Halsey's Typhoon by Bob Drury and Tom Clavin

If someone were to tell you that Admiral Halsey, the great American Naval Hero of World War Two, had almost been Court Martialed at the height of the war, you would not believe it. I know I didn't! And I am a big fan of history- Naval History in particular.

In December of 1944 Douglas MacArthur was due to return to the Phillipines, just as he had promised 3 years earlier. Admirals King and Halsey had made this possible through a series of "island hopping" invasions. They were highly sucessful in their endeavors and so by the time of these events all was in place for that return.

But a seies of lapses, most notably in the weather predictions, led the fleet into one of the worst typhoons in history. Almost 800 men from 4 different ships perished in this storm. Aboard one of the vessels was a young Juinor Officer named Gerald Ford, who would later go on to become President of the United States. He saved several lives that night fighting the fire. A superb athlete in college he was revered by his men.

As an interesting aside, this book describes in great detail, the events that were later captured in the best seller by Herman Wouk, "The Caine Mutiny." Mr. Wouk served in the Pacific during the time of these events. His experience certainly led to the realistic description of that storm. As a matter of fact the chapters describing the mutiny on the ficticous USS Caine are right in line with what actually took place aboard the USS Hull at the height of the real typhoon.

This book is a must read for all Naval History buffs. And also for those looking to see beyond the legend of Admiral Halsey. Written with great energy and style, this book is a page turner.

It's Only Me- Chapter 15- Learning the Ropes

We were housed in new barracks- which looked more like a school dorm building. I think I had been expecting the old wooden type barracks from World War II. The first few weeks were blisteringly hot in the daytime. Especially on the Parade Ground where we practiced our marching and drilling. Some guys would pass out. We also had to do exercises in the morning and afternoons. In between these times we were learning to swim, shoot rifles and fight fires. We were also in the classroom alot.

We learned Navy History, U.S. History, Maritime Law, Standing Orders, the Uniform Code of Military Justice and knot tying. At night we were confined to our barracks and shined our shoes, folded our laundry and generally studied for the tests that we had each day. Failing a test got you set back a week so no one wanted to fail.
There was also a period of adjustment for many of the recruits who had never been away from home. There were several fights- nothing serious- just attitude adjustment when necessary.

I was one of the older recruits- being over 21. The younger guys were the hardest to deal with. They came from high schools with a Rambo type attitude. Sometimes they needed a reality check.

I had not joined to march and learn tricks so the Company could win "flags." I had joined to go to sea and had no interest in marching. I was also coming off of several years of using barbituates, so I was a bit restless. This lead to my being a less than enthusiastic marcher. When they said left I went right and vice versa. I was approached concerning this by several of the guys in my squad. It was getting pretty nasty and finally the shit hit the fan. I was approached by the Recruit Petty Officer, which is a make believe rank for a recruit to learn how to lead. This guy was from Philadelphia and a black guy. Race had nothing to do with it. He told me to meet him in the "drying room" where we placed wet clothes to dry after scrubbing them. Never one to back away from a fight I met him there after lights out- the whole company knew what was coming down and waited in their bunks for "Cuffy" to emerge from the drying room after having kicked my ass. They were a little bit disappointed.

You've seen the fights in movies- they go on forever with chairs being busted over someones head etc. Real life is much different. Someone has to throw the first punch and take the risk that they may lose. Since I had been invited to this party by Cuffy I figured it was up to him to strike first. Instead he began to talk to me- stuff like- "I don't want to kick your ass but..." I got tired of the bullshit and hit him first. We then struggled a bit with one another but not too many punches got thrown.

Then he wanted to talk about how we should walk out of the drying room and in what order! I said "Fuck you" as I pushed him aside.You could hear the collective gasp from the rest of the company as I walked out first. Cuffy had stayed behind and several guys rushed in to see if he was okay. Several guys walked back past my bunk, kicking it and letting me know that this was not the end. Hell, I didn't know anything had begun!

