Ship's Company

Ask anyone, or maybe almost anyone, right after they get their wings what they aspire to as a Naval Aviator and you are likely to hear max flying, great squadron tours, minimal staff time, maybe some time at school getting a Masters, and ultimately Command.  Most don't think much beyond that, nor should they.  And most don't think about the possibility of a "disassociated tour as ship's company".  For most doing something like that isn't even in the conversation.  But for many it's something that will happen.

After we were lucky enough to spend eighteen months in Monterey, CA at the Naval Postgraduate School, it was time to do what all good sailors do...go back to sea.  Of course, I was a Navy Pilot and was hoping to go to back to a squadron.  But by that time in my career I had both heard of these things called disassociated sea tours, the need to provide some "rounding" to my career, and that there were only so many slots in the Navy's helicopter squadrons.  I found myself at a seniority level where I was not yet ready for a Department Head job and had already done everything I could do as a Junior Officer in a squadron.  So although I was hoping to be an exception and be told that there would be a place for me in a squadron back in San Diego, I was realistic enough to know that there might be something else in our future.  So when I called the detailer, the guy who would determine my fate, it was with some amount of trepidation.  

The detailer is what the Navy calls an assignment officer.  He is the guys who holds fate in his hands.  It's said that all detailers have forked tongues, that they are as likely to send you to the opposite place you want to go as not.  In truth, the detailer has three things to think about when making assignments.  Those are Navy needs, career needs, and individual desires...in that order.  I had the privilege to be a detailer later on in my career and can testify that it is a difficult, exciting, rewarding, and enlightening job.  But more about that in a subsequent post.  What I expected to happen, happened.  He told me the good news, bad news story.  The good news was that we were going back to San Diego.  That was great.  We could return to our home, our extended family and friends were there, and we would all be happy about that.  The bad news?  There would be no squadron assignment for me.  I was being assigned as the Assistant Air Officer and Safety Officer aboard USS Triploli (LPH-10).  And so started a two year odyssey that was punctuated by misery, joy, frustration, pride, working with some amazing people, working with some knuckleheads, and in the end satisfaction with a tough job well done but made much more difficult than it needed to be.

So soon we were packed up and headed south.  Our renters had treated the house relatively well, the family was back in familiar surroundings, and we settled in rather quickly.  I say quickly but the reality was that moving is never easy.  The kids were in a good school and my wife, the teacher, got a job, albeit not as close as we would have liked, but there were all the requisite things that go with disruptive moves.  And the biggest burden, as usual, fell on my wife to get everyone settled.  And, as usual, she was a rock.  Refer to this post if you have questions.

In addition to the good news that we were returning to San Diego, my orders to the ship would be flying orders.  LPH's in those days had a UH-1N Huey assigned to ships company for the approximately six or so pilots to fly to conduct utility, SAR and planeguard missions.  Flying the Huey would prove to be a load of fun and was a small compensation to not returning to a squadron.  There was only one minor complication.  Or really, a pretty major complication.  It seems that the ship's schedule was such that they didn't have time to send me to flight training to learn to fly the Huey.  See, whenever you go back to flying orders from non-flying orders (which post-graduate school clearly was) the Navy is supposed to send you through flight training to learn to the fly the aircraft you're going to be flying.  Seems pretty logical right?  But the powers that be on the ship decided I didn't need it.  After all, the Huey was the aircraft I flew in advanced helo training and I had a lot of time in it.  And I had a pretty good flight record.  And they made the case that there were a couple of former flight instructors in ship's company, so they could teach me.  The flight training I'm talking about would have taken place in a squadron in Pensacola for about 3 months, so I admit that I didn't protest too loudly, but I should have had a little inkling that maybe these guys had a bit of a tendency to do things their own way.  And that way wasn't always, should we say, kosher.   So when I got to the ship, they proceeded to construct a schedule for me that would get me up on the step.  It was okay...but not what should have happened.  And as a result I always felt a tad bit inadequate regarding some of the more technical aspects of flying that aircraft.  But I won't whine.  I didn't have to go to Pensacola for 3 months.

The USS Tripoli was an LPH.  LPH-10 to be exact.  She was the fifth in the series of ships to be constructed (I have no idea why it was designated 10).  LPH stands for Landing Platform Helicopter.  To the layman, a small version of a traditional aircraft carrier, except that it only carries helicopters.  And maybe some AV-8B Harriers because they are Vertical Take-off and Landing aircraft.  But mainly helicopters.  LPH ships were a relic of the McNamara days.  Built by the lowest bidder and on the cheap.  She was commissioned in 1966 and decommissioned in 1995.  She had a round bottom and one screw, displaced about 20K tons (versus a Nimitz class aircraft carrier at 90K tons), and carried a crew of about 635 enlisted and 80 officers.  She could accomodate an entire Marine Expeditionary Unit (MEU consisting of around 1,750 Marines and around 35 helos).  When I reported aboard I learned that her motto was "Semper Princeps" which means Always First.  We would all come to know her variously as the USS Cripoli (because she was always broken) or USS Tripoli--The Prison Ship (because she sometimes felt like a prison).  You'll see why as we go along.

