Part I, Part II, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII Part IX

I recall the weather was exceptional. Clear skies and gentle low swells, as we forged our way north, communicating “the old fashioned way,” semaphore, flashing light (Morse Code) and flag hoists. The stuff a WWII movie is made of. When tactical manuvering is done this way, and the crews do that well, it’s pretty impressive to see many thousands of tons of steel dance across the waves in unison, or planned staging of their movements in an aquatic ripple effect.

Traffic was light and we came across one ship of significance, a Soviet merchant ship. “Back in the day,” every Soviet vessel that sailed was a mobile intelligence gathering platform. This encouter became a point of focus for our boring, but important transit. The BIDDLE was dispatched out ahead to keep tabs on her, and the SARATOGA and thge other ships were maneuvered to stay a good distance away, but if you can see a ship, then it can see you. That’s a good rule to aply in such situations, especially bright sunny days with no clouds at all.

Back to the background:

The BIDDLE fell behind out Battle Group, much to the chargrin of our CSO, CDR Nurthen. The rest of us had kept small bags with a few days worth of clothes and our toothbrushes…

To close this line of the story, we all entered the Med, the BIDDLE late, and a few days later, my staff moved to our flagship, the BIDDLE. The CO of the BIDDLE was under the operational command of the Commodore, even though he had a higher “lineal number.” Friction became a part of life, as each man tried to fence off their territory.

Upon our embarkation on the cruiser, which was tasked as the anti-air warfare commander (AAWC) for the Battle Group, we found ourselves, as the ASWC, routinelt in EMCON “A,” as the cruiser would be dispatched down a threat axis in radar and radio silence to ambush the incoming enemy aircraft. We had normally ridden aboard destroyers before, and this didn’t impact us much, except to lose a SONAR from the inner ASW screen. As a side note, one of the normal duties of the ASWC was to also be assigned to be the Screen Commander (SC), responsible for planning and executing the screen of these big deck ships with the destroyers and frigates assigned. Now the problem is we are our on station, only able to listen to the radio circuits, but could not respond. Needless to say, it really put a crimp in our style. It didn’t help any that the BG Watch Officers would try to get ahold of us, and get angry when we didn’t answer there calls.

The “INCHOP” reports were filed, briefings from the 6th Fleet and supporting staffs were made. We then joined up with the SARATOGA BG and “swapped” escorts. It was an odd cruise, for the CORAL SEA would remain in the Med and show off the new thingy I understood to be (possibly) affectionately termed “The Lawn Dart.” It was the first operational deployment of the F/A-18, and therefore a good time to parade the new birds around the shores of our allies, more than likely to let them know we were going to use it, so they should get on board and buy some, too. I found out later, foreign navies (and I’m sure other services) don’t take it too well when you try to sell them something you aren’t planning on using yourself. The F-20 Tigershark aricraft comes to mind in this example.

Anyhow, we “worked up” with one carrier, then swapped out on deployment. We didn’t move the escorts exactly between battle groups, and some discussion followed, ending with a decision to leave BIDDLE with the CORAL SEA in the Med, and the SCOTT (DDG-995) coming with us to the North Arabian Sea (NAS)/Indian Ocean. It sort of balanced the firepower overall. That decision was crucial at another level. Here were two crews, with gear packed for deployment. Once for a winter Med cruise, the other for the Indian Ocean climes. It wasn’t just a bite for the operational issues, but also for the “civies” loaded by the crews for liberty, as well.

And back at the 20 years ago coral:

The Soviet ship didn’t seem to take any interest in us, as they should have. It steamed on it’s way, with out deviating from it’s course. Not unusual for a regular merchant vessel, but definitely strange for a Soviet flagged ship of any category.

A few days after we sailed from DGAR, towards a point in the ocaen south of the Arabian Penninsula, were were given orders to head to the Red Sea and prepare for a northen transit of the Suez Canal….

