Chapter Four, Crossing the Pond; part two

All of my previous transits in the Atlantic had been a SOA (speed of advance) of 17 knots. This was primarily because my previous ships in the Atlantic had been destroyers. At one time, the old Yosemite had been capable of a maximum speed of 19.6 knots. But age of the machinery and addition of lots of weight for new repair equipment, CAPT Boyle believed her maximum was about 16 knots. The transit from Mayport to Rota, Spain was planned at a cruising speed of 14 knots. I was pessimistic and suspected she would be lucky to grind it out at 12 knots.

Captain Boyle and Ken Clausen, the chief engineer discussed how the thirty-nine-year-old ship could handle speed. Captain Boyle had plenty of experience and knowledge concerning steam ships. He served in three engineering tours, was an engineering instructor at Navy Destroyer School and a senior examiner on the Atlantic Fleet Propulsion Examining Board. Ken had already established himself in my opinion as one of the best chief engineers with whom I had served.

Prior to departure, we had three non-crew members board for the transit across the Atlantic. Navy Campus for Achievement provided Mr. Mabry for conducting GED and CLEP tests and other educational services for the crew. The Fleet Weather Center, Norfolk sent a first class and a second class aerographer’s mates (AG’s) temporary duty to give us the most current and complete weather information. It was the season for tropical storms and hurricanes.

After our first night underway, AG1 Scollan came to me with a message from his command in Norfolk. A tropical depression off of Bermuda was developing and was being watched closely. In two days, the depression strengthened into a tropical storm and on September 11, it became Hurricane Chantal, the one I described in my letter to Maureen above.

Looking at the charts, Captain Boyle and I assessed our options. Both of us had significant experience with hurricanes, typhoons, and tropical cyclones and storms. We believed it would be safest for the ship to cross well ahead of the northern path of Chantal. To remain on the western side of the storm could put the ship in a precarious position without maneuvering room if Chantal moved northeast. The fleet weather center disagreed and directed us to stay east until the hurricane passed.

Frustrated, Captain Boyle with my agreement decided to obey the direction of the weather center. There was a very, very slight chance our crossing north of the hurricane track could put us in a dangerous position. Although we were sure this wouldn’t happen, if it did we would have no leg to stand on in defense of our actions.

By Monday evening, September 12, Chantal had dissipated and was no longer classified a hurricane, reverting to a tropical storm. We resumed our course to Rota. I was not sure the old “Busy Lady” could make up the delay to arrive on time. She proved me wrong.

Although Yosemite was expected to steam around ten knots, the boiler technicians used oversized sprayer plates for the boiler burners and the old grey lady made it across the big pond at an estimated SOA (Speed of Advance) of twelve knots. At times, she even topped out at sixteen knots. Beautiful old lady. She arrived in Rota as scheduled, Tuesday, September 20.

*     *     *

In all of the other Navy ships on which I deployed, going to sea was an extremely busy time for all hands. Everyone had watches, usually three or four sections. If it was four sections, the watch sections would rotate through the four-hour watches, which gave them a different watch each day. Yosemite was in four-section watches on the bridge, Combat Information Center (CIC), lookouts, and engineering. But the vast majority of the ship’s complement was the Repair, Medical, and Dental departments, and none of those crew members stood watches.

However, Captain Boyle had determined early on the material condition of the thirty-nine-year-old ship was poor. There was a large amount of rust throughout the ship, especially on the weather decks. The first lieutenant, chief engineer, and the repair officer came up with a plan to address the problems and bring the ship back to respectable material condition by the time we returned to Mayport. Captain Boyle approved.

The plan went into effect as soon as we left Mayport. Nearly the entire ship kept busy throughout the transit, a massive effort by the Repair department was made cutting and welding rotten metal throughout the ship.

I was getting the feel of communicating with the crew. The POD became my daily connection with all of them. The POD was read, or at least was supposed to be read to all hands at morning quarters. I tried to convey good order and discipline was a primary concern for everyone, but we could take care of business and still have fun. I was learning on the fly.

I also was learning how Navy officers, chiefs, and sailors heeded my cardboard signs I hung on my office door. If the sign indicated I was out of the office and where I was, whoever had come to see me would leave, go back to work, and return later. However, if the sign indicated I was in, I qualified that information with additions. My normal sign was “Knock and Enter.” Then there was “Quiet Time: Please Do Not Enter,” “Conference in Session: Please Do Not Enter,” “XO’s Mast: Please Do Not Enter,” etc.

Then as president of the wardroom mess, I would sit at the head of the wardroom table. In one of the first days at sea at the end of the noon mess, I arose and announced, “I hear the rack monster calling (“rack” was the old sailors’ term for beds, which were canvas bottoms tied to a metal frame); it is time for a “NORP.” The old salts knew about the “rack monster” even though the new officers didn’t understand, and no one knew what a “NORP” was. When they all inquired, I explained “NORP” was the acronym for “Naval Officer’s Rest Period.”

CHENG and the First Lieutenant got together with the assistant repair officer. They had the repair department make another Bakelite sign. This one was blue with a gold background. Instead of letters, the threesome had the repair department paint Navy signal flags on the blue background for November, Oscar, Romeo, and Papa. One had to know the signal flags to read it, but soon everyone on board knew it spelled “NORP.”

No one seemed to pay attention to any of the other signs and would barge into my office regardless of what the sign said. However, when I hung the “NORP” sign on my door, no one dared to enter. It worked and continued to work until the day I left the ship.

One particular incident occurring on the transit to Rota was related to later events. The repair department had an informal leader who was a positive influence on the crew’s morale. ET2 (Second Class Petty Officer, Electronics Technician) Schmidt was constantly involved in supporting the ship’s policy. He was a leader in group physical fitness workouts and other social activities.

One late morning after I had conducted my messing and berthing inspection, he knocked on my door and sat down. In the POD that morning, I had inserted my hand-written assessment of the previous day’s messing and berthing inspection. In it, I had named a culprit of having a gross rack, in the engineering berthing as I recall. Padelsky decided the new XO needed a lesson in leadership. He told me it was not right to identify poor performers in public, that, as the old saw goes, I should praise in public and condemn in private.

I listened politely and then told Schmidt his idea might work somewhere else, but we were in the Navy and should be held accountable. I could put the poor and gross rack maker on report, which would lead to a rather lengthy NJP process, which was silly, or I could point out in public the rack-maker was creating a bad and unhealthy atmosphere for the others in his berthing compartment, which should put pressure on him to clean up his act.

I thanked him for his input and I would consider his advice in future POD notes.

On the fourth day after leaving port, a chief came to the bridge to report two sailors, male and female, had been found in a locked compartment. Apparently, nothing of significance had happened yet, but the situation was grossly inappropriate in our situation. The two went to Captain’s Mast and were dismissed with stern warnings.

This occurred as the captain and I were discussing how we should deal with male and female relationships when they went on liberty throughout the cruise. I went through the regulations concerning women at sea. We considered an incident during the previous regime when two crew members, a male and female kissed each other crossing the brow onto the ship. Of course, the sea trials incident of standing lights on after sunset and the two crew members locked in a compartment were also considered.