As Assistant Air Officer I would be the number two guy in the Air Department, the "Mini-boss".  I would help run air ops in the tower and help lead and administer one of the largest departments on the ship.  The department consisted almost entirely of a different breed of cat called Aviation Boatswains Mates, or AB's for short.  More on them later.  A secondary and collateral duty was to be the Safety Officer.  I ran in to another minor training issue in this area.  Only really, once again, it was pretty major.  In Naval Aviation, the Safety Officer is a major department head.  It is a big deal.  And it is a hard and fast rule that the Safety Officer cannot assume the job until he attends Safety Officer school at the Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey.  As I recall this is about a 3 week school and is pretty intense.  But in the Surface Navy...the Safety Officer isn't as, shall we say, required.  Safety Officers are definitely an afterthought.  And on Tripoli, it wasn't that good.  When I asked about attending Safety Officer school, I was told that the ship's schedule wouldn't accomodate that.  End of story.

Also, most Aviators going to a ship's company tour, go through a training track that includes some shipboard orientation so that he can get up on the step towards qualifying as Officer of the Deck.  For me, not so much.  Remember that ships schedule excuse?  Yep, no time.  So really the only thing I remotely had time for was a 2 day Firefighting school, which is a hard and fast requirement for anyone going to a ship and was located on the same base where the ship was stationed.  No problem.  So I went, ate a lot of smoke, learned how to handle a hose, and reported to the ship.  And that is when the fun really began.

A really great thing that happened when I reported aboard was that I found that the Flight Deck Officer was one of my roommates in AOCS.  The same guy I mentioned in my post about Pensacola. He and his wife had a baby girl about the time our son was born and we had been great friends all through flight school.  We had lost track of each other as they went off to Canada on exchange duty but wound up together on Tripoli.  Through two crazy years on the ship, we had some good times.  Crazy, hilarious, tragic, maddening times.  It was good to see a familiar face!

Before going much further, I really must recommend you go rent the movie "Mister Roberts".  It wasn't the same, but the analogy to the cast of characters would be relevant.  Another good movie to view to gain some insight would the "The Caine Mutiny".  Strawberries.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

When I reported aboard the learning curve was pretty steep.  I was immediately struck by the cast of characters.  The Surface Warfare Officers, also known as black shoes, were an interesting group.  I'd been told that the Amphib Navy didn't really get the cream of the crop and found some validity in that assessment.  Good guys but...not the cream of the crop.  Lots of guys walking around in wash khakis or dirty coveralls, with keys on their belt, ear plugs in a little canister on their belt, classic "birth control" glasses, and a shuffle in their step and a dazed look in their eye.  In the Surface Navy, the custom in the wardroom was to eat their young.  It was a harsh environment.  I guess that the black shoes didn't know any better but they were brutal to young officers reporting aboard.  Long hours, endless repetition, not much respect, not much trust, and learning by making mistakes seemed to the rule of the day.  The Aviators were pretty much what you'd see in a squadron, because they'd all been there.  The Department Heads, including my boss, were all post-command types.  The junior guys were all like me...most of them didn't want to be there, but accepted it as part of the deal.  Plus, we got to fly.  So we were a little band of 6 or so Aviators amongst a sea of black shoes and, I will admit, played it for all it was worth.   By their very nature, all Naval Aviators think they are hot shits and we were no different.  We had a definite air of superiority.  Not saying it was right...it just was a fact.  So bottom-line...the black shoes didn't screw with us too much.  But the CO and XO were also Aviators.  During my time on board, I had two XOs and two COs.  And all of them were, I'm convinced, certifiably insane.  Or at least they were supreme jackasses.  Those are the only two explanations that make sense!

I found that I really liked working the tower and controlling the aircraft in the pattern.  It was pretty intense and you had to pay pretty close attention

Did I mention that I was also the Safety Officer?  Problem was, there was absolutely no job definition, no recognition of the need for it, not even a nod toward paying attention to safety, or support from above.  I'm talking about ship's safety here.  The aviation side of it was pretty important like you'd expect in a squadron.  But the problem with that was I'd not been to Safety School so if we had a mishap with our helo, I'd be in the thick of the investigation without any training or qualification.  The Operations Officer was a graduate however, so we were covered.  Sort of.  It'd been years and years since he'd gone and didn't want anything to do with it.  Everyone told me not to worry about it, but worry I did.  As for ship's safety, it was a joke.  There are so many stories.  For example, I used to put on my white Safety jersey and walk around promoting safe practices.  Guys looked at me like I was from Mars.   When we were at sea I tried to get down to the engine room at least once a day.  The engine room was usually about a million degrees.  Seriously.  And there was no relief.  Fans were going full strength but it made no difference.  At first I asked about figuring out a way to get air conditioning down there.  The Engineers looked at me like I was from Mars.  And not only was it Africa hot, it was incredibly noisy.  So my mission down there was to try and get the guys to wear ear plugs or muffs and to dring a lot of water.  The ship was one big hazardous environment.  One of my jobs was to ensure that everyone used the proper personal protective equipment (PPE), including breathing devices, for the job at hand.  But that was an impossible task.  Everyone ignored getting the right PPE.  I had a Petty Officer working for me who was supposed to run that program.  But not only was he overwhelmed, he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.  He was supposed to keep records.  Of course, he wasn't capable of that.  So the program was continually in shambles.  And with me working the tower, flying, and pretending to be a Safety Officer, there was very little time to supervise this program.  So it languished.  And that was to the hazard of the sailors.

One day while we were in port I got the bright idea to try and get rid of as much hazardous material as I possibly could.  So I put a little announcement in the Plan of the Day.  Amnesty!  We were having an amnesty day.  Just bring your paint, spray cans of bad stuff, cleaners, anything really that was hazardous and bring it to a pallet that would sitting on the hangar deck, leave it there, and we'd get rid of it, no questions asked.  I had an annoucement go out over the ship's PA system several times throughout the course of the day.  I had put an extra pallet down just in case there was more than I thought.  By the end of the day there were almost 20 pallets full of some of the nastiest crap you've ever seen.  And we hauled it off, no questions asked.