Part I, Part III,Part IV, Part V, Part VI,
Part VII, Part VIII

Part IX

Needless to say, I was rather disappointed. I mean, get all the way to about 13 degress south of the equator in the Indian Ocean, and you can’t even get a chance to have a beer, and see if the Exchange has any T Shirts to prove you were there.

Back the stateroom, back into khakis, and head aft about a 1/3rd the length of the ship, then up 7 decks via “ladders.” In the Navy, ladders are mostly very steep stairs, not vertical ladders like you might think, but some actually are, usually in the out of the way places, not were there is normal people traffic.

(returning to the build up to the main story line – here’s more back ground)
So, we hauled our stuff to the MONOGAHELA (AO-178) and let that ship’s company decide where to put us. The staterooms are huge on those ships, as they have so much space above the area they needed for tanks for fuel. Most officers on the ship already had two man rooms by themselves, so we fit in well, for last minute visitors. Steve was left to getting our gear hauled to Combat Information Center (CIC), and OSCS Koch went to work getting our Joint Operational Tactical Systems (JOTS) HP-9020 computers set up and patched into the radio circuits for LINK 14 data. Controlled chaos was the mood, but, the hosts took care of us.

We sailed on time, and settled in for a long planned 6 month, but actual 7 month deployment, not expecting a lot besides boring holes in the waters of the North Arabian Sea, letting Iran know we were there….

The MONOGAHELA did not man the CIC full time. They really didn’t need to. With no weapons, and being counted on to just deliver fuel and some cargo, the bridge watch could generally handle the radio traffic and radar watches along with their tasks. They did man up for us, and several Boatswain’s Mates (BMs) were provided, along with the Operations Specialists (OSs) to support us. We found out they had cross trained their senior BMs to be CIC supervisors and they were very proficient at their duties.

We steamed east, and rendezvoused with the USS CAPODANNO out of Newport, RI, the JESSE L BROWN out of Charleston, SC and USS JACK WILLIAMS from Mayport, FL. A few days later, we received a message fro BIDDLE that repairs were completed and she was getting underway, with “excess SOA” authorized. For transits out of local op areas, we had a top speed limit (on over all average speed) for the ship’s movement, which helped plan logistics for fuel delivery, at sea and to forward shore stations. SOA means “speed of advance.” 16 kts was the normal limit. BIDDLE would be steaming about 2/3rds of the way to the Straits of Gibralter at close to her top speed.

About a day out of our arrival at the entrance to the Mediterranean, the BIDDLE caught up to use late in the day. We packed up our gear, short essentials, and palletized it for highline transfer. BIDDLE came alongside MONOGAHELA just before sunset to commence alongside replenishment at sea (RAS), and our pallets were sent over. The master plan was for us to be heloed over in the morning, to embark on the planned flagship for our staff.

Fast forward: It’s about 5 AM local time, and I’m one watch. BIDDLE calls us frantically on one of the circuits, reporting white smoke in one of her shaft alleys. Shaft Ally is the last space in the ship where the shafting from the ships turbines then penetrates the hull, heading out to the struts and the propeller. White smoke in there is a bad thing. The response is for the Engineering Officer of the Watch (EOOW) to direct the shaft be stopped ASAP, and then to lock the shaft in place. The net reslut of this action is like dropping a large sea anchor, for the blades of the affected prop are being pulled almost sideways thru the water and not turning. BIDDLE’s max speed in this condition was several knots slower than we had to go to arrive in the Med on time to reported to COMSIXTHFLT. I notified the Commodore and the Ops Boss. Planning went into affect for what to do until BIDDLE caught up, since our records and publications were over there.

The affect on the Staff was not too bad professionally, as the MONOGAHELA’s library would have publications we could use, but the biggest impact was the Chief Staff Officer, Bill Nurthen, has also send his clothes over, except for a single change of them. Well, you can imagine his angst, but also how were were able to play on this to get under his skin for the rest of the cruise….

