220327 Sentinel, Long Ago

61 days on the line with Bud
I was having my coffee this morning when this story came to mind.

This picture is the USS Kitty Hawk on which I had the pleasure of serving.

This is a picture of the hanger deck to give you and idea of how huge the inside of an aircraft carrier is. The hanger deck is only about 2/3 the length of the ship.

I had a friend on the 1966-1967 cruise whose name should perhaps be changed to protect the innocent. I’ll call him Bud. He had the bunk above me on the Kitty Hawk. He was a tall thin sailor and was an aircrew radar tech. I met him on the cruise and he seemed to be a nice, easy going, and peaceful character. I didn’t know he was an alcoholic. He worked and acted completely normal. The aircrew job required brains and the ability to think fast under pressure. I knew he was a liberty hound, but most of those guys were. It was the sixties and for many it was their first time away from home and the continental U.S.

We were on station off the coast of Vietnam, bombing the snot out of North Vietnam when the bad news came in, our relief carrier the USS Constellation had blown a boiler and would be in port at Cubi Point until the boiler was repaired, so we would be stuck on line until such time as they could repair the boiler and be seaworthy. It turned out our normal 30 days on station at sea extended to 61 days of combat air operations. We worked 12 hours on and 12 hours off, 7 days a week at sea during the Vietnam War, so 61 days at sea meant 61 straight days of work, all 12 hours a day. That amount of work began to wear on the sailors and tempers would flare on short notice, but Bud went completely bonkers! I couldn’t even talk to him and neither could anyone else. I discovered later that he had run out of booze right after the extension began. The limited personal storage space onboard for enlisted men would not allow him to store more than a one-month’s supply of liquor. Being an aircrew member he occasionally got a trip to DaNang or back to the Philippines mid-month to replenish his supply, but it didn’t happen this time and he was upset! Our relief showed up on the 62nd day and we finally headed into port. One night one on the town and Bud was back to the normally nice guy I had met earlier. He was a decent human being once more.

Bud was in San Diego the summer after we had finished the cruise when he had a bit too much to drink one night. The bars closed and Bud went outside to head for home. Now Bud was only about 160 pounds and as I said very tall, 6’2” or so and he rode a Harley 1200cc Electra Glide. Bud tried to kick start the bike, lost his balance, and fell, dragging the bike down on top of him. There’s no way to lift a 1200cc Harley off of yourself, when it’s got your leg pinned under the bike. So Bud took a nap. A police cruiser rolled by about three in the morning, saw the bike, and Bud lying underneath it. The officer stopped and walked over to see if Bud was ok. The officer woke him up and asked if he was all right? Bud replied in a loud and rude tone: “It’s about time, where the f*** have you been?” The officer pulled the Harley off Bud, handcuffed him and took him to a safe place, so he could rest for the remainder of the night. Bud was just one of many interesting characters I met on my first cruise.