Welcome to another Wednesday. Link up your work so others may read it. Not saying I’m some powerhouse blog in readership, just another junction in the cyber-hiway, and it may get you another reader of three.

Yesterday I was discussing the absense of Tomahawk Anti-Ship Missiles (TASMs) from the surface and sub platforms. During the recounting, I mentioned a story about Adm Harry Harris, now the Commander of that lovely garden spot, Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, with the thankless job of supervising the “detainees” captured terrorists (I can say it, he can’t). Here is it:

So, there we were in late November ’85, freshly arrived in the North Arabian Sea with the SARATOGA Battle Group, lead by Adm David Jerimiah of CRUDESGRU EIGHT. It was a deployment to make sure the bad guys of the region knew we were hanging around, with things that go “BOOM!” and a way to get them to their doorstep. One of the threats that was normally faced in that region went TU and was out of play. We sent the USS CAPODANNO (FF-1095) down south of Yemen to put some eyeballs on it, as it was being towed out of theater, just to make sure the intel was correct. It was. This act of the enemy’s misfortune had the added benefit of freeing up one of our own platforms, which gave us someone to exercise with regularly.

As Adm Jerimiah sat at lunch, scanning a message, with Capt Wes Jordan sitting next to him, he commented his staff couldn’t get the tasking done in 48 hours. Commodore Jordan “graciously” offered to peruse the comminique from CTF 74 and offer his assistance. He read it, then looked at the Admiral and said “My staff can plan this in 48 minutes!”

He gets up, and walks from the Flag Mess up to the O-7 level, where we have the watch station (they wouldn’t let us set up in CDC). He walks in, tosses the meesage on the chart table between LCDR Steve Nerheim and I and says: “I told the Admiral you could plan this in 48 minutes. That was five minutes ago. You’ve got 43 minutes.”

Tasking: Plan a joint TASM attack with surface and submarine assests. CTF 74 mentioned the subs don’t get a chance often to practice that type of coordination, or even receiving the LINK 11 data for Over the Horizon Targeting (OTH-T). Note the salient points: Surface and sub attacking a surface target together. Purpose is to get the sub some experience using surface supplied info. extra salinet info: Our staff is assigned as “AX” (the anti-submarine warfare commander) duty for the battle group. SARATOGA is “AS” (anti-surface warfare commander).

Yes, you’re now wondering why we are doing this, as the lowly sub guys, and having the junior 4 stripper as the boss. It’s because the Commodore is really, really (and I mean really) good at “volunteering” his staff for, well, anything that needs to get done. You get my drift, I’m sure. That’s how this happened.

Read the rest of this entry »

Capt Lex, enroute a permanent appointment with CIVPAC/LANT/Wherever, is up to his eyeballs in real world work (building resume entries).

He issues this tasking:

Insanely busy. Irrationally so. Firing on all synapses. Every sinew a-twitch.

Busy.

So. Talk amongst yourselves. As though you needed any encouragement from me.

Suggested topic: Close Air Support. How very hard it can be to deliver warheads on foreheads when those forehead are in close proximity to other foreheads whom you are actually trying to protect. And who need it bad, or else they wouldn’t be asking for you to drop 500 pound bombs over the top of them, because really, who needs the stress?

But only they’re locked in mortal combat, like. In the beatin’ zone, but with the roles of beater and beatee not yet clearly defined. But whose situation is not improved if in fact you mid-ID the target or otherwise drop short.

It made me connect two stories of my life from 20 years ago and almost 20 years ago now. Lots of details, but at the end of the real world operations in 86 off Libya, and as a result of playing out tactics later the same year, we (my staff) forwarded our report up the chain in early ’87. I know now, in the aftermath of all of that, the Tomahawk Anti-Ship Missile (TASM) began a fairly quick exit from bag of weaponry for the Surface Warfare community.

It revolved around the same points as Lex asked us to discuss in his moment of high focus regarding Close Air Support during a “Danger Close” (more like “Danger ‘Coz We’re Grappling with Each Other”).

