230206 First Cruise

This is an old sea story that is true and it’s one I hope to never forget.

Memories are funny; I want to remember all of the things about my shipboard days. One morning, many years after I left the navy, we were on the farm. I was sitting having coffee and talking to my nephew and old memories just flooded to the surface from deep in the Marianna’s trench that is my brain.

We were talking about one of his tours in Afghanistan, when this came to mind. I asked Pat if and how they got alcohol over there? “None there,” he replied.

“No alcohol!” I blurted out. “Those people are savages! Why do we even care about them?” Pat just gave me that same look his aunt Joyce would give me when I would say something stupid like that. It’s one of those family traits that are passed down from their side of the family.

That conversation brought this story to mind:
’61 days on the line’

I had a friend on the 1966-1967 cruise whose name should perhaps be changed to protect the innocent. I’ll call him Bud. I might as well call him that, because I’ve really forgotten his name. He had the bunk above me on the Kitty Hawk. He was a tall thin Sailor and he 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 out on station, 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. 61 days at sea meant 61 straight days of work, all 12 hours a day. That amount of work began to wear on 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 the ship 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 in 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 bar 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 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 police stopped and walked over to see if Bud was ok. The officers 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 officers pulled the Harley off Bud, handcuffed him and took him to shore patrol lockup, so he could rest for the remainder of the night. Bud was just one of many interesting characters I met on my first cruise.

Those cruises were nine months long and three months home in San Diego. They were rough for me being away for so long at a time and Joyce wasn’t fond of them either. Now they are memories and they are good memories for me. I felt like I was accomplishing something important back then.