It was time for me to learn…and i did. Oh, did i learn, but most of it was not what was the learning objectives the Navy had in mind.

Of the 18 midshipmen from a mixture of good college programs, most of us were more focused on good times. i, to be honest, didn’t have a clue.

The first department to which i was assigned was Operations. CIC was fun. Tracking contacts on the radar, learning how to determine maneuvering board solutions for contacts’ Closest Point of Approach (CPA), and working out maneuvers of our ship getting where it should for formation steaming was not work. It was flat fun. Learning how to stand behind the glass status boards and writing backwards was almost a game.

i loved my time on the signal bridge with the signalmen. Being midshipmen and therefore unwisely undaunted by regulations, the evening (2000-2400), mid (0000-0400) and morning (0400-0800) watches often found me and my middie buddies climbing into the signal flags basket, a canvas bag about six by four feet that held the signal flags, most of which were about two-feet square, hung on rods at the top of the bags. It was a dank but fairly comfortable place to sleep even if was against all watching standing regulations.

Before we reached our first first liberty port, i was reassigned to Weapons Department. Nearly all of my time there was uneventful. The best part for me was standing lookout on the bridge wings, especially in the night watches. The dark, deep hole of after-steering was the most joyless watch i think i ever stood.

Just before we reached our first liberty port, we finally rendezvoused with the other ships and were close enough for the destroyer that had my seabag refueled from the oiler and in the process transferred it by hi-line. When we then came along the oiler for fuel, my seabag came across by hi-line. i think i hugged it. i was not infatuated with those camel leather boots and was glad to return them.

Finally, we reached Sydney, Nova Scotia as the summer rolled into July. All of the other ships continued east about 250 miles to Halifax. This is where i learned about the old Navy. By the time i reported to my first ship as an ensign, quite a bit had changed.

The big event was Canadian Independence Day on July 1st. It was a Monday, and the Sydney folks had a great day. i was one of the six midshipmen assigned to be escorts to six young women who were the hostesses of the parade. It was a fine moment. Think of a small town July 4th parade in a small town and you’ve got a pretty good idea of what it was like. We dressed up in summer dress whites and made picture-perfect escorts.

Being a midshipman didn’t make much of a splash with the young lady i escorted. After the parade, i and several of my middie buddies headed to the nearest bar and called, “Mabel, Black Label,” the commercial ditty for Carling’s biggest selling beer at the time. One of us had gone elsewhere, met a girl who introduced us to several more Canadian lasses that evening. We spent the bulk of the remaining liberty running around with these ladies. That, of course, was truncated as we stood a 24-hour watch every third day. Our liberty expired at 0100.

On the penultimate day in our first port, we conspired to have more time with those ladies. One of our first-class midshipmen would be standing the mid-watch as Officer of the Deck (OOD) on the quarterdeck. He agreed to our not returning on time and not reporting us for UA. We planned to come back to the ship around 0230 to 0300. Off we went. The captain had been the CO of a submarine and disdained running with the wardroom. When he went on liberty, he would go with a bunch of chiefs. He too took off with his CPO buddies.

It was a Friday night. The town held its usual weekend dances in the dance hall in the middle of town. Sailors being sailors made a beeline to the dance hall after a day of a lot of calling out Mabel for Black Label. The CO and his chiefs had found a cozy bar on the edge of town to toss ’em down, although i expect the fare was whiskey and gin, not many Black Labels. We were in a nice home outside of the city proper, actually having a quiet, nice, evening with our new lady friends.

Then, hell broke loose, maybe not all hell, but it apparently was close. The local boys did not appreciate the sailors making runs on their women at the dance hall. It became tense and got worse. Finally, a sailor and a town boy threw some punches. It quickly escalated into a brawl and got worse. Soon, all downtown was a brawl, nasty. The local police attempted to quell it, but unsuccessfully. The ship and the town declared Lloyd Thomas’s liberty was cancelled. All liberty.

The midshipmen on their lark and the captain and his buddies were blissfully unaware.

