The Ship

By John Petersen

The following is an ‘obituary’ I penned concerning my last ship, USS Halsey CG-23. Wrote this years ago, after I found out Halsey had been decommed the year after I left.

In 1959, the authorization was given to build another ship. Meaning no less than job security at the time for countless engineers, welders, crane operators, electricians, the list goes on, this order was to them, part of the routine, finish one job and start another. Puts food on the table, affords a comfortable life for the family. a good career to get into.

The ship that is ordered, not surprisingly, will be similar to those that were constructed before her, but as with all other ‘clones’, there will be differences, slight upgrades, improvements if you will. But as long as the prints are true, she’ll become a seaworthy vessel, her capabilities beyond her predecessors. She’ll be faster, a bit more streamlined, her armament in keeping with the demands of global needs. She’ll be as well protected as can be made, for her crew will depend on her to ensure their safety, this crew that will shed tears, hugs, and kisses as they prepare to ride this vessel away from home for parts that, to many aboard will be unknown, for lengths of time most will not be used to.

Everything about her as she is being pieced together must be perfect, no room for mistakes, no room for anything that would be detrimental to her crew be left out. She must be strong, forbearing, able to defend not only the battle group she’ll be assigned to but also herself and her crew, for this ship will be home for her crew, the one place where they will work, eat, sleep, and relax. Basically, their lives within several hundred feet.

She’ll be formidable in appearance, her profile well-known worldwide. She’ll find herself in the heat of global tensions several times in her life, always proving to all that she’s there when needed. She’ll have every bit of technology available at her birth to give her crew the upmost advantage in any situation said crew may be faced with. In no way, through her design, will she allow her crew to be endangered, and she will give all she has to ensure this.

As this ship is built for the sole purpose of defense and protection of the seas, she will also have within her design comforts for those that will become her, for want of a better term, circulatory system. The requisite berthing spaces, of course, modern galley and messing areas, the ships store, ships library, all may be small in size but for extended months at sea large in stature. Closed-circuit TV. Maybe even satellite TV to catch the Super Bowl while in the Gulf.

Those that build her, they know, that she has a shelf life and that one day her time will come. They know that she’ll sail countless nautical miles, fight countless battles. They, as well as you and I, know that not all is perfect, that throughout her life there will be lives lost within her shell, yet those lives will not be lost in vain, rather they will be valiantly sacrificed in the needed effort to save this ship and their shipmates from an untimely demise. One would think that this thought alone is the major driving force of those that put this ship together make sure everything is as close to perfect as they can make it.

Throughout her years defending this country, Thousands will have done their designated jobs to keep her going strong. Each and every one of these thousands will, when called to duty at yet another ship or shore station, carry forever with them the memories of their shipmates, those who for that short period of time became no less than family. Countless numbers will keep in touch with others, countless will most likely not. Regardless of that fact, all who serve upon her decks are connected forever, period.

In time, her end will come, simply outdated and technologically behind the times. She’ll have been upgraded several times in her life, but life itself will ultimately overtake her. With tears in the eyes of many who kept her heart beating, she’ll be retired, her plants never to steam again, the heart stopped forever. She’ll be replaced by newer ships, each filled with the latest in technological wonders, some of which have probably yet to be discovered. But she was advanced for her time, remember that she was the new replacement for the ships before her. Yet it still hurts.

Proudly, some ships become museums, an open venue for those who have never been aboard a ship, to provide a bit of history for the masses. Others, sadly, are unceremoniously cut apart, for a profit to individuals who care not one bit the history or legacy of the ship they’re torching. Then there are the ships that, after proudly serving their time, are sent to the seafloor, a ‘burial at sea’ if you will, which is the highest honor these vets could receive. A send-off this particular ship should well be afforded.

Conceived by the ink of a pen in 1959, roughly 35 years of distinguished service, and taken from the fleet 28 Jan 1994. Thousands of proud individuals made her the ship she was, and in our memories always will be. She was a force to be reckoned with, her mere presence anywhere she went was never forgotten, and never will be.

MM1 John Petersen, EMO2 LPO ’90-93

NAVY HISTORY CHINA FLEET CLUB

A SAILORS LANDMARK!

HISTORY OF THE CHINA FLEET CLUB IN HONG KONG!

The China Fleet Country Club has a remarkable history.

Here’s the basic timeline of one of my favorite places. 🙂

1901 – The mudflats of Victoria Harbor were bought for $2.50 per square foot by a Hong Kong businessman who began charging for tipping rubble from the growing colony.

