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.

i had some wonderful ships to sail on during my time at sea. Thirteen ships: five destroyers, two amphibs, three helicopter landing ships, two USNS troop ships, and one destroyer tender.

It is impossible to say one was better than the others. Each was different, each had its pluses and minuses. However, the USS Stephen B. Luce (DLG 7) was the right ship for me with the right Commanding Officer, the right Executive Officer, and the right Weapons Department head for me at right time. The only negative thing about the whole experience aboard her as the Anti-Submarine Warfare Officer was it was too short of a tour. Nine months.

After getting a night of much needed rest, i met most of the other officers in the wardroom at the morning mess. We set sea detail at 0730. i was just an observer on the bridge. We were immediately in the biggest naval exercise i experienced in my career. We had British, French, Greek, Italian, and Turkey navies involved across a large swath of the Mediterranean, moving east against an orange enemy. i was quickly qualified as officer of the deck (OOD) fleet steaming and was in a four-section watch. It felt good.

Many of the other navies had ships were formerly U.S. destroyers. They were old ships and those forces did not have the necessary maintenance expertise compared to the U.S. Fleet. This was most noticeable, and most annoying, in radio communications. As the other ships kept trying to get their radios to work properly, they were continuously conducting radio checks in English…okay, okay, it wasn’t really English; it was more like pidgin English, but the trills and accents of the various countries were included:

(Each ship had its own call sign using the phonetic alphabet; U.S. ships also had nicknames for call signs. The USS Hawkins’ call sign was “Daily News.” i do not remember the Luce’s call sign.)

“Delta Victor, Delta Victor, this is Charlie Whiskey, Charlie Whiskey , RADIO CHECK, RADIO CHECK, over.” “Charlie Whiskey, this is Delta Victor, roger, over.” Most of the time, the initiating ship did not receive the response, so this radio check thing went on incessantly. This seemed to occur on the evening, mid-watch, and morning watches.

Now, just think of the last call you had with a customer service representative, who was actually in Pakistan, or Ghana, or India, or somewhere in the Andes. Think of the difficulty of listening, then add those trills and guttural sounds to the broadcast.

If it hadn’t been so annoying, it would have made me laugh.

Ted Fenno, the XO was one of the nicest XO’s i ever met and was a huge help for me later as the head surface warfare detailer. He was one of the two best XO’s i had, the other being Louis Guimond on the Hawkins.

And then, there was CDR Butts. He was one of the top Commanding Officers during my career, and we got along very well. Before we returned to our home port i had become the sea detail and General Quarters OOD (except in ASW operations).

As the exercise wound down, we headed for Izmir, Turkey, our liberty port

i was not thrilled. After all, i had essentially missed Korfu, Greece. i have a romantic connection to the ancient civilization there and thought i had missed a wonderful opportunity to explore the Greek culture. As we went to anchor, we received a radio message from commander of the U.S. Navy forces. One of the Turkish destroyers was having multiple problems and needed assistance. i was appointed as the leader of the ad hoc team to visit the TCG Adatepe and do what we could to get the ASROC control panel and various radio gear.

The Adatepe was formely the USS Forrest Royal (DD 872), sold to the Turks in 1971. i thought it ironic in that the Forrest Royal‘s hull number had been only one number from my first ship the USS Hawkins, 872 to 873. The team of my first class ASROC gunners mate, the ship’s Electronic Technician warrant officer, a second class radioman, and me rode over to the Adatepe in the captain’s gig.

Coming aboard, we were met by the captain and XO. The warrant and i were taken to the wardroom, our enlisted team members were taken the enlisted mess. i was rather amazed at the lack of cleanliness throughout the ship, especially in the main passageway. We were offered espresso and took it. It was undoubtedly the strongest espresso i ever had. Apparently, it was very popular as there were bags of coffee beans piled around the wardroom.

After that thrill, the warrant was escorted to radio, and i to the ASROC Captain’s Control Panel next to the launcher amidships on the 01 level where i met my gunners mate. We discussed the problems through an interpreter with the ASW officer and his petty officer. Then, we opened up the top of the control panel. What we saw wasn’t pretty. Nearly the entire workings inside the panel were black, burnt. We both shook our heads and said we couldn’t make the panel operational. It would likely have to be replaced. i was taken back to the wardroom for more espresso where the warrant officer joined me. He had in his hand a round ceramic wafer, which was essential to the radio circuits. It was about the size of a half-dollar coin. Over a quarter of it was gone and where it was not, it appeared it was scorched.

We were disappointed we could not help and returned to the Luce. i wrote up the report. i went ashore for dinner, my only time in Turkey.

The next morning, we were underway. More MED sea stories to follow.

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