As far as I can recall, we never wrote any of these rules down officially, but it was known throughout the ship these rules were in effect throughout the deployment and continued once we returned stateside:

1. There are no female or male sailors and officers aboard the There are only sailors and officers aboard and we are all going to act like sailors and officers.
2. No two sailors or more shall ever be inside a compartment locked from within.
3. No affection will be demonstrated between crew members on board or in any area controlled by the ship including the pier or landing areas for liberty boats.

It was a different time, different cultural mores and different fashion. An example was in my handwritten POD note:

6. Shaved heads. General regulations on grooming standards state that the standards are based on “neatness, cleanliness, safety, military image and appearance.” While shaved heads might be clean, they do not project the military image and appearance. This is especially important when Yosemite enters foreign ports and represents the U.S. in our sailors’ appearance and conduct ashore. Consequently, no personnel will be allowed ashore after ROTA with shaved heads.

Then on September 16, Captain’s Mast was held for several sailors put on report. MMFN Edmunds, the deserter whose wife required me to write a letter of explanation to the First Lady, was one of them. The captain assigned Edmunds to a Special Court Martial.

At 1000, Thursday, September 20, Yosemite entered Rota Bay and tied up port side to the pier at Naval Station, Rota.

By the captain’s and my assessment, the transit had been successful. We still had a long way to go to reach our destination of Diego Garcia, the first of the four legs had gone pretty well. We had made our projected arrival date at Rota on time in spite of the threat of Hurricane Chantal. The crew had gotten their sea legs and all seemed to be faring fairly well. From our experience with this new idea of women in ships, we had been able to formulate some rules. It seemed the crew had bought into the idea they were sailors, regardless of gender.

It was now time for a short liberty port visit and to prepare to cross the Mediterranean.

Far and away, one of the best things about deploying in my time in the Navy was leaving all attachments to land behind. That point in time was announced, even saluted by one prolonged blast on the ship’s whistle and the boatswain mate piping “attention” on his boatswain’s pipe followed by his announcement on the 1MC speakers, “Underway.” Such announcements were preceded by two even better announcements: “let go all lines,” and blessedly “all lines clear.”

All of this meant the ship was on her own. As mentioned in my description of our sea trials. The “all lines clear” did not only refer to the mooring lines and steam lines but also the phone lines. Back then, such cutting of umbilical ties meant no phone calls. It also meant no outside agencies coming on board to conduct inspections, no salesman trying to get their foot in the door, no superiors or their staff coming on board to give direction on how we should operate or address their particular area of expertise, no inspectors coming to check their particular bailiwick and disrupt the ship from getting done what needed to be done, and no dependents coming on board asking for us to do something to help them or their sailor.

“Underway” meant Yosemite was on her own to do what she, in 1944, was commissioned to do. As a career surface officer, it was a heady feeling to get underway for a deployment scheduled to last almost eight months.

At 1400, Friday, September 9, 1983, Yosemite got underway and would remain on her own power except for five brief port visits until 1200, Wednesday, March 21, 1984.

While writing this book, I came upon a shoe box full of letters I had written Maureen. Many are too personal to include here. But there are some that capture my thoughts better than I could now, thirty-four years later. The one below, as all of those letters appearing here, has been edited for grammar, sometimes to omit an item not really accurate in retrospect, or to delete a negative reference to a shipmate. This one was begun two days after Yosemite departed Mayport and was completed the night before we arrived at the US Naval base in Rota, Spain.

Lady,

Underway. Sun so bright; sea so calm: we sail. I cannot hear the engine growl or the boilers rumble from up here on the open bridge – an archaic wonder, this open bridge I have come to love with the wind in my face. Dolphins, flying fish, and a giant sea turtle bigger than a small car, busily nosing about and poking their heads up and sometimes clearing the water in their entirety to peer at this strange sight passing by, this steel mammoth filled with 900 souls, these 900 souls ironically lonelier than if they were by themselves on a deserted isle.

The above was written several days ago – I have already lost track of time – when all was peaceful. A hurricane (Chantal), born in an unlikely area and following an unusual path has reared up to pester us (our pesterers actually are the ones who control our puppet strings reacting to lines on a satellite picture, not the hurricane herself) and awake me at all hours of the night to receive reports, analyze the graphs, and then look at the beautiful sea and attempt to read her dark and brooding mind to guess at Chantal’s course and speed to minimize our peril, avoid standing into danger. Then in those irregular moments throughout the day, recommend to the captain, a knowledgeable, capable seaman in his own right, a course and speed to keep us on a safe journey east.

But we cannot take the risk of the course and speed we both think is prudent taking us eastward, defying the desk-sitting analysts back in Norfolk, for if we were wrong, there would be hell, ours, to pay with swift retribution from the desk sitters on dry land.

So we avoid a danger that never really existed for us, a hurricane that died in a confused sea, a fate precipitated by her birth in an unusual place for such phenomena while several hundred miles west we fretted away the hours.

i spent my time being concerned about our being subjected to the lack of seaman sense governing us when i realized the captain was relying on my sense of the sea, my knowledge and experience, which was close to equal to his, and certainly greater than anyone else on board. Captain Boyle was listening to and taking my recommendations, often seeking them. He commented i communicated with the sea.

i communicate with the sea.

i had never had it put that way before. And it came from a man who knows. i do not possess the technical knowledge of oceanography and meteorology. i have the basics of sailing the sea and not much more. i, however, can look at the sea’s skies and her endless depth of blue, and hear her speak her mood. i used to feel her presence and interpreted the feelings i experienced at sea as an indication that god might really exist. Now, i know it was not a god but the sea trying to talk to me. Mystic nonsense? Maybe.

But maybe it is you who has given me this gift. Maybe experiencing you and our love has allowed me to understand this power of my communication with this frighteningly beautiful force such as she.

i rejoice in the revelation but acknowledge the responsibility i bear along with the talent(?). i am even more responsible for this lovely old ship and the souls on board. i must temper my abandon and romantic restlessness. i live comfortably within my communication with this power and love you even more for allowing me to live with both of you. These people rely on me. They all rely on me whether they realize it or not to give their lives a substance, a direction, a purpose.

The Captain is an idol, an object of reverence, a god at sea. i am the force, the dynamic driving force that worms into the spirit of each soul and claims my territory. Unlike many others, but not all, i have attempted to add humor, understanding, selflessness, credibility into this force. i hope have not engendered fear. i believe i am promoting respect; respect for the Captain, for me, and the ship, but most importantly for themselves.

There have already been mistakes. There will be many more. Hopefully, they will not have any adverse impact. i only hope i don’t burn out, don’t become so involved i cannot see the humor, pathos, and futility in this game of driving, leading these people down a path that has no real direction except for the immediate and eternal goal of the ship’s mission. i already have come to love this job, but i still occasionally wonder if this awesome responsibility of power won’t destroy itself, destroy me. i sometimes feel i am Luke, old cool hand lying on that table, those fifty eggs bloating his stomach, his body resembling a man on a crucifix after he told his prison mates not to lean on him.

i am an image i believe: an image our sailors would like to emulate. They know i am happy. They know i enjoy fine things. They know i am honest and upright, and they know i am married to a beautiful woman. They also know i came from the same roots as they. i can feel they identify with those common roots and see they, or perhaps their son or daughter, can reach this plateau.

