Let's see...where were we. Oh yeah. Heading South. But before we did that we had to get across the country again. And this time with 6 helicopters instead of 4. The normal contingent of helicopters in a squadron at that time was 6 so we were going to move the whole squadron. And not only the pilots, aircrew, and maintainers, but also everyone else. That's 20 pilots, another 4 officers, about 160 enlisted personnel, 6 helicopters, and frankly, a lot of stuff. No small feat. We were flying the helos to the East coast but everything else was going by airlift. A complication was that were a San Diego-based squadron and didn't have to move the whole squadron very often. When we went aboard ship, we usually loaded everything in trucks and went about a mile down to the pier and schlepped it aboard. No problem. So this was a different task. But the troops responded, as usual, magnificently. Everything got moved and we made it to Norfolk and aboard Kitty Hawk without incident.
Actually, now that I think about it, I remember that we had some training to conduct when we arrived at NAS Norfolk, so we got there a few days early and completed several training flights. I needed to update my night-vision goggle (NVG) qualification, so I got scheduled for a training flight right after we arrived. NVG flying was a fairly recent phenomenon and I needed all the practice I could get. I remember the first time I flew with them I initially thought they were a huge pain. It was like looking at the world through a couple of toilet paper rolls. Very shortly, however, it was evident that they were an amazing tool that expanded our capability dramatically. And for a guy who was used to flying around the So Cal mountains and deserts in the middle of the night, flying around the flat landscape of the Virginia tidelands was challenging. Not too many features to key off of and there seemed to be a constant overcast that made me work my butt off. Anyway, it was great to get out and do some real tactical flying after the monotony of the long cross-country flight.
So after a few days of flying and getting the squadron settled aboard ship, we finally pulled out and headed on our journey. The first few days at sea are always a bit disconcerting. And this time was no different. Lots of hectic activity made more so because we were in unfamiliar territory. After years aboard the ChuckyV, Kitty Hawk was going to take some getting used to. The spaces were generally smaller, older, and the layout was different. You have to understand something about the Air Wing. They are tenants on the ship, not permanent residents. They come and go with regularity, but come and go they do. And when they are aboard they disrupt things. The ship's company guys generally grouse and complain about the Air Wing, and vice versa. But it's all in good fun...sorta. The Air Wing guys generally find where they have to go and go there. Ready Room, Wardroom or mess deck, work-space, stateroom or berthing, and so on. Figure out your routine, don't get in the way of the black shoes, and execute. Simple as that.
As we headed South, the ship and the Air Wing started feeling each other out. We began a crawl, walk, run method of operations. And the crawl stage took a while. As I said in the last post the ship was green. And truth be told, the Air Wing was green. So we worked, flew and learned together. And after a while, we started to hit our stride. Not perfect...but acceptable. We wouldn't achieve an acceptable level on this whole journey, but we got continually better.
Our first port of call was St Thomas, US Virgin Islands. We had been informed of our port calls prior to leaving and everyone was looking forward to a stop in St Thomas. After all, most of us were Pacific sailors. We knew nothing about places in the Carribean, and indeed, that was true of all the places we visited. But one thing we did know. When we went ashore, we were going to need someplace to call home. Whether it was for 3, 4, or 5 days and whether or not it was a liberty port or a working port, it would be time to have some fun. Liberty port or working port you might ask? What is that? Well, ships don't go on deployment just to have fun. It's a ton of work. And sometimes they will pull into a port that is classified as working. It might be someplace with a bonafide port where work will be done on the ship or a place where there will be requirements with the host nation so the crew needs to stay aboard and get things done. And then there are liberty ports. Liberty ports are places where the ship goes, usually stays 3-5 days, and the crew gets to enjoy the port and some time off. It's more of a diplomatic stop. The ship is put in duty sections so only one-fourth of the crew is aboard at any given time. And this my friends is where sailors will be...well, sailors. 
And here's a little-known fact that applies to the helicopter squadron on every deployed aircraft carrier. Every port is a working for us. We have to have a helo on alert 24/7. Since we're the only aircraft that can fly while the ship is at anchor or at a pier, we usually get tasked to do some flying carrying people or supplies all over the place. In an unfamiliar port, I might add. This can result in some interesting situations. There have been more than one time when I was going someplace I wasn't familiar with to take or retrieve someone for some reason and it could have easily turned sour.
Here's the thing about pilots on deployment. When they are at sea, they work their butts off. But when they pull into a port, they like to, er...relax. And that relaxation occurs ashore, not on the boat. The hub of that relaxation is called an "admin". An admin is a hotel room or suite (or two) that accommodates as many folks as possible and in less gentle terms would be termed a "flop house". But we were officers and gentlemen...so it was an admin. But where to go and how to afford it was the question. Usually, there is a lot of time before deployment so the wardroom in a squadron has plenty of time to start a fund, contribute to it regularly, and use the money to fund the admin. But in our case, we didn't have the time before deployment to do that. So...junior officers being the clever guys that they are, they came up with an ingenious scheme to make some money to fund our admin.
