Category Archives: Sea Stories

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

A Tale of the Sea and Me – The Opening Scene of a Mystery

Sea Stories

The Hawkins would go to sea again almost immediately to load all of its ammunition now that it was completely qualified for unlimited operations. While i began the nuclear weapons inspection, i had a couple of days with my friends, Doc Jarden and another guy from Norfolk who stayed in my upstairs apartment while the ship was in refresher training.

Their training was ending as we returned from refresher training at Guantanamo. The three of us had dinner at my apartment the night before they went back to Virginia. They invited two of the Salve Regina coeds they met at the Tavern. The group had come up with nicknames for fun. One was “Irene the Sirene.” The other was “Kathy the Drunk” (she had gotten at bit tipsy at the Tavern outing).

We had a great time. The young women were pretty and fun. It was perfect dining while looking across Easton Bay to Cornelius Vanderbilt’s mansion, the Breakers. i was taken by how much fun Kathy was and especially her great laugh that would make everyone else laugh, too.

We said our goodbyes. Doc and the other guy (i swear i will figure out the other guy’s name) took them back to the college dorm. They left the next morning. i was still how to deal with the broken and very short marriage. It was apparent there would be no reconciliation. I had to put that aside as we were headed to the Yorktown, Virginia Naval Ammunition Depot, the last step in becoming fully operational as a “Man of War” — and i still wonder why we considered ships female but called them “Men”).

Within the week, we set the sea detail, let go all lines and once again, stood out of Narragansett Bay for our next adventure, which turned out a bit more than i had anticipated.

Escape from the Doldrums

A Pocket of Resistance, Sea Stories

i have not written much in the last several weeks. Got into a funk. Went to a dark place.

Perhaps the dark place was a backlash to the wonderful octogenarian birthday blast that was just too good to be believed.

Perhaps it was getting lost in the weeds getting our tax records ready for our accountant.

Perhaps it was accepting my golf game is not going to get better and my “physicality” will continue to decline — oh, how i love to make fun of the talking heads that misuse that word on and on and on.

Perhaps it was realizing i will never spend enough time with my daughters, grandson, family, friends, and meet new ones.

It matters not.

Tonight, Maureen created this wonderful soup, along with her always perfect salad.

Afterwards, i walked out to our patio in the back, put out the cushions on a chair, and turned on the heater. i sat down with Mr. Dickel and resumed my voyage with Joshua Slocumb’s “Sailing Alone Around the World” describing his circumnavigation of our planet in three years in the late 1890’s. For me, it was a spiritual journey with the sea.

Slocumb is easy to read almost as if he wrote it this year, not over 120 years ago. And his accomplishment of rebuilding the Spray on his own and trusting in her for more than three years is just flat amazing. His stops in ports around the world give the reader an idea of what is was to live in this world long ago, long ago.

How i came to this book was also wonderful.

At my party, one of Maureen’s co-workers and close friend attended. Craig Augsburger also is a mariner. He crewed on several boats in the sailing races from San Diego to Hawaii. He lived on his own sailboat for quite some time and continues to upgrade and maintain the boat. After the party and reading my book, Steel Decks and Glass Ceilings, Craig asked to meet us for lunch with his wife Joan. We did. There he queried me about parts of my book my time at sea. We explored our reading of other books about sea ventures. Then, he handed me a copy of The Wager, a current best seller about a sea venture. It is next on my list of things to read.

Finally, he handed me one of his prized possessions. It was an edition of the book published in 1999 in Canada. It was thick and about the size of my hand, handy by the way to take to sea for reading pleasure.

Craig had been given the book by Charlie McInnes, including the Jack of Diamonds. He had signed his name on the back of the front cover. Craig also signed it and then loaned it to special folks he deemed enough of a mariner to read this special copy. His provisos were to sign and return the book including the one-eyed Jack. i will return the book to Craig in the near future after i become the 13th reader to sign it.

i was going to include several passages from the book here, but i will let you decide which passages are special to you. The book is now available but in a newer, larger version, i have sent copies to a couple of my favorite mariners.

i have been in the doldrums at sea, notably the South China Sea in 1979. Fortunately, i was on a steam ship, not a sailing ship. Still, the experience of dead calm in the middle of the seas is captivating.

i have been in the doldrums in my head while ashore: just couldn’t get any purchase on the lines.

