Category Archives: Sea Stories

Fairly self explanatory, from what I can remember that is.

the old mariner

A Pocket of Resistance, Sea Stories

“ho, ahoy, ho.”
there was no response;
he shuffled up the hill to the zenith,
looked out on the world,
or
the small part of the world surrounding him
except
the Pacific to the west,
the vast sea where 
he had been a mariner,
a talker to the sea
on the oceans and the seas
aboard those ships in the harbor below,
those warrior women with 
armored visors, the bridge,
from which the talker peered out
to determine safe passage.

at the top of the hill, the talker stood,
no longer able to ride those waves:
restricted by infirmities of those talkers 
who lived to age;
from the pocket of his frayed pea coat,
he pulled out a boatswain pipe
attached to a white lanyard the bosun’s wife
had macramed;
the pipe on which
the bosun had taught him to pipe
and
then gave the pipe and lanyard to him
as the talker left his final ship.

the talker held the pipe in his right hand
with his index finger 
curved over the pipe’s “gun,”
put the pipe to his lips,
and
trilled “attention” to no one
for he was the only one to pause and listen.

the talker stood at attention, 
looking toward the horizon,
but
no ship appeared, not even “hull down;”
after a short while, he turned,
shuffling back down the hill
to never return again.

Op Lifts: A Big Adventure

Sea Stories

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.

A Tale of the Sea and Me: Oops

A Pocket of Resistance, Sea Stories

Hello again.

i’m back…just for awhile…i think.

i won’t go into details, but a bunch of things have occupied me and drained my energy to write.

Then at the beginning of the week, one of my favorite old stories popped into my mind (of course, all of my favorite stories are old). i do not know how JD Waits came up with this sea story. It is intriguing to speculate if it actually happened, which is certainly possible; if JD just made the whole thing up, again certainly possible; or if he heard it in another setting and turned it into a sea story. i’ll go with it actually occurring. JD was amazing.

i don’t know how many of you know Maureen, his wife Mary Lou, and i lost JD just shy of a year ago. His and my close relationship began in Perth, Australia aboard the USS Okinawa (LPH 10) in September 1981. i’ll stop there because the stories of JD and Jim, aka known as Jake and Elwood, the “Booze Brothers” is voluminous, way too long for this post. The photo is JD and me formally dressed as Jake and Elwood, the “Booze Brothers” at JD’s wedding. We wore all black like the “Blues Brothers” at USS Okinawa (LPH 10) wardroom parties.

♦︎♦︎♦︎

The sea story is about a Naval Aviator, a commander who was the commanding officer of a F14 squadron at Miramar back in the good ole days before the Navy gave the San Diego air station to the Marines. We will call him “Hal.”

His wardroom (officers) wanted to have a boys night out and asked Hal, the CO, to join them. Thinking this was a good opportunity to improve morale, Hal readily agreed. He told his wife of the social obligation and promised he wouldn’t stay out late. He left late in the afternoon and joined his officers at the bar in the base officer’s club (remember in the “Top Gun” scene).

As nearly always at Navy officer parties, the party lasted much longer than expected. The officers, along with Hal, left the club well oiled and hit a couple more of their favorite spots, aka bars.

The party finally wound down around 2:00 a.m., and the officers scattered. Hal drove home very concerned about how his wife would react to his very late arrival. As he drove, he developed a plan to at least placate his wife’s reaction. He realized she would have gone to bed at her usual 10:30 and would be asleep in their upstairs bedroom.

He had his plan. When he parked and reached the front door, he took off his shoes, quietly walked across the downstairs to the patio door. The plan was working.

However, the patio door was stuck, and he gave it a quick tug. It suddenly released and slammed into the other side of the door, making a large clang. It woke up his wife., Miriam. Hal heard her rushing across their bedroom, and down the hall. She was half way down the stairs, when she stopped.

Hal was standing sheepishly in the sliding door with his shoes dangling from his right hand.

Miriam yelled, “Hal, what in the world are you doing?”

Hal thinks he might still save it with a great explanation. “Honey,” he began, “I got home around 11:00, and didn’t want to disturb you.”

