The Hawkins was closing down its refresher training in GTMO in early April 1969. We had done pretty well except for one area of the ready for sea criteria we worked on for two-plus months.

That would be in gunnery, especially gunfire support. Trying to refrain from demeaning folks, the problem was the weapons officer. CDR Lasell recognized the problem and removed him as the gunfire support director who controlled the guns from a plot in Combat Information Center (CIC).

LT Ralph Clark was put in charge and for a reason i cannot explain, the captain appointed me his sound-powered phone talker on the JV(?) circuit, the one where the director communicated with Sky 1, the director and the gear-grinding, analogue, fire control computer Mark 1 Able deep down in the bowels of the ship. My job was to pass to the captain all that was happening on the circuit, and pass along his commands to the others on the circuit. It was unique. i was also pleased the CDR Lasell trusted me enough to do this.

We improved quite a bit before final day of simulated battle.

There was one part in which we concerned. The problem being put under simulated attack by attack aircraft. We had learned from other FRAMS that invariably, the flyover would be synchronized with the trainers in engineering. Thus as the aircraft approach the trainers would induce a casualty that would create a loss of electrical power. That, of course, would require the ship to combat the air attack manually.

Now for those who have never experienced this, think of 3500 tons of steel hurtling around the ocean at 35 knots, evading attacking aircraft with turns inducing heeling and rolls while the sky one fire control director is trying to manually aim the four large guns slaved to his director at aircraft maneuvering at 400 knots And those massive twin 5 inch, gun mounts are pivoting in sync with the director. Insane. Even keeping your balance was tough, especially while trying to simply watch the intense maneuvering of the aircraft .

But we had a plan.

Here i must explain there are at least two versions of what happened next. Joe Conway, who was the CIC officer at the time, has told me he was sitting at the O-Club bar the night before and the guy next to him was in the aviation side of the base. This guy casually mentioned to Joe the overhead times the aircraft would reach the Hawk during the battle problem. My version is below:

The Operations Officer (OPS) boss came up with the idea, discussed it with the CO, and recruited the Supply Officer (SUPPO) and me to pull off the dirty deed. We left in the motor whale boat in the middle of the afternoon, and tied to the pier. We found a phone booth that was rather isolated in between two rows of buildings. i stood watch at the end of the row. i was supposed to warn OPS and SUPPO if anyone was coming. SUPPO made the call while OPS coached him, making sure he said what they had rehearsed.

It was just before liberty call when SUPPO called flight operations office in the air facility tower.

“This is LCDR Fritz* at the Fleet Training Group office. We are going through the battle problem for the Hawkins tomorrow and want to confirm the overhead time for your aircraft. *Dave used the name and rank of the officer we knew was in charge of the battle problem. The air controller checked his papers and told Dave when the aircraft would conduct the simulated air strike.

We laughed all the way back to the ship on the boat ride. When we told the CO and the XO, they laughed along with us.

In spite of the engineering casualty, we were ready for the airstrike. We raised our grade in gunnery, but it was just below “passing.” It was close enough to give us a chance to go operational if we did well in the live fire gun shoots at Vieques and Calibre.

This segment is a bit out of sequence, but it is a nice fit as follow-on to the previous post in this series.

Notes from the Southwest Corner: Not all liberty is created equal

SAN DIEGO – In my last column, Navy liberty slipped into the subject matter again.

Today’s Navy has greatly reduced liberty calls. Ship crew swaps at sea, security considerations due to terrorism, and shorter deployments to improve the sailors’ “quality of life” have cut down liberty calls.

In my time at sea, long deployments (nine to ten months was the norm) were simply the way it was. Married officers and sailors groused about being away from their families. But they also considered they had two inalienable rights:

“A griping sailor is a happy sailor” was one such right. Complaining about everything, including long deployments, was exercised vigorously. Another right was hitting liberty ports with gusto on long deployments. Sailors simultaneously bragged and complained about these “arduous” adventures.

Now, from what i observe, they can’t.

In previous columns, I have extolled my liberty ports, even bragged some folks might claim. But all liberty was not equal.

Allen Ernst, my leading sonarman on the USS Hawkins recalled one which for me was not so wonderful.

In 1969, the Hawkins was in Guantanamo Bay for three months of refresher training. Days started at 4:00 a.m. to check spaces for watertight integrity before the inspectors arrived.