Later that morning, the OPREP (operational report) from the BIDDLE made it’s way to use, and listed the cause of the loss of all oil in the main shaft bearing as sabotage. Someone had uncapped the drain line, and big machinery, which in many cases actually relies on the oil as a medium to carry heat off the movig parts as much as it being a lubricant, does stuff like get hot and the glows red, and then breaks or catches on fire.

Shortly after this message came out, the Battle Group Staff lawyer sent one back, letting the BIDDLE know the reported was to read, or any subsequent reports to list sabotage as “malicious destruction.” That’s the term used when it’s one of your own people who causes the damage.

(back to the story)
So was sailed by late afternoon, the SARATOGA, SCOTT, JACK WILLIAMs, BROWN, CAPODANNO and MONOGAHELA all in formation. We left in strict EMCOM “A.” That means no, I mean no, radio communications and all radars were turned off. Once clear of the harbor, our orders were to proceed NNE at top speed in EMCOM. We didn’t even know were we were going, except a point south of the Arabian peninsula.

More to come…

Ally Hilger has produced a movie, which has finally begun to make it’s way into the movie theaters.

The movie, “Proud,” is the story of the USS MASON (DE-529) is now out and playing in small engagements around the country. It’s now playing in Atlanta, GA. A link to the schdeule page is here…

My interest in this story began with my friendship with Ben Garrison, who was a Radioman on the MASON during the war. As a result of this aquaintance, I have come to know of the the 761st Tank Battalion and the “Triple Nickel” 555th Parachute Regiment, in addition to the well known story of the Tuskegee Airman of the 99th Fighter Squadron. I did some blogging on it last spring, encapsulating some of the history of the beginnings of desegregation in the US Military.

We have come a long way…

Thanks to Little Green Footballs for the Open Thread!

Thanks to Mudville Gazette for the Open Post!

Part II, Part III,Part IV, Part V, Part VI,
Part VII, Part VIII

Part IX

I don’t recall the exact date it was, but it was in January 20 years ago, and the location was an island pardise referred to as “DGAR” (pronounced Dee-gar) by the mulitude of airmen and sailors who have had the pleasure of transiting, by ship, sub or plane to the southern reaches of the Indian Ocean in the Chagos Archipeligo. Being south of the equator, it is more than likely responsible for many “Shellbacks” of the various services as well.

I pick up the story a few months late. But to catch up quickly, my travels to DGAR began in Norfolk, VA at the end of Oct, 1985. Sailing with the USS CORAL SEA (CV-43) Battle Group, under the command of Commander Carrier Group TWO. Assigned to the Battle Group was Destroyer Squadron THIRTY TWO, USS BIDDLE (CG-34), USS CAPODANNO (FF-1093), USS JESSE L BROWN (FF-1089), USS JACK WILLIAMS (FFG-24) and USS MONOGAHELA (AO-178), we headed east to the Med to swap out our CV and Group Commander, before heading to the North Arabian Sea. My “boss” was Capt Wes Jordan, Jr, Commodore for DESRON 32, and the Chief Staff Officer was CDR William “Bill” Nurthen. Staff OPS was LCDR Steve Nerheim, LCDR AL McCollum was our token ASW TACCO from the P-3 community to help make sure us “shoes” did ASW right. Much, much more on that later….OSC(SW) Jim Koch was our OPS Assistant, and RMCS(SW) Rumbaugh the Communications Officer. We had a chpalian and an RP (religiuos program specialist), but I can’t recall their names. They were farmed out to the ships of the Battle Group and rarely we with us. YN1 Thorton and a MS1 as the Commodore’s staff rounded out our little “family.”

Our sailing from Norfolk in October had been a wonderfully exciting day, as all our gear had been loaded aboard USS BIDDLE, but during the night before, the deck crew was hoisting a 40′ Utility Boat back aboard when a limit switch failed, allowing the winches to keep running, after the davit arm was fully upright. The result was a bend davit arm. COMNAVSURFLANT directed BIDDLE to remain inport and effect repairs, as our deployment would require anchoring out a lot, and the boat davits would be used extensively.