It just so happened that one of the guys was a great artist and prior to leaving, our little group of clever JOs set to work designing a patch for the "round the horn" cruise and getting it produced. They figured that everyone likes patches and that we'd be able to sell them around the ship and turn a nice little profit. Well, they grossly underestimated the popularity of the patch!! We took a thousand patches with us to Norfolk and in no time at all they were gone. So we placed an emergency order for more and got them delivered before we left. And these were also snapped up. So we placed another order and we were anticipating seeing them when we got to St. Thomas. So, needless to say, we had a ton of money for an admin.
After a little searching, these same clever JOs found the perfect place! I don't think I'll ever forget it. In terms of admins, it was about perfect. We rented two large suites right next to each other at the Bolongo Bay Resort. This place had it all. And our suites were right next to the pool which was right next to the beach. Now don't get me wrong. We certainly hadn't been gone so long that this place was a huge relief. But it was very nice. We spent four idyllic days in St Thomas. The beach was perfect, the beer was cold, and the nightlife was fun. One of my memories of that port was that my toothache reared it's ugly head again. Luckily, the ship and her very complete Dental department were just a few miles off the coast and I was able to make a speed run back for a little more work. We also found and procured a pink "drinking flamingo" one night at a bar. It was a ceramic (I think) statue that stood about 3 feet high and the wardroom had it for several years. What is a drinking flamingo you might ask. I'm still not sure but it seemed like a great acquisition at the time. How did we acquire it you might ask. Don't ask. Some things are better left to the imagination.
But as is always the case, we were soon on our way. The plan was that prior to heading South in a deliberate manner, we would hang out in the vicinity of Puerto Rico to conduct various Air Wing operations. I don't remember what all this consisted of but the Air Wing was pretty busy. We had the opportunity to drop a few torpedoes and do some last chance NVG flying prior to going on our way. I had an interesting little adventure one morning at Naval Air Station, Roosevelt Roads, Puerto Rico, lovingly called Rosey Roads. I can't even remember what the mission was but I do remember flying into Rosey Roads. I was either dropping something off or picking something up. Doesn't matter. Anyway, we taxied into base ops and were sitting there waiting when a very stern looking customs officer came out to ask me why we were there and where was our customs declaration. Huh? He was pretty pissed and threatened to impound my helicopter, which clearly wouldn't have been good with the ship's impending turn South. Remember I said the ship's company was green? Well, whenever an aircraft has to fly into a base from a ship, the ship has to send a message coordinating the event. Yep, you guessed it. This had slipped their mind. But I must say, I was pretty good at fast talking that day. In the end, he understood and sent us on our merry way, but it could have been dicey.
But as is always the case, we were soon on our way. The plan was that prior to heading South in a deliberate manner, we would hang out in the vicinity of Puerto Rico to conduct various Air Wing operations. I don't remember what all this consisted of but the Air Wing was pretty busy. We had the opportunity to drop a few torpedoes and do some last chance NVG flying prior to going on our way. I had an interesting little adventure one morning at Naval Air Station, Roosevelt Roads, Puerto Rico, lovingly called Rosey Roads. I can't even remember what the mission was but I do remember flying into Rosey Roads. I was either dropping something off or picking something up. Doesn't matter. Anyway, we taxied into base ops and were sitting there waiting when a very stern looking customs officer came out to ask me why we were there and where was our customs declaration. Huh? He was pretty pissed and threatened to impound my helicopter, which clearly wouldn't have been good with the ship's impending turn South. Remember I said the ship's company was green? Well, whenever an aircraft has to fly into a base from a ship, the ship has to send a message coordinating the event. Yep, you guessed it. This had slipped their mind. But I must say, I was pretty good at fast talking that day. In the end, he understood and sent us on our merry way, but it could have been dicey.
And so off we went. The trip south was long and a bit monotonous. The ship had to make a certain speed to stay on its timeline and sometimes that wasn't conducive with flying. And when the Air Wing is sitting around not flying, no one is happy. Sort of like taking away your teenager's computer and cell phone and tell them to sit around the family room and talk. They get antsy. They seek things to do. And they can get in a bit of trouble. But once again, not true for the helo squadron. We were flying every day.
Around this time, we started conducting routine Vertrep operations with the supply ship that was accompanying us. We had done a lot of training and definitely operated in a crawl, walk, run mode. Learning to conduct Vertrep ops in a tail rotor aircraft is a bit tricky and it's important to not challenge the wind envelope. Remember that guy I said was a "great stick"? CAG? Well, we even got him out practicing Vertrep. He loved flying with us and went out whenever he could. We scheduled him with some of our seasoned JO's and it paid big dividends. He got to know us and flew more than most CAG's are interested in flying with the helo squadron. We even got him to the point where he was flying Vertrep missions. Of course, those seasoned JO's kept their hands pretty close to the sticks.
