This is a revised version of a post i posted earlier but wish to include in in my posts about my time aboard USS Anchorage. As i have noted earlier, Art Wright was the best commanding officer under which i served.

Recognizing our penchant to get offended by just about anything, i want to preface this entry with my assessment i really am not prejudice against any race of people, especially the Japanese. Having spent some significant time there in the 1970’s, i found their culture and their customs wonderful. For those that don’t know, i was very close to becoming engaged to a beautiful Japanese woman when i did some really stupid things that ruined the relationship.

i also enjoy making fun and finding humor in many situations, even those that are embarrassing to me. So i hope everyone who reads this will take it as i intended: funny, not malicious, and certainly not racist.

It was in 1975 in Sasebo, Japan. I was a lieutenant in the billet of First Lieutenant on the USS Anchorage (LSD 36). The other officer was Commander Arthur St. Clair Wright, the commanding officer of the Anchorage. We had developed a bond through the constant relationship we had on the ship.

The first lieutenant on a landing ship dock is a spectacular job if you like to work. i was in charge of well deck operations, boat operations, flight operations, weapons, ammunition storage, cargo loads/unloads, troop embarkations and debarkations, all deck operations, and maintenance of all weather deck spaces. In addition, i was the sea detail and general quarters officer of the deck. i loved every minute of it.

Art was the three best commanding officers under whom i served. He was a Naval Academy graduate and had a great career at the time. He had a rich heritage in the Navy and Annapolis. He was robust; he was smart; and he thought out of the box. He had a previous tour in Sasebo, Japan as commanding officer of an ocean going minesweeper. During that tour, he immersed himself into the Japanese culture.

The Anchorage was in Sasebo for a month when a stern gate default required major maintenance.

There were three distinct party districts in Sasebo. There was “sailor town,” an area for Navy sailors, stuffed with small bars and diners, a red light district of high order. There was “merchant town,” a smaller but perhaps even rougher area for merchant seamen. Finally, there was “sake town,” the area with restaurants and nightclubs for the Japanese populace. Art always went to sake town. On several occasions, he took me to his favorite sushi bars, and to this day, my dining there, picking the fresh seafood off the ice in the glass cases and then watching the sushi chefs perform their magic carving, remains one of my all time best recollections of dining.

Art had been to sake town one evening when i had the on-board duty as command duty officer. The next morning when i had reported to his stateroom for some order of business, he interrupted me to tell me he and i were going out that night, that he had found a place he knew i would like.

That evening, he and i went to sake town. As the sun was setting, we ate at one of those wonderful sushi bars. Then we walked to the real night life section where there were themed bars and entertainment venues. Next to one night club where the exterior resembled the fuselage of a 747, were stairs up to a second story establishment. As we walked up the stairs, a man dressed in a Japanese sailor uniform announced us “on board” with a bullhorn. Entering, we found the place to resemble the interior compartment of a ship complete with portholes looking out. There were about twenty tables toward the back, full of Japanese couples. The waitresses, including the bartenders wore mini-skirt versions of Japanese sailor outfits.

We sat at the bar and ordered our favorite Kirin Beer.

Art could drink beer, and he did not like to wait in between them. So he would order two, put one in his back pocket and drink the other. When through with the first one, he would order another, pull the second one out of his pocket. When the next beer arrived, he would put it in his back pocket and repeat the process. We were on our second beers, when Art directed me to look behind me.

There was a photography area set up with several sliding panels for backgrounds. They included a WWII Japanese zero, a Japanese tank, and one where it appeared you were standing on the bow of a Japanese battleship. To the side was a rack of clothes. Each was a different uniform of the military services the Japanese wore during World War II. i loved it. Art and i decided we would get the Anchorage officers to come down and everyone get their photos taken in one of those uniforms behind one of those backdrops. Then we would hang those photos in the wardroom.

As we returned to our beers, an older Japanese man and his date sat down next to me. He introduced himself to me. He told me he owned a tailor shop at the beginning of the large downtown mall. I realized it was the shop where i had a suit, sports coat, and a wool “camel hair” overcoat tailored for me five years earlier. We had a nice conversation about our past meeting.