I had been at sea a lot during my first tour but this was different.  Different in many ways.  The ship was old.  Very old.  And since it was an Amphib, it was last in line for priorities to get new equipment and updates to old, worn out material.  Everything was a struggle.  Parts for critical machinery, stateroom amenities, galley equipment, updates to electronics, etc. all were old and needed refurbishment.  But there was no money to do it.  When I moved into my stateroom, the sewer smell was so bad that after a few days I had to move out.  It took a few weeks to get the parts to fix the leak just outside the door so that I had to camp out somewhere else.  We continually couldn't get underway because this or that part was broken and there were no replacements in the system.  So it had to be made somewhere.   The engine had a component called forced draft blowers that broke all the time.  When they broke, there were no parts so the replacement part had to be made.  Shortly after I reported aboard we were going to sea for a short stint to do some training.  So we cast off lines and started to make our way out through San Diego bay.  Right after we cleared the San Diego-Coronado bridge, we lost all steering.  So the Bridge team went through their emergency procedures, transferred steering to secondary aft steering and let go the anchor.  So there we were...sitting in the middle of the channel, swinging on the anchor, for all the world to see.  So here come the tugs.  I'm still not sure how they did it but they got some amount of steering authority back, got the tugs secured to the ship, and limped back to the pier.  Nice.  Can't remember how long we stayed, but I'm sure they had to make whatever part was required.

When I first reported aboard, the CO was a fighter Naval Flight Officer who was in the Nuclear pipeline.  That means he had been through all the schools, had been the XO of an aircraft carrier, was now in his "deep draft" command, and if all went well, could expect to be selected to command and nuclear powered aircraft carrier.  He had high expectations.  He also had a high opinion of himself.  After his command tour of Tripoli, he never made it to that aircraft carrier.  The XO at the time was a grizzled old helo pilot who had been quite a hero in Vietnam.  He was definitely old Navy with a chest full of medals.  The problem was that they didn't come with logic, empathy, or reason.  He was also forgetful and conniving.  They were quite a pair.  And they didn't like each other at all.  That sets the scene for all the shenanigans that were to come.

For the first several months after my arrival we embarked Marines and did a lot of exercises off the SoCal coast.  We attacked Camp Pendleton several times.  It was all good fun operating the Marine helos.  They were some wild pilots and more than once an H-46 came screaming into spot 4 right next to the tower and the Boss and I dove for the deck expecting the helo to come straight through the superstructure and destroy everything in sight.  But invariably at the last minute the pilot flared and gently set the thing down like it was a feather landing on a pillow.  It was some scary, but damn fine flying.  Hosting the Marine grunts was a different story.  See, the thing is Marines need to move.  They need to PT.  They need to march.  They need to be given jobs.  They just need to move.  When they don't move, as in being embarked in a relatively cramped ship, they turn cranky.  And crazy.  And get in trouble.  They look for things to do.  And sometimes those things can get in the way of ship routine, be downright disruptive, and sometimes are dangerous.  We had to constantly monitor the Marines aboard to ensure that they weren't doing anything to kill themselves or us.  We had to give them time on the flight deck to PT because there had to be somewher to burn all that energy.

During my initial months aboard, I thought about getting qualified as an underway Officer of the Deck (OOD).  When Aviators go to their disassociated sea tour, that is supposed to be a qualification that will help in future selection.  And it's professionally a smart thing to do.  The trouble was that the Captain and the ship's Senior Watch Officer didn't much care about Aviators coming to the bridge to drive the ship.  Oh, you could try and do it but they weren't making any accomodation for you.  So most of us were working incredibly long hours in jobs with little flexibility to leave and go stand a bridge watch, we were on flight orders so we were obligated to fly our turn on the flight schedule, and every once in a while we had to sleep a little bit.  But the black shoes basically didn't care about all that.  The watch bill was the watch bill and you had to be there.  We were in 3 section duty which meant 4 hours on bridge watch, 8 hours off, 4 hours on, 8 hours off, etc.  You get the idea.  Most ships are in 4 section duty to try and give the crew a reasonable schedule.  Of course, on Tripoli the lack of trust in the crew was so pervasive that they couldn't possibly find enough competent people to fill out 4 sections.  Hence, we were in 3 section duty and drove people into the ground.  For a while we tried to figure out how to fit it in when my roommate, the Assistant Operations Officer and an Aviator, decided to jump into the rotation and still continue his duties to try and get the qualification.  He lasted 4 days.  By then he was officially a zombie.  He cried uncle, slept for about 10 hours, and went back to his normal routine.  And the rest of us gave up any thought to getting qualified as OOD. It was really too bad because it could have been done.  And it would have been a great qual to get.  But it was not to be.