When the Air Wing did get to fly they continued doing a lot of training to get the ship up on the step. But there were a few other interesting experiences along the way. One was crossing the Equator. And if you know anything about sailors and ships at sea, you know that means we entered the domain of Neptunus Rex. If you're not familiar, here's a little description straight out of Wikipedia:
We got some visitors as we approached Argentina. It turned out that the Argentinian Navy wanted to come out and land on the carrier. Yikes! So we have a relatively green crew combined with a bunch of Argentinian pilots who have never landed on a ship. Is that a recipe for disaster or what? But, diplomacy being what it is, they came up with a solution. The pilots flew out and did some touch and goes. No landing. No stopping. No getting stranded on the ship. All daytime. No nights. They all did pretty well but it was a bit of a show. And many were waved off before they touched down. But it was a good gesture. Another gesture was that a group of Argentinian Naval Officers was airlifted to the ship to get a taste of U.S. Navy life. They were given tours and briefings and turned out to be great guys. I happened to eat dinner one night with a couple of them and we had some great conversation. We had been told to not engage in any sensitive or political talk because the Falklands War was still a sore subject. But I couldn't resist. After we talked about shipboard life, answered their questions, and traded sea stories I just up and asked them what they were thinking with the whole Falklands invasion. After politely informing me that they call them the Malvinas Islands thank you very much, they said it was really pretty simple. They thought they could get away with one. And in their calculations, they discounted two things. First was that they didn't think that the Royal Navy would get the entire force underway and go to war over those islands. And second was the relationship between Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan. They never thought that Reagan would provide the support he did and when that happened, it was really over. I've not forgotten that. Always anticipate unintended consequences!
Another little life changing event happened while we were steadily heading South to our next duty port. I got a telegram. Yes, a telegram. Back in those days before internet and instant connectivity, the main way to communicate with home was by letter. When we reached port, everyone called home but it was prohibitively expensive and you really didn't know what to say or didn't say enough in just a few minutes. So mail call was a big deal. Nothing better than hearing from home and confirming that everything was okay. Or at least, what your wife told you about. Getting a telegram was usually not good news. Not good news at all. It usually was accompanied by death, destruction and despair. But sometimes they came with good news. And this one was the latter. I had known that my son was in the throes of applying for colleges and making the monumental decision about where he would go. He was a great student, a great athlete (swimmer), and all around great kid if I do say so myself. It was tough to be away during this time but he was getting great guidance from his mother and he and I had talked through the alternatives. We'd also visited many of the campuses and I was pretty confident that we would wind up at one of the University of California campuses. And then lo and behold I get a telegram. Seems he had been invited to the United States Naval Academy to check it out. Seems they saw in him a great swimmer, a son of a Naval Officer, a great student, and like I said, a great kid. So off he went. And loved it! He told me later that when he walked on the campus (called the yard) for the first time, he knew it was for him. So I got a telegram. A great telegram. He was going to USNA and his life and our lives would be changed forever. This will have to be the subject of a whole other blog post, but it would have been impossible for me to be prouder than when I got that telegram.
As we got further and further South we started focusing on the next port visit, Mar del Plata, Argentina. This place was a mystery to all. Literally, no one had been there, which is pretty unusual. We found out that there hadn't been a U.S. Navy ship visit Mar Del Plata since the early '60s. So this was either going to be really good...or a bust. As we approached the city, it was obvious that this would be a port in which we anchored out and took small boats ashore. Only one problem. The weather was pretty bad and the seas were running really rough. So when they brought the camel (a platform that is a transition between the ship and the small boats) out, they couldn't get it safely secured to the ship. So it looked like everyone would be staying on the ship the first night. But hold on a minute. We have these things called helicopters! And did I mention that the CAG was a great guy? We marched up and offered to fly two helos for 3 or 4 hours into a soccer field that we could literally see. A few calls were made, a few measurements were taken, and we were in. CAG said go for it. So we cranked up and started shuttling people ashore. I don't know how many we took, but it must have been around a hundred. Our ready room started to look like a major airport. People were constantly trooping through and we took quite a few calls from guys trying to get off the ship. Luckily the ship's company office that handles air passenger transfers took control and managed the people getting off.
And guess who was on the last helo? Yep. Me. Or I should say me, a few other squadron mates, and the JO with the keys to the admin! So for the first night, while almost 5000 sailors languished on the ship eager for liberty, a few of us were ashore. Sweet! The first order of business was to get the admin ready for everyone and test the beer. Yep...it was cold. This admin was nowhere near as nice as Bolongo Bay, but it wasn't bad. It was in a big hotel right across the street from the beach and in a great part of town, so we were set. We then ventured out on the town. As the saying goes today...OMG! Beautiful, friendly, vibrant, exciting, modern, etc, etc, etc. It turned out to be a terrific place with wonderful, friendly people. We asked the Conceirge for a restaurant recommendation. One of the interesting things is that no one eats dinner before about 9:00 pm at the very earliest. Normal dinner hours are 10:00 pm to 1:00 am. He sent us to a steak place a few blocks away. Another thing we didn't know was that Argentina is a huge steak place. I mean huge. We all ordered steaks and our eyes popped out when they brought them out. Huge, tasty, and cooked to perfection. Add some fries and some cold beer and we were in heaven. And there were only a few of us in town. Whenever someone realized we were Americans, all they wanted to do was talk and hear about the U.S. It was so refreshing. So this was the start to 5 blissful days in a great place.