1903 – The land began selling for $25.00 per square foot. Short of buyers for the land, the businessman joined with the personnel of the Royal Navy’s China Fleet to raise funds for a Royal Naval Canteen.

1929 – The canteen proved to be extremely successful and was soon demolished to make way for a new building.

1933 – Using the club funds and with a generous loan from the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank; Admiral Kelly, Commander in Chief, China Station, laid the foundation stone for the seven-story China Fleet Club building. For the men who served on the China Station “The Old Blue” as it was known provided a place for refreshment and decent accommodation away from their crowded ships.

1941 – During the battle for Hong Kong, the Japanese occupied the Club using it as the Navy HQ.

1945 – The Club was extensively refurbished and returned to its former use after the Royal Marines and Royal Navy liberated the colony.

1950-53 – During the Korean War, the Club became a major rest and recreation center for the UK and allied Sailors.

1959-73 – During the Vietnam war allied and American Sailors used the club extensively between tours of duty boosting club profits.

1980 – Land values escalated and the trustees sold the air space over the Club. A developer paid for temporary facilities while building a new luxury club on the first nine floors with 14 more floors of office space above.

1985 – Fleet House opened and because of the agreement to hand back Hong Kong to the Chinese in 1997 the search began for a suitable successor to the China Fleet Club in the UK.

1986 – A proposal to build the China Fleet Country Club at Saltash in Cornwall was put to the Hong Kong Sailors Committee and Trustees.

1987 – The feasibility study was approved by the Hong Kong Sailors committee, the land was purchased and design of the complex began.

1989 – Building work began on the 180-acre Saltash site.

1991 – The new China Fleet Country Club was officially opened on June 1st along with its prestigious golf course. The designer of the golf course was Dr. Martin Grant Hawtree who worked on the controversial course for billionaire Donald Trump in Scotland.

1992 – On 30 November 1992 the Hong Kong China Fleet Club closed its doors for the last time ready for the Chinese takeover of Hong Kong. Me in middle 1967 USS WHITFIELD CTY LST 1169 HONG KONG

Unauthorized Absence

By Garland Davis

Ike was a Commissaryman, a career Third Class. He had fifteen years in and could retire in another six years. It’s not tha he wasn’t ambitious. He had made Second once, had even took the test for First, but had been busted to third before the results came back.

I was the night baker and Ike was a Watch Captain on one of the Galley watches. We had nothing in common. Ike was in his thirties and I was a seventeen-year-old kid, just out of boot camp. He was my friend for a while. I sometimes went drinking with Ike. He knew places where the bartenders weren’t interested in checking my ID card.

After the ship deployed, he took me under his wing and taught me the ropes in Westpac. He introduced me to the world of dive bars and the PI Wedding Night with the meter running.

After we returned to Port Chicago, the Chief closed the Bakeshop and bought bakery products from a civilian bakery. I was moved to Ike’s watch so the other cook could go on leave.

As cooks, we didn’t stand duty in a duty section. We could go ashore every night if we desired. I usually stayed aboard when Ike and I had to cook breakfast the next morning. Usually, it was me doing the cooking while tried to beat a hangover or sober up napping in the bread room before the Chief arrived.

A couple of weeks after I moved to the galley Ike went UA. We had breakfast the next morning and I decided to stay aboard. I was saving money to go home. I had orders to a Navy school and could get thirty days’ leave before reporting. Ike borrowed ten bucks from me and left with BM3 Pico for the Bank Club.

I cooked breakfast and dinner by myself the next day. No Ike! Actually, he and Pico were gone for 21 days.

When they reported back to the ship Ike told me that he and Pico had caught a ride to Oakland. They drank up all the money they had and mugged a drunk sailor to get money to pay their fare back to the ship. He told me a cop was chasing them and they ran into a rail yard and hid in a boxcar.

The train started and didn’t stop or slow down enough for them to get off until somewhere in Montana. He said they worked odd jobs to get drinking money and bus fare back.

I made third the day Ike was busted to Seaman and sentenced to thirty days in a Red Line Brig. I transferred before he returned to the ship.

I sometimes wonder whatever became of Ike.

Pearl City Tavern

As early as the 1960’s the Tavern became known as the Monkey bar. The monkey cage was outside with a long glass viewing wall behind the Bar, and was lighted at night. The monkeys would do what monkeys want to do, including rub one out onto the glass, so your wife or date needed to not be easily offended.

