Excuse the interruption. This sea story is not in chronological sequence. Last night, these thoughts about one particular sailor came into my head. i wanted to capture those thoughts now.

The Navy has grown with the times. Many of the sailors in my time on board ships (from 1963 until 1985, on and off, of course) would not be accepted into today’s Navy. The world has gone technical and the Navy with it. Consequentially, higher scores on aptitude tests and other hurdles to demonstrate smartness is required.

Many sailors, especially in my early days with the Navy, were not mental giants. Oh, we had plenty of intelligent enlisted as the draft was still rolling and many smart young men chose to ride a ship rather than pound the ground or watch aircraft head for the wild blue yonder. But there was a place for folks who did not have an excellent academic record. In fact, many sailors had not graduated from high school. i knew of a number of sailors from those years who were there because a judge gave them a choice of joining the Navy or going to jail.

In numerous cases i witnessed, the Navy was this kind of sailor’s life. They lived on the ship, a place to sleep with food to eat. The civilian clothes they had were in a locker storage place outside the base gate. When they went out, it was most frequently to a bar. There were only a very few who were incorrigible. Many went up and down the ranks like a yo-yo. i knew several that had made it to second or first class petty officers but kept getting busted and spent their twenty years as a seaman or fireman most of the time. Nearly all of them contributed in some way to an effectively run a ship.

The sailor in this tale was one of those. He was a fireman in the after engine room of the USS Hollister (DD 788). i was his Chief Engineer (1973-75). This particular sailor didn’t do much more than stand his watches back aft. He stayed pretty much to himself and was quiet. He had gotten into trouble occasionally, several times getting caught smoking marijuana, but that was about it.

There were two distilling plants on the Hollister, the large one in main control, the forward engine room, the smaller one in the after engine room. These two plants made feed water for the boilers and potable water for the crew. They were vital for operations and feed water, the latter used to power the ship through the four boilers always took precedence of the 300 or so souls in the crew and the wardroom. The forward evap (our term for evaporators or the distilling plants) could produce about 700 gallons an hour. The after evap could make about 250 gallons of water each hour.

i often wondered what evil genius designed these evaps. They made any Rube Goldberg invention look simple. It took genius to maximize their output along with stroking and petting them, believe it or not, TLC. During my engineering tour, i determined that along with everything else, the evaps was possessed by and ran at the whim of gremlins. Today, as i write, i know those gremlins jumped on my shoulders as i rotated to my next ship and now occupy any mobile phone or computer of mine.

The ship had transited to Pearl Harbor from Long Beach with her destroyer squadron. After a week of liberty, we were getting underway to return to home port when the forward evaps went down. Even my master chief machinist mate, an incredible engineer, could not coax the plant into making water. He kept trying, along with his first class and several others. i personally took soundings on the water tanks and kibitzed almost round the clock with the master chief on the next tactic.

The after evap was huffing and puffing and actually was making more water than it was rated to produce. The reason was the fireman i mentioned earlier. It was almost like he had a love affair with that contraption. He would twist the controls, of which there were many, tenderly, moving them just slightly — think of the Wizard of Oz twisting all those controls when Dorothy, Toto, the Tin Man, the Cowardly Lion, and the Scarecrow discovered him behind the curtain.

We would have been in big trouble without that overproducing little evap and its master who tended to its needs.

As it was, we were on water hours for almost four complete days before the master chief and his boys got the big evap running again. Our captain sent a flashing light message to the commodore on the destroyer flag ship reporting we were going off water hours. The commodore responded, “Congratulations to CHENG. Please remain downwind for the next couple of days.”

The fireman got out after a month or so after we moored in Long Beach.

i miss those kinds of sailors. They aren’t around any more.

We were changing home ports in July 1969, and as i have noted, none of the wardroom or crew were too happy about that change. but first the Hawkins had a rendezvous with a couple of submarines.

In July, she once again traveled south, this time to Cape Canaveral, Florida. Her assignment was to serve as a location platform for two submarines going through Polaris missile firing tests off the coast. i was glad to visit with a very close cousin, Nancy Orr Winkler and her husband who lived there, and went to a disco, only to leave quickly after discovering a Naval officer, even in civilian clothes still had a haircut that did not attract Florida disco women.