So we did this 2 more times- like a ritual. The last was the best and put an end to the whole drama- which was like Public School when someone would say- "Meet me after 3 o'clock." This last guy was the company boxer- broad at the shoulders and slim at the waist. Also typical weak knees. So he threw the first punch, which glanced off my forehead. My response was a kick in his knee and a caution that he should stay down. He started to get up so I kicked him just under the chin. That finished it.

The next day I was summoned by the Company Commander- a Chief Petty Officer named Spencer. He asked me what the trouble was and I told him, "I joined to see the world and sail the seas. In 5 weeks the only water I have seen is showers and shitters!" He asked why I wouldn't march. I answered that the Navy was a stepping stone for me to join the Merchant Marines when I got out. I was not interested in Mickey Mouse marching for flags.

So we arrived at a compromise- I would be the Navy's first "non marcher." Instead of marching I would be the new Company Clerk and take head counts, draw up the watch bill etc. So the rest of bootcamp passed pretty easily.

By October it began to snow. I mean snow! And we had "Snow Watches". This was a task no one wanted. 24 hours a day there was someone with a shovel posted outside the barracks. If any snow fell he had to shovel it immediately. So you would hear the scraping of the shovels on the sidewalks all night and day- even when it was a flurry. Going from the summer heat into the fall months really stretched our health thin and we had a bit of flu going around. But mainly we were getting stronger and learning how to deal with the "Chain of Command."

One of the best things that happened to me in Great Lakes was the day we were first allowed to go to the store. We marched there early, before the Px was open for the regular Navy guys. We had lists of what we were permitted to buy, with all the costs deducted froim our first paychecks at the end of boot camp. We were allowed soap, shaving cream, razors, toothpaste and floss. I snuck a transistor radio and some batteries in my stack. It seemed an eternity until it was my turn at the checkout. All the while I was afraid that the radio would be discovered and I would be sent back to week one. This was already week 6.

Somehow, somewhere there is a God that watches over fools like me. The woman at the register looked at me, looked around and just tossed the radio and batteries in the bag, saying nothing. She didn't charge me because if she had it would have been a strike against her for not following orders. She knew what we were allowed to buy.
So wherever you are, whoever you are, thank you for that kindness.

With my radio concealed in my pillow at night I was able to listen to AM stations from all over. Also FM for a bit of music, but mainly I played that radio on AM using those little pink earphones. I think that radio helped me get through bootcamp. It was my little secret.

After about 6 weeks they let us go to Chicago on liberty. I suppose they wanted to see who would get falling down drunk or in a fight etc. But it was great. Everyone got gloriously drunk. Some had to be carried back. But we got a good look at Chicago and the Miracle Mile.

Twice during boot camp my friends sent me a bit of pot to smoke. This is where being the Company Clerk came in handy. At night, before Taps I would write myself a pass and go for a walk by myself. I would smoke a thin joint and then head back to the barracks. I remember one particular evening when I took a guy named Zotosky with me for a walk. It was 10 degrees and snowing lightly. It is one of my favorite memories of boot camp.

After 12 weeks or so we had to put in for duty stations. This was a silly exercise because you only got what they gave you. I really lucked out and was assigned to a fleet oiler. The USS Neosho would be my first ship. And the fact that it was an oil tanker fit right in with my plans to go into the Merchant service after the Navy.

In mid December we graduated- I did not invite my folks and had myself posted as a volunteer to escort everyones relatives from the parking area to the Drill Hall where the ceremony would be held. It was pure heaven to walk and talk with normal people after so many months.

So with boot camp behind me I headed back to New York, this time by plane. We were wearing the new CPO type uniforms which looked kind of like a stewards outfit. More than once I was approached by someone wanting me to carry their bags. I explained the uniform and accepted the apologies. But the third time I had an inspiration. A woman approached me and handed me her bags saying, "Follow me young man, I'm running late." I kept behind her making a sharp left into the men's room. When I came out I had no bags with me.

It's Only Me- Chapter 16- Leave and My First Ship

With orders in hand I went home for 30 days leave. I was scheduled to join the USS Neosho, AO-143 (a fleet oiler) in Cadiz , Spain on January 14th.