The Commodore issued orders to find another flagship. Looking to the north, we could see the CORAL SEA already moving from the piers. USS MONOGAHELA was still moored at her berth, so we yelled for help from the BIDDLE’s crew, and got our gear to the Oiler….

Off we go, but more background to come. Anyhow, on or about this date, 20 years in the past, I was headed towards the brow, so I could say I had a beer on Diego Garcia, after being on duty the first day inport, having just arrived from Singapore, where most of our Battle Group had spent Christmas. I heard “All Hands Prepare to Get Underway!” on the USS SARATOGA’s 1MC system…..

I spent last evening ravaging the magazine shelfs, reading several November issues.

I enjoy CPU Magazine and look for that one first during my forays into Borders around the 20 something of the month.

In the November issue of CPU, they had a short article on the Bionic Dolphin. No, it’s not Flipper and Col. Austin merged, but a you can buy it (for $60K) real thing that will do about 55 mph on the surface and also do about 10 mph submerged. Two people sitting in tandem and it can boach the surface and slam back down and keep going.

Update 11/1/2005: Bionic Dolphin on a trailer

I’ll have to start looking for a source of disposalbe income in that range. I feel the same as Capt Hiller (Will Smith) in “Independence Day.”

How about Subsunk and Chapomatic? Thing we can even talk Neptunus Lex into getting one? I think Skippy San could use one as the ultimate babe magnet in the far east, too. Of course, Cdr Salamander would need one…

After a while, we’d have enough for a squadron, then we’d have to put someone in charge of operations. Hmmm…maybe not as much fun as I first figured.

Thanks to Mudville Gazette for the Open Post!

October 25th. No year attached, just a day of the year. As I researched some connections I have to this day in 1998, I have discovered it’s interesting how so many battles of historical note happened on this day.

I am most attached due to this day due to my Naval career, which included a tour aboard USS CARR (FFG-52). Gunner’s Mate Paul Henry Carr, USN, of Checotah, OK, is the namesake for the vessel.

He was awarded the Silver Star for his actions aboard the USS SAMUEL B ROBERTS (DE-413) at the Battle Off Samar on October 25th, 1944. My post last year, to commemorate the 60th anniversary of the last great sea battle held in the history of mankind is here.

The best book I have read on this battle, which brought together many first person accounts was “Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors” by James Hornfischer. I highly recommend it.

Walking backwards on the timeline of history to October 25th, 1854. The Crimean War was raging and the 13th Hussars of British cavalry rode to their deaths and immortality at Balaklava in the poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson.

The last stop on this October 25th journey is a day of special significance is the Battle of Agincourt in 1415. The recollection of this battle is usually provided in the form of the stirring and often quoted call to the troops to rise to the challenge of the day before them in Shakespeare’s play “Henry V:”

This day is called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when the day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say ‘To-morrow is Saint Crispian:’
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.’
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our names.
Familiar in his mouth as household words
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember’d.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember’d;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

I’m amazed that these several battles of major significance would all fall on this day in history. Each battle can be rightly described as courageous, filled with honor and sacrifice for a higher calling, that have been noted by history as something out of the ordinary.

That’s today’s history lesson.

Thanks to Mudville Gazette for the Open Post!

Update 10/26/2005: Check out ANYDAY Today in History to see what happened on any day of the year!

I fear the object of my post my now have become history as a result of Hurricane Katrina, but, then again, maybe not….

For those who have spent some time in the BB&G in Pascagoula, MS, you will know of the old wooden hull grounded in the mud on the east bank of the Pascagoula River. For the rest of you, know this is a “sea story,” and therefore, is truth.

The USS SPRUANCE (DD-963) was built in (then) Ingalls Shipbuilding and Drydock on the gulf coast of Mississippi. It was commissioned in 1975, and the first of 31 (30 were originally planned, then the one more was added to the procurement) destroyers of the class. I was a “plank owner” (initially assigned crewmember) on the 22^nd hull of the class, USS LEFTWICH (DD-984) and was first “exposed” to the industrial shipyard lifestyle of a new ship in July 1979. While there, I learned of a new tradition that had begun during the days of the SPRUANCE Class building.

