USS Halsey CG-23

An Obituary

By:  MM1 John Petersen, EMO2 LPO ’90-93

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 and affords a comfortable life for the family. A good career to get into. The ship that is ordered, not surprisingly, will be like 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.  They will shed tears, hugs, and kisses with their loved ones and then ride this vessel away from home to lands far distant.

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 utmost 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 should 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, a 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 many nautical miles, fight countless battles. They, as well as you and I, know that not all is perfect, that throughout her service 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 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 became no less than family. Countless numbers will keep in touch with others, countless will most likely not. Regardless of that fact, all who serves on her decks are connected forever, period.

In time, her end will come, finally 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 sea floor, a ‘burial at sea’ if you will, which is the highest honor these vets could receive. Such a sendoff this 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.

Out on the Pacific Rim

By:  Garland Davis

“… And if at times our conduct isn’t all your fancy paints, remember single men in barracks don’t turn into plaster saints.”—-Rudyard Kipling in Tommy

When old sailors get together, it doesn’t take long for the conversation to turn to what Valve did what… The “Can you name the gin mill?” game… “Whatever happened to the old asshole Mess Deck MAA? You know who I mean. Whatzisname?” “You remember the bargirl with the big boobs who fell in love with the pretty boy radioman off the Dicky B. Anderson?” Pier numbers… Phone numbers… Hull numbers… Bar names.

Somewhere and at some point, some son of a bitch tells the first lie… Then it begins.  The “Can you top this” bullshit. Amateurs don’t stand a chance. Like the preliminary fights, it all leads up to the main event when certain liars swim out and eat the little fish (If anyone tops Mac’s ‘Disco Chief,’ there’s gotta be a Pulitzer prize in it). I told my bride of going on 48 years that in the wonderful world of sea stories, Mac is a major league crown contender. Love his stuff… Brings back great memories… The priceless stuff that lives in the dark corner of your memory locker (According to my friend’s daughter, most of it should stay in a dark place and never see the light of day).

Too true. At the pay rate of nonrated men in the early 60s, no one should be too damn surprised that we didn’t devote a lot of time to opera, polo, golf, and downhill skiing. We also never developed a proper appreciation of fine French wines, classical art, and classical music, unless you consider screw cap Akadama, a Budweiser naked lady calendar, and George Jones and Merle Haggard songs to qualify.

There were no better places than those found on the Honcho in Yokosuka, Magsaysay in Olangapo, or Wanchai in Hong Kong. You could get into these places without white tie and tails. Hell, you could get in bare-ass naked if you had the correct currency.  There were no debutante balls held in these joints… unless you counted the cherry-boy signalman, who got his first BJ at Marilyns… And you didn’t have to push your way through paparazzi to get into the Samari.

Being asked to explain your actions at 18, forty years later to your friend’s daughter, is the damnedest delayed action fuse on the planet.

“You mean my dad did this stuff? The man who told my boyfriends they would be boiled and eaten if they so much as hinted at possible monkey business?”

Same guys… Not that we matured a hell of a lot. It’s just that the research we did while serving in the Far East brought us face to face with the entire spectrum of monkey business. There is no one more prim and proper than a reformed whore.

How do you tell someone who stayed home, married his high school sweetheart, became a deacon at church, and was the local chairman of the United Whatever’s Fund, that we were really good guys? We didn’t spend a lot of time at the preacher’s house. We were volunteers…We served our country out on the far Pacific Rim… Paid our dues and earned the right to enter a voting booth without a disguise.

When the boys and girls of the anti-war hippie days were acting like traitors and idiots, we were out there on the Rim. I missed the early Beatles… Went to sea when the President was assassinated… Missed the first trip to the moon… Somewhere along the way, I became all too familiar with the Indo-China that became Viet-Nam… new NFL teams appeared out of nowhere… They quit making Ipana toothpaste and Old Gold cigarettes… Some genius invented the birth control pill, and Johnny Carson replaced Jack Parr. Just part of the price Asia sailors and maximum-security convicts pay… Isolation from the western world allowed us to call ourselves dues payers. All of us who wore a Navy uniform can be damn proud of that.