Nothing much had changed in Brooklyn during the time I was gone. The same people were still on the same corners. I became aware for the first time of Faulkners’ credo “You can’t go home anymore.”

The most memorable thing that occurred during my leave was a chance meeting with Mark Shorrs’ mother Estelle on Kings Highway. I was at H and A Foods paying a visit when I ran into her. She was very surprised to see that I had joined the Navy. She also had some astonishing news to tell me. Mark had married Lois Lefkowitz, the girl who lived across the street from him since they were kids!

What made this discovery even more astonishing was the fact that I had seen Mark for the first time in 3 years just before leaving for boot camp. After high school we had gone down separate paths, he went to college and I worked and generally did nothing productive. He had been working at Ripley Clothing on Kings Highway but we rarely saw one another.

When we did meet we attempted to catch up on what each of us was doing. He said he was getting married to Lois Lefkowitz. I didn’t believe him as they had been fighting since they were 14! And when I told him I was joining the Navy he just looked at me and said, “After 3 years of not seeing each other you give me this bullshit?” And we walked away- saying we’d see each other soon, which of course we didn’t.

So now Estelle Shorr was telling me that they were married and telling them that I was in the Navy! And that’s when we started being friends again. They had moved to Canarsie and I went to visit them. It was like no time had passed and our friendship was renewed.

Things at my parents house were still the same old crap. Nothing I did pleased them and they annoyed the hell out of me. So I began staying at Mark and Lois’ place whenever possible. Eventually they bought a house in Belle Harbor, a residential area in Rockaway, Queens. Mark and I had gone there with my Uncle Irving one day when we were about 17 and Mark fell in love with the area. Little did I ever dream that he would eventually buy a home there.

Anyway, leave finally ended and I was dropped off at JFK by my Dad on January 14th, 1977 to catch a seaplane to Philadelphia. From there I would catch a plane to Madrid, Spain. From there I would catch another plane to Cadiz and the USS Neosho. Things didn’t quite work out.

The seaplane couldn’t land in Philadelphia due to ice so we turned back to NY and I got a commuter flight to Philadelphia. My plane to Spain was late so I had no trouble catching it. It was a 757 I think. It was the first time I had been on a plane with a lounge and an observation deck above the passenger area. To top it all off there were so many empty seats that it was possible to take the 6 center seats and fold the armrests up to create a bed! There were plenty of pillows and blankets to use. All in all it was a great flight.

Landing in Madrid was an eye opener. There were citrus trees everywhere. I had just picked an orange when I heard a clicking sound- like a safety being switched off. I turned and faced a Spanish soldier wielding a machine gun and jabbering at me in Spanish. I wish I had a picture of myself as I tried to re-attach that orange to the tree! Even the soldier had to crack a smile as he lowered his weapon and motioned for me to walk away. I thought to myself- “Toto- we’re not in Kansas anymore!”

The plane to Cadiz arrived and we flew to Rota, the Naval Station on the Atlantic Coast. The Neosho was gone and I spent 5 days in the Transit Barracks. Orders finally arrived for me to join the ship in Augusta Bay, Sicily and so I flew there on a Navy C-130.

There are no seats on these cargo planes so we sat in cargo nets and dined on “boxed lunches.” These are cardboard boxes that each contain a bologna sandwich, an apple and a container of warm milk. Get hungry enough and it’s actually pretty good. We were hungry enough.

The plane landed at Siracusa, a Naval Air Station on Sicily and about an hour or so away from our destination of Augusta Bay. At the Siracusa airport I had my first real Italian food- Rigatoni in meat sauce. It was fantastic! And cheap!

From Siracusa we boarded a bus that would take us all to the Neosho, which was waiting with boilers on line to get back to sea. We arrived at 11 that night and were housed in Sick Bay until berthing arrangements could be worked out. Some of us- most- were going to be transferred to other ships. There were only 2 of us assigned to the Neosho.

I fell fast asleep in Sick Bay with the sounds of whistles and bells and people running all around. I wondered what was going on so late at night and whether this was a typical night aboard. Then I fell into a deep sleep.

