Category Archives: Sea Stories

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

The Ones Missing Someone

This place on Signal Mountain has been Christmas for us all but three for 31 years — that’s not counting when my sister brought Christmas to Lebanon when my mother was too ill to travel even with the enticement of stopping at Stuckey’s on I-24 before heading up Monteagle Mountain.

This year’s Christmas is winding down. The presents have been opened; below the tree is empty space. Christmas dinner will begin soon after i carve my sister’s turkey, a tradition.

i again sit before the fire. It is the time for me to get a little solemn. i am thinking about those in our military deployed today. i was deployed hither and yon for four Christmases. The commands to which i was assigned did their best to make Christmas feel like home. There were as many decorations as available across a sea. The cooks did their best to replicate Christmas dinners. A couple like the Yosemite were miraculous.

One was with Ollie White from West Virginia who was the Korean Military Group (KMAG) Advisor for my command. Military Transport Unit One carried Republic of Korea troops to and from Vietnam. Ollie and i went to the Cam Rahn Bay officer’s club. It was empty except for the Vietnamese employees and the manager. The manager was our age and an admiral’s daughter. The three of us sat in a booth, had turkey, potatoes, and gravy (and several drinks) , and reminisced about our Christmases at home.

Not one of those Christmases filled the hole of being away from family for Christmas.

i think about those now who are celebrating while missing their Christmas at home. i wish them the merriest Christmas they can have. It’s a long way from home.

For old sailors

first light:
the old mariner can sense it
because of hundreds of morning watches
stood on steel-decked bridges
beginning at 0345 when he announced “I have the watch and the con”
until 0730 when the watch relief showed up early
so the old mariner and his watch staff could eat breakfast
before officers call, quarters, and colors.

first light would vary, of course:
latitude and longitude have a bearing on such things
as well as weather
but
it comes as sure as day follows night
because
it is the harbinger of the change,
from. night to day.

first light comes subtly:
a new hand would not realize it was upon him
until it had flushed the sea
with grays or blues depending on the weather
while the stars vanished;
then it was too late
to shoot stars (in good weather)
but
the mariner would know,
have the quartermaster break out the sextant,
so the two could
stand on the bridge wing, port or starboard,
depending on the course, of course;
the mariner would shoot the stars
while the quartermaster logged the angles;
afterward, the two would huddle,
place the logged data into the forms
to arrive at the point where they really were
unless, of course,
the navigator deigned to wake up early
to shoot the stars himself.

the watch was accompanied by the aroma
of coffee, eggs, and bacon
wafting up from the mess decks
as  cooks and mess cooks had also risen early
to fix the morning mess
(which is why the old mariner found ways
to spend his time on the starboard bridge wing,
four decks above the galley);
standing there in the dark
with millions of stars and planets suffusing the sky;
he senses first light coming just before
the hint of change seeps onto the eastern horizon:
his world slowly waxes from dim to shades of grey,
about three-quarters of an hour before the orange ball
emerges from the eastern horizon
officially claiming sunrise: night for day.

Now five miles inland years later,
the mariner, now emeritus only,
will rise early,
not to stand the watch
but
perhaps because age heeds nature’s call
or
he just doesn’t sleep well after 0400 —
old habits of morning watches on the bridge —
he stands in the front room looking east,
drinking his coffee from his mug in the morning dark
as has been his habit for as long as he can remember;
he senses first light again,
watches the first inkling of grey
slink into the black of night;

after all, first light is still his favorite moment of the day.

The Classic Marty Tale…actually just one of them

This story is a great illustration of Marty Linvilles’s sense of humor and his ability to laugh at himself. In fact, it is also a great illustration of the sense of humor of two groups of old guys both of which Marty and i belonged.

i began playing with the San Diego telephone guys in the early 90’s. Navy friends and my brother, Dan Boggs played with us until he moved to Tennessee. Others really good guys played with us and then moved on.

Marty, Rod Stark and i played our weekly game, which began when the three of us were on our twilight tours at the Naval Amphibious School in Coronado. That group also has had a number of folks join us and move on. Currently, there are about a dozen regulars.

So there was a melding of curmudgeons in both group who earned that “curmudgeon” moniker long before we were really old.

Marty became a mainstay of both groups and our foursome in each one.

As mentioned before, Marty suffered from angiospapgelitus; to repeat it is, “a disease that fuses spinal discs. This caused his head to naturally point down. His ability to withstand the pain and the inconvenience was a testament to his will.

Our foursome of Marty, Jim Hileman, Pete Toennies, and i were was playing in the telephone club’s annual tournament, this one at Terra Lago in Indio where they held the Skins Game a bunch of years ago.”

We were all milling around and Marty Marion, one of the SDTGA leaders went into the pro shop. There he saw what he thought was Marty Linville. He walked over, said hello, and started to talk when he realized it was not Marty Linville, but a mannikin with a broad-brimmed golf hat placed on top of the no-headed manniken.