Mar Del Plata was the only port I've ever been in where there wasn't one liberty incident. That means no one got in trouble for acting like...well, sailors. The people were so generous. I was part of a group of officers invited to a local polo match and barbecue. They loaded us up into two big busses and we traveled about 30 minutes into the countryside. I had never been to a polo match and it was pretty cool. And the barbecue was like every other meal we had while there...great. And it seemed like everyone had a similar story. Many people took sailors into their homes. There was a large plaza area that was filled with sidewalk cafes and it was a wonderful place to people watch. The only problem was that as Americans we must have stood out like sore thumbs . And when people would realize that, they would ask us for our autographs. Seriously! It was amazing. And oh yeah...the bars weren't too bad either. Remember I said that the helos always fly in every port. Well, Mar Del Plata was no exception. We all took our turns but we did some great flying lifting supplies and people to the ship. During the trip South our artist had designed another, different patch and we had sent off an order requesting delivery asap. Well, much to our surprise they arrived and they sold like hotcakes. So our admin fund was doing very fine thank you very much! And after 5 wonderful days, we reluctantly set sail for some weather like few of us had ever seen!
Heading South again I think most in the Air Wing were blissfully ignorant of the weather we were about to encounter. Most of us thought we'd get back to flying and continue the training that had paid dividends thus far. Oh, everyone had heard about the terrible weather that could be encountered as ships go "around the horn". I'm sure there is some specific geographic or geologic phenomenon that explains why the confluence of the Atlantic and the Pacific at the tip of South America produces dreadful weather, but whatever it is, it was mother nature at her best. Once we got not too far south from Mar Del Plata, the weather turned bad. As in real bad. As in no flying for the Air Wing. Seas too rough. Winds too high. Too much risk, especially for a relatively green ship and Air Wing. But once again, not so much for the helicopter squadron. Don't get me wrong. We had definitely reduced our pace of operations but, like is usually the case, we flew every day. There is always a need to move stuff and people around, to conduct some surveillance operations, or to even get an airborne weather check. Whatever it was, we did it. But for most it was pretty miserable. 4 days of no flying while the ship plowed through some very rough seas.
And then we turned North. Once we had Mar Del Plata and rounding the horn behind us, things went pretty smooth. I can't remember how long it was until our next port call but it was something like a week. The Air Wing got to fly en route (which made us happy) and we had what was rumored to be a great port call awaiting us. That port was Valparaiso, Chili. It was another great place. And we had a great admin, as usual. But truthfully after Mar Del Plata nowhere would measure up. We had a great 4 days in port and, you guessed, the helicopter squadron flew every day. There were a couple of distinguishing features of the port visit. It turned out that there was a Naval Officer and helicopter pilot that many of knew who was on exchange duty with the Chilian Navy and he was stationed in Valparaiso. So when the ship arrived he looked several of us up and invited us to his home for dinner with his family. This kind of gesture is always welcomed by guys on deployment. There's something special about hanging out with other Americans no matter where you are.
A couple of us had a pretty exciting adventure in the Chilian mountains above Valparaiso. A couple of JO's grew up around horses and fancied themselves as cowboys of sorts. They weren't, but fancied themselves as such. So one day we were sitting around the admin and they said they had heard there was good horseback riding in one of the towns up in the mountains, and they were going to go explore and find where that was. Well, as a good XO I couldn't let my guys venture off into the wilderness alone so I said I'd tag along. So off we went. The only problem is that we didn't know where the hell we were going. So what does an enterprising sailor do? Ask someone, that's what. So we stumbled on a tourist desk in the hotel and they told us that the best thing to do was take a particular bus that would pick us up right outside the hotel, and it would take us to a little town up in the hills where there were a lot of stables with horses for hire. Sounds easy, right? Of course, there was a little problem. None of us spoke Spanish. But not to worry. We were Americans! So we stood outside, found the bus, somehow paid the right amount and were off with all the locals to somewhere in the mountains. We managed to get the driver to understand that we wanted to go to a village where we could rent horses for riding. So about an hour later, he told us that it was time to get off. Now picture this. Three Americans in jeans and tee shirts who don't speak Spanish find themselves in a dusty square in a little village in the middle of the Andes. I swear to you it looked like a place straight out of "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid". And we didn't have a clue where to find horses. And no one spoke English. But being the optimists that we were, we figured we could just walk around and find a stable. And sure enough, after about 20 minutes, we found a sign with a horse on it. Of course, we made sure we knew how to get back to that square. Anyway, we made the proprietor understand that we wanted to ride horses and he brought out 3 of the most tired, broken down nags you've ever seen. But there was no turning back now. So up we went. And no sooner were we in the saddle than the horses started on their journey. Now, make no mistake, we weren't in control. They were going on their preprogrammed route and about an hour later we came walking back into the stable. It was like going on a Disneyland ride with the cars on the tracks. No matter what we did, there was no deviation. But...we no kidding can say we went horseback riding in the Andes...sorta. Presently we made our way back to the square, had a Coca-Cola and figured out that there was a bus coming back through the village in a while and we could catch it back to the city. Upon retelling, this seems pretty dumb. And lame. But at the time...it was a grand adventure!
