Sunday, June 9, 2019

A few things I remember at sea 190609

      


      I remember revile being called on board ship. It went like this: Revile, revile, revile all hands heave out and trice up: translation, get out of your bunks and latch them up so compartment cleaners could sweep and mop underneath them.
General quarters: translation: battle stations, all hands go to your station and be ready for action. Perhaps this one is the most prevalent memory I have. The link just before has it nailed down perfectly as I remember. Those bosuns could really blow those pipes for different occasions such as general quarters, the captain leaving the ship or an admiral coming aboard. Admirals also meant a line of ship's company there to salute and welcome the admiral.
Manning the rail: translation: sailors lined up all around the ships guard rails encompassing the entire ship in situations such as passing the Arizona monument in Pearl Harbor, leaving home port or arriving home from long cruises.
The navy band playing 'Anchors Aweigh' from the pier when leaving home or returning.
The bosun's pipe followed by: sweepers man your brooms give the ship a clean sweep down fore and aft, empty all trash in all spaces, now sweepers.
Walking shoulder to shoulder from aft to fore on on an aircraft carrier flight deck doing a foreign object hunt for any object
that could be sucked into a jet engine and cripple its operation.
The ship's captain over the PA system (the 1 MC) Quarter Master set course to 090: translation we are heading home after a long deployment from the western Pacific back to San Diego.
      Shore Patrol home and abroad, from 8 to 14 hours of roaming around the streets looking to stop sailors from getting into trouble or take them into custody after they already were in trouble. Side note here, something I learned and still don't understand. Those who fought being taken in custody on the street turned gentle as a lamb when they saw themselves heading behind bars of shore patrol headquarters or the brig aboard ship. Those who were docile on the streets turned into a lion when they faced those iron bars in the brig. We had a young sailor in Hong Kong that fought with the strength of 10 men on the street. It took 10 of us to load him onto the ferry from the pier to the ship, but he too melted when he saw those bars in the ship's brig.
One particular memory was having shore patrol on Grande Island in Manila bay. The ship would rent the entire island when we were in port. Special services would supply all the BBQ and all the beer sailors could eat or drink free. The only way to get there was in old WW-2 landing craft like the ones on the "D" day invasion of Normandy. The boats left the Cubi Point pier where the ship was and went over to the island 20-30 minutes away across the bay. The boats held close to 40 men plus the coxswain (boat driver). On the way back there were just 2 shore patrol added. Those sailors were mostly drunk out of their minds from all the free beer and were animals and we 2 shore patrol were their prey. I don't recall how many times I had to fend off 3 or 4 at a time to keep myself in the boat. I wasn't supposed to use my night stick, but it was either me or them and I chose me. More than once the drunks would climb up on the rail to heave their guts out. They heaved so hard they went over the rail and into the water. The coxswain was annoyed having to stop and go back to pluck them from the water and I didn't want to further my time out there either.
      My time in a flight crew flying in the gulf off Vietnam to provide low level radar coverage for the 7th fleet there overnight. One night we were flying a race track pattern over the carriers there. There was an issue of miscommunication between the fleet carriers below and us flying above. They were launching an alpha strike (the ships launch every available plane to bomb in country) after midnight that particular night. We were flying at 1500 feet above the carriers. I had the radar watch along with 3 others. We had these huge blobs on the radar that were the carriers and suddenly the blobs (like a large hornet nest) began sending out tiny blips that were aircraft launching at a rate for 4 every 30 seconds. The radar kept adding more and more blips. The pilots were just barely airborne when they would see us as they flew by us. We had the same radio frequencies as they did. We could hear them shouting "what the f**k was that?" Our pilot could see the jets with their afterburners still engaged as they gained altitude as they passed closely by us. He called me over the intercom. "Weber what the hell is going on?" I replied, "I think they are launching a strike sir." He then shouted, "give me a course to get the hell out of here." I replied. "180 sir." That was the first thing that came to mind. It worked.
      
      
Copyright Bill Weber 2006-2019 and beyond.

No comments:

Post a Comment