By 6:45, I reported to the bridge to stand Junior Officer of the Deck (JOOD) at Sea Detail entering and leaving port. Once at sea, I was in a five-inch gun mount, in “Underwater Battery Plot” for submarine exercises, or on the bridge for General Quarters. We would get back to the pier around 6:00 p.m., have the wardroom meal, and write training reports, usually hitting the rack (bed) around taps. The process was repeated each weekday.

On weekends, the ship was in “port and starboard” duty sections. One-half of the officers and crew stood duty while the other half went ashore Saturday and Sunday. Liberty consisted of going to the Officers Club pool and bar and an occasional softball game.

When Ocho Rios, Jamaica was announced as our liberty port, I was excited. In addition to the great beaches, the Caribbean Playboy Club was there.

We dropped off the trainers 5:30 Friday and turned toward Jamaica. During Sea Detail, the Captain informed me he had qualified me as Officer of the Deck (OOD) underway, and I would be in charge of the ship in one three-section watch rotation. Being the most junior OOD, my first watch was the “Mid-watch” from midnight until 4:00 a.m.

Sea Detail secured about 7:00 p.m. I grabbed a bite, retired to my stateroom, compiled after-action reports, and hit the rack around 9:30. I awoke at 11:15 to go on watch. Being relieved at 3:45 a.m., I went for some much needed sleep. It was 4:15.

Reveille sounded at 4:30 and Sea Detail was set.

The ship reached pierside about 8:30. As the morale and welfare officer, I greeted local representatives to set up tours for the crew. I was then informed my duty would be Shore Patrol officer for Saturday. I met the local police coordinator and took a tour of potential trouble spots. The tour ended at a police station downtown designated as Shore Patrol Headquarters, where I coordinated patrols and the return of offending sailors back to the ship.

After some wild evening events, the day’s shore patrol duty concluded. Reporting aboard, I then had to deal with a drunk torpedoman who wanted to go AWOL. Sleep claimed me at 3:00 a.m.

Thirty minutes later, reveille sounded. An ore ship came in early, and we had to shift to a mooring.

During this five-hour Sea Detail, the watch coordinator informed me the officer assigned Sunday Shore Patrol had not been told and had stayed in a room at the Playboy Club. Consequently, I went back to Shore Patrol.

Liberty ended in the early afternoon. Sea Detail was set, and looking aft, I watched Ocho Rios become smaller and smaller, just like my liberty. We secured Sea Detail at 6:30. I had the evening watch (8:00 p.m. until midnight). I slept like a rock until 3:00 when we set Sea Detail to return to Guantanamo and begin our training day: no liberty and five hours of sleep in 72 hours.

I thought then, “Nobody is going to believe this.” I am still not sure you will. But I know all liberty is not equal.

Been a while with this installment. The world’s going a bit fast for this old man. Appointments; medical checkups — all are relatively okay for a man my age but checkups are still required — home projects are increasing; Thanksgiving before, during and after; Christmas decorations beginning; gift buying; and, of course, golf.

So this episode has taken longer. In truth, i’ve been wrestling with it for almost two weeks, trying to get it right when i realized i was trying to include too much, a common problem for my writing.

So let’s get it on.

One of the oft repeated parts of GTMO REFTRA, was gunnery exercises. More about all of them a bit later. There was one that i found dizzying in its complexity…and fun, really.

i no longer am sure of its nomenclature. The Allied Tactical Publications (ATPs) from my time are long gone. i think it was Z-44-G. Perhaps some old gunner’s mate who reads this can give me the right name.

Boy, was it a hoot.

The old destroyer would come steaming over the horizon at 30 knots on a 45 degree angle with the shoreline. The forward five-inch guns, two in Mount 51 on the FRAM 1 tin cans and two on both Mounts 51 and 52 on FRAM II’s would be blazing away at some target on the shore — unfortunately this was one gunfire exercise i experienced with live fire; all of the ones i saw were simulated fire.

Then at a designated distance from the beach, a mile or two, the ship would turn parallel to the beach and the after Mount 53 would also open fire. All six big guns on the FRAM II’s and four on the FRAM I’s would blaze at the shore for about a mile at high speed. Then the ship would turn away 45 degrees and head for the horizon with the after two guns of Mount 53 firing until cease fire was ordered.

It was absolutely thrilling even without actually firing the guns. Oh, how i wish i had done that once.