The other thing that happened in Valparaiso was that the ship had a cocktail reception for local dignitaries. So there we were, anchored out so that guests needed to come out on boats, and the hangar deck all spiffed up. The Supply Department had outdone themselves to put on the dog. They had great finger food and there was even a supply of alcoholic beverages that are allowed in these situations. Of course, we were all admonished to take it easy, which we did. But I have to tell you, it might be a thrill for the guests, but it is a colossal bore for the Navy guys. But...such are the wages of living the glamorous life.
Next stop...San Diego. Even though we hadn't been gone that long or done any extraordinary things, we were all looking forward to getting home and reunion that it would entail. But as we left I got to thinking generally about South America. This place had really had an impact on me. Not just from the perspective of a visitor, but also from a cultural, economic and political perspective. Here we have cities that are vibrant, filled with culture, modern, have wonderful people, and are obviously prosperous. Oh, I'm sure there we saw it a bit through rose colored glasses, but the point is that there is a whole continent down there that the average American knows little about. It is rich in resources, culture, and people. We seem to be very focused horizontally in our thinking. That is, we always look to Europe and Asia to interact with the world. What about South America. I started thinking we should be looking much more vertically. We don't...but we should.
The other thing that started to come into focus was the impact that Tailhook was going to have on all our lives. It really didn't matter if you were there or not. Bottom line is that it was the end of an era. A painful end and in many ways it was about time. Plainly speaking, the behavior of some of my colleagues had been pretty deplorable. They needed to be accountable and many were. It took longer than many would have liked, but cultural changes are always slow and difficult. And there are always innocent bystanders who get caught up in the turmoil. That certainly happened during the days of the Tailhook scandal. It was too bad, but as I've said before...that's the breaks of Naval Air. Today we are better off. The world has changed. And I'm proud that Naval Aviation has adapted, changed and emerged stronger for it.
It was all downhill now. As we approached San Diego, there was palpable excitement throughout the ship and Air Wing. For the ship it was a new home. For the Air Wing it was coming home. It's said that one of the most dangerous evolutions in any deployment is the fly off. Everyone gets a case of "get home-itis". When you're sitting on the flight deck in your aircraft waiting to takeoff and head home, if something goes wrong, there is a mighty temptation to ignore it or rationalize it away in order to make the launch. Luckily for this flyoff it went very smoothly. Of course, the helicopters were the last off the deck. And we had to wait until we were within reasonable range. The good news was the the new H-60's had GPS and we could launch farther out. I don't remember how far out we were when we launched, but it was certainly farther than the old days. Anyway, it went off without a hitch. And soon we had land in sight and were flying up runway 36 for a straight-in long landing and taxi to hangar 340. And there was a huge contingent of family and friends awaiting our arrival. It never is any different. Leaving is so painful. But coming home is so sublime!