All this chest pounding over ‘Winning the Cold War’ is probably more of that hocus pocus, ‘Now you see it, now you don’t’ foreign policy horse shit. But, one thing we CAN say, “On our watch, no commie rascals slapped us with a God Damned sneak attack and we kept the free world safe enough that the only things our recently graduated high school pals had to worry about were blouse buttons and three-hook bras while at the Drive-In.

Being a WestPac sailor wasn’t easy. Just being accepted by the men whom you would call ‘Shipmate’ became an honor in itself.

This ASIASAILOR.COM website and the Asia Sailor Westpac’rs Association FaceBook group are blessings.  They permit me to once again find men I can talk to, who understand and give a damn. You spend all your time learning your rate… Learning the Navy language… Gaining pride in yourself and what you do… Making friends… And then, all too soon, it’s over. You retire and wander around in a world of ‘Who gives a fuck?’ people with no one to talk with. Kind of like spending twenty or thirty YEARS learning Japanese and then moving to Oslo, Norway.

Thanks guys for allowing me to help build this tree house, so we can hold ‘NO CIVILIANS ALLOWED’ meetings, tell socially unacceptable tales of old shipmates, old girlfriends, past deeds and chase the fireflies of our better days through stack gas and sea spray.  Trying to tell our story in Sunday school language makes about as much sense as applying moisturizer to an alligator’s ass.

We are getting fewer and fewer, like old Ford Model A’s… They are not making the damn things anymore so every time you lose one, the herd gets thinner by one.

–An in-Port Sea-Story–

J.J. “Joe” Duran

Definitions:

ASR = Auxiliary Submarine Rescue

BM1(DV) = Boatswain’s Mate First Class (Diver)

GM2 = Gunners Mate Second Class

I served on the USS Chanticleer (ASR-7) as BM1(DV) from July 1963 to Sept 1965. I do not recall the exact month & year we were tied up at the B St. Pier, downtown San Diego when we returned from a 6 month West-Pac cruise.

Our Skipper was fanatically opposed to rodents, cockroaches & all vermin. He saw to it that the ship was ” inspection clean ” at all times!!!

Then the unthinkable happened! A RAT got aboard! – We figured we picked him up in Sasebo, Japan or Olongapo, Zambales, Philippines! – The Captain put a bounty on that RAT: 30 days basket leave to whoever killed or captured the RAT! About 19:30 while tied up Starboard side to the pier, the duty section was setting up seats on the fantail for the evening movie. It was twilight- – – -Here comes the RAT out from under the towing machine! The fantail exploded with sailors running after the RAT; some to the swab rack (just aft of the tow-machine) to get a broom, swab, scrub brush,  squeegee or anything to hit, kill, disable or capture the RAT. Anyone on the pier or on the street witnessing that eruption of sailors on the fantail would think they were watching a ship gone CRAZY!….The RAT jumped up on top of the port gunnel just aft of the McCann Sub-Rescue chamber & started running aft. The Petty Officer of the watch was a GM2 who was a USN competition shooter.He had lots of trophies for marksmsnship. He jacked a round into his 45 Auto side arm & opened fire! His 3rd round hit the rounded top of the steel Gunnell & must have ricocheted, grazing the RAT’S inboard side, knocking him over the side! In a heartbeat, the messenger of the watch took off his undress blue jumper, duty-belt & white hat & WENT OVER THE SIDE IN HOT PURSUIT OF THE RAT!! He grabbed the RAT around the neck with one hand & swam with the other… The 1MC blared ” MAN OVERBOARD, PORT SIDE! ” The messenger held the RAT with a strong choke hold while the RAT lacerated his arm with his hind legs. We got a jacobs ladder over the side. A Deck sailor went down the ladder & shoved a small marlinspike through the rat’s eye & out the back of his head, ending the RAT’S problems.We immediately sent the messenger to Balboa Naval Hospital in the duty Jeep. Next came the Marine Corps Recruit Depot Provost Marshall and the San Diego Police Dept with sirens screaming.

Discharging a firearm in downtown San Diego is against the law.

The next day we did not see the CO or XO. Rumors were flying hot and heavy.The newspapers were twisting the facts.The #1 story was that the Gunner’s mate would be court-martialed.