The Tavern opened in 1939 and it closed in the mid ‘90s.. Following the Attack, the Tavern served sandwiches and lunches to shipyard workers repairing the damaged ships and port facilities. A lot of history there.

Topwatch

By John Petersen

Back aboard, yet again. She doesn’t get underway for at least another six hours, maybe a couple more, yet her mission cannot be fulfilled if I’m not here early, I need to ensure she’s ready to go at a moments notice. Gave the wife a kiss, and one lightly on each sleeping child, and silently slip out the door, hoping traffic is light so I can make it to the ship on time. Already have everything I need stowed away in my rack, so I’m good.

Got to the ship early, gives me some time to put a few things away, the photo album, the snack stash from the wife, good luck charm from my daughter who knows I’ll be away for a long time. Had the good fortune to enjoy some midrats, and after a plate of sliders and fries with some cherry bug juice, I’m ready to go. A few minutes on the fantail, and down to the hole I go.

No sooner than I hit the deck plates I hear the order given over the 2JV from main control to light fires. My watchstanders are on deck, as top watch this I’m required to ensure, therefore as fires are lit on the other side of the bulkhead we are making preps. Cracking condensate drains, ensuring lube oil flow in sight glasses on the mains, bringing up the evap as steam pressure builds to feed hungry boilers. Main and aux steam lines pound angrily as they heat up, steam begins to replace water in the drains. Bring up the SSTG, performing the overspeed trip as required, maintain vacuum by feathering the gland seal at .5 to 2 psi. Within two hours, the shift from shore power to ships power. Just the beginning of a long six-hour watch, hours before she gets underway.

Dawn is upon her, her shadow grows small. Illumination gives way from fluorescent to natural, throughout this luminescent transition those not already aboard do so, rested and eager to go. A good healthy breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast, life is good for those who made it aboard before the brow is lifted. All the lights and air conditioners and computer screens work as they expect, for without their proper planning and plotting our job would be nothing more than practice. Yet that is not our concern, we are the heartbeat and life’s blood of her, and without us we go nowhere, we’ll steam inport indefinitely if needed.

We’ve performed every check required, spun the mains both forward and astern per the SOP; ensured proper flow in all lube oil sight glasses, we’re ready to answer all bells. Hearing the call over the 1MC, “Underway, shift colors”, our lives take on a completely new level of business. This is the real thing, shipmates, no time for lollygagging or horsing around. In this engine room, the six of us are the ones who will make this girl go forth, to answer her orders. From now until we embrace our loved ones again, we’ll rely on our brother BT’s on the other side of the bulkhead to give us steam, so that we may push this ship continuously forward, give those above decks fresh water to drink and ensure proper hygiene, and above all else keep the lights on and radars going. In return, we will not allow the Evap’s to salt up, for in doing so will shut down the boilers, therefore rendering this ship useless. Not gonna happen on my watch.

I am the top watch. I am the one that is looked upon to ensure that this engineroom runs as efficiently, safely and smoothly as would be required. I am the one that knows that each of my watchstanders; messenger, lower level, upper level, evap, throttleman, the lone electrician off to the side, is fully trained and aware of the responsibilities they are entrusted to perform. I give my knowledge to them knowing that, with this knowledge, they will have the experience and fortitude to, should the need arise, save not only themselves but all of his or her shipmates. They will have gained through my endless training and required answers the ability to one day lead a group of snipes in their own engineroom. It is my responsibility, and mine alone, to guide my young and eager snipes and mold them to become a shadow of myself, For if I, the topwatch, should ever fail in my duties, so then will those who look up to me, and in the end the mission of this ship will fail as well.

I, for one, as the top watch, flat out refuse to allow this to happen. Can’t wait to get home! I own my engine room, I will make her sing!

MM1 Petersen

Covid19 and the Asia Sailor

By Garland Davis

Over the last few days, I have seen a myriad of doctors and politicians on TV and read numerous articles telling us of the precautions we must take to prevent catching the common cold. Of course, they also work for Corona Virus (Covid19) which is, you guessed it, another iteration of the common cold.

I have put together a sensible list of precautions to take to prevent a cold and, of course, Covid19. I guess they are also effective for the first 18 Covids.