Around this time, we started conducting routine Vertrep operations with the supply ship that was accompanying us. We had done a lot of training and definitely operated in a crawl, walk, run mode. Learning to conduct Vertrep ops in a tail rotor aircraft is a bit tricky and it's important to not challenge the wind envelope. Remember that guy I said was a "great stick"? CAG? Well, we even got him out practicing Vertrep. He loved flying with us and went out whenever he could. We scheduled him with some of our seasoned JO's and it paid big dividends. He got to know us and flew more than most CAG's are interested in flying with the helo squadron. We even got him to the point where he was flying Vertrep missions. Of course, those seasoned JO's kept their hands pretty close to the sticks.When the Air Wing did get to fly they continued doing a lot of training to get the ship up on the step. But there were a few other interesting experiences along the way. One was crossing the Equator. And if you know anything about sailors and ships at sea, you know that means we entered the domain of Neptunus Rex. If you're not familiar, here's a little description straight out of Wikipedia:
It's all in good fun and a tradition that goes way, way, way back. And like many things in the U.S. Navy, we find origins in the Royal Navy. As it has evolved over the years, great pains are taken to make it a fun, yet tradition-laden event absent of any hazing or abuse.The two-day event (evening and day) is a ritual in which previously inducted crew members (Trusty Shellbacks) are organized into a "Court of Neptune" to induct the Slimy Pollywogs into "the mysteries of the Deep". Physical hardship, in keeping with the spirit of the initiation, is tolerated, and each Pollywog is expected to endure a standard initiation rite in order to become a Shellback.The transition flows from established order to the controlled "chaos" of the Pollywog Revolt, the beginnings of re-order in the initiation rite as the fewer but experienced enlisted crew converts the Wogs through physical tests, then back to, and thereby affirming, the pre-established order of officers and enlisted.The eve of the equatorial crossing is called Wog Day and, as with many other night-before rituals, is a mild type of reversal of the day to come. Wogs—all of the uninitiated—are allowed to capture and interrogate any shellbacks they can find (e.g., tying them up, cracking eggs or pouring aftershave lotion on their heads). The wogs are made very aware of the fact that it will be much harder on them if they do anything like this.After crossing the line, Pollywogs receive subpoenas to appear before King Neptune and his court (usually including his first assistant Davy Jones and her Highness Amphitrite and often various dignitaries, who are all represented by the highest ranking seamen), who officiate at the ceremony, which is often preceded by a beauty contest of men dressing up as women, each department of the ship being required to introduce one contestant in swimsuit drag. Afterwards, some wogs may be "interrogated" by King Neptune and his entourage, and the use of "truth serum" (hot sauce + after shave) and whole uncooked eggs put in the mouth. During the ceremony, the Pollywogs undergo a number of increasingly embarrassing ordeals (wearing clothing inside out and backwards; crawling on hands and knees on nonskid-coated decks; being swatted with short lengths of firehose; being locked in stocks and pillories and pelted with mushy fruit; being locked in a water coffin of salt-water and bright green sea dye; crawling through chutes or large tubs of rotting garbage; kissing the Royal Baby's belly coated with axle grease, hair chopping, etc.), largely for the entertainment of the Shellbacks
We got some visitors as we approached Argentina. It turned out that the Argentinian Navy wanted to come out and land on the carrier. Yikes! So we have a relatively green crew combined with a bunch of Argentinian pilots who have never landed on a ship. Is that a recipe for disaster or what? But, diplomacy being what it is, they came up with a solution. The pilots flew out and did some touch and goes. No landing. No stopping. No getting stranded on the ship. All daytime. No nights. They all did pretty well but it was a bit of a show. And many were waved off before they touched down. But it was a good gesture. Another gesture was that a group of Argentinian Naval Officers was airlifted to the ship to get a taste of U.S. Navy life. They were given tours and briefings and turned out to be great guys. I happened to eat dinner one night with a couple of them and we had some great conversation. We had been told to not engage in any sensitive or political talk because the Falklands War was still a sore subject. But I couldn't resist. After we talked about shipboard life, answered their questions, and traded sea stories I just up and asked them what they were thinking with the whole Falklands invasion. After politely informing me that they call them the Malvinas Islands thank you very much, they said it was really pretty simple. They thought they could get away with one. And in their calculations, they discounted two things. First was that they didn't think that the Royal Navy would get the entire force underway and go to war over those islands. And second was the relationship between Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan. They never thought that Reagan would provide the support he did and when that happened, it was really over. I've not forgotten that. Always anticipate unintended consequences!Another little life changing event happened while we were steadily heading South to our next duty port. I got a telegram. Yes, a telegram. Back in those days before internet and instant connectivity, the main way to communicate with home was by letter. When we reached port, everyone called home but it was prohibitively expensive and you really didn't know what to say or didn't say enough in just a few minutes. So mail call was a big deal. Nothing better than hearing from home and confirming that everything was okay. Or at least, what your wife told you about. Getting a telegram was usually not good news. Not good news at all. It usually was accompanied by death, destruction and despair. But sometimes they came with good news. And this one was the latter. I had known that my son was in the throes of applying for colleges and making the monumental decision about where he would go. He was a great student, a great athlete (swimmer), and all around great kid if I do say so myself. It was tough to be away during this time but he was getting great guidance from his mother and he and I had talked through the alternatives. We'd also visited many of the campuses and I was pretty confident that we would wind up at one of the University of California campuses. And then lo and behold I get a telegram. Seems he had been invited to the United States Naval Academy to check it out. Seems they saw in him a great swimmer, a son of a Naval Officer, a great student, and like I said, a great kid. So off he went. And loved it! He told me later that when he walked on the campus (called the yard) for the first time, he knew it was for him. So I got a telegram. A great telegram. He was going to USNA and his life and our lives would be changed forever. This will have to be the subject of a whole other blog post, but it would have been impossible for me to be prouder than when I got that telegram.
