The legendary port was the Luce’s last liberty port. i believe it was over Thanksgiving during that ’73 deployment . It was legendary in the Navy, of course. i had stopped there for one night on my way to Korfu, Greece to meet the ship, but except for that wonderful meal of spaghetti at the off-limits area, i really didn’t know much about the city. But i found out. It didn’t disappoint.

We anchored in the bay and took boats into fleet landing. There was seemingly hundreds of people of every age, male and female, selling every possible kind of knock-off watches, trinkets of all kinds, other obviously fake goods. An officer or sailor had to push through the crowd to get to the street.

Several of us took a cab to where, i don’t recall. But we went down a road, which at least bordered the off limits area. Along a stone wall, sitting atop were a line up of ladies of the night, dressed in very suggestive outfits. i cannot confirm, but one of our cab riders claimed one was the actual “Humpty Dumpty.” She was the legendary prostitute of great girth who was considered the queen of Naples prostitution. She certainly looked the part: rotund with huge breasts and huge white legs popping out of a too small dress.

We didn’t stop.

We ended up in the night club district at a disco bar. The music was European “popcorn” dance music (or at least, that’s what i called it). We sat at a booth and some attractive young women joined us. i was married with a five-month old daughter but bought her a drink. When we had finished our beers, the women asked for another drink. That’s when i discovered her drink was mostly colored sugar water priced at $20 in 1972 dollars.

We left. Outside, we ran across a bunch of teenage boys playing soccer in the narrow street. We joined them. For about an hour, four Navy officers played soccer with the far superlative local teenagers. They far surpassed us in soccer skills…even if we had been sober.

Then, i took a trip that still resonates. i wrote a poem about it and later added an intro for a post:

In the autumn of 1972 on the only tour i can remember taking during my Navy liberty, i rode a bus to Pompeii. Much of the city had not been excavated back then, and from recent television programs about the city, much more information has been revealed about what happened .

i was enchanted. Ancient places, things now gone always move me, like the Petrified Forest in Arizona. When i returned to my ship, the USS Luce (DLG-7), i wrote this:

i went to Pompeii today in the rain;
left Naples on a tour bus
where at the front of the bus,
a fat little man
mechanically spoke his piece
about squares and statues, history,
as pimps, prostitutes, hustlers,
and
little boys selling dirty pictures
while trying to pick the target’s pockets,
along with everyday people
moved in masses
along the promenades
as we passed:
innumerable puppets in a large box,
highly seasoned with the filth of a city;

until we escaped to a smaller city
with polished tables of intricate design
and
mother of pearl cameo necklaces;

then a quick dash across the inland roads
to Pompeii
where the rain gently gathered
for the vendors to turn out
their umbrellas and raincoats
for a few lira to add to their take
selling photos and guidebooks;
the little fat man in his bemused fashion
told of the grandeur and beauty
of the ruins
before,
reeling off death statistics
before
dropping his voice suggestively
while showing rooms of licentiousness
among the ruins;
i wandered away from the tour
wondering about the people
before
they became death statistics
and
i was quiet, wondering;

i left Pompeii today in the rain;
near Amalfi, the clouds broke out
the sun in its harsh, unyielding glory;
the water far below the cliffs
on the narrow road
sparkled;
the hillside homes were bleached white
against the fury of the sea.

i left the bus to wait for hours
to make a telephone call
back home,
only to hear the unanswered ringing;
i walked to the pier
where i waited for the liberty boat
to take me back to the ship
alone.

at least the rain had stopped.

i did not mention a romantic lunch (but i was alone) at a cafe near the crest of the Amalfi coast.

After that, the Luce weighed anchor and headed to her homeport of Newport, Rhode Island. The real adventure was ahead of us before we reached home.

It was 52 years ago, and unlike when i wrote my book, Steel Decks and Glass Ceilings, i do not have the ship’s logs nor pretty extensive notes to give me exact dates. i’m pretty sure this liberty port was before our other liberty port was changed from Venice to Naples (naturally).

Regardless, it was my first time to visit the Spanish island of Majorca and its port city of Majorca. It is, i think, the second place i decided i should move to overseas after being out of port in Sasebo in 1970. But Majorca was more entrancing. Even now, i think i could live there.

i don’t remember a great deal of that week. i remember walking the streets of Palma with the old and beautiful buildings surrounding me. i remember stopping at a tapas bar and drinking sangria (a lot of sangria) with four or so of my sonar gang. i remember one other officer (i can’t remember who) driving around the perimeter of the island. It seemed about every five miles or so, there was a different European country had established that beach as their tourist spot. There was Spain, Holland, Britain, Germany, France, and on and on. i remember the difference in the bars at those spots. Mostly, i remember gaping at all the beautiful beach women who went topless.

i remember buying a lot of gifts, mostly leather in the shops in the Palma’s shopping district. On Yosemite, i went back ten years later. And all of memories were justified and then some.