The job is consuming. i started this letter the second day out. i started this last part at 0200 the morning we arrive in Rota. Every morning, i arise around 0530; sometime around midday, go for a run or take a nap (sometimes both); have one relaxing meal (breakfast is a working meal where i read radio messages and prepare for officers call), skipping the other meal. i normally hit the rack between 2300 and 0100 but already have had a couple of nights with only one or two hours sleep. There will be more. i really am not complaining because i am really into it and feel like i’m having a positive impact.

i’ve taken very little time for personal things. Sleep is my enemy. i want to stay awake forever and cram all of these things into my life, including being XO. i can’t so i’m trying to be selective and truly prioritize. This deployment provides me the time and requires me, quite willingly to focus on this ship, crew, and wardroom. My goal is to reach peak organization by the time we reach Diego Garcia. Once i’ve achieved that, i should have the time to focus on writing, and of course, you.

i am excited. i am excited about performing this job well and absolutely bonkers about us in the future. After these 183 days of deployment, i never want to leave you. i think about actually getting screened and assigned as commanding officer of a ship. It would be reaching my ultimate Navy goal, but it also would most likely mean at least one deployment, and the thought of being away from you that long again does not sit well with me. My wanderlust is fading, but i would accept a CO assignment in a heartbeat. But there would be some regret at the thought of leaving you.

“Whatever else you are, be a seaman, know the ways of the sea and the men who go down to the sea in ships.” Unknown

“Our will is to keep the torch of freedom burning for all. To this solemn purpose, we call upon the young, the brave, the strong, and the free. Heed my call. Come to the sea. Come sail with me.” John Paul Jones

The next big problem would plague the Yosemite and particularly me for nearly all of the deployment and beyond.

A week before the underway date, a senior chief went to a fast food restaurant to take home some fare to his family. He spotted a cook in the back, a Yosemite sailor who was AWOL at best, a deserter at worst. When MMFN(N) Edmunds realized he had been recognized, he bolted for the back door. The senior chief tackled him in the parking lot and with the help of shore patrol brought Edmunds back to the ship. The quarterdeck watch allowed them to come aboard and put MMFN Edmunds on restriction.

When I received the report the next morning, my antennae quickly rose and started vibrating. I remembered Lieutenant Commander Louis Guimond, a Louisianan, a Cajun, who was the XO on the Hawkins, my first ship. Louie was one of the best if not the best XO I had throughout my Navy career. One afternoon, the shore patrol brought back a sailor who had gone UA (Unauthorized Absence) several months earlier. The ship had declared him a deserter. When Louie heard they had the guy on the quarterdeck, he ran out to the quarterdeck and screamed at the shore patrol to take the guy off the ship immediately and to the base brig. The XO knew if the ship accepted the sailor, he would be part of ship’s company and the ship’s problem. The Hawkins would be responsible for the ensuing court martial, and the sailor also would be part of the crew, preventing the ship from getting a replacement.

But MMFN Edmunds was on board. I couldn’t change that. Now he was my problem. I shuddered when I discovered he was Machinist Mate Fireman (Nuclear). This meant he had been in the nuclear program, most likely on a submarine and was kicked out. The nuclear submarine commands, because of nuclear safety and security, had an instruction allowing them to simply get rid of a trouble maker by declaring him unfit for the nuclear program. All such problems were reassigned to…yes, that’s correct: they were assigned to a Navy ship. They became the surface navy’s problem.

The reason I shuddered was recalling the only nuclear dropout I previously had as a subordinate. I was Chief Engineer, on the USS Hollister (DD 788) in 1973-75. An MM3(N) reported aboard and was assigned to M division, the division that operates the propulsion part of the engineering system. This new sailor was assigned to main control. Soon he got into some trouble and went to captain’s mast. The captain found him guilty, reduced him in rank to MMFN, reduced his pay in half for three months, restricted him to the ship for three months, and assigned him 45 days of extra duty. This was the maximum punishment a ship’s CO could allot at captain’s mast except for three days in the ship’s brig on bread and water, an extremely rare occurrence.

As one would expect, the now MMFN was not happy. Hollister engineers, including me, just didn’t realize how unhappy he was. When his duty section had the duty on a Wednesday, he was assigned to roving security patrol. When a ship was cold iron, i.e. not steaming, a roving security patrol was set. This patrol would be on four-hour watches, roaming through the engine rooms, fire rooms, and other engineering spaces to ensure the plant was secure and safe. In the early part of his mid-watch, this MMFN opened up all of the sea valves to allow sea water to come into the space. When it was discovered by the next watch, nearly all equipment on the lower level of main control, which included vital pumps, most with electrical components, were underwater. The Hollister was scheduled to get underway the following week.

The MMFN was assigned a summary court martial. In the process, as chief engineer I had to provide all the evidence against him, but as his department head I had to counsel him. It was the most difficult two-headed job I ever experienced.

My machinist mates worked around the clock. We took several of the pumps to a “bicycle shop” in Long Beach, got the ones required to light off repaired and installed in time to get underway. It was an incredibly demanding week, one of the worst I endured in my Navy career.

So I think it was natural to be alarmed. MMFN Edmunds later proved my concern was justified.

Edmunds’ young wife was not happy either. She made all sorts of crazy, nonsensical claims and demands for Edmunds to be released off the ship and not deploy. She began making protests. She demanded her husband be allowed to stay ashore. As much as I wished we had not allowed him back on board, he was now Yosemite’s problem, and we needed to follow regulations and JAG procedures. The ship would have to prosecute him through the proper JAG regulations.

Edmunds went to Captain’s Mast. Rather than mete out the maximum punishment a captain was allowed under the UCMJ, Captain Boyle assigned Edmunds to a summary court martial. This would take place after the ship got underway for deployment. MMFN Edmunds was not happy. He did not want to deploy in the worst way. His wife as mentioned was perhaps more upset.

This resulted in my first time to respond to a congressional inquiry. Although it wasn’t a congressman, it was Nancy Reagan, the first lady. This was even worse. Edmunds’ wife wrote a letter of protest to the first lady. Nancy, or her staff, in turn wrote a letter to Yosemite. At that time, a ship was required to respond to a congressional or first lady inquiry within 24 hours, including the vetting process through the chain of command. Guess who had to write the response. The XO. Me.

I guess it was a good response. Nancy didn’t call me or otherwise respond. We kept Edmunds on board until we got underway. I’m sure neither he nor his wife were pleased. I thought it was a stunning victory for good order and discipline, and that’s a significant part of an XO’s job. Little did I realize MMFN Edmunds would be a major thorn in my side, not for just the deployment but most of my tour on Yosemite.

Because there were only a small number of officers and sailors who had deployed on a ship before, we began running all sorts of warnings, instructions, and word of things to do and not do in the Plan of the Day or as we called it the POD, the XO’s vehicle to communicate the daily running of the ship to the entire crew. I kept consulting with the captain, the first lieutenant, and the engineer about word to get out to the rookie sailors. It was a new experience for me. All of my previous ships had been manned by officers, chiefs, and sailors who had been on numerous deployments. The department heads, the division officers, the chiefs, and the experienced petty officers made sure new folks knew how the rules at sea were different and also made sure the newcomers obeyed the rules of going to sea on a ship. But for Yosemite, there were large numbers of leaders who had not really gone to sea. So we passed the word at quarters daily and, we posted notes in the POD.