As we got further and further South we started focusing on the next port visit, Mar del Plata, Argentina. This place was a mystery to all. Literally, no one had been there, which is pretty unusual. We found out that there hadn't been a U.S. Navy ship visit Mar Del Plata since the early '60s. So this was either going to be really good...or a bust. As we approached the city, it was obvious that this would be a port in which we anchored out and took small boats ashore. Only one problem. The weather was pretty bad and the seas were running really rough. So when they brought the camel (a platform that is a transition between the ship and the small boats) out, they couldn't get it safely secured to the ship. So it looked like everyone would be staying on the ship the first night. But hold on a minute. We have these things called helicopters! And did I mention that the CAG was a great guy? We marched up and offered to fly two helos for 3 or 4 hours into a soccer field that we could literally see. A few calls were made, a few measurements were taken, and we were in. CAG said go for it. So we cranked up and started shuttling people ashore. I don't know how many we took, but it must have been around a hundred. Our ready room started to look like a major airport. People were constantly trooping through and we took quite a few calls from guys trying to get off the ship. Luckily the ship's company office that handles air passenger transfers took control and managed the people getting off. And guess who was on the last helo? Yep. Me. Or I should say me, a few other squadron mates, and the JO with the keys to the admin! So for the first night, while almost 5000 sailors languished on the ship eager for liberty, a few of us were ashore. Sweet! The first order of business was to get the admin ready for everyone and test the beer. Yep...it was cold. This admin was nowhere near as nice as Bolongo Bay, but it wasn't bad. It was in a big hotel right across the street from the beach and in a great part of town, so we were set. We then ventured out on the town. As the saying goes today...OMG! Beautiful, friendly, vibrant, exciting, modern, etc, etc, etc. It turned out to be a terrific place with wonderful, friendly people. We asked the Conceirge for a restaurant recommendation. One of the interesting things is that no one eats dinner before about 9:00 pm at the very earliest. Normal dinner hours are 10:00 pm to 1:00 am. He sent us to a steak place a few blocks away. Another thing we didn't know was that Argentina is a huge steak place. I mean huge. We all ordered steaks and our eyes popped out when they brought them out. Huge, tasty, and cooked to perfection. Add some fries and some cold beer and we were in heaven. And there were only a few of us in town. Whenever someone realized we were Americans, all they wanted to do was talk and hear about the U.S. It was so refreshing. So this was the start to 5 blissful days in a great place.
Mar Del Plata was the only port I've ever been in where there wasn't one liberty incident. That means no one got in trouble for acting like...well, sailors. The people were so generous. I was part of a group of officers invited to a local polo match and barbecue. They loaded us up into two big busses and we traveled about 30 minutes into the countryside. I had never been to a polo match and it was pretty cool. And the barbecue was like every other meal we had while there...great. And it seemed like everyone had a similar story. Many people took sailors into their homes. There was a large plaza area that was filled with sidewalk cafes and it was a wonderful place to people watch. The only problem was that as Americans we must have stood out like sore thumbs . And when people would realize that, they would ask us for our autographs. Seriously! It was amazing. And oh yeah...the bars weren't too bad either. Remember I said that the helos always fly in every port. Well, Mar Del Plata was no exception. We all took our turns but we did some great flying lifting supplies and people to the ship. During the trip South our artist had designed another, different patch and we had sent off an order requesting delivery asap. Well, much to our surprise they arrived and they sold like hotcakes. So our admin fund was doing very fine thank you very much! And after 5 wonderful days, we reluctantly set sail for some weather like few of us had ever seen!
Heading South again I think most in the Air Wing were blissfully ignorant of the weather we were about to encounter. Most of us thought we'd get back to flying and continue the training that had paid dividends thus far. Oh, everyone had heard about the terrible weather that could be encountered as ships go "around the horn". I'm sure there is some specific geographic or geologic phenomenon that explains why the confluence of the Atlantic and the Pacific at the tip of South America produces dreadful weather, but whatever it is, it was mother nature at her best. Once we got not too far south from Mar Del Plata, the weather turned bad. As in real bad. As in no flying for the Air Wing. Seas too rough. Winds too high. Too much risk, especially for a relatively green ship and Air Wing. But once again, not so much for the helicopter squadron. Don't get me wrong. We had definitely reduced our pace of operations but, like is usually the case, we flew every day. There is always a need to move stuff and people around, to conduct some surveillance operations, or to even get an airborne weather check. Whatever it was, we did it. But for most it was pretty miserable. 4 days of no flying while the ship plowed through some very rough seas.
And then we turned North. Once we had Mar Del Plata and rounding the horn behind us, things went pretty smooth. I can't remember how long it was until our next port call but it was something like a week. The Air Wing got to fly en route (which made us happy) and we had what was rumored to be a great port call awaiting us. That port was Valparaiso, Chili. It was another great place. And we had a great admin, as usual. But truthfully after Mar Del Plata nowhere would measure up. We had a great 4 days in port and, you guessed, the helicopter squadron flew every day. There were a couple of distinguishing features of the port visit. It turned out that there was a Naval Officer and helicopter pilot that many of knew who was on exchange duty with the Chilian Navy and he was stationed in Valparaiso. So when the ship arrived he looked several of us up and invited us to his home for dinner with his family. This kind of gesture is always welcomed by guys on deployment. There's something special about hanging out with other Americans no matter where you are.