As we were talking, the bartenders had put some marching band music records on the stereo. All of the Japanese patrons began singing boisterously and waving their arms to the tempo of the music. i asked my new friend what was the music about.

“They are spirit songs,” he answered.

“Spirit songs,” i questioned, “What are they.”

“They are the songs we sang and our sailors, pilots, and soldiers sang as they prepared for battle.”

Interested, but a bit wary since Art and i were the only Americans in the place, i decided to not pursue that subject.

Art and i returned to our Kirins.

My new friend leaned over to me and spoke again. “You know, my brother was a kamikaze pilot during the war.”

“Really!” i responded, not exactly, knowing how to react, but curious.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “But he lived through it.”

“What?” Art, overhearing the conversation, “What did you say?”

My friend repeated, “My brother was a kamikaze pilot during the war, but he lived through it.”

Art stared at his beer, contemplating for a second or two, then replied.

“Must not have been a very good one.”

The patrons stopped singing. We quickly paid our bill and left.

We never did take the wardroom back for those pictures.

i have not posted many sea stories lately, especially under the banner of “A Tale of the Sea and Me.” The reason is not writer’s block. i think it comes from a blank space in my old memories.

ii find this odd in that being first lieutenant on the USS Anchorage was not just the best tour i had in the Navy but the best job i’ve ever had. If i had to choose something i could have done for a job all of my life, it would be first lieutenant on an Landing Ship Dock (LSD), preferably that USS Anchorage.

i believe i have explained why that tour was so great aboard Anchorage and will not repeat that here.

For some reason, saved letters, ship logs, memorabilia and an old man’s memories have a blank period for my time aboard Anchorage in that deployment from when we left Manila and when the captain was relieved somewhere in the East China Sea.

In my 15 years of a 22-year career as a Naval Officer and aboard twelve ships, i served under sixteen commanding officers and two squadron commanders. Of those sixteen COs, one was a screamer. Seven of those COs were okay but had some faults in the way they handled command at sea. Ten of my COs were superb (i think this is pretty accurate since in my last Navy tour, i facilitated a seminar featuring a study of the best traits for an outstanding commanding officer).

In my assessment, the best commanding officer under whom i served was Commander Arthur St. Clair Wright (he retired as a Captain). Art was one of the best shiphandlers as a commanding officer. CAPT Max Lasell on the Hawkins, CDR Richard Butts on the Luce, and CAPT David Rogers on the Okinawa were superb shiphandlers as well, but Art Wright was superior.

Art, as CO of the Anchorage, was even tempered, extremely knowledgable about all aspects of a Navy ship as will as the way the Navy system worked. He motivated his officers and crew to excel, and he wanted them to enjoy themselves both on board and on liberty. Examples of that will follow.

That Anchorage deployment in 1975 was hyperactive in operations. About the first third was under the command of CDR Lou Aldana. i believe it was off Okinawa when his relief, CDR Wright, came aboard.

That is the moment that is indelible in my mind. One of the Beachmaster’s unit LARCs went into port and transported the relieving CO back to the ship. i was standing on the stern on the port wing wall with BM1 Hansborough, my well deck master. The stern gate was down to receive the LARC into the well deck. As the LARC made a starboard turn to head into the well deck, we watched the incoming CO toss an empty beer can over the side. It was a classic entry for a new commanding officer. i thought, “This is going to be interesting.

i was right. The man, Art Wright, was an incredible experience and made my first lieutenant tour the best.

i intend to post more sea stories frequently.

i have been embroiled in a bunch of old man difficulties and thusly, have been absent for a while. i will attempt to be more active now.

We received the orders from Commander, Seventh Fleet. Our short timers’ chains were beginning to look small. We had long rid ourselves of the mid-cruise blues – For some inexplicable reason, this was the last time i experienced the malady. The scourge had been prominent in earlier deployments, but this one been rougher. Fortunately, i was no longer wallowing in feeling sorry for myself being away from my wife and daughter.