As you travel west on Hiway 90 through Pascagoula towards Gautier, you eye caught a old fishing boat hull imbedded in the mud, stern in, bow out towards the river, just a few yards north of the bridge. The decks had long since caved in, but the mast was still standing skyward. The wooden hull was a disgusting brown tone, showing the inattention given to the boat as a whole. As you got abreast of the vessel, there was a white set of numbers on a haze grey rectangle painted near the stem, in the approximate position that would mimic a set of hull numbers painted on a US Navy warship. The paint for these numbers was generally pretty bright, as it was renewed about once a month for the “tradition” that had grown in the local area, as a good natured joke between ship’s crews.

During the rapid building of the SPRUANCE Class, there was generally a number of sailors and officers present for several of the ships. Obviously, the closer to commissioning, the larger the crew assigned. While I was there for two months prior to the commissioning of the LEFTWICH, the full crew of the JOHN ROGERS (DD-983), a better part of the CUSHING’s (DD-985) crew was around, and then the core of the HARRY W HILL’s (DD-985) where there. The ships were being commissioned about a month apart, so it was a busy time.

When I arrived in July, the wooden hull was marked with “983.” ROGERS would be the next ship commissioned. The night before commissioning of the NICHOLSON (DD-982), that crew had made off with some government issue white and haze grey paint and sent a detail out to honor the ROGERS by painting their hull number up on this derelict hull. A few days after my arrival, the ROGERS commissioned, and lo and behold, when we went to work from our barracks the next morning, the numbers “984” had replaced the “983.” It was the local tradition….

One the night before our commissioning, who were we to break the pattern? A small detail did their job and put up the CUSHING’s “985.” The day after our commissioning, we sailed south west towards the Panama Canal, as Hurricanes Daniel and Frederick churned towards the Gulf of Mexico, our time at Ingalls over for the next few months.

In late January 80, we sailed to Pascagoula from our homeport of San Diego for both warranty work (a standard yard period after the ship had been operated for about 6 months), to be followed by a several month shipyard restricted availability (SRA), where we would have upgrades of radars and weapons installed. Since our departure from Pacagoula the prior August, several more SPRUANCE Class destroyers had joined the fleet. The expectation was there certainly should have been something like the hull number of the FIFE or the FLETCHER on the derelict hull by then, but that was not the case.

I actually knew before the rest of the crew, having driven ahead of the ship to be the liaison between the shipyard and SUPSHIP reps and our crew. I arrived about a week before the ship did. I crossed the bridge heading east into town and looked at the boat, only to see a not so brightly white “984” adorning the unseaworthy hull. As it turned out, the Commanding Officer of the CUSHING had waited until after we sailed for our home port and sent his crew out to paint over 985 with our hull number. Subsequently, no other crew felt the inclination to poke fun at the hulls behind them in the commissioning sequence, hence the fact the white paint of our hull number was no longer so fresh.

At some point after the ship arrived, some of our sailors went out one night to undo the “honor” bestowed on us. I can claim that the LEFTWICH had her hull number on display longer than any of the other SPRUANCEs and most likely longer than any ship built at Ingalls.

In 1984, I flew to Pascagoula in preparation for the overhaul my ship, USS CONOLLY (DD-979) would soon be going through. I was happy to note that there was a “5” painted on the derelict’s bow for the USS PELELIU (LHA-5), which was finishing up construction at the time.

This coming Sunday’s (8/28/05) St Petersburg Times paper will have a special section with the interviews they did with the WWII veterans in the area for a tribute to VJ Day.

Last spring, the Times put out a call for veterans to share their story. From what I understand, about 100 people
responded. One of them was Jim Helinger, Sr, the glider pilot who’s story I have
posted. I was able to sit with Jim when the summer intern reporter videoed the interview for the paper. I’m looking forward to reading the memories of those who answered the call and stood up for us so many years ago. I don’t recall the reporter’s name, but I do know he was sent on many of the interviews. He is on vacation now, and will be coming back to work full time for the St Pete Times.