1. Avoid contact with others as much as possible. I try to limit it to my wife when she delivers my sammiches to my den and picks up the empties. Lock yourself in the head while wife cleans your den. Recommend that you take a good book. It may take some time for her to cool down,

2. Avoid crowds unless it is absolutely necessary like, you know, when your beer supplies or stock of toilet paper get low.

3. Ensure your wife wears a facemask and medical grade gloves when she is preparing your sammiches. Caution: This may cause some slight grumpiness on her part.

4. If you are not as prepared as me, move a reefer into your den. Make sure everyone knows it is for chilling your beer and should not be contaminated by storing foodstuffs. Caution: If your wife is Japanese you will find Natto, pickles, and pots full of leftovers when you wake up from your naps. The only advice I can give is, “Learn to live with it.”

5. If your home has more than one head, designate one of them for your personal use. If your home only has one head, I recommend contracting for a Port-a-Potty in the yard for the wife and kids to use. If you live in the country just tell them to shit in the woods.

6. Alcohol based hand sanitizers. Don’t believe the marketing hype that sanitizers must be 60% alcohol. Everyone knows that alcohol kills disease thingies (aren’t you impressed by the medical jargon I use) that make you ill. Hangovers are the result of your body attempting to rid itself of thingy corpses. So, drink copious amounts of alcohol based drinks. A good, or whatever you can afford, 100 proof whisky, whiskey (there that should placate all you frustrated spelling bee champions) chased by a 4.5% alcohol beer will keep the disease thingies under control. This method has been tested and perfected by “Mac” McAllister and your esteemed author over many nights of long distance experimentation.

I recommend that you do as I have and designate your den the Moderation Room. That way you won’t be lying when you assure your doctor that you, “Drink in Moderation.”

Don’t believe those on Facebook who tell you that hand sanitizer can be made from vodka. That is just a waste of vodka. The only way it can sanitize your hands is if you clumsily spill it on them.

If you take these few precautions, you may still catch Covid19, but it won’t be your fault and you won’t give a fuck.

Then again don’t do any of this shit. Just live your life as you always have. As a shipmate so succinctly put it, “Don’t stop living to stay alive.”

She and San Miguel

By Garland Davis

Well, here I go again

Savoring that Shit River wind

Waiting for liberty to go down

Made it up Cemetery Hill

Hell bent on getting down

To the lights of Barrio town

Cause she and San Miguel drive me crazy

Tonight, I have the Pesonality

I think this night might kill me

Once is one time too many and twice just ain’t enough

Thirty days and nights

Putting up a fight on that gunline

Subic is there with Shit River on the wind

It’s not easy to forget

Her face the morning I left

I swore I’d make it there again

When it comes to San Miguel and her

Oh, the damage she can do

It’s always her favorite sins that do me in

Once is one time too many and twice just ain’t enough

Never enough, she and San Miguel

USS San Jose AFS-7

By John Petersen

She was no Battleship, not by any stretch of the imagination. She wasn’t a Super Carrier, a sleek Frigate or Destroyer, nor a guided missile toting Cruiser or unseen sub, though she most likely dreamed of being such. Yet she was the unsung heroine, there at all times along with her stablemates of the auxiliary fleet, at the ready to ensure those big carriers and other fierce and stealthy ships were always fueled and full of needed supplies to fulfill their duties. She steamed the oceans continuously, a quick stay inport to load up, then back out to to replenish her warriors. Tired as she may have been at times she never stalled, for she knew what was required of her, and she, along with a dedicated and seemingly tireless crew, gave everything to keep going. And going. Life in Engineering was no picnic, as I know life in any other of departments were, but it was a challenge, to say the least. I miss her, as I’m sure all who’ve toiled aboard her do, she was and will always be a part of my life that will never be forgotten.

Shed a Tear and Drink Some Beer

By Garland Davis

Well, we were told today

We didn’t know what to say

When they told us that you crossed the bar

We took a walk to clear the head

This old pier is where the walk led

Hard to believe you’re gone

No reason for us to go home

So we’re gonna just sit here

On this broken down old pier

We will watch the ships and sunset disappear

Shed a tear and drink some beer

Seems the good one’s always go ahead

Too soon it is, we had more to say

And now it won’t be said

Sometimes the maker’s plan is hard to understand

Now, today it just don’t make sense

No it just don’t make any sense

So fair winds my friend till we meet again

At the bar on the Green, you’ll wait there

And we’ll remember all that was ours to share

So those left will gather in Branson here

We will watch the sunset disappear

Shed a tear and drink some beer