continuous days of operations.

From 1976 until 1983, Midway made six Indian Ocean cruises accounting for 338 days. She made 28 port calls in Subic Bay for 167 days, nine port calls in Hong Kong for 40 days, seven port calls in Pusan, Korea for 32 days, seven port calls in Sasebo, Japan for 28 days, three port calls in Perth, Australia for 16 days, three port calls in Mombasa, Kenya for 14 days, three port calls in Singapore for 11 days, one port call in Karachi, Pakistan for three days, and one port call in Bandar Abbas, Iran for two days. Perhaps it was the exotic nature of Midway’s liberty ports that contributed to the “Midway Magic”.

After several years of dependable overseas service, on December 2, 1984, Midway and her crew were awarded their second Meritorious Unit Commendation, for service rendered from July 27, 1982, until May 1, 1984.

On March 25, the final fleet carrier launchings of an A-7 Corsair II and an F-4S Phantom II took place from Midway during flight operations in the East China Sea. The Corsairs and Phantoms were being replaced by the new F/A-18 Hornets. On March 31, Midway moored to Dry Dock 6 at Yokosuka Naval Base to begin the “most ambitious work package in its 40-year history.” EISRA-86 (Extended Incremental Selected Repair Availability) condensed the workload of a major stateside carrier overhaul from the usual 12-14 months, into an eight-month modernization. This included the addition of the catapult flush deck nose gear launch system, the additions of MK7 MOD1 jet blast deflectors, restack and re-reeve of arresting gear engines, installation of larger rudders, the addition of new fire main system valves and pumps, new air traffic consoles, a new viable anti-submarine warfare capability, the construction of intermediate maintenance avionics shops to support the F/A-18 aircraft, and the removal of over 47 tons of unusable cable. Blisters were also built and mounted to the sides of Midway. With this monumental task being completed three days ahead of schedule, the first Air Wing Five F/A-18 Hornet trapped aboard Midway on November 28, 1986.

On January 9, 1987, Midway was reactivated with Battle Group ALFA and departed Yokosuka. On May 22, while en route to Eastern Australia, Midway trapped a VMA-331 AV-8 Harrier operating off USS Belleau Wood, LHA-3. These Harrier operations were the first in Midway’s history. On this cruise, Midway was the first U.S. Navy carrier to visit Sydney, Australia since 1972. Over 7,000 visitors toured the ship during the 10-day port call. On July 10, the launch of a VFA-195 Hornet marked the 76,000th catapult shot from the port catapult since Midway’s recommissioning in 1970. On November 14, the EA-3B “Whale” made its last run from the deck of Midway. The Whale was replaced by a C-2 Greyhound from VRC-50, which embarked aboard Midway on November 9 for an Indian Ocean deployment. During 1987 and 1988, the ship deployed to the Indian Ocean as part of Operation ERNEST WILL, earning the Armed Forces Expeditionary Medal.

At the time of her refit in 1986, hull bulges had to be added to create additional buoyancy to compensate for the increased tonnage. However, these ungainly appendages seriously affected Midway’s stability. During sea trials in 1986, excessive rolls in moderate seas took green water over her flight deck, thereby hampering flight operations. A 1988 Senate committee, outraged by the inept modifications carried out in the shipyard, voted to retire Midway early as a cost-saving measure. However, after considerable Navy lobbying the committee was overruled, with $138 million voted to remedy her stability dilemma.

On March 13, 1989, Midway participated in Exercise TEAM SPIRIT in the waters off South Korea for the second consecutive year. From June 7-8, Midway was put on standby after the massacre in Tiananmen Square for possible evacuation of American citizens from the People’s Republic of China.

Midway’s dependability for rapid response was reaffirmed on August 16, 1989 as she celebrated her 44th year of service by deploying again to the Indian Ocean. On August 28, Midway participated in Exercise THALAY, a three-day exercise with Royal Thai Navy ships. On September 9, Midway logged its 200,000th catapult shot since being recommissioned in 1972. On September 30, an F/A-18 Hornet aircraft from the Midway mistakenly dropped a 500-pound bomb on the deck of the USS Reeves, CG-24, during training exercises in the Indian Ocean 32 miles south of Diego Garcia, creating a five-foot hole in the bow, sparking a small fire, and injuring five sailors. On November 10, Midway became the first Navy carrier to pull pier side in Fremantle, Australia. While returning from this cruise, Midway participated in Operation CLASSIC RESOLVE, supporting the Philippine government of President Corazon Aquino against a coup attempt. The operation, run in conjunction with the Air Force and assisted by the USS Enterprise (CVN-65) lasted from December 2 to December 9. For this action, she earned another Armed Forces Expeditionary Medal.

1989 and 1990 saw extensive sea time, including deployments to the Northern Arabian Sea and trips to Australia, Diego Garcia, Hong Kong, Kenya, Korea, Philippines, Thailand, and Singapore.

From 1973 to 1991, Midway’s history is hallmarked by Indian Ocean cruises and port calls at some of the most exotic Far East ports. Being America’s first forward deployed ship, Midway remained on the “knife’s edge” of readiness and maintained a highly visible presence in the region in support of U.S. policy. Midway no longer went in for overhauls, rather her upkeep was managed through periods of EISRA (Extended Incremental Ship’s Restricted Availability). These brief periods allowed Midway to be serviced, but also available at any time. In the post-Vietnam era prior to 1990, Midway earned four Battle Efficiency Ribbons, the Navy and Marine Corps Expeditionary Medal, three Armed Forces Expeditionary Medals, the Humanitarian Service Medal and two Meritorious Unit Commendations.

Midway’s last two years in commissioned service would prove to be perhaps her most historic. In 1990, while celebrating 45 years of service, Midway received official announcement on her decommissioning. An announcement in February confirmed that she was scheduled to decommission in 1991. Even with this announcement, Midway continued to maintain her seagoing reputation by being underway more than most other aircraft carriers. With her unique combination of modernized strength and years of experience, she strived to maintain peace and stability in the Western Pacific.

