My first (and damn near last) experience aboard a surface ship...Roger Ramjet |
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Mess cooking Posts: 35 | Subject: My first (and damn near last) experience aboard a surface ship... I was reading posts on the SubmarineSailor.com web-site earlier this morning (and posting our up coming reunion dates) when I read a long affair that dealt mainly with Surface Craft and those chicken-sh*t, ass-h*les, we all knew as "Masters at Arms. Thankfully those of us in diesel boats were (for the most part) spared persecution by such zealots and our lives were far better for it. However, it did bring to memory my first encounter with a surface craft and the "Skimmers", Surface Pukes", etc... etc... that man them. However, before I tell the story, I have to set the stage, just as it was set for me before it ever happened... After boot camp I was sent to FLTASWSCOL KWEST to become a Sonar Technician. If you never had the opportunity of serving the Submarine Service out of Key West, let me just say that you missed one of the greatest State side ports you ever could visit... Yes the Keys were a great place to be in the 60's (I had lived there for nearly two years before joining the Navy) but the attitude of the Submarine Service stationed in KWEST was in a category all it's own. Our instructors worked hard to insure we would be excellent Sonarmen, but spent an equal amount of time teaching us to be "good" Boat Sailors as well! The fact that "we" were the elite was hammered home at every opportunity. The School taught Surface Craft Sailors about their sonar too, but the two divisions were kept well apart and we were treated in a far better manner than the skimmers. For instance the surface craft students had to form up in ranks at the barracks and march to school. Submarine sailors were allowed to walk singularly or however they wanted. Skimmers had to hold a field day every Friday after school before they could go on weekend liberty. We had a field day maybe once a month, but we kept our barracks spotless at all times without being asked to. We knew what was going on. I can remember polishing the black floor tiles with shoe polish to insure they glistened! We tore up old wool Navy blankets, wrapped them around the buffer pad and brought the floor to a high shine.. No one had to ask or tell us to, we just did it! We were allowed a great deal of latitude in our conduct and were reminded on a daily basis that it was because we were Submarine Sailors! Not skimmers, the riff-raff of the sea... After Submarine Sonar A-School, I attended Sonar A-2 School where potential sub sailors were mixed in with surface craft sailors for general electronic studies that applied to both classes. It was my first exposure to skimmers and most of the instructors in this section were drawn from that group as well. This would have been in 1964 or early 1965, sometime after the sinking of the Thresher. The class room was automatically divided, submarine sonarmen on one side, skimmers on the other and in our class we had a third class qualified Sonarman named Frank Lockleer from Homosassa Springs, Florida. Frank was sort of a 'tough' guy but we all respected him because of his dolphins. One day in class one of the surface students made a wise crack about "Thresher Pressure" and Frank suddenly jumped up from his desk knocking it backwards in the process and leaped over two more rows of desks to reach the tactless fellow. Pulling him up out of his seat Frank slammed him into the wall and punched him in the stomach at the same time. As the guy slumped to the floor, Frank returned to his seat simply saying, "The men on that submarine were my brothers." The instructor was as dumbfounded as we all were and not another word was said about the incident! It made a profound impression on me, for I realized that what our instructors had been telling us was true! We WERE elite and we DID stick together! I was going to be entering into a special brotherhood.... After Sonar C-School I was assigned TAD to the USS Tigrone AGSS-419 while the Cobbler was on a Northern Run. I made a run to the Azores on the Tigrone where the USN/USL (United States Navy/Underwater Sound Lab) personnel played with the BRS ("brass") sonar. The Tigrone was a test bed for USN/USL sound projects and BRS was capable of transmitting LOTS of watts into the ocean. From the Azores we were trying to send a signal to another submarine off the Bahamas in the Tongue of the Ocean... (Like I said, LOTS of watts!) I have a great story about the Tigrone and a Russian "spy-ship" that followed us everywhere, but I'll save it for another day. I finally received my orders to the Cobbler after we both got back from those assignments then she was sent to the Med. I believe our first port of call was Rota, Spain to have some repair work done due to a sever storm we had encountered crossing the North Atlantic. Rota had a submarine tender and after we tied up I was amazed at the size of the thing. I received permission (as a NQP I needed permission to use the head!) to go over to the tender and buy something I needed... So without much thought as to the condition of my dungarees or white hat, I walked over.. You can probably visualize the "white" hat. A sort of dingy gray with grease spots, finger prints and outright filth would adequately describe it. My dungarees were on par with the hat... I probably had boondockers on as I hadn't been in the Navy long enough to wear them out yet.. I noticed that the tender had two brows, well, gangways with actual stairs would be a more accurate description.. one for Officers and one for raghats. I took the enlisted one up to the deck and saluted the deck watch. After receiving instructions as to how I could find the Ships Store I went below decks and bought whatever it was I'd needed. On coming back up topside I stood by the rail watching seagulls fly below me, again astounded at how large and tall this ship was. Suddenly a whistle sounded and as it was late afternoon I assumed it was colors sounding. I spun around to face aft and saluted in the direction of the flag. It didn't take me very long to realize that no one else was saluting, they were in fact going about their business as usual.. I sheepishly dropped my salute and went back to marveling at where I was. A whistle sounded again and again I turned and saluted and again I was wrong! I lowered my hand and tried not to look as stupid as I felt. Finally I asked another sailor what the whistles were all about and was informed that they indicated a small craft that had been tied up alongside was departing. I thanked him and went on day dreaming. I was suddenly brought out of my reverie when a hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. I was facing a Ltjg