We actually called off our soiree a bit early, returning to the ship around 0200. To our dismay, our conniving abettor no longer was the OOD. The executive officer, in the absence of the commanding officer had replaced the middie with a lieutenant department head to have an experienced officer in charge.

We were caught. Unauthorized Absence (UA). The XO was livid and made sure we were put on report. Even today, i wonder how he was dealing with his boss still not back, location unknown.

Several of us decided to stick around on the main deck as sailors were still straggling back from the town-wide brawl. We were amazed as the steady stream of sailors came across the quarterdeck, every one of them with some evidence of a fight. Our favorite was a third class petty officer. He stumbled across the brow using the hand rails to keep him upright. He reported to the quarterdeck, was written up, and proceeded aft to his berthing. We stopped him, actually because we were worried about him. He was in his sock feet. His face was bludgeoned. His uniform was bloody, muddy, and his white blouse was ripped to shreds. In addition to his shoes, he had lost his dixie cup and his navy blue scarf. We asked him if he was all right and asked how he fared in his fights.

His reply: “I came back, didn’t I?” He turned and headed for his rack with no further comment.

Thinking we had reached the zenith of entertainment, we started to disburse when two cabs pulled up to the brow. The captain and five chiefs piled out of the cab. The stumbling chiefs were holding their CO up as the they reeled across the brow. The XO frantically tried to convey the seriousness of what had happened. The captain, rolled his eyes when the XO told him all liberty had been cancelled.

“Bullshit,” the CO resisted. “Liberty for all hands!”

The exec, realizing this was not a good place for further discussion, had the chiefs escort the CO to his in-port cabin, and rescinded the edict resuming liberty.

The next morning, many hung over bodies, including the captain, set sea detail. i was on a detail with first division on the forecastle. The ship got underway and began to navigate out of the narrow channel. A medium size Japanese fishing vessel was anchored on the edge of the channel. i do not know what happened, but some conning errors occurred, and the Thomas veered toward the craft. The crew was on the weather decks, many eating their breakfast, when they realized the destroyer was headed for them. i watched in amazement as the big ship sideswiped the smaller fishing vessel. The vessel’s crew scrambled. Chopsticks were flying. Many of the crew ran to the port side and abandoned ship with an assortment of dives and jumps.

i was not into international law, international relations, any news that did not involve sports, not to mention we were on our way out to sea for another month or more. So, i don’t know what happened to the collision aftermath except for our ship, it was very minor. Nor do i know what were the ramifications, but i do know that captain remained there for the duration of our cruise.

It was a different world and a different Navy.

“For those of you, probably a very few, to relate: “The Adventures of Remo Williams” continues.

The continuation of Chapter 2:

i assumed i was over the hump with the hijinks of the sailors dealt to midshipmen. It was not over that day and would not be for almost half the cruise.

When the Lloyd Thomas cleared the bay, we and the other ships headed south. i’m guessing there was an exercise for the USS Intrepid (CV 11) flotilla requiring going south. i did not know at the time, and the concern was far from my mind, at the time, but our first liberty port would be in Nova Scotia about three weeks away.

The efforts to find me some clothes would not reach fruition until the next day. i was stuck in my service dress khaki worn for over 72 hours, sweaty, smelly. i had taken off the cover, tie, and blouse, but it was still bad.

i went to the organization meeting for midshipmen and was assigned to operations for my first department. The midshipmen were to spend time in operations, weapons, and engineering during their cruise. i went down and aft to the midshipmen berthing, and while the other middies were emptying in their seabags in their small lockers below the three-tiered racks (beds) i was depositing my discarded blouse, cover and tie in mine.

i had the lower rack of three one row off the centerline. For those who weren’t on Navy ships in the 1960’s, the racks were aluminum frames not quite three-feet wide and about six feet, six inches long. A piece of canvas had grommets where hemp 1/2 inch lines went through and laced the canvas to the frame. the bedding was about a 2-1/2 inch straw mattress with a sheet bag. A sheet, pillow with case, and a tan or grey wool blanket completed the bedding. The canvas sagged enough, especially if the middie above was large, enough where one could not roll over. If one wish to switch positions, rolling over was impossible. You had to get out of the rack and crawl back into the desired new position.