It struck me the day I sat with Jim and the reporter and as I heard the reporter discuss a few of the men’s stories he had received for this section, I couldn’t help but think what a wonderful gift of living history this young man received by sitting with these 80 some year old men and listening to how it was. I’m sure he will use those stories for many years, long after some of these veteran’s have left us.

Anyhow, I plan to get a hold of a few copies for my own files. If you’re set on getting your own copy, I’d be happy to try to get them to anyone who want’s them. The paper is $1 for the Sunday edition and then what ever the cost of an envelope that will keep the special section intact and postage. See my profile for the email address, or leave a comment here so I can get back to you.

Update 8/26: I found out this special section will also include the interview with Ben Garrison, one of the crew members of the USS MASON (DE-529), the only large ship crewed by African Americans in WWII.

I have mentioned in other posts one of the jobs I had was conducting inspections of surface ship in the Atlantic Fleet for combat systems readiness. The inspection was called the Combat Systems Assessment (CSA), and during my three years of doing this, it was done under two different procedures. That’s not important right now, but fodder for more sea stories.

Near the end of my 3 year “shore duty” (oh, yeah, that’s the one where you’re supposed to be home) tour, the people over at Naval Surface Forces, Atlantic (NAVSURFLANT) decided we also needed to do CSAs on the patrol hydrofoils. They hadn’t been given this level of scrutiny, so we pulled checksheets for their systems and programs, assembled a smaller team (myself and 4 others) and scheduled an airlift to Key West from Norfolk. Darn the bad luck the Naval Air Logistics Office (NALO) “gave” my team and I the “Station Plane” from Chambers Field (NAS Norfolk). The station planes are like the assigned vehicle for the NAS commander. It was a C-12, in military terms, but, in the civilian world (and most especially in the skydiving realm) it’s just that wonderful Beechcraft King Air airframe. Read twin turboprop executive plane…:)

Anyhow, we went to NAS Key West and then aboard the USS HERCULES (PHM-2). She was one of 6 ships of the PEGASUS Class of hydrofoils. 42 kts while “flying,” and armed with a 76mm gun, and 4 Harpoon anti-ship missiles.

We did our thing, checking the checklists, then watching the crew do a practice engagement. Once this all was completed, the CO, a LCDR (O-4) had the Officer of the Deck “land” the ship in the emergency mode, which was a tactic to run fast on the foils, get into a bunch of ships like a fishing fleet, then slam the ship down on the hull and magically look like the fishing boats around you on radar. The passed the word for all hands to brace for an “emergency landing,” and proceeded to do one for us. The ship was running on a steady course and dropped from 42 kts to about 3 kts really fast. I you hadn’t been hanging on, you’d become somewhat of a flesh missile hazard. Impressive. Back up on the foils we went.

There was time to burn and I was on the bridge. The CO asked me: “Sir, would you like to conn the ship?” Conning the ship is discussed in my post on backing out of station here. I replied: “No, I’ve conned plenty of ships, I want to drive this one.” He had the helmsman get up and let me take his seat. On the PHM, the helmsman and lee helmsman (the person who directly operated the throttles) sit in chairs with seat belts. The controls for a helmsman are like a bomber control yoke, the big partial steering wheel. The CO ordered the OOD to execute a “Figure Eight.” They told me when the order “full rudder” is given, it means you turn the wheel until your hand touches your thigh. “Right Full Rudder!” “Right Full Rudder, Aye, Sir!” and I turned us to starboard. The ship heeled impressively at speed. “Shift Your Rudder!” (position the rudder on the opposite side, the same number of degrees) “Shift My Rudder, Aye, Sir!”

The ship sped along, straighted up, then began to heel the opposite way and the bow dipped and headed for the water! WHAM! Another “emergency landing” just happened, but no one passed the word. Sea spray engulfed the ship for a few moments, as we stopped. Everyone looked around sort of dazed, not because of injury, but more the “what just happened” kind of dazed. No one was hurt, but a few a little shocked when momentum took over unannounced.