I mentioned the CO and his outsized view of himself.  One of the things he was really fascinated with was the coming information age.  He decided that USS Tripoli should be on the cutting edge of computer technology.  He decided that we should have a wide area network to conduct email, administrative tasks, word processing, records tracking, and all the many other things that we take for granted today and know to be a great help in everyday life.  But this was 1983-84.  We barely knew what a computer was.  And we had way, way more problems than what a computer was going to fix.  But he plowed ahead anyway.  There was a Data Processing Chief Petty Officer in the Supply Dept who was a bit of a geek and understood the state of the art in computing pretty well.  So the CO enlisted his help and together they designed a network.  At that time computers were pretty large and cumbersome so it took some time to get it all designed and an implementation plan completed.  So one day they went out and bought a Wang computer system.  It wasn't a large, mainframe computer, but it was pretty big.  It would take up your living room.  But where to put it?  Space was at a premium.  So they did a little space analysis and decided that the perfect place that had the space and could be cooled so that it wouldn't overheat was the space that housed...the chapel and the crew library.  Yep.  But not too worry.  The troops were too busy to read and too discouraged to pray.  The computer system came with about 12 or 15 terminals.  The Chief and a couple of his slaves, er...workers, spent a good amount of time running wire (unauthorized wire) all over the ship so that each department would have a terminal.  We got one in the Air Department.  The Boss was NOT a computer guy.  So it fell to me to work it, use it, and show how much we liked it.  I gave it my best shot.   But really, it was just a box on a desk.  We didn't have the time, the training, or the interest in using it.  Of course, today I can't even conceive on not having a computer to assist in so many routine tasks.  But at the time...it was just a box.  And a curious thing happened after the CO left the ship.  The new CO ordered an inventory of all the Damage Control lockers.  There were 8 of them as I recall.  These are the places where all the equipment is housed to save the ship in case of a damage control situation, which could be dire.  Turns out they were all equipped at less than 50%.  The money that was supposed to go to resupplying those Damage Control lockers was rerouted to pay for one Wang computer and all the ship modifications.  An unbelievable but true story!

When you are part of ship's company, you get a lot of insight into ship's routine.  You also come to know the roles of the various characters.  The XO was the biggest character.  He had a perpetual scowl on his face.  He was of the opinion that if something bad hadn't happened, just wait, it was about to.  He drove the crew relentlessly.  He was a maniac when it came to cleanliness.  We had a lot of material, morale, and supply problems, but by God we had clean, polished passageways.  He was really good at performances.  Every day at 5:00 pm (1700 in Navy time) the Department Heads would gather in the XO's office for Eight O'Clock Reports.  Why Eight O'Clock reports are held at 5:00 pm is beyond me and I never did find out why, but that is sort of a good summation of the illogic of black shoes.  Anyway, Eight O'Clock Reports provided a venue for the Department Heads to stab each other in the back.  As we went around the room, the object was to keep the target off your back and, if need be, ruthlessly push the knife into someone else in the room and twist.  This meeting is for Department Heads but since I was looked at as a semi-Department Head as Safety Officer, if I didn't go I wasn't missed.  Think about that.  Safety...not missed.  However, the Air Boss hated to go to Eight O'Clock Reports with a passion.  So many was the day when we would be up in the tower, he would look over at me, and I knew what was coming.  "Could you cover Eight O'Clock Reports for me?"  Damn!  So I found myself down in the XO's office many more times than I cared to count, doing battle.  Every once in a while the XO would try to be a good guy.  He would come across as a good ol boy who was just an "aw shucks" kind of guy.  But no.  That was not him.  He would tell you one thing and do another.  More about that later.  He turned out for me to be a really good lesson in leadership.  Of what NOT to do.

The Navy's amphibious forces are very flexible.  Fundamentally, they exist largely to embark Marines, move them expeditiously forward, and get them moved ashore to conduct operations.  But they can do other things well also.  So it wasn't a huge surprise when a few months before our impending deployment we were thrown a curve ball. We were told that we wouldn't be embarking Marines for our 6 month deployment.  Instead, we would deploy with one of the Navy's two Helicopter Mine Countermeasures Squadrons.  This particular one was designated HM-14.  They fly the CH-53E Sea Stallion, one of the biggest helos in the world.  It is a monster.  There are 6 helos in the squadron and an enormous, gigantic, unbelievable amount of crap.  The have huge sleds that they pull through the water, giant pipes that they tow, boats, cars, conex boxes with control stations, electronics, support equipment, and on and on and on.  It was unbelivable.  We could fit six aircraft on the flight deck and once we got all their crap stored on the hangar deck, there was a little open space in the middle to walk through.  I can't really do justice to how much crap they brought with them but trust me, it was mindboggling.

The other thing about HM-14 was that they had absolutely no sense of urgency.  None.  Zilch.  Nada. They rarely had deployed aboard ship and when they got called to a scene, they packed everything, and that is a load of stuff, into several C-5s or C-141s and the USAF got them to the scene.  Once there they would spend a lot of time setting up their control stations, sleds, trucks, antennas, boats, and all the other crap that allowed them to do their mission.  But here's the thing.  Now I'm admittedly not an expert in mine warfare.  And I will concede there is a bit of artform to it.  And that it takes precision, patience and a fair amount of luck.  But the timeframe I'm talking about is 1983-84.  Their one and only major success was that they found and blew up a mine in Haiphong Harbor in the early '70s.  That's it.  They spent an entire deployment (6 months) and practiced pulling that sled all over the place and did all kinds of exercises.  But I'm not really sure if they ever really did anything productive.