Our first sub to undergo a three-week workup was the HMS Renown, a British submarine. It was difficult maneuvering to remain exactly on a point in the ocean, especially when the wind picked up, but we did incredibly and to watch that Polaris missile emerge from the sea and rocket (pun intended) into the sky was impressive. We were looking forward to repeating the process with the USS Thomas Jefferson, a US submarine.

There were a few problems in setting up the location in the first drills, but they were resolved before i caught a flight to Tennessee.

i was disappointed i wouldn’t be around for the actual launch of the Jefferson’s polaris missile. Taking a week’s leave, i went to Lebanon, Tennessee to attend my sister Martha’s wedding. The wedding and the week home was a wonderful respite. When i got back to Cape Canaveral and reported aboard, i found out i had missed some craziness.

You see, the British missile shot was relatively unnoticed. i don’t think we had any extra folks on board with the possible exception of a sub-expert to act as a go-between. With the Thomas Jefferson, the Hawk, sans me, had a flock of looky-loos, including VIPS. i’m pretty sure there was a least one US senator and one US representative aboard with their families. That meant their staffs, PR folks, media reps, and Lord knows who else accompanied them — actually, i don’t have a clue because i wasn’t there. i know there was a least one office holder and a lot of civilians on board.

There was a problem. The gimbals in the guidance system that directed the rocket motors locked. The fire control technicians could not turn the missile. Instead of soaring up and out into the wild blue yonder, the missile went straight above the Hawkins with its cast of onlookers including the ship’s officers and crew watching intently. That’s when the missile was destructed, as in boom. Fragments, even large pieces of the missile began downward, raining on the ship. The boatswain mate of the watch, was on the 1MC speakers urging everyone to go inside the skin of the ship and take shelter, explaining the dangers.

Apparently, there were a number of folks who wanted to see the spectacle and stayed on the weather decks with debris falling around them.

Fortunately, no one was hurt. Unfortunately, i wasn’t there to see it.

This is not an actual sea story, or at least i hope not, but it is one of my favorite Navy jokes.

There once was a young ensign fresh from his commissioning at the Naval Academy. He reported to his first ship and on his first turn to have the conn, every one, especially the CO, was surprised at this ship handling skills. He seem to be able to put his ship wherever he wanted and could stop it on a dime, one of the more difficult skills of ship handling.

Several junior officers had noticed him in his stateroom opening the top drawer of his storage locker and looking intently at something in the drawer. He then went to the bridge and performed his magic.

These skills continued and he was quickly promoted throughout his career. Crew and officers alike would stop to watch him handle his ship. More of them noticed before going to the bridge, he would go to his stateroom, open the top drawer of his locker and look at something intently.

He was early promoted a number of times, and even after he made flag, CO’s would ask him to display his ship handling skills. He would politely comply and again demonstrate his incredible skills. The steward who attended to the admiral’s cabin also noted the admiral would return to his cabin open the top drawer of his dresser and stare intently at something before going to the bridge.

Finally, the admiral retired. As soon as he left his flagship, as many officers as possible led by the captain rushed to the flag cabin, ran to the dresser and opened the top drawer. There was a a 3×5 white card, the only thing in the drawer. Hand written on the card in large letters were the words:

PORT LEFT ——- STARBOARD RIGHT

This is not part of my tale. This was told to me by three Naval Officers who were at the Naval Destroyer School in 1973, attending the six-month Department Head Course in Newport, Rhode Island. i hopefully have made the ship and the characters in this story anonymous. i also hope that land lubbers who read this understand enough about Navy ships at sea (at least back then) to understand the outlandish bravado in the story.

At one point of Naval history, there were commanding officers who shied away from involvement in the operation of the engineering plant. They left that solely to the engineer. i was the Chief Engineer or CHENG on a ship with such a CO after this story occurred.

On this particular Atlantic Navy destroyer in the Atlantic, the captain was of that makeup. His CHENG ran a great engineering operation. Even though he was somewhat of a crazy guy, the captain would laugh at his antics and let him run his department without interference.

This ship was independently steaming in the Navy’s Atlantic Operation Areas off of Newport, Rhode Island. CHENG had the mid-watch (0000-0400) as the Officer of the Deck (OOD). After about two hours, he was a little bored and decided to do something a bit different.