When he told our group, we decided to honor the other Marty with this photo.

Marty Marion, what he thought was Marty Linville, Jim Hileman, and the goofy guy.

Marty Linville thought this was hysterical. His grandson Carson almost hurt himself when he saw it he was laughing so hard.

The Linvilles have a great since of humor.

A Veteran’s Surprise

He gave me the book last Tuesday as we were winding down from a golf tournament in Temecula.

Jim Lindsey is a terrific golfer who played on the San Diego State golf team several years ago. He is also a friend and a good man. He had mentioned the book at the tournament a year earlier. This year, he brought it and handed it to me for safe keeping and transferring it to an appropriate place.

i was honored to be a steward, even if only for a short while. i was the carrier of the torch because Jim knew of my Navy experience and thought my writing about that time in my life was an indicator of my capability to find a good place for the book.

i reached out to a number of my Navy friends who might have a better idea than mine about who to approach for retaining the book.

Jim’s book is entitled American Naval Biorgraphy: Comprising Lives of the Commodores Distinguished in the History of the American Navy. It is 440 worn, faded, and stained pages of American Naval History from its beginning to 1844. Why 1844? John Frost. LL. D. (Doctor of Law) finished writing his book in 1843. It was published the following year.

Many of those Navy officers i contacted were impressed. The first response was from my friend Dave Carey. Dave was a POW in Vietnam. i was a co-facilitator with him of a two-day leadership seminar for senior officers during our last active duty tour. He retired, and i took his place, as if anyone could take Dave’s place, as the Director of Leadership, Management, Education and Training (LMET) for the West Coast and Pacific Rim. Dave was a Naval Academy graduate and reached out to Jimmy DeButts, who is the editor of Shipmate Magazine, the academy’s alumni magazine. Jimmy noted the U.S. Naval Academy Alumni Association and Foundation would “love to be stewards of that book.” i connected with Jimmy and will be sending it to him later this week.

You see, i have become entranced by this book. i am retiring to our living room in a club chair by the fireplace and reading, carefully turning the frail pages and wandering around in US Naval history 260-180 years ago. Those Navy heroes are all there: Richard Dale, Edward Preble, Thomas Truxton, Stephen Decatur, Oliver Hazard Perry, William Bainbridge, and many others.

Of course, that line of amazing men begins with John Paul Jones. It is compelling to read about the father of our Navy through the words of his contemporary.

The language itself is captivating. i have spent some time looking up words and terms of which i was not familiar. It is not a read. It’s a journey.

Soon, i will finish and carefully send Jim’s book, handed down through four generations of his family, to the Naval Academy, a fitting place for it to rest. There are republished, newer copies of the book currently available on the internet. There are also texts that one can read residing in the cloud. i will likely add one of those to my library.

Jim’s copy came from his great, great grandfather, Harrison Tinkham. Jim’s response to my questions included a bit about that man: “Harrison Tinkham (my great-great grandfather) who was a Sea Captain originally from Massachusetts who later migrated to San Francisco. (only a guess…He may have captained a boat of supplies for the gold rush 49ers and then stayed in San Francisco)  He was born 1821 and died in San Francisco in 1889.  Obituary in San Francisco paper list him as Capt. Harrison Tinkham age 68.  Other family records just say he was a sailor.  Can’t say if he was military or civilian shipping. 

Yet another piece of information for me to return to the past and wonder about that man and his life at sea.

Admittedly, some of my interest may have been driven by recently reading a novel series on the U.S. Navy in its beginning. James L. Haley wrote three novels, The Shores of Tripoli, A Darker Shore, and Captain Putnam and the Republic of Texas (Haley has recently published the fourth novel in the series, The Devil in Paradise: Captive Putnam in Hawaii. His hero, Bliven Putnam, goes from a farm in Massachusetts through at least 1820 in his role as a Navy officer.

This Haley fiction gave me a image of a Navy sailing man of war. As i read my friend’s book of biographies, i kept envisioning life at sea in those times of unmechanized ships.

The experience has been invigorating. Jim Lindsey’s book has put life to my Navy and its history, a fitting thing to consider at the end of this year’s Veteran’s Day.

Thanks, Jim Lindsey, Dave Carey, and Jimmy Butts.

A Tale of the Sea and Me: Forced Draft Blowers

i found happiness in the firerooms even before i became CHENG* on the Hollister. As a midshipmen, my time in those two dark, white heat hot, sweltering caves below the main deck was an escape to earlier times in the heart of a magical, Rube Goldberg dream of a power plant.

During my 1963 third class middie deployment* i spent almost three weeks on the 04-08 and 16-20 watches in the after fireroom. It was an education all by itself.

As CHENG, i marveled at the work of the BTs and found it thrilling to be in fireroom on a full-power run with those boilers seeming to be a pounding heart pumping out the steam to drive the turbines and shafts to their maximum.