Disaster struck the Midway on June 20, 1990. While conducting routine flight operations approximately 125 nautical miles northeast of Japan, the ship was badly damaged by two onboard explosions. These explosions led to a fire that raged more than ten hours. In addition to damage to the ship’s hull, three crew members died and eight others were seriously injured in the line of duty. All 11 crewmen belonged to an elite fire-fighting team known as the Flying Squad. When Midway entered Yokosuka Harbor the next day, 12 Japanese media helicopters flew in circles and hovered about 150 feet above the flight deck. Three busloads of reporters were waiting on the pier. About 30 minutes after Midway cast its first line, more than 100 international print and electronic journalists charged over the brow to cover the event. The news media made a major issue out of the incident, as it happened amid other military accidents. It was thought that the accident would lead to the ship’s immediate retirement due to her age.

Despite the announced decommissioning and the fire, Midway’s role as a potent member of the U.S. Naval forces was again reaffirmed when she departed Yokosuka, Japan on October 2, 1990 in support of Operation DESERT SHIELD. On November 2, 1990, MIDWAY arrived on station in the North Arabian Sea, relieving USS Independence, CV-62. For the DESERT SHIELD portion of the campaign, Midway was the only carrier in the Persian Gulf. She was the first carrier to operate extensively and for prolonged periods within the mined waters of the Gulf itself. On November 15, she participated in Operation IMMINENT THUNDER, an eight-day combined amphibious landing exercise in northeastern Saudi Arabia, which involved about 1,000 U.S. Marines, 16 warships, and more than 1,100 aircraft. Midway also made the first Persian Gulf port call for an aircraft carrier when she visited Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates for Christmas of 1990. Midway was also the flagship of the Persian Gulf Battle Force Commander, Rear Admiral Daniel P. March (Commander Task Force 154). Admiral March was the operational commander for all coalition naval forces within the Persian Gulf.

Meanwhile, the United Nations set an ultimatum deadline of January 15,1991 for Iraq to withdraw from Kuwait. After steaming for two and a half months in the North Arabian Sea, Operation DESERT STORM, the fight to liberate Kuwait, began on January 17, 1991. Aircraft from Midway flew the initial air strikes of Operation DESERT STORM. An A-6E Intruder from the “Nighthawks” of VA-185 flying from Midway became the first carrier-based aircraft “over the beach” during that first strike. During the conflict, Midway’s aircraft flew 3,339 combat sorties, an average of 121 per day during the war. Midway aircraft dropped 4,057,520 pounds of ordnance on targets in Iraq and occupied Kuwait.

The jet aircraft aboard Midway were not alone in taking the fight to the Iraqis. HS-12 conducted two Combat Rescues, rescued and captured a total of 25 Iraqi sailors, destroyed nine mines, and captured the first piece of Kuwaiti soil – a small island (the only property captured or liberated by the Navy). HS-12 also recovered the body of an Iraqi Naval Officer who had apparently been killed by his crew. At the end of the war, HS-12 chased down an escaping speed boat and forced it ashore on another island. The four captured occupants turned out to be members of the Iraqi Secret Police.

After 43 days of combat, Kuwait had been liberated with a resounding defeat of Iraqi forces. Operation DESERT STORM ended at midnight on February 27, 1991. Midway was the only one of the four carriers operating in the Persian Gulf to lose no aircraft or personnel. Midway departed the Persian Gulf on March 10 and returned to Yokosuka, Japan. For her actions during Operations DESERT SHIELD and DESERT STORM, Midway again received the Battle Efficiency Award and the Navy Unit Commendation.

Midway’s versatility was again demonstrated in June of 1991 with her participation in Operation FIERY VIGIL. On June 16, Midway was given one day’s notice to sortie from her berth in Yokosuka, Japan and steam at high speed for Subic Bay Naval Base in the Philippines to assist with the evacuation of military personnel and their families following the volcanic eruption of Mt. Pinatubo.

Prior to departing, Midway crewmen worked through the night loading enough food and supplies to provide for 5,000 people for two weeks. Items included 1,100 cots, pet food, and baby diapers and bottles. Within 24 hours of receiving notice of the emergency, Midway was underway with the helicopters of HS-12 as the sole representative of Air Wing Five embarked.

Midway made her best speed toward Subic Bay, slowing briefly near Okinawa to embark six helicopters from HMH-772 and a contingent of Marines. The ship arrived at Subic Bay June 21 and brought aboard 1,823 evacuees, almost all of them Air Force personnel leaving Clark Air Base. Additionally, Midway brought aboard 23 cats, 68 dogs, and one lizard, pets of the evacuees. Midway’s guests were greeted with a clean bed, a hot shower, and a steak dinner, their first hot meal in more than a week.

In a trip which included a high-speed night transit of the Van Diemen Passage, Midway took the evacuees to the island of Cebu in the Philippines. On arrival, HS-12 and HMH-772 flew them to Mactan International Airport. There, the evacuees boarded Air Force transport planes for flights that would eventually take them to the United States.

In August 1991, Midway departed Yokosuka, Japan for the last time, steaming towards her first United States port call in almost 18 years. She had been the first carrier to be “forward deployed” in a foreign country, sailing for 17 years out of Yokosuka, Japan. Arriving in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, Midway turned over the duty as the “Tip of the Sword” to USS Independence, CV-62. Independence would be replacing Midway as the forward-deployed carrier in Yokosuka, Japan. This turnover included swapping CVW-5 for CVW-14, the first air wing change for Midway in 20 years. After leaving Hawaii, Midway made a brief visit to Seattle, Washington, where more than 50,000 people visited the ship during a three-day open house.

On September 14, 1991, Midway arrived at her final homeport, Naval Air Station North Island in San Diego, California. Her crew then began the tremendous task of preparing the ship for decommissioning and preservation as part of the Ready Reserve Fleet.

As part of her decommissioning preparation, the Navy sent out a Board of Inspection and Survey team to assess the ship’s material condition and evaluate her capabilities. To perform this inspection, the ship got underway for one last time on September 24, 1991. On this day, the ship successfully completed a rigorous series of tests, including full-power sea trials. Midway trapped and launched her last aircraft that day, with the honor falling to Commander, Carrier Air Wing Fourteen, Captain Patrick Moneymaker, flying an F/A-18 Hornet. At the completion of the day’s events, Midway headed for home at 32 knots. Despite her age and imminent decommissioning, the inspection team found Midway fully operational and fit for continued service, a testimonial to the men who maintained the ship throughout her many years. At the end of her career, Midway’s last embarked flag officer, Rear Admiral Joseph W. Prueher noted, Midway had “sprinted across the finish line.”

Midway was decommissioned for the last time at North Island Naval Air Station in San Diego, California on April 11, 1992. She was stricken from the Navy List on March 17, 1997 and was stored at the Navy Inactive Ship Maintenance Facility, Bremerton, Washington.