and he didn't look pleased to meet me at all! "What division are you in?" He demanded. I didn't have a clue what he meant.. so I stammered, "I'm not in any division, Sir!" "Look at you!" he admonished, "You're filthy! Out of uniform! A disgrace! Where ARE you from?" At this question I felt a moment of relief, at least I knew the answer! "That little submarine way back there, Sir!" Was my reply... My relief was short lived when he mentioned "writing me up" and my heart went cold... That was when my "fight or flight" mechanism kicked in! Not being much of a fighter I chose the only other avenue left open to me, I ran like hell! Unfortunately I was on the wrong deck and the gangway that presented itself was the one reserved for Officers. I believe it even had an Officer for a deck watch, an Ensign or another jg.. I was undeterred and picked up speed when I saw the escape route... however, I must admit that I failed to salute when I left the deck, either the Officer or the flag and even though my speed was approaching the sound barrier I could hear voices from behind yelling at me and wondered for a moment if Surface Skimmers shot people for running off their ships without authorization as well those trying to get aboard them! That thought served to spur me on to even greater speeds and I covered the several hundred yards of intervening pier in what must have been record time, literally flying across our brow and almost dropped feet first, straight down the After-Battery hatch, pulling the hatch cover shut behind me and dogging it faster than any bridge watch ever had the one in the Conning Tower, even with the cold Atlantic hot on his heels! I didn't slow down until I reached the Forward Torpedo Room and had run out of submarine.. That was to be the last time I ever stepped foot aboard a surface ship until years later when I was a somewhat more confident First Class in the East China Sea. (And that too was a story in itself, but I'll save that one for later as well....) Thank the great Sea Gods for diesel submarines, for without them I never would have survived my ten years in the Navy! Roger Ramjet Edited by Roger Ramjet 2008-05-17 12:11 PM | ||
| GaryKC |
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COMSUBBBS Posts: 3877 Location: Kansas City Missouri | Subject: RE: My first (and damn near last) experience aboard a surface ship... RR, that Ltjg asked us to give you these..enjoy (RR.jpg) (RR.jpg) Attachments ----------------  RR.jpg (4KB - 1151 downloads) RR.jpg (4KB - 1188 downloads) | ||
| Gil |
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| Master and Commander Posts: 1722 Location: SoCal | Subject: RE: My first (and damn near last) experience aboard a surface ship... My limited experience with MAA's started off bad, but after learning the game it was great. I was a reservist and I reported to a Terminal Island barracks for active duty less than ten miles from my parents house in 1967. I was so green that I must have stuck out like the dufus I was while I waited to get transferred to a boat. The MAA knew I was a reserve so he went after me pretty good. My reserve center located on the base had asked me to get him to assign me to cleaning duty at the reserve center instead of regular duty that the other guys did. The biggest job there was waxing the gym once a week. I erred and just went in and asked that MAA to assign me to my center; he said fill out a chit -- I didn't reply but I knew better than to ask what a chit was as I didn't have the foggiest. Later when I submitted my filled out chit in blue ink the MAA went ballistic on me pretty good and informed me that "We in the regular Navy only use black ink." He had an audience of guys mustering out of the service and he took advantage of that to make me feel even stupider than I was. The second night I had the duty which meant I had fire watch in the Wave and in our barracks from 2000 to midnight. After watch I just drove home not knowing that duty was for 24 hours. In the morning my compartment mate asked where the hell I'd been and I explained I went home after my watch -- he said you dumb s**t you're lucky the MAA didn't know about it. When I finally got my orders to meet the Pickerel after three months at Terminal Island a stroke of fate gave me an opportunity to get back at the MAA. One foggy cold night I was driving back to the parking lot after midnight. I saw and heard the MAA all alone in the parking lot trying to start his old clunker with a nearly dead and dying battery . I drove slowly by him until he saw me and just kept going leaving him all alone in that parking lot as the starting noise got fainter and fainter. That was my only MAA experience until we came back from Westpac. Since I was E3 and had less than a year left I was assigned to be the boat's compartment cleaner at our barracks. Cherry was the 1st Class MAA of the barracks and he was great buds with our storekeeper (Pappy Milton). Cherry also loved his liquor as I was to find out. Things went so so for about two weeks and then on Friday the Pickerel came in after two weeks of Ops. That Friday night the guys got pie eyed and were a mess when they returned from Beeman's and Hotel Street. They left my clean up section of the barracks an absolute mess. For some reason the drunkest guys "tried" to pee and barf in the trash cans with lousy to poor results. Before Saturday morning muster I got hold of Cherry and told him I didn't think I should be required to clean up that mess. Cherry only said he really liked his Jim Beam and I got the obvious. I told him I just happened to have a full bottle in my locker and he said he'd come by later and pick it up. A little bit later at muster Cherry made the announcement about duty section changes and I got the weekend off. After that whenever I had weekend duty Cherry would come by my locker Thursday or Friday to see if I was interested in changing duty sections without even me asking. I quickly learned to hide the good booze and I always kept a nearly full bottle of Akadama wine in my locker. Towards the end a three quarters full bottle of that Red Ball Express would be enough for Cherry! Most of the other compartment cleaners had just reported to their boat so I felt I had earned my privilege as a grizzly E3 qualified cleaner - I kept my beard after Westpac and not being on the boat allowed me to have pretty long hair. I tried to keep a straight face every Friday when I had weekend duty after that, but it was difficult. Cherry would announce duty section changes at muster and then I'd hear the "Oh @#&*% when some unsuspecting compartment cleaner got my weekend duty section. Pappy Minton kept Cherry well supplied with special food he bartered for with the BQL mess and I'm sure that's why Cherry took such good care of me. | ||