If you need to catch up, I talked about the operations in the vicinity of Libya (an how I never got to have a beer on DGAR) back in “A Journey Into History” series. Part I is here, and it has links to walk you to the end of the posts on the subject.

That group of posts highlighted a particular incident in March ’86, which was the outcome of the volumes of civilian (“White”) shipping that cluttered our surface picture. We didn’t have any TASM equipped units in any of the three battle groups that made up Battle Force “Z,” but we often talked among ourselves in the staff watch space, of how wonderful it would be to have the new “wonder weapon” at our disposal, how more mighty we would be on the bounding main….

This, too, was at the time I first met Adm Harry Harris, now of Guantanamo Bay and Detainee fame. I came to know LCDR Harry Harris, of the USS SARATOGA (CV-60) Operations Department, when he stopped a briefing to Adm David Jerimiah I was giving and said: “We can’t do that!” Me: Why not? Him: “We can’t have aircraft flying on an alerted target!” Me:… That, readers, is fodder for tomorrow’s Ropeyarn Sunday “Sea Stories” and Open Trackbacks. Now, back to my regularly scheduled ramblings:

Read the rest of this entry »

Bear with me for a few paragraphs, for I need to lay a foundation for my point, before I dive it.

I’ll admit, the public discourse is wearing me out. Quite honestly, it sickens me to listen to talking head after talking head, or products of the American public education system of the last two decades respond to serious questions with what their opinion is. I don’t want an opinion when there’s truth to be had. The public educational system, however, has convinced people they need to respond to their feelings.

Hence, idiotic polls by agencies like CBS with this report as the outcome: “Poll: A Split On Confronting Terrorism”. About a year ago, i spent some valuable time blogging about the difference between truth and an opinion. It’s in the junior blog somewhere, and it applies here, but I don’t have the motivation to dig it up just now.

Of course there will be differences of opinions in how to execute a war fighting strategy and, in lower levels, tactics of same will be addressed.

Peopel with high school educations feel empowered to call into talk shows and tell people who spend a better part of their waking hours studying the issues, and try to tell the host that the President is killing innocent people, he knew there were no WMD and he sent popel there anyway.

Give.me.a.break. I didn’t have my “awakening” until the taxpayers sent me to 9 months of Command and Staff college. Not to say everyone needs an MA to speak on the topic, but it would be nice if they bothered to pull the iPod ear pieces out of their ears during the waking hours and took some time at the public library or local meag bookstore, doing some reading on the topic, before pretending they know what’s going on. I wish they’d do the wise thing and recuse themselves, much as is done in the legal system, if you are in a position to bias the outcome because of what you do/do not know.

My evidence is shown here, from the CBS article:

THE U.S. WILL BE SAFER FROM TERRORISM IF IT…

Confronts terror groups and states in the Mideast: 47%
Stays out of other countries’ affairs in Mideast: 45%

Just what, pray tell, do these valient individuals base their response on?

Which brings me to another point of ranting: Why can’t our leaders do it, if the other leaders are (or the reverse case)? A few days ago, the President mentioned, to a group at a meeting that he wondered if the US was going to have a 3rd awakening. This drew comments from the press, and they feigned fear of a “theocratic” government. Frst off, people need to chill out. Second off: Presidents of Iran and Venezuela stood before the world and prayed, one in the style of his Catholic heritage, the other in the Islamic faith. Not a peep out of the press, in fact, it looks like it was purposely ignored, so the press could always claim “plausible deniability” for the time being.

Now, get this:

IN TREATMENT OF POWs, THE U.S. SHOULD…

Follow international agreements: 63%
Do what it thinks right, regardless of what other nations think: 32%

News flash: We are treating “POWs” (defined therein in the Geneva Coventions as military members of a nation). I wonder if they would choke in horror if they knew that illegal combatants (those who are not wearing said uniforms while engaging in combat) are subject to summary execution? I doubt it would happen, but the old line : “Be careful what you wish for comes to mind.” If DoD directed firing squads, the same 63% would howl, but it would only be a case of answering an importatnt question from their place of ignorance….I’m glad we have a man at the helm with more compassion and sense than to give them what they ask for, for they don’t know what it is.