For weeks, there was a constant reminder to conserve fresh water:

7. ­CONSERVE FRESH WATER: ALL HANDS ARE REMINDED TO CONSERVE FRESH WATER TO KEEP US FROM HAVING TO GO ON WATER HOURS. REPORT ANY FRESH WATER LEAKS IMMEDIATELY TO DAMAGE CONTROL CENTRAL. TAKE NAVY SHOWERS. FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO WONDER WHAT A “NAVY SHOWER” IS, YOU DO THE FOLLOWING.
   1. • TURN ON THE WATER TO WET DOWN.
      • TURN OFF THE WATER TO SOAP UP.
      • TURN WATER ON TO RINSE OFF.

DON’T BE SHY TO LET SOMEONE KNOW ABOUT IT IF THEY’RE NOT FOLLOWING THESE PROCEDURES. WATER HOURS ARE AN INCONVENIENCE THAT WE DON’T WANT TO HAVE TO EXPERIENCE. 

Then we warned about safety at sea. We preached about securing all loose items before getting underway to keep them from becoming flying objects when the ship began to roll in rough seas. And a POD note warned:

8. SAFETY NOTE: S A F E T Y!!! ALL HANDS ARE REMINDED TO THINK SAFETY. THIS MEANS STAYING AWAY FROM LIFELINES, NO “SKYLARKING.” REPORT ALL SAFETY DISCREPANCIES TO DEPARTMENTAL SAFETY PO’S/SAFETY OFFICER. THE MAIN OBJECTIVE IS TO “THINK SAFETY.” IF WE KEEP THIS IN MIND, WE’LL ALL HAVE A SAFE DEPLOYMENT.

All Navy ships tried to provide entertainment. In my earlier days, entertainment was the evening movies for the crew, chiefs, and wardroom. The movies were high-lined from ship to ship until they were replaced by the service force ship, usually an oiler, which had returned to port for a resupply of fuel oil, other supplies, and a new batch of movies. I use the word “new” cautiously because the available movies were older reruns, many black and whites. Occasionally, like once or twice a deployment, we would have “steel beach” parties on the fantail and grill hamburgers. That was about it for our entertainment.

But the Yosemite bunch needed more. Many would not be standing watches, so off hours were dead time. We wanted to give our sailors something to do rather than think up things, which might not be so good, for themselves or for the ship. We found a space for weight-lifting, several officers and enlisted volunteered to lead group exercises. And we created areas and times for sunbathing:

9. SUNBATHING: ALL HANDS ARE REMINDED THAT SUNBATHING HOURS ARE FROM 1130-1300. THE MALE SUNBATHING AREA IS THE FLIGHT DECK (i.e. the DASH Deck). THE FEMALE SUNBATHING AREA IS 03 LEVEL AFT OF THE OPS COMPLEX. PROPER SUNBATHING ATTIRE MUST BE WORN. FEMALES MUST WEAR ONE PIECE SUITS (NO BIKINIS). MALES MUST WEAR BOXER STYLE SUITS (NO BRIEFS).

To add to such concern, this XO added a hand-written note at the bottom of the POD: “Remember sunbathers, you are responsible for ensuring against sunburn. Sunburns are not legitimate reasons for not performing work.”

As I copy these notes, I keep thinking of the television series and movie “M.A.S.H.” and feel in retrospect a bit like Corporal O’Reilly.

After all, it was a different time and a uniquely different challenge for the Yosemite to deploy, unlike all of my other preparations to go overseas.

Our underway preparations were going well until Wednesday, September 7, when Chief Engineer, Ken Clausen, reported the evaporator had gone down. Our scheduled underway on Thursday was delayed. It was not feasible to leave port with no guarantee we could produce fresh water for cooking, drinking, and washing or, most importantly, feed water for the boilers. I was very concerned as I remembered another tender. The USS Prairie (AD 15) in 1974 was about to get underway out of its home port of Long Beach while I was the chief engineer on the USS Hollister (DD 788) also homeported in Long Beach. The Prairie suffered a casualty to her Ship’s Service Turbine Generator (SSTG). Since the Prairie was launched in 1939, many plans and blueprints were not available. The Navy finally flew in an eighty-year old man from Philadelphia who had helped design the generator. It took about two months to make the repairs. I was envisioning this happening to the Yosemite and her evaporators (as we called the distilling plants).

But the engineers and repair department worked continuously and on the original scheduled underway day, Thursday, they successfully got the distilling plant running.

Finally, the USS Yosemite, the “Busy Lady,” was going to get underway for her deployment to the Indian Ocean. It was just under a month after I reported aboard. I had no real idea of how this was going to turn out.

I expressed my feelings in a letter to Maureen, September 9, 1983:

…Another short note before we go. It looks like we’ll make it this time. It’s 11:30 a.m., 1130 my time. All our equipment is operating, and we’re scheduled to get underway at 1:30 p.m., 1330 my time. It will be a relief in many ways.

Only the thought of delaying our life together causes sad thoughts. i am proving to be a good executive officer, and this time at sea should put it all in order. There is absolutely no one yet to whom i relate as a friend like there was on Okinawa. That is because of my position, the way it should be. Everyone seems so different. That’s not derogatory. It’s as though they have a lack of experience (not counting the captain). Of course, i am now a senior officer, XO, so that too is as it should be. i have to be a teacher. There’s so much to do, and the majority, a large majority of the crew has never deployed before.

My philosophy of life, if you can call it that, is becoming more cynical. People are incredibly naïve about life at sea. i hope this job proves to me they can learn and they have no evil purpose.

Except for you and me. How did i find you? God must exist to allow us to meet, to be together to love as we do.

Take care and write and tape cassettes and laugh on the tapes and walk the beach and think of me. i feel that empty gut feeling coming on. It’s loneliness setting in and will exist on its own, independent of all the other things going on and the thoughts i must put to the forefront to do this job right.

i love you.

It was going to be a lonely eight months.

i have received numerous comments on the book installments being posted here. This feedback makes me feel good. Many of those comments point out errors i have made, both grammatically and factual. i feel good about that too. i am going through each correction, each piece of advice, each opinion and filtering them with my XO perceptions. After all the story took place thirty-five years ago and each of us have different perceptions of what happened. i think all of these comments will make the final book better. When i make changes (or not), i will acknowledge the people who contributed in the final draft. i am now considering this a group effort. In fact, i am considering reclassifying the author as “jim jewell with the officers and crew of USS Yosemite during her 1983-1984 deployment. Your contributions are welcomed…and thanks.

On with Chapter Three:

On Tuesday, August 30, the Yosemite got underway, not to deploy, but for “Sea Trials.” Shortly prior to deployment, Navy ships go to sea for a short period, one or two days, to check all equipment, insuring all is running correctly, and, just as importantly, get the crew used to going to sea. Yosemite’s sea trial was one overnight trip into the Atlantic. This new XO was ready. I would be just as glad if the ship didn’t come back to port and just keep heading east except for one thing. For as long as I could remember, I found one of the best things about deploying was having no phones and no brows. Deployment meant the ship was operating as a sole unit, even with other ships in a group, separated by lack of phone lines (before satellite communication and GPS came into existence). It was where a ship was meant to be: at sea. But this time, I was anxious for the one-night cruise to end.

