Many politically correct folks will become infuriated with this post. It violates all of their rules.
We are curmudgeons, old men who will make fun of anything. If we are the target of some impolitically correct prank, joke, or supposed bullying, we will laugh right along with the others.
The reason is quite simple. It’s funny.
This story is a classic example, one of the best.
My great friend, Marty Linville, was a hero, as i have noted, for his service in Vietnam, which earned him the Army’s Silver Star. He suffered from that service with several conditions. The one that struck him earlier than the others was angiospapgelitus. This is a condition that grows bad bone on the spine. It fused most of Marty’s spine and created the inability to turn his neck and his head was thrust forward and down. It caused him a great deal of pain for almost thirty years. Yet, he remained a very good golfer up to the very end of his life. Marty was amazing.
Twenty-five years ago or more, Marty had been over-medicated by several of his specialists. Consequently, he could not hit a golf ball very far (he finally managed to get his specialists coordinated and the problem did not go away, but the treatment lessened his pain a bit and increased his flexibility somewhat for at least twenty years; he was still limited in distance on hitting shots, but it was tolerable). Before, he resolved that distance problem, he had a problem on one specific hole.
The 12th hole at Sea ‘n Air, the Naval Air Station, North Island’s golf course, is a 528-yard, par 5 hole. There is a water hazard about fifty yards in front of the green that requires a tee shot to clear about 150 yards without landing in the water. With Marty’s limitations at that time, he just couldn’t clear the hazard, but he tried, tried, and tried.
Then on one Friday round, we were playing with my old shipmate, Al Pavich, and my neighbor, Ralph LaVage. As we approached the tee box, Marty announced he was going to lay up short of the hazard so he could clear it on his second shot. We thought this was a good idea.
Marty pulled out his sand wedge, and hit. The ball was just a bit off-line to the right. It hit the cart path and bounced high and long. The excessive bounce took the ball an extra twenty yards or so and into the water with a big splash.
When Marty turned around with that look only Marty could give, Ralph was doubled over in laughter, Al and i were rolling on the ground laughing. Marty got that great grin of his and started laughing along with us.
As noted after the meds were corrected, his distance problem was somewhat resolved for a long time. The story became a must to tell to anyone who joined our golf game who had not heard the story. Marty was often the one that told it.
Yep, Marty was a legend. He, like the rest of us, just wasn’t politically correct.
i have too much on my hands to get it all done before i leave for another place. i would like to publish posts at least four times a week, if not more. i have six books in various stages of completion (none are completed) i would like to finish. i have established a “kick the bucket” check list and narrative for a guide to whomever is left behind to clean up my mess.
An Aside: My sister was the executor for our parents and aunt, and i was the same for my father-in-law and helped a Navy widow across the street. There are some excellent check lists for such things as funeral, burial, social security, other financial matters, as well as personal matters. The VA provides one that is excellent and also includes information for veterans and military retirees.
Then, there are all of the things i want to do around the house. Hang some outside lights, raise my flagpole a bit, clean up and repair some hardscape, organize the garage mess, put all of my paperwork in order.
This is all to be done while i play golf one or two times a week, would like to practice more, and go to doctors, dentists, optometrists, specialists, not to mention lab tests…aha, i’ve created another checklist.
So in this clean-up-things yesterday, i found some old treasures. Cassette tapes exchanged with dear people while i was deployed going back fifty years. In three boxes, i also found slides. i took about a gazillion when my ships were carrying Koreans to Vietnam and back to Pusan.
It is outright fun to look at them and remember. So another project has been added. Here are a few of the initial results:
The fading is bad on this one, but if you look closely, the ship tied to the Delong pier in Qui Nhon, Vietnam, is the USNS Barrett (T-AP-198). The photo was taken from the bridge of the Barrett’s sister ship, the USNS Geiger (T-AP-197). It is the only time the two were in the same port in my year, 1970, aboard. The two rotated between Pusan, Korea and several ports in Vietnam, carrying Republic of Korea troops back and forth. They were on a 22-day cycle with a six-day respite in Sasebo, Japan for maintenance, resupply, and refueling.
The Geiger was relieved by the third ship of this type, the USNS Upshur (T-AP-196) about half-way through my tour. In the late 1940s, the three were built by American President Lines to be cruise liners, but were bought by the Navy to serve as troop and dependent carriers as the Korean War began. They performed that mission in the Atlantic and the Pacific until 1965 when the mission was to carry the ROK troops and officers. The 1500 troops were berthed in below deck compartments and the officers, including my 18-personnel unit above decks, which retained the configuration of cruise liners. I was a lieutenant junior grade (LTJG) and served as executive officer of the unit. It was a wild and crazy year.
A US Navy swift boat comes alongside as Geiger enters Qui Nhon. The base was an Army base while the swift boats and harbor security was run across the bay at a Navy location with the generic name of “market time.” Several of my unit went across numerous times with the idea of giving the sailors there a bit of a morale booster. Our units, as far as i know, were the only US military in country that wore our regular khaki uniforms and carried US Dollars. We were popular.