On September 30, 2003, a long-awaited event happened… after eleven years, Midway was finally underway again! Although only under tow by the Foss Maritime Company’s tugs Lauren Foss and Lindsey Foss, she was heading back out to sea for another voyage. Midway was on a journey to Oakland, California.

October 07, 2003 saw Midway arriving at the Charles P. Howard Terminal in Oakland, California. Restoration work was performed before Midway was again taken under tow on December 31. The Foss Maritime Company’s Corbin Foss towed Midway down the coast of California, arriving in San Diego Bay on January 05, 2004. Midway was temporarily berthed at NAS North Island to load restored aircraft and also add ballast and equipment in preparation for her move across the bay to Navy Pier.

Midway’s final journey occurred on January 10, 2004. Several hundred guests were aboard as she was towed across San Diego Bay to her new home at Navy Pier. With much celebration and ceremony, Midway was berthed at Navy Pier, where she officially opened as the San Diego Aircraft Carrier Museum on June 07, 2004. Once again, Midway’s popularity showed as 3,058 visitors went aboard on opening day.

Conceived and built during the desperate days of World War II, the carriers of the Midway class carried a crew of 4,500 and up to 70 aircraft. The 1,000-foot-long Midway was once the largest carrier afloat, growing from 45,000 tons in 1945 to 74,000 tons in 1991. However, she had a displacement about two-thirds that of contemporary nuclear-powered flattops. When operating at sea the ship was refueled every three days, burning approximately 100,000 gallons of oil a day. When first built, the Midway’s bow was open to the sea, and was enclosed in 1957 as part of a major overhaul.

The ability to adapt to new technologies, systems, platforms, and operational needs is nowhere better exemplified than in the design and 50-year operational history of the USS Midway. Designed during World War II, in 1945, this “flattop” initially operated piston-driven propeller aircraft, yet returned from her last deployment in 1991 with the Navy’s most modern, multipurpose strike-fighters. Her original axial-deck design was modified to an angled-deck layout, her original hydraulic catapults were replaced with more powerful steam catapults, and the most basic electronics replaced by advanced sensors and communications equipment.

Midway sailed in every ocean of the world, covering more miles than anyone can count. It is estimated that more than 200,000 young Americans trod her decks, gaining manhood, fighting their country’s wars and sometimes paying the ultimate price. After ultimately serving her country for 47 years, Midway now carries out her final “tour of duty” as a floating museum in San Diego. She is a tribute to the contributions of the armed services and as a dynamic, interactive beacon of education and entertainment.

“Midway Magic” is more than a slogan. The ship operated longer, survived more modernization projects and was forward deployed longer than any other aircraft carrier. It was the crew of the Midway that provided the sorcery. But, like the magician’s hat from which the rabbit appears, the Midway was the vessel in which the magic had been created. Long after the quiet descended on Midway’s empty compartments, her catapults forever silent, her main engines cold and motionless, and her halyards clear, those of us who were part of Midway’s story will remember her and say “There truly was Magic here.”

 

 

To follow Tales of an Asia Sailor and get e-mail notifications of new posts, click on the three white lines in the red rectangle above, then click on the follow button.

A native of North Carolina, Garland Davis has lived in Hawaii since 1987. He always had a penchant for writing but did not seriously pursue it until recently. He is a graduate of Hawaii Pacific University, where he majored in Business Management. Garland is a thirty-year Navy retiree and service-connected Disabled Veteran.

 

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My Seabag

My Seabag

By Garland Davis

 

My Seabag. There was a time when everything I owned had to fit in my seabag.

Seabags were nasty rascals? Fully packed, one of the suckers weighed more than the poor devil hauling it. The damn things weighed a ton and some idiot with an off-center sense of humor sewed a carry handle on it to help you haul it. Hell, you could bolt a handle on a Greyhound bus but it wouldn’t make the damn thing portable. The Army, Marines, and Air Force got footlockers and WE got a big ole’ canvas bag.

After you warped your spine jackassing the goofy, unwieldy thing through a bus or train station, sat on it waiting for connecting transportation and made folks mad because it was too damn big to fit in any overhead rack on any bus, train, and airplane ever made, the contents looked like hell. All your gear appeared to have come from bums who slept on park benches.

Traveling with a seabag was something left over from the “Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum” sailing ship days. Sailors used to sleep in hammocks, so you stowed your issue in a big canvas bag and lashed your hammock to it, hoisted it on your shoulder and, in effect, moved your entire home from ship to ship.

I wouldn’t say you traveled light because with ONE strap it was a one shoulder load that could torque your skeletal frame and bust your ankles. Chiropractors salivated at the sight of a sailor trying to hump a seabag. It was like hauling a dead Green Bay Packer’s linebacker.

They wasted a lot of time in boot camp telling you how to pack one of the suckers. There was an officially sanctioned method of organization that you managed to forget after ten minutes on the other side of the gate at Great Lakes, San Diego or Orlando’s boot camp.

You got rid of a lot of the ‘issue’ gear when you reported into Ship or Submarine. Did you EVER know a tin-can or boat sailor who had a raincoat? A flat hat? One of those nut-hugger knit swimsuits? How about those ‘roll-your-own’ neckerchiefs? The ones girls in a good Naval tailor shop would cut down & sew it into a ‘greasy snake’ for two bucks?

Within six months, EVERY fleet sailor was down to ONE set of dress blues, port & starboard, undress blues, and whites, a couple of white hats, boots, shoes, a watch cap, assorted skivvies, a pea coat, and three sets of bleached-out dungarees. The rest of your original issue was either in the pea coat locker, lucky bag, or had been reduced to wipe-down rags in the paint locker. Underway ships were NOT ships that allowed a vast accumulation of private gear. Hobos who lived in discarded refrigerator crates could amass greater loads of pack-rat crap than fleet sailors. The confines of a canvas-back rack, side locker, and a couple of bunk bags did NOT allow one to live a Donald Trump existence.

Space and the going pay scale combined to make us envy the lifestyle of mud-hut Ethiopians. We were global equivalents of nomadic Mongols without ponies to haul our stuff. And after the rigid routine of boot camp, we learned the skill of random compression, known by mothers worldwide as ‘cramming’. It is amazing what you can jam into a space no larger than a breadbox if you pull a watch cap over a boot and push it with your foot. Of course, it looks kinda weird when you pull it out, but they NEVER hold fashion shows at sea and wrinkles added character to a ‘salty’ appearance.