Maureen and I had been married on July 30 followed by ten wonderful days of honeymoon in San Diego. Then I flew east to pick up my car and head to Mayport. Maureen and I thought we wouldn’t see each other until the deployment was over in late April, but we decided Maureen should fly into Jacksonville on Friday and spend the labor day weekend with me, before flying back to San Diego and work. She had rented a seaside cabin. To say I was anxious to see her was a huge understatement.

But that rendezvous would have to wait. Sea detail was set at 0800. I took my position as navigator next to the chart table on the bridge as Yosemite got underway. Navigating a ship out of port and standing out of a channel was one of my favorite evolutions. For sea detail, the only thing better for me was being the Officer of the Deck and having the conn in an open sea.

Mayport had one of, if not the shortest and most direct sea details of all Naval bases, just over a mile from the Mayport basin to the sea buoy. My navigation duties ended quickly. The pilot had left the ship. I joined CAPT Boyle and LT Sitton, the OOD and conning officer on the open bridge. The captain became a bit agitated as a number of sailboats appeared from the south crossing the end of the channel. Sailboats were not a usual problem in Norfolk where CAPT Boyle had spent most of his shipboard time while hundreds of sailboats in Long Beach and San Diego fouling up the channel were business as usual. The captain knew well the rules of the road, which included the rules for power ships and boats. He knew the rules for sailboats as well, but he had not had a great amount of experience with them and was not comfortable with those tacking ships bobbing on the water dependent on the winds. He knew I had not only had to deal with innumerable sailboats but also had crewed several while steaming out of and into Long Beach and San Diego.

There was some question as to whether Yosemite in this case should maneuver to avoid any collision. With the sailing vessels a mile or more away, CAPT Boyle asked me my opinion as to what to do.

“Don’t worry, captain,” I replied, “They will maneuver and avoid us. They normally don’t want to mess with ships this big. It is the law of gross tonnage.”

In less than a minute, the sailboats began to tack and disperse, giving Yosemite a clear shot east.

I felt relieved and good about giving my captain correct information.

Underway felt good. The day went better than I expected. All systems seemed to be in working order. Then after the evening mess in the wardroom, something occurred to set the tone for the entire deployment and for all of my tour as XO.

Being navigator (and shortly before LTJG Noreen Leahy became the real navigator even though I kept the title, an added duty for being executive officer), I walked up to the bridge with the intent of checking out the equipment and the quartermasters for shooting stars. The sun had set. It was twilight, the perfect time to shoot stars. As I came on the bridge, I walked past the chart table and quartermaster’s station and over to the starboard bridge wing. I looked down and was surprised to see the standing lights were on.

One of the primary Rules of the Road is from sunset to sunrise a ship must not have any lights visible except for standard “running lights.” Standard running lights consist of a green light on the starboard side, a red light on the port side, a white light as a stern light, and two forward “range” lights above and in line. This is to allow other ships to ascertain a ship’s aspect or an idea of her comparative direction in which she was heading. This aspect determines which ship is the privileged vessel (required to remain on course), and the burdened vessel (required to maneuver to avoid a collision). Other lights would make it difficult, if not impossible to discern the ship’s aspect. In my time at sea, any ship showing more than navigational running lights would be denigrated and called a “cruise ship.”

I called to the Officer of the Deck, “Why aren’t the standing lights off? Recognizing the OOD had much less experience than I had and it was the first time in a while since any of the watch standers had been to sea, I added, “Don’t you know the Rules of the Road prohibit standing lights to be on after sunset.”

“Yes sir,” the OOD responded, “But it’s in the captain’s night orders to leave them on all night.”

“What?” I almost shouted in disbelief.

“Yes sir, would you like to see it?”

“No, I believe you,” I responded as I walked over to the sound powered phone and rang the captain’s cabin.

“Captain,” the commanding officer answered.

“Sir, this is the exec. Have you finished your evening mess?”

“Yes, why?” CAPT Boyle responded.

“Well sir, I was wondering if you could come up to the bridge?”

“Certainly, be up in a minute.”

When the captain arrived on the bridge, he asked, “What’s up, XO?”

“I’d like to show you something,” I said and directed the captain to the starboard bridge wing.”

As he peered over the bulwark and saw the lights, CAPT Boyle shouted, “What the hell? Officer of the Deck, get those damn standing lights off right now. What kind of watch are you running?”

Before I could explain, the OOD repeated, “But sir, your night orders direct us to leave them on.”

“They aren’t my night orders,” the captain responded angrily, “Now turn those damn things off!”

“Aye, sir,” the OOD obeyed and ordered the standing lights off.

“Dammit, Jim, I forgot to rewrite the night orders,” Captain Boyle explained. “Those are Captain Roberts’ night orders. I’ll write mine tonight and you can edit them so we have them ready for deployment.”

“Aye sir,” I agreed, relieved the violation of the Rules of the Road was a product of the previous regime, not Captain Boyle.

He and I stayed on the bridge. The captain took his seat on the starboard side, and I stood next to him discussing how the day otherwise had gone and getting any input for Eight O’clock Reports.”

In about five minutes, Command Master Chief Weaver ran onto the bridge demanding, “Who turned off those standing lights off?”

With both the CO and I amazed at the Master Chief’s reaction, the captain beckoned him over.

“What in the world are you talking about, Master Chief?” the captain asked, “Why do you think the standing lights should be on?”

“Well, sir,” Master Chief Weaver responded, “With CAPT Roberts and CDR Sheffield, we kept them on and we created a roving security patrol. We wanted to make sure no one was sneaking out onto the weather decks at night for a little hanky-panky.”

There was a moment of silence. I was shaking my head in disbelief when Captain Boyle, with obviously controlled anger said:

“Master Chief, I want you to be sure that every person on this ship knows by tomorrow morning we don’t have men on board this ship; we don’t have women on board this ship. We have sailors aboard this ship. And we are going to act like that.

“We will observe all of the Rules of the Road as long as I am the commanding officer. And we will all act like sailors.

“Understood?”

“Aye, aye, sir,” the master chief responded and then quickly left the bridge.

I smiled and told the Captain I had to get below to get ready for Eight O’clock Reports and left the bridge.

There is no doubt CAPT Boyle’s philosophy so well stated that evening became the watchword for how the ship did business for the rest of the time I was the executive officer. I used the captain’s direction that evening as my first guidepost in any situation requiring judgement about male and female personnel, officer or enlisted that arose during my time aboard the Yosemite.

*     *     *

Upon returning to port, activities increased even more. In addition to the loading of supplies, significantly more than a combatant as the Repair Department required an incredible amount of material, like steel in large sheets and other supplies for repair and maintenance during customer ship maintenance availabilities.

Cruiser-Destroyer Group 12 was having a change of command, which not only meant the captain would be gone that entire day, but there would be another admiral’s brief on board. The discrepancies from the sea trial and a zone inspection needed to either be fixed before getting underway or put in a long range plan for correction. Yosemite also took part in the change of command. She was charged with firing the gun salute during the change of command, a 13-gun salute as is due a rear admiral. At the ceremony, Captain Boyle was sweating during the salute while I was sweating with each round from our saluting battery. After an initial glitch from our battery, the gun salute went fine. No one, except us, noticed the glitch.