He could see her relaxing. Hal thought he might get out of it. He continued:

“So i’ve been sleeping in the hammock by the pool, and was coming back in to go to the bathroom. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Hal,” Miriam assumed her angry stance, “You took down that hammock six months ago.”

Hal stood cowed again and silent for a while. Then he replied:

“Well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

Two Stories of Best Friends

A Pocket of Resistance, Sea Stories

I met two of my best friends because after screwing around for a while, i made the Navy my real career. They were two of the best friends i could have possibly had. Now, they are gone. Both crossed that bridge last year. There are so many stories about both, i could write several books. Many of their escapades with me have been posted here. But several things in this last week have brought to mind these two stories.

JD Waits and i met in Perth, actually Fremantle, Australia in 1981 after i reported aboard the USS Okinawa (LPH 3). There are many stories i have posted here and many more to come about him or by him here.

One of the best is the one that came from my stumbling upon a find at a grocery store. It was in the early nineties. JD was the aviation maintenance officer for ASWWINGSPAC, an acronym i will not try to capture here. Due to a relief for cause of an aviation squadron (that, for non-Navy folks is not a good thing), JD was called upon to take the officer relieved as assistant maintenance officer on one of the carriers, i think it was the USS Constellation (CV 64) for a nine-month deployment to the Western Pacific (WESTPAC).

As they were preparing to get under way, i went to the Navy Commisary on the Naval Station to stock up in groceries for our family. In the back of the commissary, there was a freezer displaying a special. It was boxes of frozen “JD’s Fried Chicken.” The prominently displayed subtitle on the 6″x10″x3″ box read “Mostly White Meat.”

Perfect, i thought, and bought a box, presenting it to JD the next day. He laughed and took the gift. i’m guessing he cooked it before the deployment, but he told me he took the box with him and put it on the shelf above his desk in the maintenance shack. His maintenance division saw it and constantly made jokes about it, convinced it was a joke.

Now, after JD and i returned from our deployment on the USS Okinawa (LPH 3), we became close friends, share a condo in the Coronado Cays with a boat slip, we began to show up dressed as Jake and Elwood from “The Blues Brothers” Movie and named ourselves “The Booze Brothers.”

JD, in explaining the box, told his maintenance crew of his and my adventures as the Booze Brothers. The old sailors weren’t buying it, and it became sort of a running joke for the deployment. When his ship was returning to San Diego, JD’s wife, Mary Lou, was on family business in Virginia and unable to be there for the homecoming.

Our daughter Blythe was here from Austin during summer break. She helped me — actually did most of the real work — in creating a 3×5 foot sign. It read: “Welcome back, Jake. Elwood is cooking some JD’s Fried Chicken tonight for your Homecoming. It is mostly White Meat.”

JD was down in his maintenance office while the ship was mooring pierside at the North Island Naval Air Station. Blythe and i were in the crowd of dependents, loved ones, and friends of ship’s company on the pier. JD’s crew were standing in quarters on the flight deck when they spotted Blythe and i waving the sign. They ran down to the maintenance office and found JD.

They were hysterical, yelling “It’s true, it’s true. Elwood is on the pier waiting for you. His sign says he is fixing you JD’s Fried Chicken with Mostly White Meat tonight.

The Booze Brothers were a legend, but they and Blythe did not eat fried chicken that night.

◆◆◆

This week, our Thursday Morning golf group played Admiral Baker South. As we walked up the fourth fairway, i pointed out a pine tree to the right amidst a number of other threes to Karl Heinz, a retired SEAL captain, playing in our foursome.

“Karl, see that tall tree over there?” i asked, pointing. He nodded.

“That is part of our golf legends,” i said.

“Several years ago, Marty Linville and Pete Toennies were walking and i was riding with Jim Hileman. As usual, Marty, Jim, and i had bets going. i hit a slice that landed next to that tree.

“As we rode up to my ball, i explained to Jim, i was going to hit the ball just to left of the trunk with a draw, which after clearing the other trees should drop onto the green. Jim chuckled.