There was a four-hundred-mile gap between the images on recruiting posters and the ACTUAL appearance of sailors at sea. It was NOT without justifiable reason that we were called the tin-can Navy. We operated on the premise that if ‘Cleanliness was next to Godliness’ we must be next to the other end of that spectrum… We looked like our clothing had been pressed with a waffle iron and packed by a bulldozer. But what in hell did they expect from a bunch of swabs that lived in the crew’s hole of a Fletcher Class tin-can? After a while you got used to it, you got used to everything you owned picking up and retaining that distinctive aroma, you got used to old ladies on busses taking a couple of wrinkled nose sniffs of your pea coat, then getting up and finding another seat.

Do they still issue seabags? Can you still make five bucks sitting up half the night drawing a ship’s picture on the side of one of the damn things with black and white marking pens that drives the old Chief Master-at-Arms into a ‘rig for heart attack’ frenzy? Make their faces red… The veins on their neck bulge out… And yell, ‘What in God’s name is that all over your seabag???’

‘Artwork, Chief… It’s like the work of Michelangelo… MY ship… GREAT, huh?”

“Looks like some damn comic book…”, says the man with cobras tattooed on his arms… A skull with a dagger through one eye and a ribbon reading ‘DEATH BEFORE SHORE DUTY’ on his shoulder… Crossed anchors with ‘Subic Bay-1945’ on the other shoulder… An eagle on his chest and a full blown Chinese dragon peeking out between the cheeks of his ass…

If ANYONE was an authority on stuff that looked like a comic book, it HAD to be that MAA…

Sometimes, I look at all the crap stacked in my garage and home, close my eyes, smile, remembering and yearning for a time when EVERYTHING I owned could be crammed into a canvas bag.

 

To follow Tales of an Asia Sailor and get e-mail notifications of new posts, click on the three white lines in the red rectangle above, then click on the follow button.

A native of North Carolina, Garland Davis has lived in Hawaii since 1987. He always had a penchant for writing but did not seriously pursue it until recently. He is a graduate of Hawaii Pacific University, where he majored in Business Management. Garland is a thirty-year Navy retiree and service-connected Disabled Veteran.

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The Big Yellow House

The Big Yellow House

By Vera Guthrie

Hello everyone, I am known as the big yellow house. I was built in 1925 and was home to a gentleman and his family until his death. I was the largest house in the neighborhood and everyone knew me for a landmark.

My last owner was a sweet young widow named Maude, she purchased me in 1959. Her husband had passed away at a very young age and she had four little boys. I was excited when she bought me and hoped that she would stay forever. Aunt Florence was also a fixture in the home helping Maude with the boys as well as Maude’s two close friends Coleen and Annie. Maude worked third shift at the hospital, she was a recovery room nurse. She was a sweet gentle woman who loved her family very much. She also kept her boys in line. They were taken to church every Sunday and went to school and rarely got away with anything.

Oh the growing up years for those boys was so much fun. My walls echoed with the laughter and giggles and shenanigans of those boys. Christmas was always a big event and the boys always got money from their Aunt Lillian and they would spend hours on their tummies in the dining room pouring over a Sears catalog deciding what they would buy. They played well together and fought as boys will but in the end they were a band of brothers. Maude loved to have the whole family gathered around her table and listen to the laughter as they enjoyed her cooking.

As years went by the boys grew up and married; Jack and Vera even took their vows in my living room and had their reception in my grand dining room. Some of the boys moved out on their own, but the holidays everyone flocked to my walls to be with each other and Maude. Even as she lost her vision, Maude still cooked. She told her daughter in law once “I love to hear my boys all here laughing and talking” and oh so did I. Later on my walls were echoing with the boys and their wives, some of them had children and once again the little ones were running through the house squealing and giggling. Oh my, the years seemed to fly and now there were great grand babies coming in and once again the cries of babies and the cooing of those who adored them.

As Maude and I grew old together, she repaired me as best she could and the boys came back and caulked me up and fixed my plumbing and held me together. There were many quiet days and nights now. Maude and I listen to the old TV shows on Hallmark like Little House on the Prairie.  She said they were new to her as she was working when they were weekly shows. They sure were new to me. Once a month Maude hosted her church circle meeting and we enjoyed that. But the days were getting long and I could tell Maude was getting tired. I think she and I sat there a lot remembering the days gone by.

Maude started going to the hospital a lot and I worried seems the stays got longer and longer. Her sons would drop by to pick up more pajamas or bed jackets I was getting worried.

Then it happened one day all the family came to the house and I knew by the talk my sweet Maude was gone she had passed and I wanted to cry. I listened as they cleaned out her belongings and as my walls began to echo with just words; no little boys, no babies, just words. So now after 55 years I am yet just a shell, missing Maude, missing the boys, and longing for the laughter of another family to return to my walls.

You see I have a soul I have a heart; it is the family that resides within my walls. I am more than a building I am home, I am comfort, I am solace, I am shelter, I am warmth, and I am joy. I am now a memory to all that resided inside my walls. I am so much more than the Big Yellow House.

 

Vera Guthrie was born in 1961 the youngest of 5 children. Her first twelve years was lived on tobacco farms. She has always felt lucky that she grew up in an era where imagination was your best toy. Her mother taught her the joy of a good book and they often had deep discussions about what they were reading. After graduating High School with honors Vera worked twenty-five years in banking and finance. Vera is now employed with a nonprofit organization that provides assistance to Senior Citizens regarding financial issues and aging. She is married to Jack and they have a dog Chewie and two cats Earnie and Loucie. Jack and Vera are both deeply involved in the arts. Jack is a wood worker and Vera enjoys all mediums of art from metal work (pewter), jewelry making, flower arranging, and acrylics. In times of depression is when her writing comes to her. She is more apt to gravitate towards a blank journal when shopping. Her mother once told her “there is more power in the written word” and that is her mantra.

 

 

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My Time in Vietnam.

My Time in Vietnam.

By: Paul Reuter

I joined the Navy after High School.  My Dad was a Second Class Boatswain’s Mate during World War Two and going into Navy seemed natural to me. Another reason I joined was because I wanted to serve on diesel boat submarines.  So off to boot camp I go where I volunteer for submarines and Submarine School in Connecticut.  I was sent for a submarine screening physical where I learned that I was color blind. This disability meant that I was physically unqualified for subs.