On one of the two full-power runs that were made during my tour, Hollister was running in excess of 35 knots and still was increasing when the run was cut short in order to make another commitment. i think she would have gotten close to 40 knots if we hadn’t had to quit the run.

During a DESRON* 9 group underway period, the commodore created a 5-mile race of the ships. All of the ships, except Hollister had been converted from black oil, the old fuel for steam ships after coal to “Navy distillate,” a much clearer burning fuel. i once again was in the fireroom on the 1JV sound-powered phone system.* As we gathered speed and the two 600-pound boilers were again pulsing, i learned Hollister was nosing ahead. i climbed up the ladder to the main deck and walked out on the port side weather deck. Hollister was clearly head by two ship lengths as we reached the five-mile “finish line.”

(A lesson here. You can lose some advantages by worrying about environmental or other concerns rather than your mission to have the most effective battle platform.)

As noted, i was enchanted with firerooms in the old Navy.

◆◆◆

One of the blessings i had as CHENG was a BTCM* who didn’t leave during the great exodus when the ship went reserve. As i write, i am struggling with his name and will eventually remember. He was a wonder.

As the never-ending bunch of contractors poured onto the ship as we approached our overhaul, one group was to assess our forced draft blowers in the firerooms. The forced draft blowers forced the air into to boiler to complete the combustion of the fuel oil to heat the water to steam. The forced draft blowers were massive. Hollister had a total of eight, two for each boiler. The contractors would attached all of their high-faluting electronic marvels to the blowers, run the blowers up to their operating speed, check and record all of their readings, and create a report at ginormous expense to determine which of the forced draft blowers required an overhaul.

Before the contractors arrived, my BTCM had the forced draft blowers turned on to operating speeds. He then placed a nickel, standing on its edge, on each of the blowers in turn. If the nickel fell flat, the master chief assessed that blower required an overhaul. If the nickel remaied upright on its edge, the master chief pointed out, the blower did not require an overhaul.

The BTCM was 100% accurate. The expensive report agreed. But the BTCM’s method only cost a nickel if we lost a nickel in the bilges during the process.

◆◆◆

When the Hollister was in Pearl Harbor, we were tied to the quay wall on the base. There was an FF astern of us. A tanker came along side to transfer JP5, an aviation fuel, which we carried for fueling some pumps and in an emergency transfer to an aircraft.

As our auxiliary gang was connecting the fuel hose to our pipeline to the fuel tanks, the hose experienced a hole ( i think one of our machinist mates stepped on it). About 10-20 gallons spilled over the side.

i made the mistake of reporting the spill to the Command Duty Officer, who dutifully told the XO. The XO came out to the DASH* deck where the fuel transfer operation was back in progress. He was red faced, excited, and in distress. He immediately told me to throw fuel soaking pads over the side and execute a number of other procedures and reports to appropriate authorities. He was flying off the handle.

i finally quieted him down, convinced him the master chief and i had it under control. He returned to his stateroom. The master chief directed the fueling team to put the pads back in their stowage. He and i stood at the port side hand rail and watched the barely visible film of JP5 float on the tide aft of us to the FF.

You see, if anyone reported the spill, it would to appear it came from the FF. Hollister burned the old black oil fuel and that was floating to the surface all of the time as it was released from spills during the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in 1944.

The BTCM mused, “I don’t know what the XO is all flustered about. If the spill, which doesn’t amount to anything here in Pearl, was reported, it would look bad. He, the CO, and you might get fired, but he and the CO would still get to retire. You wouldn’t make lieutenant commander and be kicked out of the Navy. If you weren’t sweating it — before the XO came on the scene, the BTCM and i had decided what to do — there is no reason he should.”

i learned a lot from that man.

NOTES:
* CHENG – Chief Engineer or Engineering Department Head on a Navy ship.
* BT – Boiler Tender, later termed Boiler Technician…i liked “tender” rather than “technician”
* third class middie deployment – third class midshipman, or NROTC midshipmen after their freshman year went on a two-month cruise on ships
* The midshipmen were in three sections while the BT’s* were in 4 sections. Consequently, the watches were not “dogged,” which meant the 16-20 watch was not split into two, two-hour dog watches. Ergo, the midshipmen did not rotate through the watches.
* DESRON: destroyer squadron normally consisting of five or six destroyers under the command of the destroyer commander or “commodore.”
*sound-powered phone system: a system of communication with headsets requiring no electricity. On Navy ships, the. “1JV” circuit was the primary engineering circuit for CHENG to communicate with the major parts of the steam plant (engine rooms, fire rooms, etc.

* BTCM: Boiler Tender Master Chief Petty Officer, an E-9, the highest pay level for enlisted personnel
* DASH: Drone Anti-Submarine Helicopter. These unmanned helicopters were designed to be flown out over suspected submarines and drop a pinging torpedo to find and destroy a submarine. The program, which had numerous failed exercises, most of which lost the expensive drone, was abandoned in the late 1960’s. The DASH deck on the 01 level aft, remained.