Palma is a Mediterranean dream of an island. i would go back again.

i had the afternoon watch (1200-1600) the next day after our close call with the freighter on the mid-watch.

It was a beautiful Mediterranean afternoon, bright sun, deep blue sea, a sprinkling of clouds in the azure sky. Captain Butts (i know, i know, he was a commander then, but ship commanding officers will always be “Captain” to me) sat in the captain’s chair on the forward starboard side of the pilot house as usual. i was standing by the centerline gyro repeater at the bridge window when Combat (we called Combat Information Center or CIC “Combat”) reported a contact.

It was a similar situation as the night before except the contact was on our starboard side. A more significant difference was there was a small bearing drift, i.e. she wasn’t on a collision course. The biggest difference was she was on our starboard side and therefore the “privileged vessel.” She was required to maintain her course and speed. The Luce was responsible for maneuvering to avoid a collision.

When she was at roughly eight miles, i spotted her masts. Our term for such a sighting was she was “hull down.” i tracked her with the repeater. She had a very slight right bearing drift, meaning we would pass ahead of her if we stayed on track.

Combat and my JOOD’s maneuvering board solutions concurred our CPA would be just over a mile as we passed the contact (i hope landlubbers have read enough of these things to catch all of the acronyms and Navy lingo). She was a freighter similar to the close call the night before. For ships at sea, a mile of separation is an uncomfortable distance. i recommended to the captain that we turn to starboard and pass astern of the freighter. He disagreed and ordered me to maintain course and speed. i, of course, replied “Aye, Aye, sir,” and continued as ordered.

We kept getting closer and the CPA remained constant.

Then, we were about 500 yards from crossing the freighter’s bow, Captain Butts changed his mind and told me to pass astern of the freighter. It was too close to turn to starboard toward the contact. i turned to port and did a circle to set a course to pass astern at about 1,000 yards.

The CO got out of his captain’s chair and told me he would be in his in-port cabin. He had a smile on his face.

i have tried to figure out what my commanding officer was thinking that afternoon. i suspect he might have been teaching me one more time about bearing drift and CBDR. But CDR Butts was a gentleman and courteous in all things, especially when following the nautical rules of the road.

There were several other close calls in the Med during that deployment. It seemed i was on the bridge as OOD on every one of them.

We had my hail and farewell party after we returned in May 1973. It was our home in Fort Adams’ very old officer’s quarters previously used almost exclusively for the Naval War College attendees. Earl Major, my childhood friend would also be at Destroyer School for the department head program.

Earl attended the party along with my fellow Luce wardroom officers and my brother coming down from Boston where he was a graduate student for a double masters in theology and philosophy.

Toward the end of the party, CDR Butts and Earl had a conversation. The CO told Earl i was one of the best OODs he had ever had, but he was glad to see me go. When Earl asked why, CDR Butts replied that every time i had the watch, we had a close call with bogies.

The best, for me, was yet to come.

Mid-watch. Somewhere in the middle of the Mediterranean, October 1972. Quiet. The USS Luce (DLG 7) steaming independently.

The scheduled liberty port visit to Venice had been changed to Naples. Surprise. i was scheduled for several Italian and other ports, but they were always cancelled because the Navy needed my ship to come to Naples. But we were at sea, not in Naples yet.

The seas were calm. It was a cloudless night with an uncountable number of stars.

Combat (CIC) reported to the OOD (me) they had spotted a contact on the radar at 20 miles, right at the limit that radar could detect a ship, and were tracking. i checked the radar in the pilot house just to verify there was indeed a blip at about 20 miles.

In a few minutes, they reported the contract was “CBDR.” That is not a good thing. For landlubbers, this means “constant bearing, decreasing range,” i.e. that damn contact was on a collision course with us. My JOOD worked his own maneuvering board, an engineering/math, a piece of paper 12×12 inches, that was marvel using relative bearing and speeds of the contact and the ship to determine the amount the two ships would have their closest point of approach (CPA), in this case zero by any measurement. His solution agreed with CIC.

i have forgotten the specifics of the captain’s night orders for the OOD. i know those night orders required me to report any contact at 10,000 miles if the CPA was closer than 2,000 yards. i waited. When the bogie (we also contacts bogies, especially if we did not know who they were) reached 10,000 yards, i called the captain and woke him up. It was around 0200. i reported the situation and added, “Captain, we are the privileged ship, and she should maneuver to pass astern of us.” He told me to keep watching and let him know when the contact was at five miles.