After boot camp, instead of submarines, I received orders to an LST homeported in Yokosuka. There I was assigned to the engine room.  I am not sure if they knew I was color blind when they put me into the world of color coded pipes and valves where I made my life in the Navy.  Being color blind haunted me my whole life.  But that is a story to tell another time.

The Yokosuka homeported LST’s were assigned to Landing Ship Squadron 9.  These LST’s spent most of the early years of the Vietnam War supplying the coastal ports of Chu Lai, Da Nang, Qua Viet and others.  In early 1967 the Navy established the Naval Riverine Forces operating PBR’s and Swift boats in the water ways of the Mekong Delta. The LSTs became mother ships to these boats. The T’s provided mechanical support for the boats and hotel and food services for the crew personnel.

Each LST would spend about ninety days in country supporting the Riverine Forces and would then rotate back to Yokosuka for two months for upkeep and then rotate back to Vietnam again. As an engineer (snipe) I lived and breathed the humidity, heat and diesel oil of the engine room.

While transiting the river and other inland waters the ship was always at General Quarters.  At times the ship was up to ninety miles inland from the sea coast.  The ship was armed with three inch guns and fifty caliber machine guns. From time to time, we were tasked with providing gunfire support to the Riverine forces.

During the night while at anchor in Vietnam waters we were required to throw concussion hand grenades into the water adjacent to the ship to prevent North Vietnamese or Viet Cong swimmers from placing explosive devices on the ship’s hull.

My early experiences in this first ship laid the basis for what was to become a successful and satisfying Navy career. I liked being a Westpac sailor.  I was transferred from the LST after two years as a Second Class Engineman.  I really wanted to go to PBRs but my Mother and Dad talked me out of doing so.  Sometimes I question myself for not volunteering for the boats. After my initial WestPac tour, I was assigned to Assault Craft Unit One in Coronado Calif.

Stateside was a letdown. I was a twenty-year-old Second Class Petty Officer who had already experienced two years of war and Westpac liberty. I discovered that California liberty sucked for sailors my age.  After about thirty days at ACU One, I volunteered to deploy to Vietnam as a replacement on an LCU crew.  After about five months in California I was deployed back to the Nam.  I spent about seven months on the LCU stationed in Da Nang tasked with resupplying units based on the rivers.

The Navy’s plan for me after ACU One was nine months of Vietnamese Language school in El Paso, Texas and three months of survivor, weapons and other schools at Coronado, California.  I was then assigned to the U.S. Naval Advisory Group, Vietnam.  This was the result of a special Z-Gram from the CNO that affected Enginemen.  That is another story to tell another time.

During my time with the Naval Advisory Group Vietnam I was assigned to Vietnamese Navy Units at Saigon, Moc Hoa, Cal Lanh and Dong Tam.  The duty mostly required time riding the rivers on U. S. Navy boats that had been turned over to the Vietnamese Navy.  I was part of a two-man team that consisted of a LCDR and me.  This two-year tour was cut short to just six-months in 1973, when U.S. forces left Vietnam. I was wounded during this tour and was awarded the Purple Heart Medal. Perhaps I’ll tell that story sometime.

All these events transpired during my first six years in the Navy.  After the Vietnam War, I was assigned into USS Canopus in Holy Loch, Scotland and the rest is history.  There are many more sea stories of Viet Nam and my first three years in the Navy.  Only those of us who served in those days of the Vietnam War and experienced the liberty of the Southeast Asian ports can really understand the stories we tell.

 

Paul Reuter is a retired Navy LCDR /LDO (6130).  He served for 23 years in the Navy in various ships and stations, mostly overseas in Westpac.  After retirement from the Navy he worked in gas turbine power plants. Paul lives in North Hanover New Jersey.

 

 

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USS Oklahoma City

USS Oklahoma City

By:  Garland Davis

 

She was known as the “Okie Boat” by those who served in her and those of us who knew her. I was never assigned into Oklahoma City, but I have many friends and shipmates who were.

Oklahoma City was a Cleveland class Light Cruiser, designated as CL-91. Her keel was laid down in 1942. She was commissioned into active service in December 1944. In May 1945 she arrived in Pearl Harbor for a short stay before moving on to the Western Pacific where she would provide support to Carrier Task Group 38.1 during the Battle of Okinawa. She also provided gunfire support for the Marines ashore and patrolled Japanese waters during the latter days of the war. In September, she entered Tokyo Bay after a continuous seventy-six days at sea. Oklahoma City remained in Japan as part of the early occupation forces. In January 1945 she departed Japan for the United States and arrived in San Francisco in February and remained there until August when she moved to Mare Island for inactivation.

In March 1957, Oklahoma City was moved to the West Coast yards of Bethlehem Steel for conversion to a Galveston-class Guided Missile Light Cruiser (CLG). In September 1960, she was commissioned as CLG-5. She operated in the Pacific including two lengthy tours as Flag Ship for U.S. Seventh Fleet.  She was deployed to Yokosuka, Japan during the periods as flagship. Sometime after the Heavy Cruisers were all gone, she was re-designated CG-5.

She saw protracted service during the Viet Nam war. On 19 April 1972 the Oklahoma City was attacked by one of two North Vietnamese Air Force MiG-17s, flown by pilots Le Xuan Di and Nguyen Van Bay, both from the North Vietnamese Air Force’s 923rd Fighter Regiment. Each Mig was armed with two 500 lb bombs. Van Bay’s target was Oklahoma City. Van Bay made two passes on the cruiser, having overshot his target on the first run, dropped his two bombs near the ship causing light damage. One of the attacking Migs was reportedly shot down by an accompanying missile ship, USS Sterett (DLG-31). Another accompanying ship, USS Higbee (DD-806) was heavily damaged by a direct hit from the second Mig flown by pilot Le Xuan Di, which destroyed her aft 5-inch gun mount.

The Okie Boat returned to the United States for a final time in 1979. She was decommissioned in December of that year and placed in the reserve fleet at Suisun Bay. In January 1999, she was towed to Pearl Harbor, where some usable material from her was donated for use in outfitting the battleship Missouri (BB-63) as a museum ship.

The “Okie Boat” was then towed to sea and expended as a target during Tandem Thrust ’99 Naval exercise, southwest of Guam during February/March of that year. After first being used as a target for air-launched missiles Oklahoma City was sunk by torpedoes from the South Korean submarine Lee Chun. Oklahoma City broke into two parts as she sank beneath the waves.

