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.

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.

The Hawkins had been back in Newport for about a week, March 1968. It was time enough for a dinner at my apartment with my two friends stationed in Norfolk who had stayed there while attending training in Newport.

Doc Jarden, my OCS roommate, was one. My old brain cannot recall the other’s name right now. They brought the two coeds attending Salve Regina College they had met at The Tavern. During the meeting process, beer drinking went to be a bit too far, and Doc’s dinner date was a tad inebriated. She was Kathy McMahon. That evening, she earned the nickname of “Kathy the Drunk.” During our dinner, she did not drink too much, and was funny and engaging. The other coed was Irene Cruess, who was pretty and earned the nickname of “Irene the Siren.”

We had a good time, Doc and the other fellow left the next day. i, you might say, was occupied. But that dinner was important a little later.

i was occupied with the NWAI. That is not a Hawaiian village. It stands for Nuclear Weapons Acceptance Inspection.

This inspection was critical for the Hawkins to become fully operational. We were capable of carrying nuclear weapons, specifically Anti-Submarine Rockets (ASROC) with nuclear warheads. Whether we did or not i cannot confirm or deny – the required response to any questions about whether we had nukes on board or not. But to be capable, we had to pass the NWAI before loading our ammunition and operating with the fleet.

The entire process was brutal. First, i, as the “Nuclear Weapons Officer,” had to keep all of our publications relating to nuclear weapons up to date. There was a very small compartment, i don’t remember where, that had a safe with the secret nuclear weapons related publications were kept. Most took little upkeep. But one, Special Warfare Operational Publication (SWOP) 5-5 was a bear.

This publication was a thick, sophisticated, complicated, gobble of stuff i could not comprehend. Never used it. But changes came in bunches, several days each week, and required pen and ink and cut and tape changes to be entered, noted, and initialed. i would enter, notate, and initial the changes in the small space. It required an hour or two each week, sometimes more. But it had to be up to date for us to pass the NWAI. I am reminded of that arduous task today when i get another of the continuing updates to apps and programs for my computer and phone. It’s still not fun.

There was an added complication for us as we faced our NWAI. Commander, Cruiser, Destroyer Fleeet, Atlantic Fleet or CRUSDESLANT, or perhaps an echelon higher had come out with a standardized check sheet for operating, loading, firing, unloading, and maintaining the ASROC system. Before, each ship had created their own check sheet and were graded on the check sheet as well as the procedures. This check sheet was brand new and had a lot of errors throughout for loading. Loading the ASROCs into the launcher was one of the critical aspects of the NWAI.

Fortunately, i had help. The CRUDESLANT Nuclear Weapsons Mobile Training Team came aboard and went through the check sheet as we were loading mock ASROCs. They also were a great help in most of the other preparations.

One morning, i was going through a practice loading with my ASROC team consisting of ASROC gunner mates, torpedo men, and sonar technicians. The ASROC launcher and loader were located amidships on the 01 level. Captain Max Lasell came down from his cabin and walked over to me. He directed me to have my check sheet reader continue the practice and walked me over to the starboard lifelines.

The captain asked me how it was going. i was hestitant in replying. My boss, the weapons officer, kept interrupting, trying me to change the way we were doing things, putting things into play that did not work.

i finally said, “Captain, things are going okay. There are a few problems but we are working on them.”

The ever aware CDR Max Lasell looked around to ensure no one could hear us and said, “Jim, i know what your problem is. i’m going to have a meeting with him after the noon mess. i will tell him to stay completely out of your preparations, to leave you alone. This is yours now. All yours.”

The big affable man stopped and looked around before concluding, “Jim, you know how important this inspection is. You can’t just do your best. We have to pass or you and i may not have a job.”

He walked away with me staring after him feeling like i had a challenge larger than any i had ever had.

i was right.

…To be continued.

Newport, Rhode Island from April to July 1969 was magic for me.

The abrupt, unexpected ending of my very short marriage had left me devastated, but i learned of the end being legal at the last of the Hawkins trip to GTMO.

The trip back to Newport put me in a good frame of mind. We had the usual rough seas off of Hatteras when i was CIC watch officer. The radarmen to a man were losing the battle against the seasick monster. We illegally had the hatch on the starboard side open to get as much fresh air in the space as possible. It didn’t help much with the ventilation, but it did readily serve as immediate access to the side of the ship where the evening mess and midrats were being served to the sea.

After i had resisted my initiation to sea sickness on the USS Lloyd Thomas during my ’63 midshipman cruise, i apparently was unsusceptible to the seasick gods. i let my watch take turns at the rail while while myself and the ones left standing ran the four-hour watch. It was good thing we were steaming independently and no contacts were around.

i found myself proud of the way i ran that watch. It also taken me away from what i would face in Newport.

♦      ♦      ♦

Upon arrival, i went to the apartment i had rented. i leaned toward closing out my rental agreement and decide to do with my belongings. i did not relish living on the ship and the place was incredible. i didn’t really have time to decide as we were headed back to sea to Yorktown to load our ammo and our ASROC (anti-submarine rockets) in the launcher and magazines. Then, two classmates showed up from Norfolk to attend training and asked if they could stay with me. i told Doc Jarden, and marine whose name i will remember and replace here, they could stay in my place if they would help with the rent. They readily agreed and moved in as we got underway once more.

The saga continues…