As the USS Hollister (DD 788) began her preparations for the six-month (supposedly) overhaul to begin in September 1974, which was eventually awarded to Todd Shipyards in Long Beach, my Master Chief Boiler Tender and i went down to the firerooms (Man, i can’t believe i cannot remember his name: we spent many hours together, and he saved my bacon more than once. He was also the only chief in the deep holes, firerooms and engine rooms after the ship went to the reserves. i’ll finally either remember or find his name and add it here. He was a great chief.

The Pre-Overhaul Test and Inspection (POT&I) team from the Surface Forces, Pacific would be coming on board soon to test critical equipment in the engineering plant and throughout the ship.

The master chief and i went down into the forward fireroom to the forced draft blowers, huge blowers that sent a lot of air into the boilers. There were two blowers for each boiler, four in the forward fireroom and four in the after fireroom. The master chief went to the first one, pulled a nickel out of his pocket and placed it, standing on end, on the top of the blower. He yelled for the duty BT to turn on the blower. It revved up and ran for a couple of minutes. The BTCM proceeded to the rest of the blowers in the forward fireroom, and i accompanied him as we repeated the process in the after fireroom. If the nickel fell down, the master chief proclaimed that the blower would need an overhaul. When we completed the master chief’s tests. He announced that three of the eight blowers needed an overhaul and the other five were fine with regular maintenance.

About a month later, the POT&I team came aboard. They went to the firerooms and hooked up a whole bunch of expensive and sophisticated electronic equipment with wires and meters and lord knows what else to the blowers. They ran their tests and about a month later, they sent us the results. Their tests, Lord knows how much they cost, revealed three of the forced draft blowers needed an overhaul but the other five did not. They were exactly what the master chief had determined with his nickel.

i have been quiet for a while on my sea stories. There are numerous reasons/excuses, but i’m 81 and working on what i want to do for the rest of my life. One thing i will continue to do is write. So, let’s get to it.

In the late spring of 1974, Commander George Phelps soon would be relieved in a change of command ceremony aboard the USS Hollister (DD 788) in Long Beach. The outgoing captain, XO, and department heads considered what the options were if it rained. The weapons officer suggested that we move the ceremony from the 01 deck (with attendees in folding chairs on the pier) to the reserve armory about 3/4 of a mile away. The captain asked how were we going to get the crew there.

The weapons officer replied, “We’ll march the crew there, sir.”

At that, the captain, the XO, the Ops officer, and yours truly, the chief engineer, fell out of our chairs laughing at the idea of such a debacle.

The discussion reminded me of a story from one of my best golfing buddies, Marty Linville. Marty, an Army major who was awarded the Silver Star for his actions as an artillery officer in Viet Nam, was stationed at the Naval Amphibious School primarily as the director of the Navy’s gunfire support range on San Clemente Island.

During a rare command personnel inspection, Marty was in charge of the gunfire support personnel. He was having them take position for the inspection as was about to give them the command “dress right, dress,” but had second thoughts. He called his master chief petty officer to the front to consult.

“Master Chief, what should I expect if i order the troops to “dress right dress?”

Without hesitation, the master chief replied, “Chaos, sir; absolute chaos.”