The third day the CO and XO came aboard. The gunner’s mate,  the messenger, and the deck seaman were all granted 30 days basket leave, (leave not charged)–no questions asked.

The captain took all the heat from the squadron and U.S.N.

Years later, I discovered he did receive a letter of censure for unorthodox action and poor display of leadership.The Chair-warmer who wrote that letter would not see real leadership from a Mark V gas mask with panoramic vision.

The crew and Officers loved that Captain.

CWO-4(DV) J.J.(Joe) Duran USN(RET)

‘

Chief Petty Officers and Honesty

One day, while an old Chief was cutting the branch off a tree high above a river, his axe fell into the water. When he cried out, the Lord appeared and asked, “Why are you crying?”

The Chief replied that his axe had fallen into the water, and he needed the axe to supplement his meager pension.

The Lord went down into the water and reappeared with a golden axe. “Is this your axe?” the Lord asked. The Chief replied, “No.”

The Lord again went down and came up with a silver ax. “Is this your Ax?” the Lord asked.

Again, he replied, “No Lord.” The Lord went down again and came up with an iron axe. “Is this your Ax?” the Lord asked. The Chief replied, “Yes.” The Lord was pleased with his honesty and gave him all three axes to keep, and he went home happy.

Some time later the Chief was walking with his wife along the riverbank, and his wife fell into the river. When he cried out, the Lord again appeared and asked him, “Why are you crying?” “Oh Lord, my wife has fallen into the water!”

The Lord went down into the water and came up with Angelina Jolie. “Is this your wife?” the Lord asked.

“Yup, that’s her,” cried the Chief. The Lord was furious. “You lied! That is an untruth!”

The Chief replied, “Oh, forgive me, Lord. It is a misunderstanding. You see, if I had said ‘no’ to Angelina Jolie, You would have come up with Cameron Diaz. Then if I said ‘no’ to her, you would have come up with my woman. Had I then said ‘yes,’ you would have given me all three. And Lord, I am an old man not able to take care of all three women in a way that they deserve, that’s why I said yes to Angelina Jolie.”

And God was pleased.

The moral of this story is: Whenever a Chief lies, it is for a good and honorable reason, and only for the benefit of others!

New Year’s Log 2017

By:  Garland Davis

It is customary in the Navy for the Midwatch log on December 31/January 1 be written in rhyme.  My, attempt at a retiree’s New Year’s log.

1 January 2017, 0000 to 0400 Watch

Both cars are on cold iron and parked in the drive

In the house, we are waiting for the New Year to arrive

Receiving nighttime electrical power from Hawaiian Electric

During the day from PV panels placed by Sunetric

Water from the aquifer well up the street I think

CHT hooked to Waste Water piping and carried away with the stink

Cable, Broadband, and Telephone from Time Warner’s Oceanic

Everything is in order, nothing to do but drink

My wife is Senior Officer Present Abode and my friends are here

There are Anheuser and Busch, and the Captain to bring cheer

Along with Victoria’s Crown and Jack with his number Seven

Pusser is here somewhere and Gilbey and Schweppe make it even

My neighbors have fireworks legal and not

That approaching midnight will, with a clamor, be shot

While Izumi the dog hides under the bed

With all that said the only thing left is commune with my friends

If I wake without a hangover, it will be a new trend

The bottles I probably found hard to close

Reluctant to go for a night of repose

The 2017 New Year will be here and in May I will wait

To board that flight to Branson at the United Gate

Looking forward to seeing you there at the Westpac’rs reunion Shipmates

“Auld Lang Syne.”

Garland Davis

Here I sit looking back and ahead to what is to come in 2017.  It is thought that January is named after the Roman God Janus who had one face looking backward and one looking forward.  It is appropriate for the time of year.  A person looks back at the past with introspection and forward to the future with expectation

Let me take some time to look back over 2016 and the events that affected me:

-I have never kept a New Year’s Resolution. I made two for 2016.  I vowed to start smoking and to gain fifty pounds.  I failed again.  I give up on resolutions.

-I became Seventy-two years old. Who woulda thunk, back in the day, that I would live this long?