And here's another thing.  These guys were horrible around the ship.  I mean horrible as in really bad.  They were late for practically every launch, usually had some problem that delayed them when they were ready to go, and hardly ever made their land time.  For some reason, they had a hell of a time coming aboard.  Now I admit that the flight deck wasn't huge, and that we were a round bottomed ship that tended to roll a bit, but these guys perpetually had difficulty.  So when they offered to let me go flying with them I jumped at the chance.  I didn't know the ins and outs of the aircraft but they put me with one of their savvy pilots and off we went.  Now, I will admit to having an outsized opinion of my ability of a helo pilot during my formative years in the business, but this thing was a dream to fly.  Way overpowered.  Flight controls smooth as silk.  Great cockpit.  It was a joy to fly.  So when we came back from whatever mission we had been doing the Boss asked us if we'd like to do several touch and go's for practice.  I could practically hear the guys in the ready room.  Heh, heh, heh...let's see how he does.  Well, If I do say so myself, I killed it.  I think we did like 10 approaches and every one was better than the previous one.  I was turning final and smoothly wrestling that monster down the glide slope right to the spot every time.  They never asked me to fly with them again...

The squadron was identified and the schedule was starting to take shape.  Deployment loomed.  But before we departed we had to get the ship in good material shape, get spares and supplies stocked, and get through a series of inspections to validate our ability to deploy.  So various inspection teams came aboard to ensure we were ready.  And it was largely an unmitigated disaster.  We did pretty well in the Air Department simply because the ABs had their act together and weren't going to stand for the humiliation of not passing an inspection.  So we got glowing remarks.  Of course, the inspectors all knew our guys and looking back it might have been a bit incestuous, but at the time we strutted around pretty well.  Everyone else got whacked.  It was bad, real bad.  The Engineering inspection team came aboard one morning at about 0730 and walked off about 0900 shaking their heads.  The Damage Control inspectors tried hard for a whole day to overlook how bad it was, but finally gave up the ghost and left.  Supply, Medical, Deck, etc, etc, etc all failed.  So we got rescheduled and doubled down on preps.  And failed again.  And tripled down on preps.  And failed again.  The CO and XO were apoplectic!  But, I mean, there's only so much you can do.  But finally as we were getting perilously close to deployment, we had one final chance.  The Commodore sent a tiger team over to help.  We got advice and manpower and parts from a sister ship.  It was a full on effort.  And we passed.  Er...we passed everything but Engineering.  That was still a disaster.  But hey, you can't have everything.  So we never passed an Engineering inspection, but do you think we still went on deployment.  Yep.  You would be right.  When the day came, we brought in all lines, backed away from the pier and headed West.

First stop Hawaii.  I've pulled into Pearl Harbor on many Navy ships and it never fails to give me the chills.  It is an awesome sight to sail past the USS Arizona memorial and ease into one of the piers at the Naval Station.  We were there for a 3 day stay.  But something broke (yep...forced draft blowers) down in the Engine spaces and we were there for 17 days!  And with each passing the CO and XO got crankier and crankier.  They were turning up the pressure for the Engineers to fix what was wrong, but you can't fix something without parts.  And parts had to be made.  Somewhere.  By someone.  And shipped to Hawaii.  Meanwhile, we Aviators had flown our helo over to NAS Barbers Point.  There we conducted a routine flight schedule flying every day.  We had to get our training in don't you know.  So we all flew almost every day.  We flew all around the islands and had a great time.  It was great getting a birds eye view of some of the most beautiful places on earth.   And when we weren't flying, well...there were a lot of beaches to hang out on.  That didn't go over very well with some of the black shoes.  But...there wasn't much we could do to fix the ship so we thought we might as well take advantage of the islands.  So after what seemed like a very long time we were on our way.  The aviators had a great time.  Lots of flying, lots of beach time, and a fair amount of night life.  The rest of the ship...not so much.

Next stop Okinawa.  Garden spot.  U.S. Aircraft Carriers never go there so it was new to me.  But the Amphibs regularly stop there because it's a hub in the Pacific for the US Marine Corps.  So after an uneventful crossing, we found ourselves anchored in Buckner Bay, Okinawa.  Our friends in HM-14 were going to participate in something called Valiant Blitz, a bit multi-service, multi-nation exercise. While they were off doing that we worked on the ship, conducted some interesting liberty reconnoitering ashore and, of course, we flew our little Huey around the island.  As islands go, it wasn't very scenic or special.  And the same goes for liberty.  Not much to recommend it.  Meanwhile, the ship discovered a major malfunction down in the Engineering spaces.  It seemed that something called the Main Circ Pump was seriously broken.  What that meant, we were told in layman's terms, was that we could get underway, but we couldn't slow down.  Once we were going, we were going.  What that also meant was that there would be no stopping at Hong Kong on our way to Subic, which was in the original plan.  There would be some personal ramifications that occurred from this rerouting that I'll explain later.

So when HM-14 returned and got tucked safely away, we headed South.  The plan was to head for Naval Station Subic Bay, Republic of the Phillipines, turn the engines off a few thousand yards from the pier after tugs had hooked up to us, and limp into the pier for repair.  Once again, it took way longer than expected.  What we thought was going to be about a 5 day stop turned into 5 weeks.  5 weeks in Subic!  If you're old Navy, you'll resonate with that.  It was a wonderful place for liberty, but could get real old, real fast.  As the days slowly unfolded, the black shoes got crankier and crankier.  They were working their butts off to get the ship repaired, but it just wasn't cooperating.  I suspect that was probably because they didn't have the parts, the parts didn't exist, and we had to have them made somewhere.  By someone.  And then have them shipped.  Nice.  Meanwhile, your erstwhile Aviators flew their Huey across the bay to the legendary Cubi Point Naval Air Station and established a beachhead in the "helo hole" at the Air Station.  We got office and maintenance spaces assigned and all checked in to the Cubi Point BOQ.  We returned to the ship regularly, but spent most of our time at Cubi.  That didn't really endear ourselves to our black shoe brethren.  We established a routine in which we would fly the helo from Cubi to the Embassy pad in Manila, then from there to Clark Air Force Base, and then from there to Baguio City up in the Northern mountains, and finally back to Cubi.  It was some great flying.  We carried a lot of people, packages, mail and parts all over the Phillipines.  And along the way got to do some amazing flying.  At one point one of our Philipino Chiefs asked if we could take him to his home village, which was not far from Baguio.  Being the intrepid Aviators that we were, we said sure.  Of course, saying that and finding the village was another thing.  We spent a good amount of time flying around looking for the place until we saw a large crowd gathered in an open field.  Seems he had alerted them he was coming home.  So down we went, performed a nice landing, and he emerged like a King coming home.  We didn't shut down and told him he had to find his own way back, but getting him there was pretty cool.