Another sign came that our time to start home came in a radio message. Anchorage was in Sasebo, Japan, undergoing repairs to our stern gate at the Navy base. Our two-week Repair Availibility had been extended from ten days to almost a month, an annoying period as our operations for the deployment had been non-stop, chaotic, successful, and fun. With a couple of days remaining, the radio message ordered us to make a stop at Keelung, Taiwan and load a 105-ton fueling sea buoy to take back to San Diego as “opportune lift.”

The CO (one of the best i had), CDR Art Wright, and i read the message together and immediately fired off a message to the command in Keelung, with copies to the chain of command. We requested schematics of the beast in order to stow it properly in the well deck for the transit across the Pacific. It took a month for the schematics to get there. i spread the schematics across a table in the Deck office, and immediately took them to the captain.

The schematics showed a pipe three feet in diameter extending about four feet from the center of the bottom of the buoy. We sent another radio message to the Keelung command. They came back noting that there was no pipe currently extending from the buoy. We asked them to confirm. By now, we knew the coordinator of the project was a LCDR Supply Officer. He replied he had been to the site where the buoy was stored and stated there was no pipe and  attached several photos. However, we could not discern from the photos that the pipe was gone. After one more query to the supply officer, we accepted his statement that the buoy had a flat bottom.

This was in 1975. Nixon was sending Kissinger to Beijing. As they always do, the state department did not want to antagonize the country with whom they were negotiating. So, they ordered all Navy ships to not go into Taiwan or get close.

Problem: Commander, Seventh Fleet, was not thrilled that the sea buoy was not going to get back to the states. Radio messages to only Naval commands, specifically from Seventh Fleet to USS Anchorage, with “info to” all commands in our chain. Anchorage would sail into Keelung just after dawn, load the sea buoy and leave as quickly as possible. CDR Wright, the Beachmaster Bosun, Joe Messenger, and i estimated it would take about four hours.

So, USS Anchorage, in defiance of the State Department’s edict, stood into Keelung Harbor, Saturday, October 25 after first light. It was a sunny day and the harbor was calm. We moored at the quay wall after entering the harbor, ballasted down, filling the well deck, and launching the two LARCs (Lighter, Amphibious Resupply, Cargo) craft – Beachmaster units, which were normally on LSDs like the Anchorage and used to support amphibious beach landings.

The LARCs with Bosun Messenger leading, went to where the sea buoy had been transported and lowered into the bay. The Beachmasters tied off the buoy between the two LARCs, and brought it back to the ship. They moved it to the front of one LARC and pushed it to the forward end of the well deck. The LARC held the buoy in place as we ballasted up with the water receding from the well deck.

It all looked good as the water receded. i reported to the captain on my sound powered phones. My reports were all good…until the water level was just under four feet. The sea buoy began to tilt around. From the forward well deck under the mezzanine deck, Hansborough and i looked at each other with troubled in our eyes. i asked ballast control to slowly continue to ballast up. More of the buoy’s bottom was revealed.

Hansborough and i crouched low. Both of us saw the protruding pipe that wasn’t supposed to be there according to that supply lieutenant commander was definitely there.

i notified the captain and asked Ballast control to ballast down and float the buoy, When the buoy floated, the Beachmasters moved it out and secured it to the quay wall aft of us.

Now, we had a real problem. i asked if we could ask the lieutenant commander why the protruding pipe was still there. i was informed that guy had showed up with a date, and when the buoy began to tilt, he left and could not be reached.

CDR Art Wright called a conference in the wardroom for everyone who might contribute to solving the problem, including the head of the Navy’s office in Keelung. He told us there was a shop in downtown Keelung which might be able to create blocks to support the buoy. Our supply officer, the Keelung US Navy representative, and i went out into town, looking for a place that might be able to provide us some blocks to support the sea buoy.

The problem was complicated by that day being a Chinese holiday. Nearly all places were closed, but the Navy’s Keelung representative found a place open that might provide us the needed blocks. Our contingent went. Everyone else was negotating with the manager of this place. i wandered off and began walking around this rather unusual shop. i walked out to their open space. All sorts of rather incredible wood products and art work was in this large outdoor area. Against the fence bordering the property were two tree trunks, huge, at least six feet in diameter and well over thirty feet long.