Two friends and I went down to Hospital Point on the Naval Station Pearl Harbor to say goodbye to her as the tugs took her to sea for the final time. There were two others there for the same reason. They were friends of ours and had both served in the “Okie Boat” with each other and in other ships with me. It was a rainy morning and as we sheltered under a tree waiting for the tugs to bring her past, a taxi stopped near us. The driver got out and took a walker from the trunk and then assisted his passenger from the car. The passenger was an elderly man wearing a dress blue Navy Uniform with the insignia of a Gunners Mate First Class. He also had an Assault Boat Coxswain badge on the opposite sleeve. His service ribbons indicated that he had seen service in WWII and the Korean Conflict. He was wearing a Purple Heart, indicating that he had been wounded. He walked, with difficulty, across the road, in the misting rain,  to the channel’s edge and stood there holding on to his walker.

Shortly afterward, the tug came into sight and then the ship that we were there to bid farewell to. We walked over near the old gentleman as she came abreast of us. He struggled to stand upright at the position of attention, straightened his white hat, and rendered the hand-salute. I walked over to help him if he needed it. As the stern of the ship passed he groped for his walker and turned towards me, tears streaming down his face. He said to me, “I commissioned her in ’44 and decommissioned her in ’47.” She was a good ship and a great time in my life.”

I motioned my friends over and introduced them. I had a bottle of whiskey and plastic cups in the trunk of the car that I had brought for a farewell drink. I poured a drink for each of us and one into the channel and we toasted the “Okie Boat.” As she moved out of the channel.

I drove the old gentleman to the International Airport Holiday Inn. He told me that he had served in a Destroyer and an APA troop transport before Oklahoma City. He had come to Hawaii to say farewell to the ship and would leave for his home in Los Angeles, that evening. He also told me that his daughter had tried to talk him out of the trip and had been reluctant to accompany him to Hawaii.

We arrived at the hotel where his daughter was waiting in the lobby. She told me that she was uneasy about letting him go alone that morning, but he had insisted. She also told me that she had tried to change his mind but he had insisted on this trip to Hawaii. She said, “I have heard talk about the Oklahoma City my whole life.  I just don’t see what it is about that old ship. I just don’t understand it and him.”

I thought to myself as I walked away, “No, you don’t understand and never can understand.”

And they can’t understand.  Normal people don’t give any thought to a bunch of scrap iron.  To us, those old gray ships are a huge part of our life.  We reminisce about them, tell stories about them, dream about them, and we love them.  There is just no other way to put it.

 

 

To follow Tales of an Asia Sailor and get e-mail notifications of new posts, click on the three white lines in the red rectangle above, then click on the follow button.

A native of North Carolina, Garland Davis has lived in Hawaii since 1987. He always had a penchant for writing but did not seriously pursue it until recently. He is a graduate of Hawaii Pacific University, where he majored in Business Management. Garland is a thirty-year Navy retiree and service-connected Disabled Veteran.

 

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Asia Sailor’s Rules

Asia Sailor’s Rules

By:  Garland Davis

 

The following rules are promulgated to guide the societal actions of the Asia Sailor:

  1. Under no circumstances may an Asia Sailor share an umbrella with another man
  2. An Asia Sailor may cry ONLY under the following circumstances:
  • When a heroic dog dies to save its master.
  • The moment Salena Gomez starts unbuttoning her blouse.
  • At the decommissioning of a proud old ship.
  • At the final memorial for a shipmate.
  1. An Asia Sailor may legally kill anyone who brings a camera to a party in the Barrio.
  2. Unless he murdered someone in the Asia Sailor’s family. The Asia Sailor must bail a shipmate out of jail within twelve hours.
  3. An Asia Sailor’s shipmate’s daughter or sister is off limits unless he actually marries her.
  4. An Asia Sailor must never complain about the brand of free beer in a shipmate’s fridge. However, bitching is permissible if the temperature of said beer is unsuitable.
  5. No Asia Sailor shall ever be required to buy a birthday present for another man.
  6. On a road trip, the Asia Sailor with the strongest bladder determines pit stops, not the LantFlt Yeoman with the weakest bladder.
  7. An Asia Sailor stumbling upon a shipmate watching a sporting event, may ask the score of the game but never ask who is playing.
  8. There is never a valid reason for an Asia Sailor to watch men’s ice skating or men’s gymnastics. Ever!  However, watching Michelle Wie play golf is permissible.
  9. It is permissible for an Asia Sailor to drink a fruity alcohol beverage only when it is MOJO and he is sunning on a tropical beach in Barrio Barretto, and the beverage is prepared and delivered by a topless LBFM and only if another Asia Sailor paid for it.
  10. An Asia Sailor always accepts free drinks.
  11. Only in situations of moral and or physical peril is an Asia sailor permitted to kick another man in the nuts.
  12. Asia Sailors never wear Speedos and never lets a shipmate do so.   This issue is closed.
  13. If another sailor’s fly is unzipped, that’s his problem. An Asia Sailor doesn’t notice such things.
  14. Female sailors who claim to be Asia Sailors are to be treated as spies until they demonstrate the ability to pull a Seventy-Two in the Barrio and drink as much San Miguel as the Male Asia Sailor.
  15. When an Asia Sailor compliments a shipmate on his six-pack, of course, he is talking about the beer the shipmate is carrying.
  16. An Asia Sailor talking to a hot suggestively dressed LBFM in a club must always have enough Pesos for the Bar Pine.
  17. An Asia Sailor never hesitates to reach for the last San Miguel or the last stick of Monkey Meat, but not both, that is just greedy.
  18. An Asia Sailor never joins his wife or girlfriend in discussing a shipmate, unless she is withholding sex pending his response.
  19. An Asia Sailor never talks to another man in the head unless they are on equal footing (i.e., both urinating, both waiting in line, etc.). For all other situations, only an almost imperceptible nod is appropriate.
  20. An Asia Sailor never lets a telephone conversation with his wife or present shack up to go longer than he can have sex with her. Hang up when necessary.
  21. The morning after an Asia Sailor and a female who was formerly “just a friend” have carnal, drunken, monkey sex and the fact that they are feeling weird and guilty is no reason not to nail each other again before the discussion occurs about what a big mistake it was.
  22. It is acceptable for an Asia Sailor to drive a woman’s car. It is never acceptable for her to drive his.
  23. An Asia Sailor never buys a brown, pink, lime green, orange, or sky blue car. Never!
  24. A woman who replies to the question, “What do you want for Christmas?” with “If you love me, you will know what I want!” gets laid Christmas morning by her Asia Sailor. End of story.