But reading Craig’s treasured book of a sea venture was an escape for me. My doldrums were the darkness, and they are gone.

A Tale of the Sea and Me: Saved by the MTT

Sea Stories

The day of reckoning was upon us. Or at least the reckoning was on CDR Max Lasell and me. The NWAI team from Atlantic Fleet arrived at precisely at 0800. We met to kick the inspection off in the wardroom. The captain greeted them cordially. The inspection team laid down the rules. i passed out the security manuals hot off the press, or rather, hot off the hands of third division. The team was about to end the meeting when leader of the Cruiser Destroyer Force Atlantic Fleet, a master chief ASROC gunner’s mate, stood up.

“i want the inspectors to know this is the first time the loading, unloading check sheets have been used,” he explained. They are the new standardized version and during the workup. We have discovered and corrected as many errors in the procedures as possible.

“However,” he continued, “We may have missed a couple. So any errors in the process from the checksheets is not the fault of the Hawkins ASROC team.” The lead inspector wrote some notes on his pad during the MTT master chief’s comments.

Then we got to it.

The inspection took about six hours. We went through the loading and unloading of the ASROCs into the launcher and magazine. The inspectors caught a couple of errors in the checksheets. No dings for my team. The MTT had saved my bacon.

Everyone met in the wardroom after the inspectors had consulted among themselves. Our captain sat at the head of the wardroom table. i quivered while seated to his left with the XO on his right.

The security manual met its requirements. We were graded a 98 on the inspection. We were certified.

But damned if they didn’t find three errors in my pen and ink changes in the abhorred SWOP 5-5.

Sometimes, you just can’t get everything right.

It was time to get it on.

Old Man Crazy in the Southwest Corner

A Pocket of Resistance, Sea Stories

Over my many years, i have been assigned many nicknames: Mighty Mouse, Junior Jock, JJ the DJ, Lieutenant Short Turkey, and Crazy Uncle Jim orCUJ, just to name a few, some bestowed on me, others created by own feeble mind. Stories abound about each one, but this about the latest nickname: Old Man Crazy or OMC.

You see, it’s been raining in the Southwest corner and many things have occurred since my turning old day about two weeks ago. It has been raining off and on. Then last Thursday, i earned my new nickname, Old Man Crazy.

You see, i have earned another title. i am a pocket of resistance. This probably started when i was around three years old. My father would admonish me, frequently with a smack on my bottom when i sucked my thumb. This happened enough that i took to sucking my thumb only when he wasn’t around. Then one morning, Daddy had gone to work. i asked my mother if Daddy was gone. When she said yes, i immediately popped my thumb in my mouth. Mother kept a paddle, unattached from the original rubber band and rubber ball, atop the refrigerator for a certain purpose. i’m pretty sure she didn’t wear me out that day with the paddle for sucking my thumb. i think it was because i had flaunted my disobedience to Daddy.

Several years later when i was eight or nine, Mother watched me very closely when i had checked out books, usually one or two a week, from the city library, that wonderful old home down on West Main with large rooms chocked with shelves of books, and the smell alone of old books could make you feel smart. Mother knew i was forgetful. One day, she instructed me to return the book i had or it would become overdue and i would have to pay. i decided i didn’t want to go. The next day, i took the book back, the nice old lady (probably significantly younger than i am now) checked the stamped date on that little check out card and charged me a nickel. i reached into my jeans front pocket and pulled out a nickel, my nickel. Mother never knew.

Somewhere, somehow, i also took on things that were unknown or having little chance for success. This occurred in many facets of life. i played racquetball against world class athletes. i hardly ever won, but i played them close. i ran with guys in much better shape and faster than me, but i finished. i volunteered for something unknown when i was on an amphibious squadron staff. The commodore asked for a volunteer with no explanation. i was the only one to raise my hand for what turned out to be one of the most challenging experiences in my Navy career and one of the most rewarding.

i remember when i laid claim to being a pocket of resistance. i was the first lieutenant of the USS Anchorage (LSD 36), to me one of the best jobs ever anywhere. It was late on the evening watch (2000-2400) about 300 miles off the coast of Okinawa. i had the deck and the conn. The weather was cloudy and heavy, i.e. miserable. The LORAN navigational fix machine was not working. The quartermasters were doing the required dead reckoning tracking rules to plot our course. They recommended i make a course change. i looked at the chart and their track. i looked at the weather and studied the wind and the current on the starboard bridge wing. i then ignored the quartermaster’s recommendation and came to a new course. The morning navigational fix showed i was correct. Somewhere in that process, it dawned on me i was a pocket of resistance. It was also the moment, i felt as one with the sea.

