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.

There are many sea stories i’ve heard from others. i’m sure other Naval officers and enlisted, both while active, retired, or a veteran have heard plenty more. i’ve thought of several of these sea stories while i was writing my last post. Since i was ASW Officer on the Hawkins (DD 873) and the USS Stephen B. Luce (DLG 7) i’ve remembered a number of such stories about the nuclear capable Anti-Submarine Rockets (ASROCs), of which i was in charge on both of those ships.

Good (and old) Navy vets are in a Facebook group called US Navy Gearing Class Destroyers and several more in another group , USS Hawkins DD/DDR873 Association, responded to my question about the below tale actually happening. Many had some accounts i’ve heard and several i had not. I learned quite a bit about incidents that occurred with ASROCs. Phil Wilcox, Jim Bailey, Phillip R. Siebenaler, Dave Tomski, John Silcox, Rolland Garber, Tomas W. Vieth, Brian Rhodes, Joseph Markowski, Thomas Andruskevich, Stephen Clifford and Jim Parker, all added to my knowledge.

Rolland Garber provided the evidence to allow me to tell the tale enough to relate it here. And Jim Bailey corrected me in calling the missile containers “caskets.” Sailors actually called them “coffins.”

Thanks to Rolland, Jim, and all of the others for their input.

In 1961 in the Navy’s base in Mayport, Florida, the USS Meredith (DD 890) was nested with the USS Noa (DD 841), and the USS Stribling (DD 867). An ASROC booster in the Meredith’s launcher lit off, most likely due to the hot weather. It was duly reported as required, i am assuming as a “Broken Spear.” i do not know if it was a conventional or nuclear warhead because i cannot confirm or deny due to my oath of silence, not to mention i don’t know what weapons Meredith had on board.

i do know tugs came alongside, “ripped” the destroyer from the pier and took her to sea where the fire was put out. Incident over…but not quite.

The containers that held the ASROCs before they were loaded in the launcher looked like something you would lower into the ground at a funeral. Therefore, sailors called them “coffins.” News media learned of a problem and sent journalists to the base gate. Security would not allow them onto the base. They waited anxiously for any news when two sailors exited the gate on their way to liberty. The journalists began pelting them with questions. Not being on a ship that was involved, the sailors said they didn’t know what happened, but they heard they had brought several coffins aboard the Meredith. The evening news ran stories about possible deaths involving weapons occurred on a Navy ship earlier that day.

i don’t know if this was corrected by the deadline for the morning newspapers. But throughout my days of journalism, i remembered that story and made sure i had my facts write when writing a news story.