The Hawkins (DD 873) returned to Mayport in mid-Spring 1969. My short lived and ill-thought out marriage, mea culpa, was officially over when i received the court filing. i was single again with a wonderful second floor apartment that looked directly across Easton Bay at The Breakers in glorious Newport.

Andrew Nemethy, Rob Dewitt and i went to many of the high points of the wonderful seaport town. Frequently, they were The Tavern, now gone, the space now occupied by a real estate office (sad), and The Black Pearl, which has grown and changed from its original purpose to serve as a pub for the guy who owned the two-masted schooner with that name docked on Bannister’s Wharf . And Mac’s Clam Shack on Thames next to a sailboat yard, which could deposit grit from the sandblasting into your stuffed quahogs, a most wonderful delight, before you played on one the first pong video machines.

But i was ready to meet someone that didn’t look like a sailor or Naval officer. i remembered the Salve Regina coed, my OCS roommate, Doc Jarden had invited to the dinner at my apartment before he went back to Norfolk and i went to Yorktown. But i could not remember her name. i just remembered what a delightful young woman she was and what a great laugh she had. i did recall the funny nickname given to her by Doc: “Kathy the Drunk.”

i looked up the phone numbers of each floor of the dorms at Salve Regina. i called two of them and asked if there was anyone there with the nickname of Kathy the Drunk. Neither produced any positive results. On the third call i made to a dorm floor phone and asked again, the young woman who answered gasped, laughed out loud, and shouted, “Kathy, someone on the phone wants to talk to Kathy the Drunk.

Mystery solved. Her name is Kathy McMahon from Providence, Rhode Island. And thus began a marvelous relationship that continues today. Although there were a couple of times she had just a bit too much to drink, she definitely wasn’t a drunk but a serious student and delightful.

Kathy was a waitress at the Black Pearl, which meant i would go there even more. There, i once very quickly met and said hello to Frank Sinatra, who had gone a day sail with the owner of the two-masted schooner and the restaurant. i listened to Jody who dressed in a black and white sailor’s shirt, sang folk songs and was accompanied by the resident parrot. i also saw Count Basie’s drummer, who played solo gigs there for a week after the Newport Jazz Festival.

It was a glorious spring and summer while it lasted.

Another sea story was included. i was one of the four command duty officers on the Hawkins. The other three were department heads. Every fourth day, i stood the 24-hour duty with my section. We came up a neat plan, i thought. We asked Kathy, Irene and one or two other Salve Regina coeds to have dinner on board in the wardroom. Since i could not leave the ship, being responsible to the CO and XO for what happened while they were ashore, Ensign Chuck Miller and one of our other officers drove across town, picked them up, and brought them back to the Naval Station.

i was in the wardroom waiting, unaware i was about to be fooled. The quarterdeck Officer of the Deck, Miller, and i’m pretty sure LTJG’s Nemethy and Dewitt had something to do with the scheme. i was unaware the OOD turned off all of the outside speakers, something that is just not done. But that was part of the plan. As the party walked over the brow, the quarterdeck watch rang the ship’s bell two times and announced, “Kathy the Drunk, arriving” — The president and top two admiral ranks get 8 bells rung when coming on board a Navy ship; the lower admiral ranks, 07-8, get six bells; Navy captains and commanders get four bells; and officers lieutenant commander and below get two bells rung.

Not knowing the exterior speakers had been turned off, i went into panic. My Navy career was about to be shorter, and i could not imagine how many admirals and captains were going to chew my ass on my way out. The entourage came into the wardroom just as i was about to head to the quarterdeck. They all laughed and explained what they had one.

Then i laughed.

Much to my regret, as well as every officer and sailor on board, Hawkins changed homeport to Norfolk in July. My last six months aboard had sea stories of their own. Yet, there will always be a part of me in Newport.

Andrew Nemethy and i drove up to Boston that autumn to see Kathy and Irene (i think), who had a flat while attending Boston University. It was a wonderful weekend and i remember sitting on the stoop on a Sunday morning listening to the stereo someone had put on their window sill. Creedence Clearwater Revival was blasting “Willie and the Poor Boys” all over the block.