-I attended the fourth Asia Sailor Westpac’rs reunion in Branson, MO.  The most fun you can have with your clothes on.

-I celebrated fifty-one years of marriage to a woman I love more than she can know.

-I got tired of driving a stick shift and bought a new car.

-And thanks to the internet and Facebook, I am in touch with so many old and some new friends.

-My Blog turned a year old with over one hundred thousand views in 2016.  Does this qualify me as a writer?

-My Parkinson’s disease didn’t appear to get any worse.  I only fell once, and I lay that at the feet of Coor’s Light, not the PD. Maintaining!

-We all lived through a roller coaster year of expectation and despair.  Yes, I am talking about the elections!

-I miss the Navy just as much or more than I did at this time last year.

As for 2017:

-As Doris Day said in her song:  ♫Que Sera Sera♫ (Whatever will be, will be)

-I do know that I will be at the Asia Sailor Westpac’rs reunion in Branson in May.

-All I can do is hope that our new president is good for our country!

-As for the rest, we’ll see!

The song that everyone knows as “Auld Lang Syne.” Based on a poem by poet Robert Burns, the lyrics are in Burns’ Scottish-inflected English of the late 18th century.  ‘Auld Lang Syne” literally means “old long since,” but can be rendered as “days gone by” or “old times.” The song is asking a question: “Is it right that old acquaintances and old times should be forgotten?”

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
And days of auld lang syne, my dear,
And days of auld lang syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?

We twa hae run aboot the braes
And pu’d the gowans fine.
We’ve wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin’ auld lang syne.
Sin’ auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin’ auld lang syne,
We’ve wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin’ auld ang syne.
We twa hae sported i’ the burn,
From morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin’ auld lang syne.
Sin’ auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin’ auld lang syne.
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin’ auld lang syne.

And ther’s a hand, my trusty friend,
And gie’s a hand o’ thine;
We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

A more understandable version:

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
And days of auld lang syne, my dear,
And days of auld lang syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?

We two have run about the slopes,
And picked the daisies fine;
But we’ve wandered many a weary foot,
Since auld lang syne    

We two have paddled in the stream,
From morning sun till dine
But seas between us broad have roared
Since auld lang syne

And there’s a hand my trusty friend!
And give me a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll take a right good-will draught
For auld lang syne

Being Asia Sailors, we are all prone to take a right good-will draught from time to time.  If you do so in celebrating the demise of 2016 and to welcome 2017, please do not drive. You may save a life, even your own.

Hong Kong

Thayer Ward

Backstory. As the BMD platform, we were actually listed as an Air Force asset, under the command of the MDA (Missile Defense Agency), and when we weren’t doing BMD stuff, we were under MIDPAC (neither 3rd nor 7th fleets). This, in turn, meant we almost always were independent steaming (no attachment to any BG or ESG).

2 weeks after the war games with Japan and Korea had started, we got into the middle of the games (see the previous story). During that second part of the games, we were attached to a BG (can’t remember which carrier). After the games, we stayed with them. They were slated to pull into Hong Kong. However, operational requirements changed, and we detached from them and pulled in 4 days early, for 3 nights.

So now, we pull in. As stated in the previous story, my liberty partner and I had no duty, no liberty restrictions, overnight liberty authorized, all through our stay in Hong Kong. We also got first off the ship for liberty call.

My buddy, Cam, had been there before, but it was my first time. I told him I didn’t want to spend too much money, and didn’t want to pay for a woman, wanted to pick one up in a bar. He agreed. He had a twinkle in his eye and said he had a plan.

We get out of the pier area and start heading into town. Cam took me to the Wan Chai district. He said we could drink for free, then we would head over to Banana Joe’s. I liked the sound of that!

We started walking, and something immediately struck me. On the left side of the road were legitimate businesses: bars, clubs, restaurants, etc. On the right side, the side we were walking, were buildings with curtains covering everything on the first floor. No windows or doors were visible, just curtains.

I was thinking about the oddity of this when, from behind some curtains, a girl comes out and latches onto me, basically dragging me in behind the curtains. I look at Cam, and he smiles at me, nods his head and waves his hand at me to go in. We get in, and it’s a sailor’s paradise. Naked girls dancing on a small stage, girls singing karaoke, girls playing darts, girls drinking. I felt like a kid in Toys ‘R Us (my first time going to a place like this).