My buddy from Pensacola and I and our wives had previously determined that the wives would fly to Hong Kong and meet up with us when we made a stop as we sailed from our initial stop in Okinawa. The plan was that we would spend 5 days with our wives in Hong Kong, take some leave to exend our stay, and then fly to Manila and rendevous with the ship.  Our wives would then spend a few days in the Phillipines with us before heading home.  But...that plan was shot all to hell.  So we went to the Boss and explained our problem.  We asked if we could take leave in Okinawa, fly to Hong Kong to meet the girls, spend a few days there and then fly to the PI to meet the ship.  He said he didn't see anything wrong with that as all we'd be doing during the trip South was transiting.  We couldn't even fly because the black shoes didn't want to deviate from course to turn into the wind.  He said go talk to the XO.  So we trooped down to his office and explained.  He said he'd check with the CO and let us know.  Now one thing you've got to understand is that the Navy is a hierarchy.   You go through the chain of command for anything.  So we waited to hear from the XO about the CO's decision.  The next day and before we left Okinawa he told us he was sorry but the CO wouldn't buy it.  He didn't want us gone from the ship while overseas.  Okay.  That was pretty dumb but we were team players and acknowledged the decision.  So we got on the phone, broke the bad news to the girls, and told them to change their tickets to come directly to Manila.  Now remember, we were Lieutenants.  With families.  We didn't have a lot of discretionary money lying around.  So this was going to cost some funds that we didn't really have.  But it was a once in a lifetime experience so we went for it.

Once we were in Subic and it became clear that the ship wasn't going anywhere, we were granted leave.  So we jumped on the helo over to the Embassy, took a taxi to the airport, and met our sweethearts.  It was a wonderful, romantic, straight out of a novel reunion.  We had about as good a time as you can imagine.  It was two weeks of great times, huge laughs, romance, great adventures, scrumptious food, and a sublime reconnection.  I wouldn't trade those memories for anything!  We went river rafting, toured all over Manila, went to Corriegidor, ate in great restaurants, and stayed in the Manila Hotel, at that time one of the best in the world.  It couldn't have been better.  At about the one week point we took a bus up to Baguio.  Baguio is up in the mountains and there used to be a small military base there.  We stayed in a very nice Hyatt and relaxed in the mountains for a few days.  We had great times and all too soon is was time to go.

We had arranged to have a Navy Exchange van from Subic come pick us up and take us all back to the base.  Once there we figured we could stay in the Cubi BOQ for a couple of nights and then take the girls back to Manila for their flight home.  No problem.  Only thing was once we got to Cubi the inn was full.  One of the notorious things about the Cubi BOQ was that at certain times it filled up with wives from the P-3 community.  This was one of those times.  So...what to do?  Someone suggested that we go out to the White Rock Beach resort in Subic City and get a room there.  Sounded like an okay idea.  So the van gave us a lift out, we checked with the desk, and were in luck.  There was a suite available that had a living room and two bedrooms.  Great!  Now, to be clear, this was a resort in name only.  It was a relatively okay hotel out near the bay and not too terribly bad.  In the Phillipines it was a 4 star resort.  In the U.S. it would have maybe been 2 stars...on it's best day.  But the girls were sports and put on a good face.  So my buddy and I said let's go into the base, go to dinner at the world famous Cubi O'Club, stay late dancing and drinking, and we'll come back and crash.  Great idea.  So we took a Jeepney to the gate and a taxi to the O'Club and had a wonderful dinner and great times.