First, he switched steering control to after steering. Then, he ordered the bridge watch to the flying bridge, one deck above the pilot house. He directed the lookouts on the port and starboard bridge wings also to move to the flying bridge. He checked the bridge out and ensured it was empty.

It was 0200. The captain was sleeping in his sea cabin, which was just aft of the pilot house/bridge on the starboard side. CHENG, the OOD, ordered the Boatswain Mate of the Watch (BMOW) to make an announcement over the 1MC (the ship’s announcing system) and immediately return to the flying bridge.

The BMOW said “Aye, aye, sir,” and knowing boatswainmates, i’m betting he was loving it.

He descended to the 1MC speaker, piped “attention” on his boatswain’s pipe, announced. “Captain to the bridge,” in an excited voice and immediately climbed the ladder to the fourth deck afterwards.

For those who don’t know, such an announcement connotes an emergency situation when the captain is immediately required to handle an impending disaster. Normally, during the evening watches when the captain is in his sea cabin, the OOD would communicate with him via a sound tube — and that device created some sea stories of its own.

So, calling the captain to the bridge at 0200 on the 1MC is only when peril is upon the ship, which it wasn’t in this situation. But the captain didn’t know that. So he jumps from his rack, perhaps jumped into his trousers, but more likely just rushed through his door to the bridge in his skivvies.

He burst onto the bridge and found…Nothing. No one was there.

i am amazed that 1) he didn’t have a heart attack, and 2) when he found out the joke was on him, he did not fire, or kill his CHENG.

The tellers of this tale swore the captain laughed and did not punish the CHENG/OOD.

To this day, i keep trying to envision a destroyer captain bursting on the bridge to handle some dire emergency to find his bridge empty.

The old wooden skiff with a small outboard motor cut ripples through the bay’s glassy sea. The old steamer with discolored paint on the hull and even a few spots of actual rust with the resultant line trailing down to the waterline and black keel stood like a ghost ship in the gray fog, anchored in the middle of the bay with the hills silhouetted along the channel framing the open sea beyond.

Hake Wilson, an old man in a worn Navy pea coat, maneuvered the skiff to the head of old creosote wood pier. He climbed the ladder and slowly ambled toward the foot of the pier. His gait was altered from past injuries. The collar of the pea coat was up. He wore an old Navy watch cap. He was not in a uniform, just wearing the stuff men wore at sea. Hake’s salt and pepper hair was long, hanging out from under the watch cap.

At the foot of the pier waited Ulyana Bondar and the young girl. They were similarly cloaked in gray wool hooded long coats. The girl, perhaps nine or ten, had a brightly colored wool shawl wrapped around her neck and protruding from the coat. The hoods were thrown back and both the woman and the girl wore tasseled wool caps, the girl’s matching her shawl. The wind coming off the bay was biting cold.

The old man Hake leaned over and placed a kiss on Ulyana’s cheek. It was a note of respect for her and something that happened long ago. Next, he picked up the girl in his arms and walked out the pier stopping about half way. Hake kneeled down and looked the young girl in the eye, holding her shoulders.

“Child, I only came by to see you. It would be my greatest joy to spend every day, every moment with you as you grow up. But your mother is taking good care of you, and she needs you. I have been called to help some folks. I thought it was over, that I had helped enough, but I have been called away again. I must go. I don’t know when i will get back. My greatest wish is for you and your mother to be comfortable and as happy as you can be. Remember i love you. You should always try to do the right thing, even when it’s difficult. If you do, things will turn out all right.

“I love you.”

Hake picked the young girl up walked back to the foot of the pier, put her down beside Ulyana and repeated the kiss on Ulyana’s cheek, again out of respect.

The woman and the girl remained standing holding hands at the foot of the pier as Hake walked with his altered gait back to the head of the pier, climbed down the ladder, sat at the stern of the skiff, released the lines, and motored back to the steamer. The two remained as they watched Hake, barely visible now, climb the accommodation ladder, turn and wave at the gunnel as one long blast screamed from the ship’s whistle.

Then as the accommodation ladder was raised, the anchor came out of the water and was stowed in the hawse pipe as the ship began a slow turn before moving out to the channel and disappeared in the misty fog of the open sea.