But it was time for a respite. It had been over three weeks since i had seen my new bride. I got the respite. Maureen had decided she should fly into Jacksonville on Friday, September 2, and spend the Labor Day weekend with me. While I was trying to find a suitable and inexpensive hotel for us, Maureen located and rented a small cabin on the beach. We had a wonderful weekend even with ship’s business frequently distracting me. We did have one moment that cut into the romance (pun intended). Saturday twilight, we settled into the cottage for an evening together alone and sat down on the couch looking out at the Atlantic past the sand and the small picket fence. I had opened up a bottle of sauterne while Maureen prepared a wonderful cheese and apple plate. After sitting down, Maureen went to slice the apple, but missed and cut a deep gash into her left palm. The rest of what had been planned as a romantic evening was devoted mostly to first aid and laughter.

Even though that Monday was a holiday, I had to do some work. But the newlyweds had some wonderful moments together before I put Maureen on a plane back to San Diego that Monday evening.

The clock toward deployment was clicking.

*     *     *

With days winding down, two more major difficulties arose, one impacted by Navy policy and the other older than the hills. Both involved with sailors trying to avoid deployments.

The first problem arose when the doctor advised me one of the female sailors was pregnant. In these early days of the Women In Ships program, Navy’s policy stipulated any female enlisted would be immediately transferred with Temporarily Additional Duty (“TAD”) to a shore command. One of the immediate repercussions of this policy was a number of women who didn’t want to deploy on a tender would get pregnant in order to avoid the deployment. I felt this policy was a product of politically correct, but misguided thoughts. The Yosemite had a capable doctor on board trained in family practice. If there was a problem or health issue, then the crew person should be transferred, but the blanket policy produced a lot of unwanted results. It didn’t matter. That was the policy, and the seaman was transferred to shore duty. As i recall, only one or two women were transferred due to pregnancy before we got underway for good.

This policy would come into play in a major difficulty with the Navy policy and women on board during the deployment.

In Chapter Two, i erroneously gave Steve Strzemienski, the weapons officer, the rank of lieutenant when, in fact, he was a lieutenant commander. Captain Boyle caught the error. Thanks, Captain.

i should note the book as it is presented here in installments is my first draft and likely to have a number of errors. As i noted up front, i am not anywhere near as good an editor as i would like to be. i anticipate more errors to follow and even deletions and additions. As i wrote, this is a first draft for what i hope will eventually be a book.

From here on, the length of most chapters will be quite longer than the introduction and chapter one. i am trying to determine how much of each chapter i should include in each installment. The length is likely to vary until i find the number of words i feel is appropriate for installments. Please bear with me on this one. i am planning to publish an installment twice a week, on Sunday and on Thursday, give or take a day or two. This is to hold my feet to the fire, motivation more than what i think might be best for the reader.

Here’s the first segment of Chapter Three:

Now in the saddle, I began to get a better picture of what was facing me.

Captain Boyle and I talked at length to come to an understanding as to how I was going to support him.

i still have a yellow sheet of lined paper where i listed my goals and concerns for being the ship’s XO, which i used as my talking paper for my discussions with Captain Boyle:

Clear with the CO:

Schedule meetings for AOM (All Officers Meeting), Chiefs, First Class Petty Officers, Junior Officers, Divisions

Meeting content: my dislike of meetings, will hold to absolute minimum, expect maximum attendance.

Other important points/goals:

1. 1. Critical exception for meetings: PB4T (Planning Board for Training) – make it meaningful
   2. Briefings, a necessary evil, each major evolution, especially seamanship; some of the best are informal.
   3. Quarters, 8 O’Clock Reports: keep them brief, inspections (ensure all hands know they are responsible)
   4. Personal meetings: open door policy
      1. Accusations: accuser must accompany accused.
   5. Closed door or sign on door with  locator notice of where i am.
   6. Messing and Berthing Inspections: do not fail to hold them daily
   7. Zone Material Inspections

My important points and MO:

1. 1. Cleanliness
   2. Safety
   3. Paint
   4. Liberty
   5. At sea hours
   6. Females
   7. Source documents
   8. Leave
   9. Notes
   10. Memos

The opening discussions between the CO  and me were pretty easy. I made sure to see the captain at least three if not four times a day, not counting his afternoon departure. Except for unusual circumstances, I did not leave the ship before the commanding officer left: bad form for an exec to do otherwise. We shared our ideas on the approach to running a ship. It was old Navy, correct and by the book. We both believed in good order and discipline as paramount for a ship to run well. Early on, we agreed the women on board should, as much as possible, be treated just like the male sailors.

Problems began to arise, not because the women were there. Yosemite normally had 760 enlisted, 65 chief petty officers, and 44 officers. The ship was deploying with over 900 on board. Instead of 65 CPO’s, there were 90. In addition, two of these chiefs were female. A separate and private compartment adjacent to the chief quarters had to be constructed. The 106 female enlisted were berthed in one separate compartment off of the main deck, port side. There appeared to be no problems with the berthing except the new executive officer was not pleased with the sanitation of the heads and the overall cleanliness and neatness of the compartment. That also was true of most of the ship’s berthing areas and heads.

I called the Bureau of Personnel to voice my complaint of too many personnel aboard compared to the documented “ship’s complement” figures, I was informed the Navy was very strict about adhering to the ship’s complement for combatants, a congressional requirement, but frequently “hid” extra personnel, especially in critical ratings aboard tenders to have a ready supply of those personnel in an emergency manning requirement for a combatant. I did not like varying from the rules but recognized this executive officer was stuck with the problem of too many sailors and would have to live with it.

*     *     *

It became apparent there was another problem as serious as having women on board. The problem was having a large percentage of the crew with no deployment experience.

Of the 90 chiefs, only thirteen previously had been on a deployment. Before the new approach of sending the tenders to forward areas of operation like the Mediterranean and Indian Oceans, the tenders sat at their homeport piers, getting underway for one day each year and then coming back to their pier but swapping which side (port or starboard) faced pier side for the next year. Therefore, repair personnel usually shuffled tours of duty from Ship Intermediate Maintenance Activity (SIMA) to the tender in that particular port. Tenders were considered “Class B” sea duty, which meant repair personnel would get credit for sea duty without ever actually going to sea. It was not much more than shore duty forever.

But not now. Now, these seventy-seven repair chiefs were really going to sea. For nearly eight months. (Yosemite and other tenders were still designated as “Class B” sea duty and did not draw “Sea Pay” for when the ship was actually at sea; for example, i would have received $260/month for those eight months deployed, but because my ship was “Class B” sea duty, i received nothing extra). Many of the chiefs (and their wives) panicked. The chiefs did not know what they were going to do being away from their families. The wives (none of the female chief petty officers on the ship were married) were even more alarmed. They had no clue as to how to deal with the Navy, how to set up the family finances, or take on the family tasks that had been the bailiwick of the husband. Many of the wives were raising hell about their husbands being away on a ship with women in the crew.

One chief had organized a group to establish a short-wave radio station so the chiefs’ mess could communicate frequently with their wives. This, of course, was a major threat to classified information, especially the location of the tender. Shortly after we got underway, we cut that off as soon as we discovered the chief’s operation.

There were financial arrangements to consider as well, especially for the majority of the crew, the ones who had never deployed before. Dina Weaver, the ship’s ombudsman informed me one Melody, the wife of Chief Adams, had told her the chief had not set up any allotments to go to her. That meant all of the chief’s pay would come to him on the ship. None would go to pay any bills, and Melody and the family would have no income except for what the chief mailed her. And mail from a Navy ship deployed to the Indian Ocean can take weeks. So this exec called Chaplain Poe who contacted Navy Relief and the Disbursing Officer. Through the effort of everyone involved, an allotment would be coming out of the chief’s pay to cover Melody’s financial needs through the deployment.

