All posts by Jim

A Tale of the Sea and Me: A New Kind of Adventure

We were a little of over two weeks before we were to get underway for a long time.

That’s when the Amphibious Squadron Staff decided an LST needed a first class boatswain mate more than me (i still scratch my head about that reasoning. So they transferred my most experienced first class boatswain mate to that LST. i was left with no ship’s bosun, one first class boatswain mate, and one boatswain mate chief with 15 years in, but who had been a Navy boxer with no significant experience as a boatswain mate other than passing promotion exams. He was a smart guy, a nice guy, BMC Justiani, but he was not in my department. He was the 3M supervisor (the Navy’s preventive maintenance program) for the ship.

A week before the departure date, the Beach Master’s Unit came aboard with its rather amazing amount of equipment, including LARCs, a truly amphibious vehicle that could be driven on land or water. Big honkers, too. They were 35 feet long with a ten-foot beam, weighing just shy of ten tons. The Cummins V8 engine provided 300 horse-power.

We ballasted down and the two LARCs with 19 men came aboard as soon as the well deck was dry. Their leader was CWO4 Boatswain Messenger. That was a blessed thing for me. Bosun Messenger became my advisor in nearly all things for this novice First Lieutenant. His first class boatswain mate, BM1 Stubbe, almost immediately began to help BM1 Hansborough in the deck department.

i breathed a bit easier.

On March 10, 1975, the USS Anchorage (LSD 36) got underway with the other ships of Amphibious Squadron Five, standing out of the San Diego channel headed for Pearl Harbor.

The transit was routine. We kept preparing for the normal ten-month deployment. After five days, we entered Pearl Harbor. i had been designated as the Sea Detail Officer of the Deck (OOD) and had the “deck” and the “conn” for my first entry into Hawaii. The duties, the maneuvering into the Naval Station with Ford Island on my left where the Arizona Memorial stood, remains one of the most awestruck emotions in my life.

i found Honolulu enchanting. It had yet to become the corporate tourist stop of the Islands. My focus was on my job. i did find my favorite spot for many years to come. i wandered off the primary streets and found a Chuck’s Steakhouse. It had a motif of a fishermen’s pub. i ordered a mai tai and then had the mahi mahi dinner with a chardonnay. It was like the perfect escape.

During the last few days, we loaded our Opportunity Lift (OPLIFT) cargo (when a ship deployed and had extra cargo space, various military commands and personnel could load gear and vehicles to go to various Western Pacific bases. Some of the cargo, like a few cars, were private. Most of the load was medical supplies. The penultimate day before we were to get underway, Commander in Chief, Pacific Fleet (CINCPACFLT) held a briefing for the Amphibious Staff and COs, XOs, and department heads of the squadron ships. We were told of possible exercises with allies, and some information on the status of the US/China/North Korea status. Nothing was mentioned of Vietnam.

And off we went. The seven ships of Amphibious Squadron Five were headed for the Naval base in Subic Bay, Luzon, Phillipines, the sailor’s closest thing to Fiddler’s Green. We would be relieving our sister ships of COMPHIBRON ONE. They would head back to their home port of San Diego. The seas of the Pacific were relatively calm, the steaming easy. Then, five days underway, the message came. OP Immediate (That meant do what the message said to do and do it in a hurry). Vietnam was about to fall to the Vietcong and North Korea. The two squadrons were to rendezvous off of Vung Tau, normally a resort city that was on the southern most tip of the Vietnam. Our mission was to participate in the evacuation of U.S. personnel and any dependents that were in country, as well as Vietnamese who had worked with the US during the conflict.

Except one ship was to steam independently elsewhere, the USS Anchorage. We were to head to Fukuoka, Japan and offload the large amount of OPLIFT we were carrying. From there, the Anchorage was to proceed to Numazu Bay and load the equipment for the Marine Amphibious Unit, which were onboard the other ships, and make haste to Vung Tau, offload the Marine equipment and supplies, and carry out orders for the evacuation.

This adventure was about to teach a brand new amphibious first lieutenant a thing or two.

Morgan Stern

Morgan Stern was lonely;
in the middle of his popularity,
he found he could not talk to anyone,
only listen.

Morgan Stern became tired of listening
without being able to talk
even though there were many folks
who wanted to talk to him,
not listen.

Morgan Stern left his big city,
walking nowhere in particular,
he walked long and far away
into the mountains where he found he
enjoyed listening.

