Yesterday, the USS Abrabam Lincoln (CVN 72) pulled back into her home port of San Diego. It was a zoo. It nearly alway is a zoo when a ship that large returns from a deployment to the Southwest Corner, but this was the biggest zoo i’ve experienced since i first was stationed here in 1975.

i will not comment about the affairs of the Lincoln and the longest underway period in modern history, as Alan Hicks researched and verified, nor the impact of social and news media today. After the publicity began flowing and several Facebook exchanges, i realized it had become a political football. i try to refrain from such things (usually, but not always succeeding).

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I do know a good bit about ships returning from deployments. i personally experienced six of them on the arriving side and one as a greeter on the pier.

On thing that struck me. I was on the USS Lloyd Thomas (DD 764) when i was a third class midshipman in the summer of 1963. Before we pulled back into Newport from a 7 week underway period, the captain anchored the ship in Narragansett Bay, and boatswainmates and midshipmen including me were suspended from the weather decks and painted out the rust that had accumulated on the sides of the ship. We didn’t didn’t go into port until the job was done. That was comon practice then.

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The most lonely return was my first one. i had reported to the USS Hawkins (DD 873) in Malaga, Spain in late April 1968 as a brand new, wet behind the ears ensign. That deployment for me was short. We got underway shortly after noon, passed through the straits of Gibralta before sunset and arrived in Hawkins’ home port, May 15, 1968. i had been in the Mediterranean for half a day.

When we moored to the Newport destroyer pier 2, the pier was awash with relatives of the wardroom and the crew. The DCA asked me to help him as he was engaged to two women on the pier. i diverted the one by herself telling her the fiancé was still involved in damage control (ironic, huh?) while he met the other fiancé and her parents, then escorted her off the ship with her parents. When they left, he showed up for the one i was engaging.

Everyone left except the duty section left. Of course, the wardroom duty section consisted mostly of single officers, especially the only newbie ensign, aka me. Since i had used most of my leave before i reported aboard, i was the only officer who did not have leave the first two weeks or the last two weeks after we arrived.

i felt like the Lone Ranger…without Tonto or Silver.

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My other returns from deployments were much better. There were a few when i had that glorious time as a lieutenant commander bachelor when i came back from Western Pacific (WESTPAC) deployments when there was no one waiting. That was okay because i was single and back in San Diego.

In my other returns, someone was waiting. Certainly, my favorite was in 1984. That deployment on Yosemite was one of the most successful i ever had. It was a hero and heroine reception. Best of all, i had left my bride of ten days behind to join the ship in Mayport, except for three days over Labor Day, we had been apart for 7 1/2 months. Maureen was on the pier. It was a glorious feeling to see her.

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The only one where i was on the pier waiting for someone was in the late 80s. Daughter Blythe was here for her vacation time with us. She joined me on the pier. i have related this return before. To repeat:

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.

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This rather lengthy post was motivated by the Lincoln‘s return to the Southwest Corner Thursday. Regardless of all of the political posturing and the turmoil produced by social and news media, those 5,600 officers and sailors who had ridden her for what must have seemed like an interminable time deserved a huge homecoming welcome. They got it.

To the Lincoln, Bravo Zulu, i.e. well done, and Bravo Xray, i.e. have an extra drink of rum (that’s old Navy stuff).

i have written of this before. But i cannot find that post, column, whatever, so i am repeating the incident. It is a great sea story.

The USS Anchorage (LSD 36) sailed into Subic Bay, Luzon, Philippines, July 18-26, 1975 for a nine-day restricted repair availability at the Naval Shipyard. In addition to equipment and repairs and maintenance, she would receive from the shipyard, there was a ship alteration (SHIPALT) that also was to be installed.

Someone in the Bureau of Ships (BUSHIPS) back in Washington decided that this class of landing ship dock should help the marines disembark when required. So they decided to put in handrails to help the gyrenes descend the cargo cargo nets into landing craft.

A significant problem in the plan was handrails at the debark stations on the port side of the LSDs would greatly interfere with normal ship operations with the handrails blocking some evolutions. So the great ship planners back in DC decided to make the handrails removable and installed only when leatherneck debarking was in effect.

The solution was to use “baxter bolts.” Each of these fasteners required a hole in the deck for the female part of the bolt with threads to screw in the handrails when required. When not in use there was a cover that would screw into the hole to make the deck even and keep seawater and rain from getting into the hole.

As Anchorage’s First Lieutenant, the debark stations were my responsibility as well as the surrounding deck and the Marine berthing compartment directly below the deck.

The sandcrabs (hah, you landlubbers will have to figure that definition out) who would install the SHIPALT came aboard to meet with me to plan the installation. They brought the 36 Baxter bolts with them for me to retain until it was time for installation.

It turned out it, the install was pretty complicated. To make the holes to fit the bolts required cutting the steel deck with blowtorches, requiring my personnel to set up fire watches in the berthing compartment below. The repair folks, deck supervisors, and myself checked where the the work would be done in the berthing compartment. That’s when the repair folks realized the lagging on the overhead consisted of asbestos. Even in 1975, it was recognized as hazardous.

This would require an expert team for asbestos removal and could not be done in the nine days we would be in port.

The SHIPALT was deferred until we returned to San Diego. i held onto the bolts for the Shore Intermediate Maintenance Activity to accomplish when we were in port for a longer time.

When we returned to our home port in November, SIMA came aboard to accomplish he handrail installation. i gave them my 36 Baxter bolts. They refused to use them, pointing out they had there own to use.

Now folks, the Subic baxter bolts were made of monel. One of the strongest metal alloys in existence, also very heavy. It is rated along with titanium as one of the strongest metal alloys and has many uses on ships and submarines.

The installation was completed with the inferior SIMA baxter bolts. i’m not sure what happened to the other 35 monel bolts, but i have one. Just the metal alone is worth around $90. It is a good tale to tell when someone asks about my door stopper.

A wonderful example of bureaucracies at work.

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) goiong on liberty. 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 number one of all the COs i had, and i had some great ones. 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.