Of course, all such problems were channeled to the executive officer. The old seaman in me kept relying on common sense to handle most of these problems. There were no textbook answers. Confronting these problems coincided with running a ship of 900 personnel and getting the ship ready to leave home port for eight months. I was sailing into unknown territory.

For many years, I had said getting underway for deployment was great because when the command to “let go all lines” was executed, it meant that all phone lines, along with shore power, steam lines, and of course, mooring lines, would no longer be available for telephone calls (something with the advent of satellites and mobile phones is no longer true). For Yosemite’s deployment, I could have added wives couldn’t come aboard nor could the chiefs go home every night.

The new Navy had many ways to try and help out dependent spouses When I became a part of the Navy in the sixties, there was a tried and true refrain “If the Navy had wanted you to have a wife, they would have issued you one with your seabag.” This no longer rang true. Navy Relief was a source for aid and financial assistance for wives (or husbands) left behind on deployment. The ombudsman program was created to improve communication between ship crew members and dependents with the command. Both worked well, especially with Dina Webster, our unflappable and outspoken ombudsman. And Yosemite had extra manpower for the job. He was Chaplain Ernest Poe.

As expected, there were problems with men and women on board the same ship. It was even more of a problem for earlier CO and XO regimes. The duo before Captain Boyle and myself had a doozy. While underway before CAPT Boyle relieved CAPT Roberts, a female lieutenant was attacked in her stateroom. During the attack she was hit on the head and injured. When Yosemite returned to Mayport, the lieutenant was transferred off the ship. CAPT Roberts and CDR Sheffield, with no real guidance and concerned about the safety of the women officers, set up a security watch in officers’ country from taps to reveille. Several of the women officers were embarrassed about the watch. One said, “I personally was embarrassed that some poor enlisted sailor had to sit out there in the passageway all night and babysit us.” When Captain Boyle and I learned of the watch, we discontinued it.

Other problems arose. A female LTJG came to me in private and told me she believed someone was watching her and other women officers when they took showers in the women officers’ head. She was concerned there was a crack in the overhead, male crew members could use as peeping toms. We had our ship fitters thoroughly check the bulkheads. Although the shipfitters didn’t find any crack possibly manufactured by a possible peeping Tom, the work crew sealed up any holes where light might come through or a peeping Tom might expand and use to insure privacy in the women officer’s head.

The ombudsman program mentioned above had been initiated in 1970 in the Zumwalt CNO era. The Navy family ombudsman provides support and guidance to command families and to act as an official liaison between the command and its families. Dina Weaver, the wife of the command master chief, as mentioned before was the Yosemite’s ombudsman. She came aboard to meet the new XO and have lunch in the Captain’s mess with the CO and XO. I was particularly pleased when Dina saw the framed large photo portrait of Maureen I had hung on the office wall so I could look at her from my desk. Dina saw the photo and told me, “She looks just like Susan Lucci,” the soap drama star from “All My Children.” I thanked Dina for the complement but was thinking “Maureen’s prettier.”

A chaplain was part of the wardroom in only one previous command where I served. When I was XO of the MSC transport unit for the year of 1970, a chaplain was one of five officers in the unit. The commanding officer was a lieutenant commander billet, the XO billet was for a lieutenant, but I, a LTJG at the time, went through the whole year carrying Republic of Korea troops to and from Vietnam and Pusan, Korea unaware I could have applied for a spot promotion.  Therefore, I remained a lieutenant, junior grade, rather than becoming a lieutenant, something that could have helped my future career.

The MSC (nee Military Sealift Transport Service, or MSTS) units were formed for being the Navy liaison on ships run by the United States Merchant Marine carrying U.S. military personnel and dependents to various ports around the world. By 1970, the “troop” ships were down to three: the USNS Barrett (T-AP 196), the USNS Upshur (T-AP 197), and the USNS Geiger (T-AP 198). The three rotated with two serving to carry the ROK’s to Vietnam and back while the other went through upkeep. There was no real need for a Navy chaplain for Korean troops. The chaplain billet was dispensed with about three-quarters into my 1970 tour and the unit’s chaplain was reassigned.

The Yosemite’s chaplain was a different matter. This billet was to provide religious services and support to, not only the ship’s crew, but also to other ships in Yosemite’s area of operation. CAPT Boyle and I viewed LT Poe as a vital resource in handling morale and personal problems, especially for the women in the crew.

Just prior to my taking the XO position, LT Poe was counseling a second class petty officer and his wife in the chaplain’s office. The wife became very distraught and pulled a handgun out of her purse. The petty officer grabbed at the firearm and the wife shot herself in the leg. LT Poe proved his mettle in that incident. The CO and this XO had great confidence in our chaplain.

With the deployment looming, preparation in all aspects accelerated. “I” Division was called that for indoctrinating new crew coming on board. They went through an indoctrination period on every aspect of shipboard life aboard Yosemite. The week-long training concluded with a brief by the executive officer and then the commanding officer. This indoctrination seemed to be more frequent in the days leading up to the deployment.

An evolution quite more significant than my becoming Yosemite’s XO was occurring on Naval Station Mayport. RADM Donnell would relieve the standing admiral as Commander, Cruiser Destroyer Group Twelve. As part of his relieving process, the admiral was scheduled to come aboard Wednesday after I took over on Tuesday, for a 1000-1200 briefing and ship tour followed by a noon mess in the Captain’s cabin. The XO was included in the lunch. The Yosemite was the repair facility for the ships in the group and therefore was considered part of Group 12. Admiral Donnell was a tall, large man and as he was touring the ship, they passed the ship’s motor whale boat in its davits. The admiral peered down into the boat, said nothing and the tour continued. As is the custom of good commanding officers (and executive officers), the tour route had been carefully combed over several times before the admiral came on board, but the captain had not thought of checking the interior of the boats. Captain Boyle, a bit concerned what the admiral might have seen and being unable to look with him because of the height difference returned to the davits after the admiral departed. He climbed up to where he could look into the inside of the motor whale boat. He was most pleased and relieved the whale boat’s interior was shipshape.

Admiral Donnell’s visit created a conflict for me. The XO’s Messing and Berthing Inspection normally began at 1000. But on Wednesday, the Planning Board for Training was always scheduled at 1000. In a normal work week, I planned to move the inspection to the afternoon and hold the weekly board meeting in the morning. Admiral Donnell’s arrival was scheduled to occur at 1000 also.

I had learned from my experience the value of the XO’s messing and berthing occurring daily during the work week without fail. Three years earlier I had become the emergency XO of the USS Cayuga (LST 1186) after the sitting XO had to be taken off the ship in a straitjacket. On my first workday, I discovered messing and berthing inspections had not been conducted for six months. The living quarters for the crew were revolting, unkempt and dirty. The heads were even worse, and the mess decks and galleys were completely unsanitary. I held messing and berthing inspections at 1000 without fail even when underway and on the weekends for the next two months. The spaces did a complete turnaround and the crew’s morale significantly improved.

I also knew the importance of the PBFT meeting. So we moved the board meeting up to 0800 and I held the messing and berthing inspection at 1400.