The girl immediately brings me to the bar, sets me down, and asks if I want a drink (Jack and Coke) or a shot of Tequila. Took the shot, start it off right! So Cam and I get our drinks. Mama-san immediately comes over and tries to get us to buy a girl a drink or take one to a hotel. We decline and head out. Not there even 5 minutes.

So we start walking, and the next place, the same thing. Girls grabbing us and taking us in, a free drink (sometimes shots, sometimes mixed drinks), mama-san trying to squeeze money out of us, we leave. This went on for a while.

After a number of places, even though I didn’t want to look a gift-horse in the mouth, I had to know, so I asked Cam why we were getting free drinks. He said “They think we’re part of the carrier group that is scheduled to pull in. They’re trying to get us drunk and get us to spend money quickly, in and out so that they can get through as many guys as possible and make the most money.” Well, that made sense. And they were all empty because the BG didn’t pull in.

We continued on, and after a bit, we were feeling really good, not having spent a dime, having some nice stripper dances and managing to cop a little more than a feel. Finally, Cam said, “Okay, I think we’re good, lets head over to Banana Joe’s.” I agreed. But Hong Kong girls were having none of that.

We started walking, and the very next place, a gorgeous 5’1″ Thai girl comes out, most beautiful Asian girl I had ever seen (lived in Hawai’i, so that’s saying something). She latches on, and I look at Cam, and he immediately starts ranting. “No, forget it! We are going to Banana Joe’s! No more of this!”. Immediately after saying that, a gorgeous 5’4″ Vietnamese girl latches onto him and looks with a puppy-dog look. He caved, and we went in.

The girls sat us at the bar, but this one was different. It was a crescent shape, with bar stools, no backing underneath. The girls give us each two drinks, a shot, and a mixed drink. After serving us, they glanced at each other, then dropped down. We unknowingly began to play smiles. Very very nice.

After the girls finish, mama-san comes over and starts talking. “$90 each for the girl and the room for 2 hrs.” I thought this wasn’t a bad deal, but Cam wasn’t having any of that. “No, forget that…” He haggled with mama-san, and talked her down to $90 total for the girls and 2 rooms ALL NIGHT, until noon the next day. Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.

Cam pays (we had an agreement not to pay for girls, so the cost was on him he said), we leave. The girl I have is having trouble keeping up because she didn’t change her shoes, and she was tired from dancing and whatnot. So I lift her up and put her on my shoulders.

We’re walking along, and I look across the 4 lane road. What do I see? My CO, XO, and almost all the Dept Heads (including my own) sitting at a table outside of a restaurant. So, I walk across two lanes, over the median, and across the other two lanes, with my girl on my shoulders. I grab her legs and walking up to them, start shaking her legs and said, “El Capitan-O, what’s going on-o?”

My DH looks like he was dying of a heart attack, but everyone else, including the CO, was laughing. “Petty Officer Ward, how are you doing?”, he said in his deep, James Earl Jones voice. “I’m doing great sir,” I said, and patting my girl’s legs, I said, “I will be doing a whole lot better real soon!” They all laughed again (even my DH, who now knows he isn’t going to be chewed for this).

The CO said, “Do you have protection Petty Officer Ward?” Now, one of the rules when going on liberty there was that we had to grab condoms. We had a very large, deep box, full of condoms on the Quarterdeck, and the rule to leave was that we had to grab two handfuls. A handful was two hands scooping them up and filling our two front pockets. So I replied to the CO by reaching into my pocket and pulling out a handful. They just laughed again and sent me on my way.

So I get back over to my liberty partner, who is incredulous that I didn’t get chewed right there and then. We walk to the hotel. Getting up to our rooms, they are side-by-side, with my door immediately next to Cam’s.

We get inside, I go in to use the bathroom, and when I come out, she’s watching tv! I think, “My friend did not pay $45 for you so that you can watch tv!” I see what she’s watching, and quickly change my tune. Full, complimentary, unblurred, XXX porn. She flips a channel or two and says “I want to try that!”, and “Ooh, this looks fun!” “And we should do this!” YESSSSSS!!!!