In a few minutes, the Engineer reported to the Co that the landing had been caused by a gyro casualty. The PHM’s had two foils aft, just forward of the stern. Each had underwater wings that were computer controlled, and the computer took the inputs from the gyros. The ship had two gyrocompasses. The initial software for the ship’s flying stability did not account well for the loss of one gyro. When the software safety people evaluated the program, they found that if one gyro’s signal was lost, the computer would compensate in such a way as to possibly cause the 288 ton vessel to cartwheel across the sea surface. The software was modified with a “fail safe” mode as a result of this discovery. The new software, when if sensed the loss of one gyro signal would command the ship to land, which, would result in an unannounced “emergency landing.”

When things were all squared away, and they gyro back on line, we proceeded into port. The CO told me I was the only non-crewmember to ever “land” the ship.

As we were about to depart, the Captain had “Flying Certificates” made out for each one of us. I’m not sure if it was OSCM Dave Roddy, or GCMC Dave Cress who looked at me and said “They should have crumpled yours up, boss.”

History, and I was a piece of it….

UNITAS, it’s a wonderful deal, which, as one of my commenters noted to my post here, is no longer. The “deployment” is no longer done.

I arrived aboard USS CONOLLY (DD-979) in late September, 1983. Assigned as Engineer Officer, I felt it was my duty to quickly and properly qualify as Engineering Officer of the Watch (EOOW). My CO, CDR Harry Maxiner, had other plans. Reporting aboard in Puerto Mont, Chile, the ship was to begin a transit down the Chilean Inland Waterway. That breathtaking passage is about 1/2 the length of Chile, with the foothills of the Andes to port and jagged island and smaller mountain chains to the starboard side. It is a route taken because the South Pacific at that time of year is very rough. Chilean Naval Officers are the pilots for the transit. There is a group of them assigned with this as their duty for their Navy and visitors such as us.

Capt Maxiner told me I would be standing watches on the bridge. I was disappointed, but, orders is orders. That’s another interesting story.

We would be arriving home in Mid-December and then, after leave and standdown (30 days), we would be prepping the ship for a complex overhaul. For 10 months, we would be held captive by Supervisor of Ships in Portland, ME, so Bath Iron Works could do the work on us. That over haul would go from Feb through Dec. After that would be some local work ups and qualification of newly installed Tomahawk, MK23 Target Acquisition System (TAS) and MK15 CIWS. Next in the operational schedule would be a trip to that wonderful garden spot we just call “Gitmo” for 6 weeks of “Refresher Training.” By my rotation date, I would be off the ship before she sailed to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, and headed to the second half of my Department Head tour.

In order to be selectable for Command at Sea, there is a (go figure) checklist. One of the items (again, go figure) is demonstrating the ability to handle a ship. Included in the list of ship handling evolution was taking the ship alongside another. The other evolutions didn’t require the presence of another ship, so they could be done entering any port, or when the ship was independently streaming.

I had three months when we would be operating around other ships, and then the overhaul, then I’d depart (if the plan would hold for my normal rotation). I needed to go alongside a ship while on UNITAS, or I’d not get the option later. Not good for the Fitness Report to leave out “qualified for Command at Sea.”

While I stood bridge watches for the first month, the alongside opportunities didn’t present themselves. I went to the Senior Watch Officer, at the time Lt Mike Moe and asked for him to put me on the list for the next time we’d be refueling at sea. He told me the junior officers needed the handling time and I was a “proven commodity.” “That’s true Mike, but I’m staying in and we have no idea how many of them will go to Department Head School.” It didn’t work, he said maybe later. I countered with my short time window to do this, and he wasn’t terribly concerned.