I woke to the sound of a Bosuns Pipe and the 1MC crackling “Reveille, all hands heave out and trice up. Breakfast on the mess decks.” I got up, washed and went in search of the mess deck.

This was my first ship and it seemed huge! I found the mess deck and had my first meal aboard. French toast, bacon and tea. There were lots of foods to choose from, like fried bologna, eggs, pancakes, potatoes and everything else from fresh fruits to soda! I ate and then decided to look around the ship. I asked someone how to get to the main deck. They told me to step out that hatch at the rear of the mess deck. So I did.

I was dumbfounded, shocked and awed! Unknown to me, we had left Augusta Bay immediately after I stepped on board the night before. All around me was sky and ocean in a big circle! There was no land in sight and the sky was like a dome over my head. This was the first time I had ever been out of sight of land. Every science lesson I had ever had suddenly jelled in my head and I recognized that we are indeed a sphere in the midst of something larger. And consequently we, as people, were quite insignificant.

One of the first things a new crew member is required to do is to work on the mess decks, in the scullery or in the Officers Ward Room as a waiter. I was tapped to work in the Ward Room. This was like an insult to me. So I was determined to get out of this assignment.

Ships at sea roll and pitch. Serving food is not an easy task. I decided on a short course of action taking advantage of nature and the ships roll. The first meal I was required to serve was lunch. I brought the bowls of soup to the Officers table with my thumb in the soup as if I were having trouble holding the bowl. When this was called to my attention I replied not to worry as the soup was not hot. When the steaks were served I held one hand beneath each plate with my other hand on top of the steak itself. When I was admonished for this I replied that I didn't want the steak to fall off the plate- again. So my Wardroom experience, by design, was short lived and I went to work in the crews galley as an assistant to the cook for 5 weeks.

After mess cooking was completed I was assigned to a Deck Division. This is the part of the crew that takes care of the ships rigging, winches, cargo gear and mooring lines. They also are responsible for painting the ship, stripping it and painting it again in a never ending process to battle the salt erosin from the sea. Deck Division also stands watch, manning the helm,lookout positions and the ships small boats. We had a 24 foot Captains Gig and two 40 foot utility boats which were primarily used to ferry the crew back and forth from anchorage to the ports we called on. And on an oiler like Neosho we also manned the "rigs."

I was asigned to Rig 8 as a line handler for the refueling hose. A short lesson is in order here to explain what we did with these rigs.

When ships are at sea it is vital, in the military sense, that they be kept "topped off" with fuel so as to allow them to stay at sea longer. This also applies to the delivery of food and ammunition. In the 1970's the United States had fewer ships than the Soviets but we could keep ours at sea longer due to our expertise in the art of Underway Replenishment.

Ships like the Neosho are contacted by Task Group Commanders to meet at certain positions and refuel the Task Group. This requires ships to come alongside the oiler and carefully maintain course and speed while running 150 feet alongside one another at about 15 knots. The forces of hull suction and bank cushion are constantly at work- trying to throw you off course and cause a collision. Now a days this is all done by computer. Not when I was in. We had a course to maintain but it takes a special helmsman to "feel" the ship and counter those forces to avoid a collision.

After taking station a thin nylon line is sent over to the other ship by means of a specially fitted M-14. The end of this line is attached to a larger rope and then a steel cable. When the receiving ship gets the cable it is attached to a padeye welded on the deck. At this point the oiler "tensions" that line by means of a Hydraulic Ram Tension Rig. This raises the line on the oilers side, enabling a hose on "trolleys" to roll across to the receiving ship. It is then "seated" and the pumping of fuel begins. The whole time this is happening there are 5 guys on winches controllong the tension of the steel cable and the trolleys that hold the hose. Too much slack and the hose goes in the water and the rig is lost. Too little slack and the cable will part with a supersonic crack when 15,000 pounds of tension is exceeded. The potential for damage to the ships as well as the crew are very high. But this is what gave us our superiority over the Russians during the Cold War. The Russians still had to stop and refuel from astern, making them sitting ducks for an attack.

So I was at sea at last- something I had dreamt of since I sat on the beach as a child, wondering what was beyond the horizon. Now I knew.