So we’re watching, “warming” each other up, when there was a knock at the door. I go over, naked with the TeePee pole raised fully, and open the door. It’s Cam’s girl. “Umm, your friend fell asleep…”. I peek in, and sure enough, he’s passed out, face-down, wallet still in his pants.

“I got $20 if you want to come join us.” “Sure!” She comes in and starts making out with the other girl. There was a song, “Oh what a night!” Every time I hear it, I am taken back to that night in Hong Kong. The rest of the time there was definitely fun, but not like that night, and no other port has beaten it.

Pre-Hong Kong

By:  Thayer Ward

After leaving Yokosuka, we got underway for a 4-week play-time with Japanese and Korean forces. Huge war games, included all branches, except the American Coasties. Japanese Coasties played along, though.

We were playing the good guys. We got stuck with a couple Japanese ships (we were the BMD testbed, and Japan was in the process of getting their BMD program off the ground, so we often worked with them). It was boring, turning circles in the ocean, away from the action, for the first 2 weeks. But then we got into it.

If you don’t know about EWS/EWCO, this is an explanation and helps with part of the story. I was a CTT (Cryptologic Technician Technical), the product of old CTTs (the ones that rode subs and aircraft and did all the super secret squirrel stuff) and EWs (Electronic Warfaremen, my old rate before the merger). The primary job of an EW was Anti-Ship Missile Defense, using the SLQ-32 to identify radars, and so identify other units. We did Intel, missile info, identification (only other means outside of IFF and Visual ID, or VID). We are, essentially, the ears of the ship. We also fired chaff/NULKA and did active countermeasures (jamming). We had two watch positions in CIC, EWCO, and EWS. The purpose of the EWCO (Electronic Warfare Console Operator) was to operate the SLQ-32 console, identify radars, talk with the other fleet EWs on radio, fire chaff, and jam. The purpose of the EWS (Electronic Warfare Supervisor) was to assist the EWCO for identification purposes, be in charge of the watch, take over if something happens to the EWCO, correlate track data to what we had on the NTDS consoles (Naval Tactical Data System, allowed everyone in CIC to see the same picture, including radar pictures). NTDS and the SLQ didn’t interface for the most part, so the track-to-radar correlation was a necessity. EWS also talked with everyone else in CIC and gave out info. EWS was the guy everyone in CIC was relying on for identification and tell them what type of missile was inbound and kept track of the big picture to allow the EWCO to focus on his job. There’s a LOT of radars out there.

I was on watch, EWS. We were Blue and Gold watch rotation, so I was on from 0600 to 1800 every day. We’re in the “war zone,” taking people out left and right. For a ship that hadn’t been out of the Pacific since I was onboard, we were kickin’ ass and taking names. Everything is good, until…

The EWCO says “Hey, got something I don’t recognize, and can’t find any info on it.” I come over and take a look. I know it’s an aircraft radar, but not sure what. However, I follow it around, and it correlates to an aircraft. The Japanese had a new Learjet they were using for Coast Guard purposes. We had no info on it, other than it was half-orange, half-white, and said Coast Guard on it. It is playing the bad guy, with a “missile release range” of 20 NM.

This guy makes a beeline for us. Still, no clue what it is. CO is asking what it is, and I can’t answer. Up until now, I had been spot on, but this guy was confusing me. Finally, it gets to 25 NM, and the CO calls me over our internal net and says “make the call EW.” I called hostile. The CO tells the TAO to shoot him down. Our TAO, who is my Dept. Head, objects, but the CO says “DO IT!!” One of the most stressful times of my career.