So back to last Thursday. The TMG golf group, formally the Friday Morning Golf (FMG) group, had studied the weather. It did not look good. In fact, it looked terrible. Most of us declared we would go to Sea and Air, the Naval Station, North Island golf course, have breakfast, and return home.

The first guy to arrive after me shortly before 0600 was Rick Sisk, a retired SEAL captain. He commented it didn’t look like the storm would arrive until around nine and perhaps, perhaps be benign until we finished the eighteen holes. i had agreed to breakfast only, but i felt something click inside. i knew i was going to play. Rick and Karl Heinz, another retired SEAL captain, and i teed off while the others who had showed were munching on their breakfast sandwiches with coffee.

The wind was pretty rough. We had some light rain intermittently until the seventh tee when it got serious. We were drenched by the time we reached the ninth green. During the downswing on my chip shot, the club slipped out of my wet hands; i bladed the ball; and it ran across the green to the rough on the other side.

i had made my point and headed to the car and home. Rick and Karl, somewhere between 10 or 20 years younger, plodded on in the rain. As i pulled out of the parking lot, i saw them walking down the tenth fairway in a torrent of rain. i wish i had continued on.

After all, i am Old Man Crazy.

A Tale of the Sea and Me: A Security Manual Like No Other

Sea Stories

This is a continuation of the USS Hawkins (DD 873) preparations for the NWAI nuclear weapons inspection in the spring of 1969. The captain, CDR Max Lasell, had informed his ASW Officer, aka me, doing my best was not enough: i had to pass the test. Period.

And the heat was on. Me. In addition to working with the Mobile Training Team on the checksheets, i oversaw the maintenance and cleanliness of the equipment and the spaces, especially the magazines where we stored our ASROCs that were not in the eight-cell launcher. i still had to meticulously maintain the SWOP manuals with their burdensome cut-and-paste and pen-and-ink changes.

Then, i learned we had to rewrite the ship’s security manual. Like the checksheets, there was no standardized security manual. Each ship was responsible for writing their own security manual that adhered to all of the current security regulations for Navy ships.

The security manual was the responsibility of the Security Officers on FRAM destroyers. The executive officer was the Security Officer. But if there was any officer with more on his plate than a brand new LTJG ASW Officer getting ready for an NWAI, it was the XO. Consequently, i was informed i had to rewrite the security manual.

There was about five weeks i did not go ashore. My days were filled with going through loading and unloading drills, checking on spaces and equipment, and consulting the mobile training team, my division chief STGC Rogers, my ASROC Gunner’s Mate GMT1 (i’m having an old man’s brain fart and can’t come up with his name and i will but until i do, i will call him GMT1 Harris), my first class sonar tech, STG1 Alan Ernst, and advising the C), CDR Lasell, and the XO, LCDR Louis Guimond. My evenings were filled with typing out the security manual from references and keeping that damn SWOP 5-5 up to date.

We were getting close. The security manual was finished, a total of about 50 pages, and the XO signed the original as Security Officer. The last thing to do on the NWAI eve was to have about 25 copies ready for the inspection, which would begin when the inspection team came aboard around 0800 the next morning. ST1 Ernst and i went up to radio and the radiomen xeroxed the required copies. Around 1900, we mustard the sonar techs, the ASROC gunner’s mates, and the torpedo men in the wardroom. They sat around the wardroom table — for those unfamiliar with the wardroom on FRAM destroyers, it doubled as the main damage control medical post when at general quarters, and the wardroom mess table was converted to an operating table for casualties.

There, the third division sailors of all ranks and ratings sorted and put the 25 or so copies together, finally stapling them into documents, the required security manuals. We finished about 2300, an hour after taps.

i laughed then and i laugh every time i recall those great guys, all enlisted sitting around the wardroom table with cokes, smoking, and compiling those copies. John Paul Jones and a bunch of surface flag officers must have been in disbelief.