While my first messing and berthing inspection was not as bad as it had been on Cayuga, it still did not meet up to my standards. I particularly was displeased with the cleanliness, or lack thereof, in the heads, both men and women’s, and the poor sanitary conditions in the messes and galleys. I vowed to stick to my plan to not miss any such inspections for the rest of my tour.

With the admiral showing up soon, my first PBFT was very short. We went over the scheduled topics quickly and made sure the next week had no major surprises, then closed the meeting.

From my exposure to Admiral Donnell during the brief, tour, and lunch, I assessed him to be a realistic and effective leader. After the admiral had departed, Captain Boyle concurred and praised the flag officer for his leadership.

My second PBFT, occurring a week later proved unsatisfactory.

As mentioned above, Navy ships conducted a “Planning Board for Training” or “PBFT” every Wednesday at 1000. Yosemite was no exception. This is when all department heads and everyone responsible for special programs like drug abuse and welfare and recreation attend. Not only training, but the ship’s schedule, any inspections or other evolutions involving the ship would be discussed and an action plan established for the following week including specifics for each of those events. Like most ships, the Yosemite’s meeting was held in the wardroom.

In this PBFT, my first real one, I was appalled when the meeting extended into the time for the midday mess in the wardroom.  Several PBFT members were late and pre-meeting discussions kept the meeting from beginning before 20 minutes after the start time. Everybody had something to say, even if it was unimportant. No one was prepared for the meeting. Topics were brought up off the cuff, and numerous side discussions ensued throughout the meeting. This new XO asked the group if this was typical. The engineer acknowledged it was and affirmed it often delayed the noon mess in the wardroom like this one.

The next day at officer’s call, I put out the word about future PBFT’s. I said no ship’s meeting should last longer than 45 minutes. To accomplish this, I would put out an agenda with responsibility for the topic assigned to a member of the PBFT. That person would be responsible for bringing all pertinent information on the topic. I announced there would be no side discussions and no subjects other than those on the agenda would be discussed. If a need arose to discuss a non-agenda item, we would document it to be discussed at another time. Then I delivered the crushing blow. I declared if any members were more than five minutes late or all of the agenda topics had not been covered, the meeting would be re-scheduled after liberty call. From then until the end of my tour, all meetings in which I was part never went beyond forty-five minutes. A number of the PBFT thanked me. The supply officer was profuse in his thanks because the previous overruns had played havoc with the wardroom cooks and mess cooks’ schedule.

*     *     *

I had begun using a spiral notebook for my memos and to-do list on board the Okinawa, my previous ship. During the Okinawa’s overhaul when I managed subcontractors and eventually became the ship’s overhaul coordinator, my small 4×6 inch “wheel book” in my back pockets where I previously kept my schedule; notes, and business and personal reminders; my to-do list; and my calendar proved totally inadequate in size. The little green wheel book had been my brains for every command since I was commissioned. But the overhaul coordinator of a helicopter carrier could not put all of his data in a wheel book. And for this XO of a ship deploying in less than a month, with women on board, and a ship’s company of 900, a wheel book just wouldn’t hack it there either. I continued using the spiral notebook as I had used on the Okinawa, the sportswriter’s arm extension. Instead of one page or slightly more for each day, I was now filling up three, even four pages daily. In other words, I was busy.

As I settled into my XO role, I tried to put things in order as well as take care of my own needs. My office was on the starboard side of “Times Square.” There was a small private head immediately forward which led forward into my stateroom, about twelve by eight feet and including a single rack and closet space.

*     *     *

One personal goal was to not let the deployment interfere with my running. I had started running daily as early as 1975 and normally ran about five to ten miles at least five days a week. I was never a fast runner, but running had become an outlet and my major means of staying in shape. This had not been a problem on my previous ships. The big amphibious ships had places to run. Even the USS Anchorage had a flight deck and if vehicles were not loaded, one could run the flight deck down the ramps to the well deck and back up. The USS Tripoli, USS Okinawa, and USS Belleau Wood, all helicopter carriers, allowed running on the flight deck when flight operations were not being conducted. When Marines and their aircraft and vehicles were not loaded aboard the USS Belleau Wood (LHA 3), one could run the flight deck, down the ramp to the helicopter deck, down the ramp to the vehicle deck, down the ramp to the well deck, and back up and run a mile without lapping oneself.

The Yosemite had no large decks for such frivolous activities as running. After all, she was commissioned in 1945 when the Navy was focused on winning a war, not physical fitness. The “DASH” flight deck aft on the 02 level had been added for testing the Drone Anti-Submarine Helicopter. The DASH program after earning the derisive nicknames of “CRASH” and “SPLASH” was discontinued in 1969 after only six years in the fleet. The DASH deck on Yosemite was way too small for running but would prove invaluable later on this deployment.

After looking over the topside spaces, I decided the ceremonial deck, which wrapped around the 02 level (the second level above the main deck) and immediately below the bridge would work. If one ran 10 laps from the motor whaleboat docks on the 02 level through the ceremonial deck and back, it would be a mile. I had found it. I would run 55 laps every day possible, which worked out to about four or so days a week except when I ran in Diego Garcia or rarely in liberty ports throughout the deployment. The second day underway from Mayport, the daily Plan of the Day (POD) included this item:

ATTENTION JOGGERS/RUNNERS. The 02 level forward of the motor whale boats, around the ceremonial deck, will be open from 1115-1245, and 1630 to 15 minutes after sunset for running. Future early morning running hours will be announced as we get into areas where sunrise is at an earlier time. Ten trips around from port to starboard and back constitutes approximately 1 mile. You are encouraged to use caution if you intend to run. Take 15 to 20 minutes to warm up. Stretching is critical. Loosen up by holding a slight constant pressure on the muscles you are stretching. NEVER bounce the muscles loose, as some people do when bending to touch their toes. Bouncing may cause a severe pulled muscle.

We didn’t get a large number of runners, but we did get some.

*     *     *

Another problem I saw was managing traffic into and out of my office. The executive officer is constantly being sought for all sorts of reasons with a large amount of the crew and officers. In addition, I would be in and out of the office during the workday and didn’t want people waiting for me behind a closed office door when I wasn’t there. So I decided to let people know where I was when away. I taped two paperclips bent to hold lined paper pad cardboard backs on my office door.

Then I took those cardboard backs to the paper pads and made my own crude signs. “On Messing and Berthing Inspection,” “Out and About,” “With the Captain,” and with a running stickman “Out Running.” I also tried to convey the situation with folks who wished to see me in my office: “Knock and Enter,” “Conference in Session; Do not enter,” “XO Mast in Progress,” “Quiet Time, Please Do Not Knock or Enter.”

Then after just under two weeks on the job, I realized there were a large number of officers and crew coming to me to solve their problems rather than working on solving those problems themselves. I had read The Peter Principle by Lawrence J. Peter about people being promoted to their level of incompetence. I had also read William Onken’s Managing Management Time: Who’s Got the Monkey? with the anecdote about subordinates passing their monkeys to the manager’s shoulder. So I had the repair department make a Bakelite sign to hang next to the door where my crude cardboard signs hung. It read: “This is not a magic box. Solutions aren’t inside. If you have a problem, bring your solution with you.” From the feedback I received then and recently, the sign had some positive impact.

Chapter Three to be continued on Thursday (if i stick to my guns).