The negotations  were not going well. The manager and our folks could not come up with a solution.

i interupted to tell of my amazement at those two logs out in the back yard. The negotiators seemed surprised by my observation.  The discussions became more energized. Our guys, SUPPO and the interpreter asked if they could cut those trunks into five-foot blocks. The Taiwanese shop owners replied they could and were excited. They did not have any idea what they were going to do with those trunks that took up a large amount of space in their outdoor storage yard. This would greatly relieve that problem for them.

The negotiations went quickly after that. Demensions were determined. The price, relatively inexpensive for such a large amount of wood cuts, was agreed upon. And the deal was done. The shop would deliver the blocks by truck early the next morning.

When we returned, CDR Wright was appreciative. He had instructed the XO to grant liberty in the local area to conclude at 2200.

We had a meeting in the wardroom with the XO, the Damage Control Assistant and his leading chief Hull Technician, the Engineer and his ballast control team, Bosun Messenger and BM1 Stubbe of the Beachmasters unit, and BM1 Hansborough and me. We went over the plans for securing the sea buyoy and the blocks, including welding shoring to the well deck bulkheads and the buoy. Satisfied, we ended the meeting. 

After the evening mess, CDR Wright and i went ashore to a bar located on the waterfront for a beer.

There were about twenty or so Anchorage sailors there, enjoying an unexpected night of liberty. They cheered us as heroes. They had one last night of liberty in Taiwan.

The captain and i had a beer with the boys and headed back to the ship.

Early next morning, two flat-bed trucks arrived on the quay wall with the four wooden blocks cut from the tree trunks i saw in the outdoor yard of the shop. Cranes lifted them aboard and placed them on the starboard side of the well deck just aft of where the ramp from the mezzanine deck ended. 

Once again, the beachmasters used their LARCs to position the buoy. This time it was over the blocks, just like the previous disaster, but this time the four blocks were beneath the buoy. It was like the drydocking of a ship in drydock. The LARCs departed and the well deck was drained slowly. Hansborough and i were again forward kneeling down, sound powered phones talking to the bridge, watching. The buoy settled on the blocks, and the damnable pipe was about a half foot from the deck. Perfect.

The hull technicians under guidance of the damage control assistant welded telescoping metal shoring to the sea buoy and to each side of the well deck. It was stable.

Anchorage re-loaded the LARCS beside the LCU and LCM8s. We closed the stern gate, set the sea detail, and proceeded to stand out of Keelung’s harbor. As far as i know, the State Department, Kissinger, nor President Nixon ever learned of our sneaking into Taiwan.

As we got underway, i relaxed. “Good job, done,” i thought. i was relieved as Sea Detail OOD, and went down to my office to write the on-load report and other paperwork piling up in my inbox. i stood the second dog (1800-2000) bridge watch as OOD. Towards the end of the watch, the seas were worsening. Reports indicated we could experience a sea state of four through the morning. Art Wright called me over to his captain’s chair on the starboard side.

“Jim,” the captain began, “i am very concerned about the stability of that jury rig on the sea buoy, especially with the seas we are expecting to run into through the night.

“i want you to take station down there with a sound-powered phone to the bridge.

“If you see anything that seems unstable, call the bridge. Due to the weather, i will be on the bridge all night. We will figure out how to deal with it, but we need that early warning.”

i, of course, replied, “Aye, aye, Sir.”

i went back to my stateroom and slept for about two hours. i awoke around 2000, put on my working khakis, and reported to the bridge. i told the captain i was headed for the well deck, grabbed a folding chair, and headed for the well deck.

There i sat, from about 2100 (9:00 p.m.) until 0600 (6:00 a.m.) babysitting a 109-ton behemoth refueling sea buoy, which was sitting on blocks of Taiwanese wood secured to our wing walls by metal shoring. As the seas worsened, it or the shoring groaned alot, and it seemed the buoy moved slightly a bunch of times, but resumed its original position.

My “sea buoy watch” ended with no significant problems other than this first lieutenant sitting in a folding chair wondering what the hell i was going to do if the thing broke loss and rolled around the well deck.

It didn’t.

i was glad.