As far as the part about worrying about what others think, it seems to be, in my experience and opinion, that those who got me to “outperform” my self-imposed standards didn’t get my love in several cases, until years later, when it became clear the value of their hard pressed teachings. Teachers, baseball, basketball and swim team coaches alike have had a place in my life in helping me achieve what was better, right and more successful. We didn’t get to where we are as a nation because we copied the Euorpean ways an means of governance and social interaction for a reason: It had failed our forefathers. And, in my great admiration, they did what today’s protestors of our government should do when persecuted: Pack ther possesions you hold dear and go and build the country you define by your protestations. It should be easy to figure out: Just don’t elect George Bush as your President and study him well, so you make sure whatever it is he does in a situation, you do the exact opposite, to remove any possible connection to the man you hate so much. Oh…in the stream of consciousness mode, this has great possibility for terrific satire potential, combined with analysis of what the most likely outcomes would be of no military, no oil, no greenhouse gas producing items, no aerosol powered deoderants, and only vegtables to eat, produced with the use of no pesticides…but I digress…

So…finally taking the long way around, the biggest bone I have to pick is those who act like they know what it is to be the final authority in matters of great gravity, the point of my title.
Read the rest of this entry »

This post is placed to help showcase the writings (or rantings) of other bloggers. Please trackback your work!

When I first met him, he was GSE1(SW) Denny Rohr, the leading Gas Turbine (Electrical) petty officer for the Engineering Department of the USS CONOLLY (DD-979). When I arrived aboard in Sept 83, he had been on the ship for several years. During my tenure as Engineer Officer, he passed the test and was selected for and promoted to the rating of GSEC.

Denny was a methodical person and taught me this: “There are no gremlins. If you ever admit that there are gremlins, then you will have them.” However twisted that sounds, his point was nothing was an accident and everything could be explained, even the most transient event observed in the complexities of the gas turbine powered engineering plant. He was right.

When a problem appeared, the first stop for Denny were his several 3.5″ binders know as “Denny’s Brain Books.” His methodology was to record the symptoms and corrective actions for every significant problem/casualty. BY the time I arrived aboard, Denny had amassed quite a collection of solutions, so “issues” were routinely handled in minutes, or hours, not days, as I had been used to in my other shipboard tours. One day, though, a real thinking problem came along.

It was after the complex overhaul in Bath Iron Work from February to November 84. Enroute GTMO for refresher training, the Propulsion Auxillary Control Console (PACC) operator would be scanning his board and note that the clutch/brake for an offline engine in the after engineroom would be on, not a normal condition while we were steaming. Usually, with the shaft not powered, it was still “windmilling” as the other shaft had power. The PACC Operator would report this to the Engineering Officer of the Watch (EOOW), who usually scratched his head, because he hadn’t ordered it. A call would go to the on watch team in Main Engineroom #2 (MER2), asking if they had applied the brake. In fact, while the PACC in the Center Control Station (CCS) had control, the controls of the Propulsion Local Control Console (PLCC)s in the MERs were disabled, so, short of the watch below taking control back via a deliberate action at the PLCC, they could push all the buttons they wanted and nothing would happen.

So…the mystery of the self operating clutch brake began as described above…
Read the rest of this entry »

It might be true, it might be not, but it came into my email inbox today:

LETTER FROM A FARM KID
(NOW AT San Diego MARINE CORPS RECRUIT TRAINING)

Dear Ma and Pa,

I am well. Hope you are. Tell Brother Walt and Brother Elmer the Marine Corps beats working for old man Minch by a mile. Tell them to join up quick before all of the places are filled.

I was restless at first because you got to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m. but I am getting so I like to sleep late. Tell Walt and Elmer all you do before breakfast is smooth your cot, and shine some things. No hogs to slop, feed to pitch, mash to mix, wood to split, fire to lay. Practically nothing.