Some time in the late spring, early summer, Jim Harding learned i was on the ship. Jim, called “Beetle” by family members and myself, was in charge of the Army’s 101st Calvary medivac helicopters (Jim, correct me if i got the title wrong) based near Qui Nhon. He showed up when we pulled into port and i hosted him with a dinner on board — those meals were exquisite. On the next go-round, he invited me out to the 101st’s base. He took me on a tour of the country side with his driver and armed guard.
A 2,000-year old Buddhist temple (Before you ask, the swaztika is not from Germany. From Wikipedia:
The swastika is also used in other Asian religions, including Buddhism and Jainism.
The swastika is a sacred symbol in Hinduism that has many meanings:
Direction: When facing right, the swastika represents the universe’s evolution, and when facing left, it represents the universe’s involution.
Good fortune: The swastika is also a symbol of prosperity, good luck, and well-being. The word “swastika” comes from the Sanskrit word svastika, which means “conducive to well-being”.
Spiritual purity: The swastika is also a sign of spiritual purity.
The swastika is also used in other Asian religions, including Buddhism and Jainism:
Here is my Lebanon, Tennessee friend at the temple. He and his driver took me all over the countryside in a day’s outing after i had spent the night in his hutch with five or six other Army officers. After dinner of steak and beer, we went to the hutch and someone pulled out an LP album they had gotten. It was “Woodstock,” the two-record set of all of the music at the renown festival. It was the first time, i had heard the music.
Beetle is the younger brother of my best friend, Henry Harding. i practically lived at their house growing up. The three of us ran around together all of the time. Seeing him in Vietnam was one of the brightest moments of my tour.
To conclude this show and tell time, here is LTJG Jewell, executive officer of Military Sea Transport Service (MSTS, later in the year, renamed Military Sealift Command, or MSC) in fatigues, i thought Beetle got them for me, but he says he didn’t. i remain puzzled as to how i got them. i am on a hill above a Vietnamese village.
This was the only time i was outside of our port areas. The circuit of my two ships began by stopping at Qui Nhon to debark and then embark troops of the ROK Oak Leaf Division, primarily a supply division. The ship’s second stop was Nha Trang where we repeated the troop exchange. These were troops from the Tiger division, the Korean version of marines and known from their fierce fighting. i was told they had learned how to fight from the Turks during the Korean War.
In the early spring of 1974, the Hollister had an inspection from the Commodore’s staff, Destroyer Squadron (DESRON) 9.
It was annual inspection involving all aspects of ship’s operation, maintenance, and administration. When completed, the inspection report, full of discrepancies, was handed to the ship and forwarded through the chain of command to our ultimate boss, Commander, Surface Forces, Pacific.
Hollister was required to correct all critical discrepancies immediately and report them to the chain of command. All other discrepancies were to be included in a following report, ninety days after the inspection, noting the corrective action taken and projected completion date.
Lieutenant Commander (LCDR) Kerry Kirk, our executive officer, was relentless in badgering the department heads to submit their discrepancy status reports. Kirk was responsible for putting them all together, editing the mess, and preparing it for the Commanding Officer’s signature. Then it would be sent to all of the ship’s superiors in the chain of command. The XO was driving us crazy. We all felt we had much more important matters to attend, for example, the upcoming six-month regular overhaul. But we all cobbled our parts together. LCDR Kirk spent untold late hours finalizing the thick document. It was signed by Commander (CDR) Phelps, and sent off.
At the noon mess, the captain, the exec, four department heads, the oncoming quarterdeck Officer of the Deck (OOD), Donnie Frahler, as i recall, and the next senior junior officer sat down at the wardroom table for the first sitting. As the meal ensued, CDR Phelps leaned back in his chair and related his tale:
You know, I remember when I was XO on the McKean, USS McKean (DD 784) when we had one of those discrepancy reports to submit.
I was busy and it was over a week late when I realized we had not submitted the report. I ordered the department heads to get their sections in ASAP. Of course, it took them nearly two weeks to get their parts to me. I did the editing and had to get a couple of changes from the department heads. By the time I finished, it was almost a month past the due date.
I started up to the CO’s cabin with the report for signature, I stopped and considered the consequences. If we submitted the report that late, our superiors were going to blast us for screwing, possibly worse than what the report would bring down on us.
So I went back to my stateroom, and put the report in my “pending” basket.
Six months later, when I was relieved to become the CO here, I took the report out and dumped into the to-be shred basket.
We never heard a peep about not submitting the report.
I learned my lesson. Reports to higher authority weren’t quite as crucial for the rest of my career.
Becoming CHENG on the USS Hollister (DD 788) gave me enough problems. i was responsible for running a tired engineering plant without any real engineering experience, on a tired ship, struggling to get to its regular overhaul (ROH). Losing one-third of my engineers due to being assigned as a reserve ship added to the difficulty.
Perhaps the biggest problem was not engineering, but all of this happening with the crisis of drugs in the Navy during my time on board, 1973-1975.