Sometime during the course of the evening the girls allowed as how they wanted to see Olongopo City in all it's glory.  We guffawed.  But after a bit of coaxing and a bit of drink, we acquiesced.  So off we went to the gate in a taxi.  Once through the gate our mission was to walk down Magsaysay Street to get to the Jeepney stand.  Now, if you're reading this and you have any Navy background, you probably have knowledge that Magsaysay Street is not a place to take loved ones of the fairer sex.  But walk we did.  The girls had sobered a bit and kept on a straight course and didn't necessarily check out the offerings from some of the, ahem...nightclubs, which was a good thing.  Anyway, it was an experience.  So we got to the Jeepney stand and headed back to the resort.  Once there we thought we were home free.  We stopped at the lobby for some more beer, and headed to the suite.  Once there we had a few yucks about the evening and headed off to bed.  We no sooner started to get ready for bed when we heard screaming coming from the other bedroom.  Racing in we found our friends in their bathroom pointing at the toilet.  And inside was a nice big rat!  Yuch!  So we called the desk and they sent a guy up to the room.  He brought a club and a towel.  He went into the bathroom, we heard some commotion, and he came out with something in the towel and he assured us there would be no further problem.  So after another beer or two, we decided we needed to get some sleep.  By this time it was about 2:00 am.  So we retired to our rooms once again.  And once again we heard screaming from the other room.  We raced in and sure enough...another rat.  Soooooo...this room wasn't happening.  In fact, this resort wasn't happening.  The girls were done.  So we gathered up our stuff and went down to the lobby.  By this time it was about 3:00 am.  So once it was determined that we weren't paying for the room, we had to decide what to do.  At that time of night the Jeepneys had stopped, as had any other form of transportation.  Of course, there wasn't anywhere else to go as we were in the best and only place we'd take our wives.  So we were sitting there in a funk when the door opened and a US Navy Lieutenant Commander walked through.  Turned out he was on an inspection team sent out to take a look at Tripoli and had spent the day aboard and the night...well, he had spent the night checking out the local sights.  After a bit of commiserating, he advised us to go back to the Cubi BOQ and demand a room come hell or high water.  After all, we were the fleets finest.  But alas, we had no transportation.  But our new found friend did.  As part of the inspection team, he had a car.  And he would give us a ride.  The only thing we had to do was buy him a six-pack of San Miguel beer and make the girls sit in front.  A small price to pay.  So off we went.  And when we finally (it was a bit of a blurry trip) made it to the BOQ, sure enough after demanding a room, we were given a key.  We decided to let the girls sleep in the room and we'd head back to the ship and sleep the rest of the night aboard.  So off we went to our room.  Only problem was it was occupied.  By a fellow aviator.  And a new-found friend.  Not good.  So back to the desk we went.  Once again we demanded a room.  But the only room was being held for an Admiral that was due in.  It was now about 4:00 am.  We convinced the desk clerk that the Admiral wasn't coming and he gave us a key.  Halleujah!  So we got the girls bedded down and headed back to the ship.  It was a bit hard to find a taxi, but one finally came by.  After a few hours of shuteye, we headed back to the BOQ and there were the girls looking bright eyed and bushy tailed after some good sleep.  While we were there we found out that the Lieutenant Commander selection list had come out and we both had made it.  So that was a great thing to be able to tell the girls after the harrowing night.  Later that day we hired a van to take us to the Manila airport and the girls headed home.  It was a memorable trip.  It was legendary.  It was the stuff of side splitting laughter for years.  And it was an experience that will stay with us always.

And here's a little postscript.  Shortly after we returned to the ship, I was walking down the passageway and saw the CO.  We exchanged pleasantries.  He asked me how the visit with our wives went.  And he asked me why we didn't go meet them in Hong Kong from Okinawa.  After all, we were just transiting South and it would have been a reasonable thing to do.  Grrrrrrr...I didn't rat out the XO, but I sure wanted to.

So after an extended time in Subic, we finally were fixed.  The plan was to get underway, transit to Hong Kong for a visit, and then proceed on to Okinawa for some more ops for HM-14.  If you've been aboard a Navy ship you know that it takes some time to get it operating proficiently.  That's especially true after an extended in-port period.  As we transited to Hong Kong we did the standard underway drills...man overboard, general quarters, etc.  And we sucked.  We couldn't get the muster done in time, we couldn't get the hatches secured, the damage control drills were unsat, we couldn't get our gas masks on, we couldn't do anything right.  But hey, it was to be expected.  After all, we had just spent 5 weeks in Subic.  Of course, the CO didn't see it that way.  He said we'd keep doing all that crap until we got it right.  So a few mornings later we steamed into Hong Kong harbor.  We had a place to drop anchor right down in the middle of things.  We could see Kowloon on one side and Hong Kong island on the other.  It was spectacular.  So after the anchor was set and things settled down around 10:00 am, we went to General Quarters!!  I swear to you, I was sitting in the tower all day long, with my gas mask on, gazing at Hong Kong.  About 4:00 pm he decided we'd practiced enough and declared that the crew could go ashore.  But we had to be back the next morning to go to General Quarters.  I kid you not!  So if I remember right we had a fairly quiet and somber night in Hong Kong (not really....we ripped it) and reported back aboard the next morning.  And found out that there was a major Typhoon bearing down on the port so we had to get underway to evacuate.  So no General Quarters.  But also no Hong Kong.  And we not only got underway, but because we were going to encounter some rough weather, it was decided to move all the helos to the hangar deck and all their crap to the flight deck.  Well, it was a major clusterf**k!!!  It's a wonder we didn't lose a lot of gear or a few helos and kill someone.  But we got it done.  Oh...the misery.


So we proceeded to the Okinawa area for a few days, did some flying and returned to Hong Kong.  It was a nice port visit but none of us could forget going to General Quarters while anchored in port.  After that it was back to Subic for a week or so.  While there the ABs in the Air Department decided to have a party.  They had been saving for the whole cruise and this was their big shindig.  And a big shindig it was.  They rented out an entire hotel/restaurant/bar in Subic City and proceeded to whoop it up for 3 days.  It was a great time...I think.  The other thing that happened was that there were several First Class Petty Officers who made Chief Petty Officer and it was time for their initiation.  Now, we had some old, grizzled, experienced, mainiac Chiefs aboard.   So they decided that they'd do the Chief's initiation out in town at a bar.  And since this was an official function, they'd have to wear uniforms.   I was lucky enough to be asked to be a Defense Counsel for one of the Air Department newly minted Chiefs.  So off I went.  It was pretty ugly.  I was made to eat and drink some stuff I won't repeat, but I made it through and in turn think I rose a little in the eyes of the Chiefs.  Not much...but a little.  And I'd take anything I could get.