We “shoot it down,” 22 NM out. Immediately, the TAO comes over and starts chewing me out. “You just shot down a civilian aircraft!” Yeah, coming in at under 1k ft at 500 kts, okay…”We are the new Vincennes, and we will never sail in the Pacific! Your bad judgment embarrassed us!” I was pissed, so I went off on him (LT at the time). We got into a yelling match, and I flipped him the bird, right to his face, with EVERYONE in CIC (Chiefs, officers, enlisted) watching and said: “Well I will see you at mast!” (note that my quotes probably aren’t exact, more like an idea of what was said)

I sat down, stewing, knew I was up the creek. The net is silent (someone hit the switch so that everyone at watch stations outside of CIC heard it). Everyone knows I’m screwed, and no one wants to talk to me because I’d probably fight them…

I felt a hand on me, and I turned around and yelled: “WTF do you want?!?!” I turned pale and apologized immediately. It was the CO. “Petty Officer Ward, calm down, it’s okay son,” he said reassuringly. “We just got a message back from a P-3 in the area. They got a look at the target we just shot down. Half-orange, half-white, had Japanese writing, and said ‘Coast Guard’ in English.”

Vindication! I felt better, even knowing I was going to mast, because I made the right call, and were it real, would have saved our butts. “Don’t worry about your confrontation with OPS, I will deal with it.” “You mean, I’m not going to mast?” “Nooo. You’ve been doing an outstanding job. You were right, and he came over and picked a fight with you. You will be okay.” Man, talk about relief.

OPS subsequently apologized. I shook his hand, but I could see he was pissed about it, and still thought he was right. Fortunately, he left after that deployment, and I didn’t have to deal with him anymore. My DIVO later told me that, not only was I off Liberty risk, but that me and my liberty partner had first off the ship, no duty, and overnight liberty for the 4 nights we would be in Hong Kong. Yeah, good CO for sure.

Merry Christmas!

I will be taking a few days off for Christmas.  I wish to take this opportunity to wish the thousands of readers of Tales of An Asia Sailor around the world a Merry Christmas.  I’ll be back right after Christmas.

Thank you for reading the stories I publish here.

Garland

A Christmas Story

Garland Davis

My uncle was a Redneck and a tobacco farmer.  But, the farming was just a front to fool the revenuers.  His primary occupation was as a purveyor of non-tax paid alcohol, otherwise known as moonshine, white likker, and in more recent times, ethanol.  He often conducted protracted quality assurance tests of his product, in other words, he got drunk and stayed drunk for days.

I remember one Christmas when I was eight or nine years old.  I already knew that Santa Claus was a fictional character that children are misled to believe in.  My younger brothers, sister and many of my cousins still thought that Santa Claus broke into their houses on Christmas Eve and left them toys and ugly clothing.

It was a snowy afternoon and evening.  My father and uncles worked for the state highway department and had been called to work operating snow plows scraping snow off the roads and highways.  My family along with two of my aunts and many of my cousins were at our grandmother’s house for Christmas Eve.  We had finished supper, the other kids and I were in the living room playing Monopoly or listening to the radio (this was before anyone I knew had TV). The adults were in the kitchen making Christmas’ cookies and talking when my uncle showed up.

He parked in the front yard and came into the house carrying a shotgun in one hand and a quart fruit jar in the other.  I never knew how to take him.  I don’t know whether he liked kids or not, but he always acted as if he didn’t.  We were all a little afraid of him.  He went into the kitchen and set the shotgun in the corner by the door.  He sat down at the table and asked for a glass and another glass of water.  His method of drinking; he would pour a half glass of whiskey with a glass of water on the side.  It may take an hour, but when he drank, he killed the whiskey and followed it with the water.  Then he would refill the glasses and begin the wait until next time.

After about an hour, he yelled, “Hey all you young’uns git in here!  I brought you some candy.

The younger kids jumped up and ran into the kitchen. I trepidatiously followed.  He had a pile of candy on the table and was handing it out.  My aunts and mother were reminding the kids to say “Thank You” and were smiling at their children.

My uncle suddenly said, “Be quiet, I heered something.”  He jumped up grabbed his shotgun saying, “Hear that?” and went through the door onto the back porch.  Almost immediately the gun fired and then again.  Everyone was wondering what he was shooting at.  I started through the door, but Mom grabbed me and said, “Don’t go out there.”

He comes back through the door and sets the shotgun back in the corner and says, “Well they ain’t gonna be no God Damned Sandy Claus this year.  I just run that Sumbitch off.”

Those Santa Claus-believing kids probably suffered mental problems and would have required therapy in these more progressive years.

I must have inherited some of the same genes as my uncle.  I thought it was funny then and still think it is hilarious.