We sincerely hope this clears up any confusion.

The Asia Sailor Westpac’rs Association, Ltd.

P.S.  Add something about an Asia Sailor never rubbing sunblock on another dude!

 

To follow Tales of an Asia Sailor and get e-mail notifications of new posts, click on the three white lines in the red rectangle above, then click on the follow button.

A native of North Carolina, Garland Davis has lived in Hawaii since 1987. He always had a penchant for writing but did not seriously pursue it until recently. He is a graduate of Hawaii Pacific University, where he majored in Business Management. Garland is a thirty-year Navy retiree and service-connected Disabled Veteran.

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My Viet Nam

My Viet Nam

by: Garland Davis

“That strange feeling we had in the war.

Have you found anything in your lives since to equal it in strength?

A sort of splendid carelessness it was, holding us together.” -Noel Coward

I spent a total of 39 months serving in the rivers and waters of the Republic of South Viet Nam and a week in the waters of the Peoples Republic of Viet Nam (the North).

I was never in the boonies, or humped a pack and an M-16 or been in a firefight. I did spend almost two years of my life as a cook in an Ocean Going Tug, towing barges in and out of the ports of Saigon, Vung Tau, Da Nang, Bac To, Cam Ranh Bay, Qua Viet and up and down the rivers of South Viet Nam, often coming under fire, working sixteen hour days, months on end, without a break.

I later spent two one hundred day periods at sea in an old Forrest Sherman class destroyer, doing ground support gunfire missions. We would sit a couple of miles off the coast and provide gunfire support to Army and Marine Corps units engaged with the enemy.

When the North Vietnamese walked out of the Paris Peace Talks, Nixon got pissed and raised the ante. My Destroyer spent a harrowing week running into the North Viet Nam port of Haiphong three times a night and shooting up the shipping. Rearming and refueling during the day and shooting at night. I can still hear the sound of North Viet artillery projectiles exploding in the air around the ship.

Still, I had a dry bed to sleep in, except for the sweat from the ninety-degree heat in the berthing compartments and then there was the constant noise of generators, ducting and the guns firing.

I remember a period when one of the evaporators was malfunctioning. The fresh water being made by the other evaporator was needed for boiler feed water. So the crew was on water hours. We were getting showers infrequently and the ship’s laundry was shut down. We were using paper plates and plastic utensils in the mess decks because there was no water for washing dishes. The cooks were limited to a minimum amount of water for cooking and washing pots and pans. It got a little stinky and uncomfortable.

I was just screened by the VA because I was in areas where I could have come into contact with Agent Orange. I’m good, guess I dodged that bullet. A couple of shipmates from that time are suffering from the effects of that crap. The ‘Big Orange” is a bad mother.

Authors Note: The above was written about six years ago.  I have since been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease, screened for Agent Orange and am now categorized as 100% disabled by the Veteran’s Administration.  I now know firsthand that the “Big Orange” is a really bad motherfucker.

To follow Tales of an Asia Sailor and get e-mail notifications of new posts, click on the three white lines in the red rectangle above, then click on the follow button.

A native of North Carolina, Garland Davis has lived in Hawaii since 1987. He always had a penchant for writing but did not seriously pursue it until recently. He is a graduate of Hawaii Pacific University, where he majored in Business Management. Garland is a thirty-year Navy retiree and service-connected Disabled Veteran.

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Pilot Down

Pilot Down

Abort, Abort, Abort

By: Pat Dingle

 

While on station patrolling the Gulf of Tonkin waters off North Vietnam, CIC stayed at our modified general quarters by a rotating of watches with 7 hours on, 5 off, 5 on, 7 off every day of the week for up to two months continually at sea. I was like most of our guys who ate in the mess hall once a day and the rest of our food came from going through the hamburger/hotdog line in a forward gallery that stayed open 23 hours a day. It closed for a hour from 2300 to 2400 hours for cleaning. We’d grab a burger kept warm by heat lamps, add whatever condiments tasted good to us, walk over to the drink dispenser for coffee or powdered milk if we were going to eat it there on some stools or we’d eat on our way up a number of decks to CIC. If enough of guys on duty were hungry we’d send a seaman down to get the burgers for us. We had our own 30 cup coffee maker filled often each shift. With four or five hours’ sleep, stand watch, repeat, spread out over twenty-four hours, we stayed alert enough and the system really worked well. Devised by some wise Chief during a past war or two no doubt.

I came on duty in the air section on one such day and was briefed by the Radarman I was relieving on a downed pilot rescue underway in the jungles of North Vietnam. We were monitoring it over the radio headset tuned into that particular frequency our Sea King helicopters used but we ourselves were not directly involved at this point in the rescue. Our duty was the very first step in an operation, we’re the first to detect and identify where an aircraft gets hit and general location where it goes down below our radars and pass the data on. The pilots carried a beeper that sent out a signal as to their location for the rescue crews to work from. We were not involved at that point other than monitoring if we chose to and if we had the time. I had the time as I sat down on the scope and put the headset on. One pilot, strong beeper signal, two helicopters, one jungle miles in from the coast and another hour of daylight. I listen intently to learn who the voices in my ear belong to. They should have him any minute now I thought. Nothing but static in my ear then “I see him, he’s on this hill waving his arms, jumping up and down, he’s OK”.

I can’t begin to describe the feelings I felt at that moment. I’m still focusing my attention on my air search radar for other aircraft in trouble or bogies as duty demanded but hearing we got one alive really gave me a rare good feeling, most of the time it didn’t work out like this and seldom do I get to monitor a rescue. The lead helicopter is over him but radios the trees are too thick there to safely lower the sling and bring him up. Just then the second bird radioed he’s taking ground fire. The first one reports he is too then ABORT, ABORT, ABORT came over the air. As they climb for altitude one of the two radioed there must be a hundred NVA at the base of the small hill firing up at them. The soldiers were making their way up the hill towards the pilot as dusk set in and the two helicopters returned to the Yorktown some fifty/seventy-five miles away. I felt sick at heart. All I could think of was that American pilot on the ground watching his rescuers fly away, abandoning him to his fate and what must be going through his mind. I really felt for that man and here I am all comfortable and safe aboard a ship. There was radio chatter for a while about coming back for him in the morning but of course hearing that trash talk only pissed me off more. In my mind, I just kept saying you can’t leave our man behind. I knew this was hard on me but nowhere nearly as hard as on our pilot. That was beyond my comprehension. I was in turmoil the rest of the watch and when relieved I went down to my rack where I couldn’t shake it off or let go, tears came to my eyes in frustration and sense of betrayal but I didn’t cry for him.