It was time for the evening mess on the mess decks. The mess decks were forward on the first deck. One entered into the chow line, cafeteria style, collected the fare on a metal tray and found a seat on the metal table and chairs. This first mess at sea, perhaps because the midshipmen were there was a bit different than most of the menus. The fare was greasy pork chops, pork and means, and mashed potatoes. i i’m sure there was more items but i don’t recall.

What i do recall is after all the middies had gone through the chow line and found a place to sit, we were treated to a parade. About a half dozen sailors had assembled somewhere near the chow line and handed out sardines from a can. About four sailors tied the sardines onto a string. Then, they paraded through the mess decks making sure the midshipmen were watching. They held the sardines above their heads, dropped them into their mouths, swallowed and announced the sardines were much better the second time around. Then they would pull the sardines out on the string and continued the process as they strolled my the mess deck tables where the middies sat.

Once again, a large numbers of midshipmen lost it and headed for the weather decks or barf bags. Perhaps my aroma was like an invisible shield. The act did not disturb me. Shortly after the mess, i went back to my rack. i was scheduled for the mid-watch (0000-0400). It had been one hell of a day.

It was not over.

About 2315 (11:15 pm for landlubbers), the messenger of the watch roamed through the midshipmen berthing, awaking those who were to go on watch. That meant me. i put back on the stinky uniform, and headed for midrats on the mess decks. The midrats (or midnight rations for those going on the midwatch) consisted of greasy grilled cheese sandwiches and coffee.

i gulped mine down and headed to CIC to arrive in time to relieve the watch at 2345. Unknown to this greenhorn, sitting on a ship facing forward or aft was the worst for dealing with the sea rolls. Of course, the radarmen on watch sat me on one of the view radar repeaters facing forward, not toward port or starboard.

Combat Information Center was always at darken ship with only red lighting to retain night vision and have clear vision for watching the radar repeaters. The repeaters were dark, machinery grey, four-foot high, 2 1/2 feet cubes with a dark green circular screen on top. The radar sweep emanated from the center and swept around the circle. If blips occurred on the screen, they were “contacts,” surface ships. i was determined to do a good job and sat focused on the screen.

By this time, we were off Cape Hatteras. i learned later that the sea around the cape was the worst for bad seas. It certainly was that night. We were taking on some serious rolls. i felt a bit queasy.

That’s when the radarmen decided to achieve their goal of getting me sea sick. They all lit up cigars and walked by my station, blowing the smoke into my face as they gave me instructions on what to watch.

It was 0100 in the morning. i smelled to high heaven in clothes i had worn for three days in hot weather. i was rolling with the ship in a dark warm space after being subjected to fake barf and sardine swallowing and re-swallowing.

And finally, i was beginning to feel sick, sea sick. i could feel the need to vomit swelling up. i could feel my innards coming up. And then, i told myself i was not going to give these guys the pleasure of me succumbing to their efforts.

i swallowed whatever was coming up, and and stared at the radar screen.

i did not get sea sick. i made it through the mid-watch. The next morning, the crew had assembled enough uniforms to give me something to wear until my seabag finally arrived. The one thing that stood out was the only available shoes were camel leather boots one sailor had bought during a visit to an Arabian liberty port in the Mediterranean. They had a distinctive odor about them, but that aroma was certainly tolerable after four days of smelling me.

i had passed big test. To this day, i am convinced my refusal to become sea sick has served me well. On ten ships, in some of the worst seas possible over 14 years of sea duty, i was never sea sick. i even cared for shipmates and cleaned up the mess they made.

And if you are going to become a mariner not getting sea sick is a wonderful thing.

i was then ready to learn about being a sailor, a crazy, mischievous sailor, but a sailor none the less.