We visited so many places in that time it would be hard to recount them all. One of my favorite port calls was in Kalamai, Greece. We would be the last US Navy ship allowed in that port for over 10 years after our visit. I have always maintained that this was the result of a mis-understanding. Here is what happened.

We went ashore from our anchorage using the 40 foot utility boats. When we arrived in this small Greek town we were a bit disappointed at the lack of whores, drugs and a proper "red light" district. There was no understanding on our part that Greece had just come out of a long period of dictatorship. The Beatles had been banned in 1967 along with alot of other things, so really this was a clash of 2 different worlds with neither side prepared.

Shortly after arriving ashore we discovered Ouzo- a clear and opiated liquor to which most Americans are not accustomed. Now American sailors tend to go ashore in groups- African American with African American, Hispanic with Hispanic, Whites with Whites etc. This is where the misunderstanding comes into play.

Some of the Mexicans hung out with the African Americans. After a bit of Ouzo one Mexican started fighting with an African American crewmate. It is not uncommon for crew members to duke it out while drunk so no one thought much of it. But just then some of the Southern boys from our ship turned the corner and saw dark people fighting with not so dark people. And they jumped in on the lighter side. At this point the Greek Army Patrol rounded the corner and saw what they thought was a riot. So they stepped in with clubs flailing. And now here comes the American Shore Patrol-comprised of Neosho crew members. They saw the Greek Army beating up American sailors in the street. So they began to fight with the Greek Army.

At the same time there were bands of drunken sailors marauding through the streets making unwanted advances towards anything that walked, crawled or flew. I mean it- there was even a report of a rooster being molested that night! And the Mayors car was somehow driven off the pier. We were amazed at how long the lights stayed on under the water as the car sank.

The next few hours are a bit hazy but eventually the Greek Army and American Shore Patrol formed a wedge with one another and drove us all back using batons, to the fleet landing. There we were loaded into the 40 footers and after several trips we were back on board- still fighting.

The next morning the Mayor of Kalamai came out with the Greek Orthodox Bishop and ordered the Neosho to weigh anchor and depart. The Captain was furious with us and we were denied liberty for the next several ports. And, as I said, it would be more than 10 years before another American Navy ship would be allowed back into Kalamai. Chalk one up for our side!

During my time aboard Neosho I would make 2 voyages across the Atlantic to the "Med" seeing all of Southern Europe and even North Africa. We had a fire in after steering which left me very grateful for the firefighting training in bootcamp. We also learned how to load and fire the 3" - 58's that we carried along with the 5"- 30's. We even made a cruise down to Brazil, crossing the Equator and making me a Shellback.
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On the day of the crossing the crewmembers that are already Shellbacks wake up extra early and haul down the flag, replacing it with a Jolly Roger. Then they roam the ship dumping sleeping "Pollywogs" from their berths and ordering them topside. The scene is remarkably like a Mutiny. The Shellbacks are dressed as pirates and it was hard to tell who was who under the disquises. The Pollywogs that do participate are then lined up on deck where they are made to crawl through a 40 foot chute filled with rotted garbage from the mess decks. It's best to be one of the first so you can avoid the puke of the others that go before you. You are then forced to crawl along the entire metal deck in the blazing sun barefoot and in shorts. While you are doing this you are beaten with cut off lengths of fire hose. And at the end you are required to kiss the Bosuns belly before the Chaplain annoints you with crude oil. And when it is all over you are a Shellback.

In April of 1978 the Neosho was sold to Military Sealift Command, a civilian component of the Navy. In order for the ship to undergo a "yard period" in drydock we had to "de-fuel" the ship. After pumping out all the fuel the tanks are aired out with huge fans and then men are sent into these tanks with dust pans and small buckets to scrape the sludge out by hand. You are actually working in a 60 foot by 60 foot tank which is 60 foot deep and still filled with visible fumes. It is a thankless task.

And so after 16 months aboard my first ship I was going to be transferred to another oiler. The USS Neosho was my training ground but the USS Milwaukee- AOR-2 would be my home for the next two and a half years. And she would remain in my heart forever.