Men got to shave but it is not so bad, there’s warm water. Breakfast is strong on trimmings like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, etc., but kind of weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, pie and other regular food, but tell Walt and Elmer you can always sit by the two city boys that live on coffee. Their food plus yours holds you until noon when you get fed again. It’s no wonder these city boys can’t walk much.

We go on “route marches,” which the platoon sergeant says are long walks to harden us. If he thinks so, it’s not my place to tell him different. A “route march” is about as far as to our mailbox at home. Then the city guys get sore feet and we all ride back in trucks.

The country is nice but awful flat. The sergeant is like a school teacher. He nags a lot. The Captain is like the school board. Majors and colonels just ride around and frown. They don’t bother you none.

This next will kill Walt and Elmer with laughing. I keep getting medals for shooting. I don’t know why. The bulls-eye is near as big as a chipmunk head and don’t move, and it ain’t shooting at you like the Higgett boys at home. All you got to do is lie there all comfortable and hit it. You don’t even load your own cartridges. They come in boxes.

Then we have what they call hand-to-hand combat training. You get to wrestle with them city boys. I have to be real careful though, they break real easy. It ain’t like fighting with that ole bull at home. I’m about the best they got in this except for that Tug Jordan from over in Silver Lake. I only beat him once. He joined up the same time as me, but I’m only 5’6″ and 130 pounds and he’s 6’8″ and near 300 pounds dry.

Be sure to tell Walt and Elmer to hurry and join before other fellers get onto this setup and come stampeding in.

Your loving daughter,

Alice G

It’s Wednesday once more. Send your trackbacks!

The “sea story” of this day is not a humorous one, but is a story of my experience the one time I personally had to inform someone they had a family member in the hospital, with about 0% chance of survival. It’s one of those things you may have to do in the performance of your duties while on deployment and up the chain of command.

I was executive officer (XO) and we were deployed to the Persian Gulf. It was in the latter half of the deployment and, thankfully, they had modified the operational schedule for us to patrol the northern area of the gulf, as a reward for having spent the first half of deployment operating in the Straits of Hormuz (SOH)/North Arabian Sea (NAS). This change put us close to Mina Sulman, Bahrain and the logistics head of the 5th Fleet.

The Captain called me to his cabin and handed me a Red Cross message. Generally, that’s not a good thing. In this case, it was a very bad thing. The few month old baby of one of our petty officers was in the hospital back home on life support, having been taken there when his wife found the baby not breathing in his crib. It was now my job to get things rolling to get him home ASAP, and I also would be the one to notify him of the medical emergency.

I got back to my stateroom and called down to admin and got PN1 Weber going on cutting orders. I called the Ops Boss and put him to work contacting the ASU in Bahrain. I had the Combat Systems Officer find the man and bring him to my stateroom.

In that short time, while I awaited his arrival, the crew involved had arranged for a helo to come and get him, and a seat on the contract air carrier out of Bahrain after midnight. Better yet, the helo had been flying and would be able to get to us soon. The logisitics in support of this difficult moment clicked together in less than 30 minutes.

I had the petty officer come in and sit down while I closed the door for some privacy. The moment was difficult, and it’s hard to know what to say, keeping in mind you’re 6,000 miles from home and a life is hanging by a thread. It is more than humbling to realize the right words are elusive, even if you have a good vocabulary.

I told him his son was in the hospital in Charleston and we had arranged for him to be flow into Bahrain for a flight home that night. I handed him the Red Cross message and sat silently while he read the few short lines of (bad) news from home. He said nothing. I told him how sorry I was, and he needed to get below and get a bag packed, so he could get home. He was not a man who drew attention to himself, but he was one of those who got the job done, and sort of stayed back in the shadows, but he was even quiter now. I can only figure the emotional shock was gripping him. He stood, I opened the door and told him to let us know what we could do, and to contact the squadron when he got home. We would notify them of the case.

Off he went to pack, and shortly there after, we set flight quarters for the “Desert Duck” to do the “pax transfer.”