After an hour or two of restless sleep I was rudely woken in the dark as our man went around waking us up for the next watch in thirty minutes. And no, the shit, shower and shave thing only worked in boot camp, we were permitted to look scruffy and did. I was back in CIC by 0500 and traded stations with a guy so I could be on the same one I had five hours ago. I had to be here and hear the final verdict of this event. Maybe then I can let it go. Maybe. It’s dawn now and several helicopters and prop fighters are approaching the hill where the downed airman was last seen about ten hours ago. I had no hopes of a recovery, not with that many NVA. In my mind, the pilot is still being tortured by the commie bastards or was shot and killed last evening. The movies I watched growing up didn’t have a clue as to the way it really is, and neither did I those first few times.

I was so obsessed within my circle of thoughts I was shocked to hear in the headset “There he is, he’s OK”. There was a lot more chatter but that’s all I remember hearing. He’s alive, the NVA didn’t get him, he’s OK, wow. I was so overwhelmed with relief I can’t began to describe it. I have no idea who that American pilot was or what branch of service he belonged to. All I knew was that we went back and got him and that’s all that mattered. One more thing, I’d like to meet that pilot today over a drink or two and try to find out which one of us had the worst night back in April 1965, him on a hill in North Vietnam or me on the Yorktown in the Gulf. But truth be known, I give it all to you and I salute you, American pilot who ever you were. You earned it big time.

 

 

 

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Anchor Pools

Anchor Pools

By Garland Davis

Image result for ship anchoring image

I never won an anchor pool. I entered them but was always unlucky. Anchor pools were usually operated by an enterprising Petty Officer with a do nothing job. They had the time to prepare the pool and find sixty fish to sign up.

For those who never rode an anchor pool ship, I will explain their operation. First off they are illegal… Totally and absolutely outlawed by everyone from the Chief of Naval Operations down to the squadron chaplain.  The chain of command knew there were anchor pools but usually turned a blind eye and ear.

The odds are terrible. You stand a better chance betting on a blind mule at the Kentucky Derby.

Let me explain how an anchor pool works… You need a pen, two sheets of white typing paper, a sheet of carbon paper (do they still make carbon paper? Xerox sure must’ve kicked the slats out of the carbon paper racket…), a piece of stiff cardboard and a good stapler.

You staple two sheets of typing paper together with the carbon paper sandwiched in between. Then you lay out a grid with 60 squares. What you get are two mirror image blank grids – one exactly over the other one.

You then delicately – What a word to use in conjunction with anything done by a sailor – fold back the top sheet and the carbon, and place numbers from one to sixty at random, in the sixty blank boxes of the lower sheet. Then you return the folded top sheet and carbon so that you have a top sheet containing blank boxes.

You then circulate among the fellow inmates of the haze gray vessel you are serving in. For the piddling cost of five dollars, each sailor is permitted to sign his name in one of the blank spaces. Most anchor pools are five buck pools. I heard rumors that on some big ships they had pools with hundred buck boxes. We didn’t have any direct relatives of Bonnie and Clyde, so we kept it to one Abe Lincoln a box.

Once you have picked a box, you write your name in it. Because the carbon paper is still in place sandwiched over the numbered boxes, your name will appear superimposed over some number between one and sixty. The pages are stapled to cardboard so you have no way of knowing what your number is.

The corner boxes go first. Boxes in the middle go next. There are many scientific systems used… There is the ‘Hand over the eyes, finger point’ method, the ‘Eenie-meeny-miney-moe’ selection process, and the favorite ‘Shit, just pick one for me’ method.

I personally liked the one in the middle of the lower edge. This location had been revealed to me in a 151 proof rum-induced dream… At the time, I was speaking directly with Zeus.  He and I had frequent conversations but as it turned out that the son of a bitch didn’t know shit about anchor pool picks.

Each anchor pool has a prize, usually two hundred dollars. When you come in to tie up, the word will be passed over the 1MC “Put your lines over.” This will trigger a shower of heaving lines… Heaving lines are thrown at the pier or the deck of some outboard ship. ‘Heaving line’ for the uninitiated, is a light line that has a big knot tied on one end to weight it. The knot is called a ‘monkey fist’… You weight it so you can throw the light line across the water. A line handler is your counterpart on the pier or the boat you will tie up to. He catches your heaving and takes up the slack then pulls the heavy hawser over that will tie your ship up. It takes six hawsers to tie up most ships.

You can increase the range, velocity and lethal potential of a heaving line by making the monkey’s fist around a large metal nut, a pool ball or a smooth rock. Bounce that little sweetheart off a Boatswain’s Mate’s skull and you are guaranteed instant celebrity followed by certain death.

When the first hawser goes over the bollard on the pier, the Navy considers the ship moored… And the Officer of the Deck tells the duty Quartermaster, to enter the time in the log. No one gives a damn about the hour but the minute determines your anchor pool winner. The quartermaster passes the word,

“Ship moored sixteen thirty-three…”

The top sheet is removed from the anchor pool and the person’s name inscribed over the number thirty-three is the winner of two hundred dollars. The persons who chose thirty-two and thirty-four each receive fifty dollars.

The winner’s name quickly spreads and now every sonuvabitch on the ship knows who will buy the beer at the club the better part of the first hour.

Anchor pools aren’t a good thing to base your future security or retirement plan on.

They are at best, a lousy percentage bet, but they were one possible critical leg in the illegal financial system that keeps the lads who ride haze gray iron in beer, whiskey and ragged around the edges female companionship.

To follow Tales of an Asia Sailor and get e-mail notifications of new posts, click on the three white lines in the red rectangle above, then click on the follow button.

A native of North Carolina, Garland Davis has lived in Hawaii since 1987. He always had a penchant for writing but did not seriously pursue it until recently. He is a graduate of Hawaii Pacific University, where he majored in Business Management. Garland is a thirty-year Navy retiree and service-connected Disabled Veteran.

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