The Sanko Prestige Meets the USS Milwaukee

On the night of January 3rd, 1980 the USS Milwaukee was berthed at the Destroyer and Submarine Piers in Norfolk, Virginia. The Sanko Prestige, a Malaysian flagged oil tanker, lost steerage in the channel of the James River and hit the Milwaukee. Her bow struck our port quarter abaft of the beam. That's a fancy way of saying the left side and rear. It was also where I slept!

The berthing quarters below mine were for the Deck Departments 1st Division and it was wiped out. So were the Chiefs Quarters.

I had been out on liberty with Dennis Langlands and Ron Tabb and we were just coming down the pier when the Sanko Prestige hit. We raced to the bridge, where we proceeded to make preparations to be towed to an anchorage should the need arise. With 7 million gallons of fuel we needed to be as far from the shore as possible should there be a fire aboard.

In the engine room men were attempting to get boilers on line from "cold iron." This usually takes 12 hours. They were on it in minutes! When Captain Page arrived 20 minutes later from his home in Virginia Beach the ship was ready to answer all orders.

Here is what Mike Metcalfe of E-Division has to say about that night- "I had just gotten aboard after Xmas leave. We made a McDonalds run. I was drinking my shake when this Crazy chief came running into Eng. berthing and told us all to run for our lives!!! We all laughed until the Collission alarm sounded...one of the scariest 5 minutes of my life...and then the relief...when you realized the 7and 1/2 million gallons of fuel we were sitting on didn't blow. That crazy Chief saved a bunch of lives that night. Some of the guys were in their racks, and when it was over...their racks were outside the ship. It all didn't happen the way the papers said, but we were back to sea after a month in Newport News shipyard. They did however miss a giant dent on the starboard side where the ship hit the Pier, and cracked it too. (right through the shore power disconnects.) NAVY...it sure did have it's moments."
Mike Metcalfe, EM2, E-Div, STREAM Div. 78-82

The night was hectic and trying- but the whole crew pulled together and did what they were trained to do. It was a moment of immense pride for a hard working crew. And you know what? It worked. And in 4 weeks we would be back at sea refueling the fleet and battling a major storm. Man, I loved that ship!

It's Only Me- Joining The Navy

(The following was first printed here on September 9th, 2009 as part of a 30 chapter autobiography. Today is the anniversary of my enlistment in the U.S.Navy and I thought I would celebrate by reprinting it here.)

1976 was the 200th Anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. The country had begun preparing for it in 1975 with special offers and special packaging of products. You couldn’t escape it. I have often been asked if that is what lead to my joining the Navy in September of 1976. The answer is no.

My motivation for joining the service was simple. I wanted to get out of Brooklyn for good. I wanted to be away from all the drugs and also my parents. Although I had not seen them often during the last 4 years I felt as if they were a threatening presence, always lurking in the background, waiting for me to “see the light.”

In August of 1976 I went to the Recruiting Office, located on Flatbush Avenue at the junction of Nostrand Avenue. I took some aptitude tests and then had to sit for an interview. The man interviewing me was black and I think was a Chief Petty Officer.

We started with some routine questions- “Do you do drugs?” was one of the first ones-I thought he was being sociable and so pulled out a baggie of weed and said, “Yeah, wanna smoke?” I thought he was going to pass out! He asked again and I countered with, “What drugs?” I was hustled outside and he explained that I had to answer “No” to the drug question. I said that I was not interested in lying to him. He produced a Drug Waiver which read “ I have experimented with marijuana about 3 or 4 times and found it not to my liking. I have no interest in taking drugs.” I signed it and then got my contract for 4 years Active Duty. At the completion of Boot Camp in Great Lakes, Illinois I would be allowed to choose from 70 different schools. I chose “OJT” which is short for "On The Job Training" in the fleet. So I chose no school, electing to go straight to the fleet and have a look about me before choosing anything. I have never regretted that choice.

Around this time my friend Iona came by H and A Foods, where I worked, to say goodbye. She had graduated 6 months early from Madison in 1972 and I believe started Brooklyn College. She was now transferring to another school somewhere. She came by in a little green Datsun B-210 and I felt that I was seeing a good friend for the last time. It would be another 31 years until we would be in contact again.