A couple of us had a pretty exciting adventure in the Chilian mountains above Valparaiso. A couple of JO's grew up around horses and fancied themselves as cowboys of sorts. They weren't, but fancied themselves as such. So one day we were sitting around the admin and they said they had heard there was good horseback riding in one of the towns up in the mountains, and they were going to go explore and find where that was. Well, as a good XO I couldn't let my guys venture off into the wilderness alone so I said I'd tag along. So off we went. The only problem is that we didn't know where the hell we were going. So what does an enterprising sailor do? Ask someone, that's what. So we stumbled on a tourist desk in the hotel and they told us that the best thing to do was take a particular bus that would pick us up right outside the hotel, and it would take us to a little town up in the hills where there were a lot of stables with horses for hire. Sounds easy, right? Of course, there was a little problem. None of us spoke Spanish. But not to worry. We were Americans! So we stood outside, found the bus, somehow paid the right amount and were off with all the locals to somewhere in the mountains. We managed to get the driver to understand that we wanted to go to a village where we could rent horses for riding. So about an hour later, he told us that it was time to get off. Now picture this. Three Americans in jeans and tee shirts who don't speak Spanish find themselves in a dusty square in a little village in the middle of the Andes. I swear to you it looked like a place straight out of "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid". And we didn't have a clue where to find horses. And no one spoke English. But being the optimists that we were, we figured we could just walk around and find a stable. And sure enough, after about 20 minutes, we found a sign with a horse on it. Of course, we made sure we knew how to get back to that square. Anyway, we made the proprietor understand that we wanted to ride horses and he brought out 3 of the most tired, broken down nags you've ever seen. But there was no turning back now. So up we went. And no sooner were we in the saddle than the horses started on their journey. Now, make no mistake, we weren't in control. They were going on their preprogrammed route and about an hour later we came walking back into the stable. It was like going on a Disneyland ride with the cars on the tracks. No matter what we did, there was no deviation. But...we no kidding can say we went horseback riding in the Andes...sorta. Presently we made our way back to the square, had a Coca-Cola and figured out that there was a bus coming back through the village in a while and we could catch it back to the city. Upon retelling, this seems pretty dumb. And lame. But at the time...it was a grand adventure!
The other thing that happened in Valparaiso was that the ship had a cocktail reception for local dignitaries. So there we were, anchored out so that guests needed to come out on boats, and the hangar deck all spiffed up. The Supply Department had outdone themselves to put on the dog. They had great finger food and there was even a supply of alcoholic beverages that are allowed in these situations. Of course, we were all admonished to take it easy, which we did. But I have to tell you, it might be a thrill for the guests, but it is a colossal bore for the Navy guys. But...such are the wages of living the glamorous life.
Next stop...San Diego. Even though we hadn't been gone that long or done any extraordinary things, we were all looking forward to getting home and reunion that it would entail. But as we left I got to thinking generally about South America. This place had really had an impact on me. Not just from the perspective of a visitor, but also from a cultural, economic and political perspective. Here we have cities that are vibrant, filled with culture, modern, have wonderful people, and are obviously prosperous. Oh, I'm sure there we saw it a bit through rose colored glasses, but the point is that there is a whole continent down there that the average American knows little about. It is rich in resources, culture, and people. We seem to be very focused horizontally in our thinking. That is, we always look to Europe and Asia to interact with the world. What about South America. I started thinking we should be looking much more vertically. We don't...but we should.
The other thing that started to come into focus was the impact that Tailhook was going to have on all our lives. It really didn't matter if you were there or not. Bottom line is that it was the end of an era. A painful end and in many ways it was about time. Plainly speaking, the behavior of some of my colleagues had been pretty deplorable. They needed to be accountable and many were. It took longer than many would have liked, but cultural changes are always slow and difficult. And there are always innocent bystanders who get caught up in the turmoil. That certainly happened during the days of the Tailhook scandal. It was too bad, but as I've said before...that's the breaks of Naval Air. Today we are better off. The world has changed. And I'm proud that Naval Aviation has adapted, changed and emerged stronger for it.
It was all downhill now. As we approached San Diego, there was palpable excitement throughout the ship and Air Wing. For the ship it was a new home. For the Air Wing it was coming home. It's said that one of the most dangerous evolutions in any deployment is the fly off. Everyone gets a case of "get home-itis". When you're sitting on the flight deck in your aircraft waiting to takeoff and head home, if something goes wrong, there is a mighty temptation to ignore it or rationalize it away in order to make the launch. Luckily for this flyoff it went very smoothly. Of course, the helicopters were the last off the deck. And we had to wait until we were within reasonable range. The good news was the the new H-60's had GPS and we could launch farther out. I don't remember how far out we were when we launched, but it was certainly farther than the old days. Anyway, it went off without a hitch. And soon we had land in sight and were flying up runway 36 for a straight-in long landing and taxi to hangar 340. And there was a huge contingent of family and friends awaiting our arrival. It never is any different. Leaving is so painful. But coming home is so sublime!
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