This is a column i wrote for The Lebanon (TN) Democrat in 2009. The incident occurred in March of 1969 while the USS Hawkins was conducting ASW exercises with the USS Chopper (SS-342) during refresher training out of Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. Just after the incident, one of the GTMO trainers told me a second class submarine machinist mate was next to the diving plane control as the sub went into its out of control dive. The machinist mate could not move the locked planes, finally kicked them, the planes flipped from from the locked down angle to the up angle, which also was locked. The move eventually broke the back of the sub, but it saved a lot of lives.f

Notes from the Southwest Corner:

SAN DIEGO – With August madcap doings in the Southwest corner, I postponed my trip back home and missed a unique reunion in Newport, R.I.

Several sailors from my first ship, the USS Hawkins (DD 873) held an ad hoc reunion in Newport, RI. I was honored they asked me to join as they had been enlisted and I had been a junior officer. Allen Ernst, my leading sonar technician when I was Anti-Submarine (ASW) Officer, had found me in the intergalactic space of the internet about a year ago. I suspect he instigated including me.

Regardless, Allen, Robin Lewis, and Norm O’Neal took the lead, and R.J. Beihl, Bill Durbrow, Bill Carey, Bruce Coulture, and Rik Tuinstra completed the group.

They sent pictures and reports. Then last week, Allen forwarded me an email train from a discussion they had had at the reunion. The email detailed an incident I will never forget, including a seven page breakdown of the Navy investigation.

After completing a major overhaul in February, 1969, the Hawkins sailed to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba for “refresher training,” two-months of intense exercises to get the ship’s company back up to speed before operations.

ASW exercises with a real submarine were included. The USS Chopper (SS-342) was assigned to Guantanamo for these exercises.

The ASW exercises were actually a respite for me. Other duties required grueling 18-hour days. The ASW part was exciting and fun, and my first with a real sub.

Hawkins stood out of the channel February 11 and conducted engineering drills in the morning. General Quarters 1A (for ASW operations) was set immediately after the morning drills. I moved from the bridge to the small ASW/Sonar space in the after section of Combat Information Center (CIC). There was no time for lunch.

Quicker than expected, we gained sonar contact and began to track the Chopper.

Just finding a submarine with sonar remains magic to me. The sonar transmits sound beams, and if the beams hit the submarine, the returning echo alerts the sonar crew to the contact.

By maintaining contact, a good sonar team can track the sub, deducing course and speed and producing a solution to fire an anti-submarine weapon, such as a torpedo with some probability of actually hitting the submarine.

This did not occur often. We spent more time talking to the whales on “Gertrude,” our underwater telephone designed to communicate with other Navy ships and submarines, than actually locating submarines.

But this particular afternoon, we had good luck, establishing solid contact. We could actually see the submarine blip turning in circles on our fire control system.

Then the blip became progressively weaker and disappeared. We were stumped as to the cause, wondering what kind of maneuver the Chopper could have employed.

Within two minutes, the bridge reported the Chopper had shot almost completely out of the water, 100 yards off of our starboard beam, crashing back into the sea. It disappeared again briefly before bobbing to the surface.

The Chopper had lost its generator and electrical DC power. The sub’s down angle had increased to 15 degrees, then to 45 degrees and beyond. She had plummeted to over 1,000 feet below the ocean’s surface, dangerously close to her “crush depth.”

The emergency actions of the sub’s personnel finally took effect. The Chopper ceased its descent and began to rise. The crew couldn’t control the reverse ascent, and the sub was almost vertical in the water when it cleared the surface. She re-submerged to about 250 feet before finally bobbing to the surface.

Amazingly, she returned to port under her own power. The ensuing investigation determined she had suffered structural damage, and the Chopper was decommissioned a year later.

More amazing, no one received any critical injuries. This is even more startling in that the report reveals steel deck plates were not secured and were crashing about during the violent descent and ascent along with anything not tied down. The officers and crew carried out emergency procedures 90 degrees off the normal plane. It would be like doing house work in an emergency mode standing on the wall instead of the floor with furniture flying around.

The Chopper was just one of many impactful incidents during my Hawkins tour with those sailors. It was quite an introduction to anti-submarine warfare for this young officer.

I am still amazed.

NOTE: Sadly Allen Ernst, that fine young man who played a significant role in getting our division through the overhaul and all of our sonar evolutions, passed away in 2011.