I informed Harry and Al of my decision, which they tried in earnest to talk me out of. But when a person decides to join the service there is virtually no chance of talking them out of it. Usually it is a move made of long planning or else in desperation. Mine was a bit of both.

I had been fascinated by my Dads time in the Navy and had also long dreamt of joining the Merchant Marine- civilians who transport goods by ship. I needed to be in a Union to work as a Merchant and to be in the Union you had to work on the ships you couldn’t work on unless you were in the Union. So you see it was a conundrum. Realizing that my best shot at getting in the Union would be as a Veteran, with sea time under my belt, I elected to join the Navy. Also, I really needed to break the cycle in which I was living.

So, on a balmy September morning, after a raucous night of debauchery, I set off to Fort Hamilton and the Armed Forces Induction Station. I was several hours late and my Recruiter was actually riding through the streets of my neighborhood looking for me. He drove me to Ft. Hamilton where I went to sleep on the long bench waiting to be processed.

I was awoken with a kick from an Air Force Sergeant bellowing, “Get up slimeball- your sleeping days are done!” I rose slowly, looked at his uniform and said, “Fuck you- I’m Navy.” And then went back to sleep. A few minutes passed and I was again awoken in the same barbaric manner- this time by a Navy Chief Petty Officer. “Get up fuckhead! You’re in the Navy now! And your ass is mine!” Standing up, and looking him right in the eye, I said- “This is still Brooklyn, and I ain’t took the oath yet, so my ass is my own!” He was pissed, but walked away, and I went back to sleep for another hour.

When I awoke I began to survey my surroundings and think about what I was actually doing. Before I could think too much I was sworn in with about 50 people and divided into groups. One group was going to Great Lakes and the other to Florida where a new boot camp had just opened. That one had women as well as men. But I was slated for Great Lakes along with a Puerto Rican guy named Orlando Cruz. So I kind of kept an eye on him figuring that if I stayed close to him I wouldn’t have to listen much and still get where I was going.

A little while later we were at JFK and I was wondering what had happened to change our travel from rail to air. I had been looking forward to the 24 hour train ride to Chicago and having one of those sleeper rooms on the train. That’s when I realized that Orlando was where the other boot camp was. When they said, “If you are going to Orlando then line up here”, he had only heard his name, “Orlando", with the word "here”, and lined up accordingly. I had followed him.

What happened next was the fastest car ride I have ever had- from JFK to Grand Central in like 20 minutes in the middle of a weekday. I am sure it was a record.

Boarding the train is still a bit fuzzy but once we were on the way everything is crystal clear. They should never put recruits on a train with decent people. It sullies the image of the Armed Forces. We spent the next 24 hours headed to Chicago from New York by way of Connecticut, picking up more recruits in every town. In between stops we made unwanted advances to every woman on board, smoked pot, drank to excess and had food fights. Going through the late summer/early fall cornfields of Indiana we tossed flaming stacks of the New York Times into the fields. We were uncontrollable and crazed.

We arrived in Chicago the next afternoon about 4 PM. From there we had to catch a commuter train to Great Lakes- about 30 miles or so. Again, we should not have been allowed to mix with normal people.

Arriving at the gates to Great Lakes was everything you have seen in the movies. People scream at you, call you foul names right in your face, spit flying in your eyes.

And this was just the beginning.....

Transformations

On September 29th, 1976 I left my house looking something like this.

10 weeks later I returned, looking like this.

And 4 weeks after that I left Brooklyn looking like this.

On my way to this.

USS Neosho AO-143

"A Measureless Peril" by Richard Snow

This book kind of ties in with the last one. I read them concurrently and was surprised at how many of the principals of the Second World War had played a large part in the First World War.