I went up to the bridge and found the Captain on the port bridge wing. I began to tell him about my desire to wrap up my shiphandling this cruise. He looked at me, listening, and when I was done, said “Ok, go take the conn (the person who is legally able to give engine and rudder orders, usually the Junior Officer of the Deck).” I looked at him, and it must have been in a funny way, then he said “We just got ordered to go alongside the MINEAS GERIAS” (an aircraft carrier of the Brazilian Navy).

I took the conn and we took waiting station starboard, hoisted “Romeo” at the dip, indicating we were ready to approach. The Romeo flag on the MINEAS GERIAS was “closed up” and we smartly increased speed and began to come alongside. This process requires a lot of attention to detail, a throrough understanding of the handling characteristics of your ship, and hydrodynamic interactions between ships close aboard. I’ll cover that in another post.

I settled the ship in at the desired position alongside, at 120 ft separation, and matched the speed of the carrier. We remained there about 10 minutes, then received a signal to return to our screening station. Capt Maxiner looked at me and said “Have you ever backed one of these out of station?”

The conventional wisdom is you depart from your place alongside by increasing speed, and, until your stern is clear of the other vessel’s bow, and then you begin to steer away. Capt Maxiner was suggesting that we go backwards to leave.

The SPRUANCE Class Destroyers were the first combatant class to be fitted with controllable, reversible propellers (CRP). The shaft turns the same way all the time (in this case, the two shafts counter rotate as well, turning inboard from their respective sides), with large hydraulics physically changing pitch on the blades. Because of this, you can reverse your course very quickly, since the engines don’t have to be stopped to turn the shafts in the opposite direction.

UPDATE: 74 of Bow Ramp corrected me. in the comments: “For the record, the Ashville class gunboats were the first US Navy combatants with CRP shafts. We could go from DIW to 40 knots in under 60 seconds and from Ahead Flank to DIW in 300 feet (under two ship lengths.)” I stand corrected. Thanks!

“No” I said. “Do what I say” was the next order. “All back flank.” “ALL BACK FLANK!” I spoke into the handset to the helm. The ship quickly began to shudder as we rapidly decelerated. The eyes on the people on the MINEAS GERIAS got big as pie plates….The carrier, proceeding at 12 knots, with us now approaching 0, pulled ahead quickly. The four turbines whined as the fuel pumps sent the maximum amount of liquid into the combustion chambers on the GE LM-2500 main engines. Our bow rapidly cleared their stern. Our screening station was on the port bow of the MINEAS GERIAS, so coming away from her starboard side, we had to get around her to carry out or orders. “ALL AHEAD FLANK THREE!” was the next command to the lee helmsman. The engines were up to speed, so now it was up to the hydraulics of the Byrd-Johnson system to change our direction. “LEFT FULL RUDDER!” “LEFT FULL RUDDER, AYE, SIR!” came back in the amplified speaker. The crew of the MINEAS GERIAS was moving aft to watch us back out of station. “RUDDER AMIDSHIPS!” as I saw we could steer straight ahead and clear the transom of the carrier. “Combat, course to station!”

As we secured the navigation team on the bridge, Capt Maxiner looked at me and asked “Is that what you needed to do?” then laughed a big belly laugh, as he sat perched in the captain’s chair on the bridge wing. “Yes, sir, that was it.”

While slicing through the ocean at 32 knots may not sound near as exciting as some of the things Neptunus Lex graces us with, it’s still a trip to be able to haul about 8000 tons of Tin Can about with such grace and flair. Like everything else, when you do it right, it looks great. On the other hand, if not, it can be scraped paint and ruined careers. I’ll also say, with certainty, no one ever was heard to yell “Do some of that SWO (Surface Warfare Officer) stuff!” just in case you were wondering, even when we looked as cool as Tom Cruise, sunglasses on, short hair blowing in the stiff breeze across the deck, while the ship surged along with “a bone in her teeth.”

Captain Maxiner was a tactician, ship handler and gunner, with the heart of a warrior. One post I hope to get to is his use of 5″ gun powder casing tubes, and weather ballons to kick the USS SCOTT’s “can.”

Stay tuned, same station, but unknown time, for the next episode.