The nautical rules of the road designates the ship with another ship to her port side as the “privileged vessel,” which was the Luce in this situation and requires the privileged vessel to remain on her course while the “burdened vessel” with the other ship on her starboard side must maneuver to pass astern of the “privileged vessel.”

The contact’s mast with it’s running lights became visible just over seven miles, the horizon from our bridge.

As ordered, i called the captain when the contact was at 5,000 yards. i told him the contact remained CBDR and asked him to come to the bridge. He complied. Commander Richard Butts joined me on the port bridge wing.

“She’s down to four thousand yards, Captain, still CBDR.”

“Keep watching,” he replied

“Aye, sir,” i said, and stood at the gyro compass repeater and continued to peer through the sight. No change. Then at about 2,000 yards, i told CDR Butts it seemed there was a slight change to the right. i recommended we go starboard (an avoidance maneuver to avoid a collision when a ship is in “extremis).”

Captain Butts asked, “Do you still have bearing change?”

“Yes, sir, but it’s only a degree or so.”

Captain: “Continue on course and speed.”

The freighter crossed our bow when her bow was about 100 yards from us. When his fantail passed our bow, it was less than 50 yards, a minuscule amount for ships at sea. The captain and i looked up to their pilot house. There was no one there. The damn freighter was on auto-pilot.

We all gave not sighs, but gasps of relief.

Captain Butts paused on the bridge wing and said to me, “If you have bearing drift, you won’t have a collision at sea.”

To this day, i am convinced one of the best COs i had maintained our course and speed to teach me a lesson. He did.

The next day, he gave me another lesson.

i only went to Athens once, 1972. After the Luce left Izmir, Turkey, we were at sea for more operations and then went to Athens for a short liberty stay. It was one of the highlights of that deployment. i was disappointed i had missed the Daphne Wine Festival. But i was excited i was going to Athens.

We anchored in the harbor near Piraeus. i was already in awe. i conjured up Themistocles ordering the Greeks to build up their Navy and defeating Persia in the Straits of Salamis. Our liberty launch landed at the head of fleet landing, a long concrete pier bolstered by boulders that ran down to the harbor waters. It was a formidable looking place, but hey, Athens was at the end. As i went ashore, i recalled being sure to get back before the last liberty launch departed at 0100.

We went to downtown Athens first. i ate a most wonderful Greek meal with spanikopita, moussaka, finishing with baklava for dessert. It was even better than i imagined with retsina wine.

Then, it was time for my biggest thrill. i went to the Acropolis. i stood in awe in front of the Parthenon and tried to imagine it and the Greeks at the pinnacle of their civilization. i scrambled over the huge broken steps. i spent the afternoon there.

Then it was Navy liberty time. i went back downtown and spent the evening drinking and eating and drinking. We had a great time until we realized the last liberty launch would leave soon. We caught a cab and gave him some extra to hurry. We arrived at the landing and run down the pier, which seemed like it was a mile long (it was long for a pier). When we got to about 100 yards, we saw the liberty launch leaving the boarding area. When we got to the loading area, the launch was too far away to hear us. We watched until it went around a bend.

It was autumn. It was cold. The wind had picked up. Did i mention it was cold? There was nothing there, no food, no drink, no cover. Nothing was there except concrete and boulders. The first liberty launch in the morning would arrive at 0600. Between officers and enlisted, there were about ten of us, perhaps fewer.

Before i got too cold to think, i wondered if the enlisted amongst us would be treated differently than the officers for our missing the launch when we got back to the ship. One of my buddies was a LCDR, the senior, so other than a rebuke from the XO or the Weapons Officer, i was likely fine.

i scrunched up against two boulders that formed something like. a very hard, very uncomfortable chair. Every time i would get close to falling asleep, a gust of cold wind would wake me up. i watched first light touch the sky and dawn break. Finally, the liberty launch came around the bend. We got back to the Luce before quarters. Sea detail soon was set, and we were underway again. Athens was behind me.

If i get to Athens again, i will get a hotel room.

And i never, ever missed the last liberty launch for the rest of my career.