The sad part was the baby had no hope, but he was able to be with his wife for the decision on whether to continue life support.

In the military, you are fully engaged in the lives of those you serve with. There are the good times, the parties and tactical successes to tell of in later years, but these type of moments are a part and parcel of the experience as well.

Cross Posted at:

Linkfest Haven

Stuck on Stupid

Welcome back and remember: Inline tracks backs are working! C’mon…show me your work!

Today’s “sea story” is not one of humor, but one of finding out I was in the presense of a man who almost was one of the original Project Mercury astronauts….

It’s a repeat, but from my earlier days of blogging, and a story I think is worth sharing once again. Capt Hawkins was quite a man. I include why such a fine leader never made flag rank, either….

Posted in the comments by Station Commando as a “war story” (he’s in the Army):

Being that I’m in the Army I don’t have any sea stories but here’s a good story along the same lines as yours. When the movie Tears of the Sun was being filmed I was stationed in Hawaii (where they filmed the movie.)

We received a request for any black Infantrymen who we thought we could do without for a few weeks to go be extras for the movie. They wanted black soldiers because they were playing the Nigerian soldiers in the movie. Our company sent four people over. One of them returned later that day because the movie people didn’t think he had dark enough complexion to pass for a Nigerian soldier, the other three were accepted.

They were going to be working on the movie all day every day for about 4 weeks. About 2 days into it they kicked one of our guys back. This guy was the biggest, dumbest klutz you’ve ever seen. Whenever the movie people would film a scene he would always be falling down or losing his fake AK-47. In one scene where all the Nigerians run through a small river bed he actually ran the wrong way, realized he was going the opposite direction as everyone else, and then promptly dropped his rifle in the river and had if float away. While everybody else was charging ahead he was chasing his rubber rifle down the river, falling down the whole way.

They gave him his check and sent him on his way.

The rest of the guys got paid pretty well (about $700 a week if I remember right) and got to tell everyone they were in the movie. They did say that for all you hear about Bruce Willis supporting the troops he never once came and said a word to any of the guys there and they were instructed by someone with the movie that if they said anything to him, even in passing, they would be promptly fired.

They also said that Bruce Willis didn’t so much as run up a hill. They had the stunt double do anything that would result in so much as breaking a mild sweat. I guess that’s Hollywood for you.

Who knows…link here and yoiu just might get read by a few more readers…:)

Trackbacks now display as “in line,” meaning they will show up in the post, and also in the comments.

There is now a link at the beginning of the post that you can copy and paste and get the proper shortcut to send your trackback here.

So, come one, come all. Link til you drop.

Here’s my “sea story” and….due to hurricane hysteria locally, I’m just going to link to one from about a year ago:

Great! You’ve been to Legal School!”

It was said on my first full work day on my first ship, as a brand new officer and, it was “instructive.”

Welcome to the first weekly open trackback post!

I plan to make a post available weekly, on Wednesday afternoons, to allow other bloggers to link their work here, so hopefully, the real talent and ideas will spread even further. I do reserve the right to edit, revise, or delete, as I deem appropriate. No adult stuff, but reasoned discussions are welcomed. I do enjoy supported facts, and, as a general rule, think (having working on the “inside” for 20 years) just about every conspiracy theory is just that: a theory. Government projects involve too many people and people like to talk, so if only one person says they saw it happen, I find it easy to discount from my experiences.

So…link away, shipmates! If you don’t have a blog, but wold like to share a “sea story,” email it and I’ll look it over for posting.

For those wishing to post a trackback, get the link to the post here and then add “/trackback” to the link name. When you ping my blog, it will show up in the comments on this post. If anyone knows how to put trackbacks into the post automatically (with WordPress), please let me know.

Readers, please peruse the comment section for those posts other bloggers are sending over to share.

Today’s “Sea Story:”

There I was, still an ensign, but with a few months of sea time behind me. It was a day we were running a General Quarters drill, that was to include a “bugs and gass” (Chemical, biological, radiological (CBR)) portion of the scenario. I was the Combat Information Center Officer (CICO), so I was in CIC as the CIC Watch Officer, my GQ station.