Kathy obtained her doctorate and is now Professor Emerita at the University of Miami, Ohio. She remains an incredible woman and she still has that laugh.

It was good to be alive.

USS Hawkins (DD 873) was certified and declared ready for full operations (April 1969). The only remaining limitation was no ammunition on board. Consequently, we headed south for something around 200 nautical miles, steaming through Chesapeake Bay and up the York River to Yorktown.

Loading a destroyer with a full load of ammunition is both hard labor and delicate. Almost the entire ship’s company lined up for transferring the ammunition from railroad cars loaded with small arms ammunition, five-inch shells and powder casings, grenades, and, of course, our torpedoes and anti-submarine rockets (ASROC) including perhaps some with nuclear payloads, which i cannot confirm or deny. The ASROCs and torpedoes came aboard on dollies, the ASROCs still in their containers, familiarly called “caskets” because of their shape. The other ammo was passed hand to hand from the railroad cars to the magazines on board. It was hard, hot, brutal work, but it was the only way.

Compared to the other ammunition, our anti-submarine arsenal seemed pretty easy, except for a few minor details.

We had to load 24 ASROC’s. eight in the launcher cells, and the other 16 in the torpedo/ASROC magazine, which was on the port side aft of the launcher. All were supposed to be loaded strictly by the approved procedure by using the new check sheets.

Loading one missile in the magazine racks by check sheet was about an hour procedure. This would take about 18-20 hours considering the “caskets” would have to be moved around before the next missile could be loaded.

Loading one of the rockets in its launcher cell, using the checksheets would take well over two hours, a total of at least 16 hours.

The kicker was the lone Nuclear Safety Officer, aka moi, was supposed to be leading each rocket being loaded, regardless if it was a nuclear weapon or not, another subtlety, i guess, in trying to fool the enemy wherever he might be hiding. In other words, the rockets were supposed to be loaded one by one, sequentially, not simultaneously.

That meant the load would take roughly 32 hours at a minimum. The Hawkins was scheduled to get underway at 0800 the next morning. Since we didn’t get started with the load until about 1000 that meant we somehow had to squeeze 32 hours of loading into 22 hours with no time to sleep, a very unsafe condition for loading weapons.

The LTJG Nuclear Safety Officer with the dual hat of Nuclear Weapons officer joined the CO and XO in the wardroom for a conference. We made the decision to require my presence for loading any nuclear weapons. If we had any, which i can not confirm nor deny, they were very few. For the nukes, if any, we would use the check sheets. For the non-nukes, we would use prudence and safety but load them as quickly as we could. We hoped the load would be completed by nightfall.

We began loading the magazine. When it obviously going smoothly, my GMT1 and i moved over to load the launcher. i think his name was Harris, but my memory is not that sharp, and i’m not sure. He saved my bacon a number of times. i am embarrassed i cannot recall his name.

The loader would have made Rube Goldberg proud. It was a conglomeration of gears and arms and stops and lord knows what else. We began loading one cell with the launcher when we heard a crunch. i’m thinking this doesn’t sound good. My GMT1 checked and found the pin in the latch that lined up the rail when the launcher and the loader had been manipulated to matching angles had broken. We lowered the ASROC being loaded into it’s “casket” and considered our bad situation.

Now, i can tell you then and even now, there are not a lot of ASROC loader latches in Yorktown, Virginia. After consultation with my GMT1, he said he could make it work. So, we loaded the eight ASROCS into the launcher while he stood underneath the loader to keep the rail aligned with the launcher cell (the rocket rode on the rail into the launcher cell). We did this for all eight cells. The GMT1 was the latch. He stood underneath with his arms up stretch to maintain the alignment for loading all eight missiles. We couldn’t have done it without him. i’m pretty sure he was tired with aching arms and shoulders the next morning.

Ship’s company had completed loading the five-inch shells and powder casings and all of the small arms ammunition around 1500 that afternoon. Our ASROC and torpedo magazine was completed shortly afterwards. We wrapped up getting the ASROCs into the launcher around 1700.

i am glad i had my ASROC Gunners Mate. And i am doubly glad no one saw how we did it.