” I took a practice swing, took my stance and hit the ball. It went off to the right just enough to hit the trunk squarely, bounce back and hit me on my forehead just below the cap brim. It knocked me to the ground.

“i lay there holding my head. Jim asked me if i was okay. Pete hurried over.

“Marty walked by, looked at me on the ground and said”

“You know that’s a two-stroke penalty.”

i still laugh every time i go pass that tree.

A Tale of the Sea and Me: Adventures in Manila

Sea Stories

The remainder of the transit from Vung Tau to the Naval Station Subic Bay was uneventful. We anchored in Subic Bay mid-morning. It was the only time i had been on a ship at anchor there, but it looked like the entire Seventh Fleet was in the bay. i was glad we would be there only for several hours.

But there was business to take address. The CO, Lou Aldana, directed Rob Martin, CHENG, and me to take the captain’s gig to the squadron flagship to communicate with Pacific Fleet about boat supplies we needed for engineering and the our ship boats. We were directed to the pilot house to wait for access to the top secret crypto circuit. There were only the two of us on the bridge where a speaker for the circuit allowed us to overhear the caller in front of us.

i don’t remember his name but he was the amphibious commander for the evacuation. He was talking, er, listening to the guy on the other end of the phone. That guy was the commander in chief of the Pacific Fleet. Apparently, the amphib admiral had held a press conference and said something of which his boss did not approve.

It was the most classic chewing out rages i ever heard on any Navy radio circuit ever. It lasted almost ten minutes.

When it was concluded, the amphib admiral stepped out on the bridge en route to his cabin. Rob and i acted as if we had not heard a thing. We communicated with the necessary folks, got our parts expedited, and headed back to the Anchorage.

After all of the marine equipment and vehicles were offloaded, along with the two South Vietnames LCM-8s, Anchorage weighed anchor and got underway in the afternoon and anchored in Manila Bay the next day.

In a conversation with Mike Dixon last week, I recalled my dinner in Manila in 1975. I was First Lieutenant on the USS Anchorage (LSD 36). We reached Manila after our Pacific transit; operations in Iwakuni, Numazu, and Okinawa, Japan; a typhoon avoiding South China Sea transit; the evacuation of South Vietnam dubbed Frequent Wind; a return transit to Subic Bay Philippines for another offload; and finally liberty after more than two months at sea.

Note: this section is taken from a Democrat column written in 2014. Mike Dixon, a close friend and basketball, baseball playing buddy, walked over that bridge in 2021.

I was Command Duty Officer the first day, the most difficult duty in any port visit. The duty engineer and I had no more than a couple of hours of sleep between us when our liberty launch took us to shore mid-way through the second day.

Although tired, we were determined to have fun. In the hot and humid late afternoon, we wandered through downtown Manila. We eventually entered a respectable looking cafe. Our exterior assessment did not match the interior. It was a local disco.

Too tired and hungry to leave, we were escorted to a red imitation leather booth accompanied by a blaring, live rendition of “Staying Alive.”

In broken English, our waiter recommended a local favorite entrée, a spicy goat stew over rice.

The stew was the spiciest food I have ever eaten. Vietnam peppers, Korean kimchi, and even a renegade jalapeno in a Southwest corner border restaurant could not compete with our Manila disco meal.

I’m sure it was not on Homer Hunter’s menu in his 1930s restaurant off the square.

As we concluded our meal, a manager sat down with us and offered to show us something. We walked back through a long hall in the back of the main room to a large window. It was a one-way pane, allowing us to see into the other room but appearing as a mirror on the other side. In the other room, many women, clad in flimsy négligées were milling around or just sitting on the wooden benches. Our guide informed us we pick out one of those women to have for the rest of the night for twenty dollars.

I was taken aback. It was about as emotional for me as watching all of those Vietnamese escaping their homeland with their families in unseaworthy craft. It looked like these women was even more abused than those refugees, slaves.

i was disgusted but remained silent. Declining the offer, we left and went back to the hotel, falling asleep. The next morning, we caught the first liberty boat back to our ship. Anchorage weighed anchor and got underway the following day.