It was then back to Okinawa.  We off-loaded part of the squadron and then went up to Pusan, Korea for a big multi-national operation called Valiant Usher.  If you've not been to Pusan, you're not missing much.  Korea is an interesting place.  It's a harsh environment, populated by a harsh people who are ready for war.  The weather is terrible and the food isn't much better.  I've been to Seoul many times since and it's okay, but once outside the city, there's not much there.  Anyway, we stayed there for a while and then headed back to Okinawa to pick up the rest of the squadron and then back to Subic.  While in Subic, three of us who had made Lieutenant Commander pooled our money and had a "wetting down" party at a bar out in down.  It was a doozy!!  Lots of people, lots of beer, lots of fun.  If you've been there, you know.

Finally it was time to say a final goodbye.  We headed for Korea one more time and made two port calls into Pusan and a place called Pohang.  It could have been called armpit.  The only thing there was a huge steel mill and we were there for the HM squadron to do a simulated mine clearing of the port.  So they got that done and once again, no mines.  Oh well.

And it was then time to head home.  Finally.  The crossing was pretty benign and we pulled into Pearl Harbor heading East a very happy crew.  My son, who was about 9 years old, flew to Honolulu and joined me for the ride to San Diego.  This is called a Tiger Cruise and there were a lot of sons, brothers, and dads aboard.  My roommate had flown home from Hawaii so I was lucky enough to have him stay with me in my stateroom.  Most of the other Tigers were berthed in a big enlisted berthing space below decks.  One prety memorable thing happened on the journey.   We ran into very rough weather and they all got sick.  I mean real sick.  Like I said, my son was with me and did okay but was a bit green around the gills.  I went down into the berthing space after the weather started and the smell of puke was palpable.  Really pretty bad.  So we went to the XO and asked him to move them to a more stable part of the ship.  But...nope.  He didn't want them to make any other spaces dirty.  Unbelievable.

And then we were home.  As is always the case, reunion was so sweet.  There was a big crowd to meet us and it was glorious.  And I was on the downhill side of my tour on the ship.  In fact I was coming into the detailing window and after we were back awhile I called him up to see what the options were.  Well, lo and behold he wanted me to come take his job.  In Washington DC.  The only time I had been East of the Mississippi was when we went to Pensacola.  So the idea of moving to Washington was daunting.  But both my wife and I knew that getting this job would be a huge feather in my hat.  It would go a long way toward achieving our ultimate goal...Command of an operational squadron.  So we were all in.  Bureau of Naval Personnel and Washington, DC, here we come.

But first I had to complete this assignment.  In truth it was all downhill after deployment.  We did some operations off the coast with the Marines and continued to limp along.  The ship's condition got worse and worse.  And about this time we got a new CO and XO.  The new CO was a hot runner and eventually achieved 3 stars.  He was an okay guy but there was only one guy he cared about...him.  He wasn't leaving anything to chance or doing anything to jeopardize his future.  A good example.  Shortly after he assumed command, I went to him with a fire report.  We had had a small fire somewhere on the ship and it was handled.  It wasn't a big deal, it happened all the time on a ship, but regs said we had to report it.  He looked at it, crumpled it up, threw it in the trash can, and asked me if I had anything else.  Nope...nothing else.

The new XO turned out to be more of a mainiac than the last guy.  Especially about cleanliness.  Shortly after he reported aboard he got a divorce and decided that to save money he would move aboard full time.  So for those of you with a Naval background, imagine that.  The XO on the ship 24/7.  Every day.  Looking for things to do and things to find that were wrong.  The thing that this XO had a penchant for was shaming in public.  And he was good at it.  If he would get mad about something, almost anything, he would get on the ship's PA system (called the 1MC) and demand that all Department Heads muster on the Hangar Deck.  Now mind you, these weren't Seamen or newly minted Petty Officers.  They were all Commanders or Lieutenant Commanders with a lot of years service.  But we would trudge down to the Hangar Deck, line up like prisoners, and the XO would commence to rip us up one side and down the other, in front of anyone who happened to be walking by.  After a while, I noticed that some sailors would hide in various places around the Hangar Deck listening to the tirade.  It was a lot of fun!

I'm not sure if it was scheduled or just desparately needed, but when I had about a month left the ship went into drydock in a shipyard in San Diego.  I had never been in a dry dock but it was sort of fascinating.  They pulled the ship in and commenced to pump out the water.  And she wound up just sitting there.  It was sort of spooky.  I remember looking at the ship sitting on her keel and wondering why she just didn't crash over on her side.  But she didn't.  The other thing was that we were in a shipyard.  Every day we parked outside and trooped in.  And if you've ever been in a shipyard, you know it's the ultimate industrial area.  It's best described as a sh!thole.  Really nasty.

So when the day came for me to depart it was with mixed emotions...happiness and joy.  We were going on to the Detailer job in Washington DC and a grand new adventure, which I'm sure I'll write about at some point.  And this nightmare was in the rearview mirror.  But I have to say I learned a lot of lessons.  Unfortunately, most of them were what not to do.  I met some great guys, especially the ABs and my fellow aviators.  But I met an incredible number of knuckleheads.  And the big unfortunate takeaway was that I never, ever wanted anything to do with ship's company again.  Unfortunate because later in my career I would realize that the route to Flag rank was through ship command after you completed squadron command.  But...I just couldn't bring myself to go for it.  I was very happy with the route I chose, but there's a small part of me that always asked...what if?