Looking back, it seems humorous. But it wasn’t humorous then. Here are some, but not all of the examples:
My chief Hull Technician (HT) was walking down the starboard side, main deck. one of his third class HTs was maintaining a hatch, doing some welding. The chief asked his sailor if he had a light so he could light his cigarette. The sailor raised his welding mask, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his lighter. Unfortunately for the sailor, his plastic bag fell out of his pocket onto the deck. It was filled with marijuana, weed. To Captain’s Mast he would go.
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Two firemen decided they would smoke a little grass while they had the duty. They cogitated about where they could enjoy their smokes. So, they climbed into a fan room, closed the hatch, and lit up. Unfortunately for the firemen, the fan in the fan room was providing ventilation for the main passageway. Soon, the unquestionable aroma of marijuana was permeating the main passageway. The duty master at arms began following the odor and opened the hatch to the fan room. To Captain’s Mast they would go.
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We were getting underway for ops in the SOCAL op areas. On the day we were getting underway, i came aboard at 0300 to be there for the BTs when they lit off the boilers. They informed me that someone had taken all of our sprayer plates (the plates sprayed the fuel oil into the boiler). My BT1s went to the other tin cans moored at the Long Island Naval Station and borrowed enough sprayer plates for us to meet our mission. The sprayer plates were never found. We ordered a new set, which arrived before our next underway period. We were pretty sure a sailor who knew enough about our boilers took them and threw them over the side. We were also pretty sure that sailor was high on drugs. We never found him either.
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Someone we never caught must have been pumped up on drugs. One night while in our home port, a sailor went up to the torpedo deck. On the bulkhead was a high pressure air connection. It was used to charge the torpedo tubes them into the water. The hatch to the HP air must have weighed several hundred pounds. This guy lifts it up and tosses it over the side. i remain amazed he could do that.
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i think the one that stunned me the most was when an Electronic Technician second class petty officer (ET2) went up to the bridge one night. He cut the wires and stole the bridge to bridge UHF radio, critical for communicating with other ships in piloting in close waters. He took it to a a pawn shop, and he pawned it for enough cash — a huge difference to what the gear actually cost — to buy some LSD, which i suspect he was on when he came up with the idea. He was caught and went to a special court martial, convicted and kicked out with a felony record.
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i never had possession or even a drink of alcohol on my ships. i have never used marijuana or other illegal drug. This was not so noble. If i had not been a Naval officer, i’m pretty sure i would have used drugs just as i used alcohol when not on my ships. But i just found it wrong to do something i had to enforce on sailors not to do. i am too old to make judgements about other’s decisions. This occurred a half-century ago. It’s history.
i think my tour as a chief engineer gave me a real understanding of what my primary focus had to be. My respect for those sailors whom i supported to do their jobs became clear. i believe dealing with those problems made me a better officer in the long run.
Time to stop the pontification and get on with sea stories.
Marty had retired from the Army. He was working for a military contractor in human interface with weapons computer controls. I was getting close to retiring. So we decided to hit the road for a golf outing in the desert.
i had been on several such trips with my friend Jim Hileman and Mike Kelly, telephone guys. We would go out to the Palm Springs area sometime between June and August. With coupons, costs were essentially cart fees. The drawback is the temperatures were always between 110 and 120 degrees. We would play 6-8 rounds in five days.
So Marty and i decided to try it. We would go the mountain route, which included switchbacks with climbs and descents ranging up to 5,000 feet. Naturally, we chose to go in my Mazda Rx7. It was July.
Now, being an Army retiree and a Navy retiree, we naturally put a case of beer in behind the seats with our clubs and minimum luggage. We didn’t drink the whole case, but we downed a number, yes, illegally, on the two-hour plus drive. Consequently, we were stopping at almost every turnoff for one of us to take relief in the bushes. i was happy it was over when we reached Marty’s condominium.
The next morning, we had the first tee time at PGA West’s Jack Nicklaus Resort Course in La Quinta. It was so new, the pro shop was a trailer, no club house yet. They had just finished watering the course. This resulted in a mist over the course. Marty noted it looked like the British moors. That image quickly faded as the temperature accelerated from a comfortable 80 degrees to 115 before we finished. On the back nine, the mist had been replaced by mosquitoes, the only time i encountered them on desert courses.
Being brilliant, we chose to play from the black, championship tees. That meant we played a 7,204 yard course.
Marty commented he had never hit so many drivers, three woods, and wedges on a round.
We drove from PGA West to the La Quinta Citrus Course, a public course. Back then, it was a 7400 yard course from the championship tees, which, of course, we chose to play. By the time we reached the pro shop, it was past noon and over 120 degrees. The only person on the course was manning the pro shop. He was amazed we were playing.
We teed off on a lovely first hole we thought. But when we had holed out, we couldn’t find the number two tee and realized we had played the tenth hole. So we drove back to the pro shop and began over on the first, correct tee.
To say we were beat when we finished the two rounds would be an injustice. That evening, we sat out in the unheated spa, drinking gin and tonics, a signature libation for Marty and me. We calculated the yards of golf we played that day. Because of the extra hole at the citrus course, we had covered over 15,000 yards of golf for our introductory twosome rounds in the desert.
We often laughed at how ridiculous that was. But in our way, we were proud of it.