Morgan Stern found a deserted cabin
on the mountain and moved in;
each morning, he could listen
to the birds and trees and hills,
even the mountain
to which he listened.

Morgan Stern discovered
he could talk to the mountain,
the birds, trees, even the wildlife
if he listened as well.

Morgan Stern in the evenings,
listened to the mountain;
he and the mountain talked in quiet tones,
listening to each other.

Morgan Stern even listened
to the quiet.

The Unknowns Haunt Me

Those who read these posts often should know i am into organizing and compressing photos and history. It is most probable it will never be complete. i like to claim the gigantic undertaking is for my grandson, daughters, nephews, and nieces. i’m not sure any of them will really be interested. i suspect all of this unfinished work will be tossed in a trash bin after i’m gone. That’s okay. i’m enjoying my rides through my family’s history.

But in these pages from albums of my mother and two aunts, loose formal photos, even a few tin types of relatives long past, most with some hand written identification from an ancient relative, i continue to find photographs here and there that have two things in common: the pictures are old and i do not know the folks in them.

The first one i came across about six years ago still haunts me. i thought my detective skills would lead me to names. As far as i know, there was only one family in our kin who had three daughters, and no sons. That would be the family of Uncle Jesse and Aunt Alice Jewell. Myrtle, Joanne, and Shirley were their daughters. Shirley was the youngest and baby sat me when i was around six and she was a teenager. The three were all beautiful in their own way and the two older sisters paid a lot of attention when Shirley took care of me in their home.

The front porch in the photograph looks like a farm house. Uncle Jesse definitely didn’t live on a farm when i knew him. They lived on Wilson Street (i think) in Lebanon, about two blocks east of the old high school football stadium.

Shirley was the fairest skinned of the three girls and her hair was lighter colored than Myrtle’s and Joanne’s. i thought i had the answer. i sent a copy of the picture to Joanne, the only surviving sister via her daughter Jamie in North Carolina. Jamie’s message back told me Joanne said that was definitely not a picture of her and her sisters.

Who are they? i find the photo even more enchantingly eerie. The bare feet on worn porch planks with the white laced dresses causes me to ponder if it was a Sunday, a special day in the family? If so, why are they barefoot? And i wonder. What did they grow up to be like? It appears they could have been beautiful as they grew.

Who are they?

Then, i found several more. i think that is all i will find. i have placed them all together in the front of the chronological albums i am organizing with the label “Unknown.”

There is one that is blurred and scratched from age. i guess it is also on a porch from the blanket backdrop and the floor wood. The boy looks as if he has a disability. The older girl looks pensive, the middle one quizzical. The infant in the foreground is blurred and seems mysterious to me.

Who are they? Once again, they are all in white. They are are in shoes unlike the photo of the three girls. The boots appear to make it an older photo but the older girl has on a wrist watch. The wrist watch was invented in 1810, but not worn by many folks, mostly nobles and rich, until the 1920s. So i wonder not only who are they but when was this taken.

Who are they?

Two infants are the subject of another two photos, old photos. They stare at me, seemingly wanting attention. Who are they? Where are they now? Are they still living? i yearn to know even though it is beyond unlikely i will ever find out who they are?

Finally, there is one that has me flummoxed: a goober. For the uninitiated, “goober” was the endearing derogatory nickname for boys who attended the Castle Heights Military Academy’s Junior School (grades 1-8). It also was a not so endearing derogatory nickname used for all cadets at the military prep school by the boys who attended the cross-town public high school.

The photo is undated, but the back has a stamped indicating it was taken in Jackson, Tennessee by Leeman Studios.

Who is this guy? Did his parents send him to Castle Heights because they thought it was the best education he could get or did he need more discipline than his parents could mete out? How did it end up in the photos of my relatives. Perhaps he was a friend of Maxwell Martin, my older cousin who went to Heights when he was in elementary school.

i do not know. It is only mine to ponder…and i will continue to ponder…until i look up from where i type this post on my laptop on the breakfast room table after devouring Maureen’s blueberry pancakes, bountiful fruit, and Tennessee Country Pride sausage, along with orange juice and coffee of course. While pondering, i see yet another hummingbird taking sips from the purple Mexican sage blooms outside the large breakfast room window. The butterfly reminds me old men shouldn’t ponder too long. i agree.

After all my brain hurts. It is time to for a good Sunday morning walk.