I recall the 1MC (General announcing system) reports of the close by nuclear blast, and the subsequent reporting of the radiation levels. The actual “readings” were dummied up by the Damage Control Assistant, LT Cliff Barnes, for the drill. As time past, and the postualted movement of the wind spread the fall out, the counts got higher. We sat in the darkened space, performing our normal duties of keeping track of ships and aircraft in our vicinity.

I sat at a watch deck in the center of CIC, outfitted in my khakis, trouser legs tucked in, collar button buttoned, with my MK V gas mask pouch and inflatable life preserver around my waist. I can’t recall what I said, but one of my operation’s specialists leaned forward and said to me: “Call the bridge and tell them we’re ready to take control.”

We certainly could do the job of maneuvering the ship, but we’d be looking out to the nearby area by RADAR, deprived of any human eyeballs to look for small objects. I had three AN/SPA-4F RADAR repeaters to held us monitor the AN/SPS-10 surface seach RADAR. On my desk was a stack of sheets used for plotting relative maneuvers and other ships around us. We had the equipment, and the skills, but…it wasn’t a common thing to sail a 40K ton oiler about the ocean without anyone being outside to see, let alone with an Ensign that wasn’t yet qualified as Officer of the Deck, in charge of the rudder and engine orders.

I leaned forward, keyed the swith on the 21MC (also affectionately called the “btich box”) and said: “CIC ready to take control of the Conn!” Hey, I didn’t know any better and I think Chief Mac might have had some severe angina, but, it got really quiet behind me. I’m thinking it was more like the quiet when people are trying not to laugh at what the ensign just did, rather than they were aghast….

Not a moment later, the deep voice of CDR David Martin, the executive officer (XO), called back in the 21MC and said: “CIC has the Conn! We’re evactuating the bridge!”

The quiet of not chuckling in CIC thruned to the shock and awe quiet for a few seconds, startled at the response, but then it got busy, with Chief Mac hollering for info and directing the CIC gang at their profession.

The XO, then pretending to the be the Officer in Tactical Command (OTC), sent a dummy tactical maneuvering radio signal, ended with the immediate execute direction. Using RADAR and the “Mo Board” I directed the ship to the new ordered station. Once I “arrived,” and reported “On Station,” a little sigh of relief went thru the space. We had moved farther away from the giude of the formation. Not too difficult, but we were nervous not having any “eyes” (actually the XO and a few others stayed on the bridge).

Within seconds, the dummy tactical signal from the “OTC” (the XO), directed us back to the original station. Now we were poitning ourselves basically at the other ships and working our way back, again, all by RADAR only.

We got there just fine, but all of us were sweating, for by the Ship’s Deck Log, I and my CIC gang were directly responsible for the safety of the ship. Once back in station, the bridge team “remanned” and took control of the Conn once more. The XO realyed a BZ from the CO for our tactical accumen, and then we really were able to relax a little bit.

So….beware what you tell your new ensign to do, the XO may take you up on it….

I think it’s time to share my meager readership with others. Lord knows I’ve filched enough for my sitemeter through the graciousness of others in the blogosphere, most notably GreyHawk at Mudville Gazette. I still can’t get a ping thru to his blog with WordPress, even with standalone pingers….:(

The “event” will be weekly and appear Wednesday afternoons (when the sun is over the yardarm). I’ll make an attempt to post a short “sea story” and you will post links to your postings to that post!

This is in the vein of “Full Bore Friday” from CDR Salmander, “Flight Deck Friday” by SteelJaw Scribe, and others who have a special category of writings weekly (Hey, guys….what’s with the friday thing? Run out of work to do?)

Check back after noon local (EDT) this Wednesday for the first one…..

Oh…to place a trackback, copy the link to the post, then append “/trackback” to the link in your trackback pinging tool of choice. They then show up as comments. I’ll dig about to see if there is a way to pull them up into the main post automagically via some WordPress plugin (and if you know how…please share the secret!).