After the stunning German Naval Victory at Jutland in 1916, the German Navy did very little. It remained bottled up and neglected, until the point where crews were staging mutinies to avoid going back to sea. As a common soldier, Hitler detested the Navy, and as a Submariner so did German Admiral Donetz. He considered the U-boats to be independent of the Navy. When Hitler made him Admiral,he concentrated on the U-boats to the exclusion of the surface ships.In doing so, he effectively cut the German supply line to the outside world. That they made this mistake two wars in a row, and only 20 years apart, by neglecting their navy is astonishing.

The book chronicles the war in the Atlantic from January 1942 through 1944. Much of the action takes place off Coney Island in Brooklyn, New York where I grew up. No doubt this added to the allure of the book for me. I grew up on stories of ships exploding within sight of the beach and the U-boats that sank them. These stories, no doubt, fueled my desire to go to sea later in life.

It is also the story of the 5 individual U-boats that were doing all this damage 5 miles from our shore. The deprivation, the close quarters, all are written of here in detail, but with a writer's flair for the colorful thrown in. In addition the author manages to encompass the oft untold tale of the more than 40,000 Merchant Mariners who gave their lives transporting the goods of war to the European theater of operations. Without them we could not have won the war.

At the same time, the author is able to give us the history of the Lend lease Act and tell us how President Roosevelt, on the advice of Admiral Stark, met with Churchill and worked it all out. We would begin supplying the British, reducing our status as a "neutral" nation. As a consequence of this, the Germans would henceforth start sinking American merchant vessels. The last one before Pearl Harbor was the Rubeun James, in November of 1941. Woody Guthrie, a merchant seaman himself, wrote the famous song about the sinking, titled "Sinking of the Ruben James."

As if all this is not enough, the book is also about the birth of the modern anti-submarine technology that helped America win the Cold War over 40 years later. New weapons and ships needed to be designed, and built quickly in order for us to not lose control of the Atlantic for the re-supply of our troops. To do so would have brought the war to our shores, with longstanding consequences.

As a former member of the US Navy, and as a licensed Merchant Mariner, I can heartily recommend this book to anyone interested in either the sea, or history. It is obvious that I enjoyed this book.

The Armed Forces Prayer Book for Jewish Personnel

I have alot of books. And I've read them all. They are my freinds and are all special to me, though some more so than others. This book is one of the more special ones.

I received this book while in Navy bootcamp at Great Lakes in 1976. It has literally been around the world with me 3 times. And even today I use it for weekly Sabbath Prayers. But what makes this book so extraordinary is that it was given to me by the Base Chaplain. Why is that extraordinary? Let me explain.

We live in a "Christian" nation. Christianity, and the right to worship as one pleases, are both principles which form the core of our democratic Republic. That the power structure of this nation saw fit to include my religion in its' plans when organizing the Armed Forces is nothing short of amazing to me. That the book was handed to me by a Christian makes it even more so.

In short, this book is emblematic to me of what we do best as Americans. We respect, and we tolerate one anothers differences in points of view. From politics to God we are a people that are reasonable. We are founded upon the principle of "inclusion" rather than "exclusion." I find that principle remarkable.

"Keys to Glory" by Edward T. Rothacker

This is an inspirational book penned by a man who served aboard my old ship,(well it was his before it was mine so let's call it "our ship") the USS Milwaukee.

When you serve onboard a ship you really get to know one another very quickly and very closely. But what do we really know about anothers' inner thoughts? What do we know about their lives? Mr. Rothacker paints a vivid picture of his journey from Cleveland, Ohio and Catholic School, to where he is today. And he does it in less than 100 pages!

Spiritually grounded and with a wry sense of humor the author takes you through the phases of his life. School, adolescence, the Navy, playing in a band, meeting and marrying his wife Cindy and having kids. Two common threads emerge in all these periods of his life. Music and God. First in church with piano lessons, later in the Navy for Chapel and a ships' rock band, music takes him on a journey of discovery.

Spirituality cannot be crammed down your throat. It is an evolving journey that takes place over the course of a lifetime during which one is tried and tested. Therein lies the measure of spirituality. It's in how you deal with what life throws your way.

During the Milwaukee years Mr. Rothacker writes of praying on the fantail under the stars. That feeling is the closest to God you can get while still being alive. I know, I've done it.

After leaving the service he witnesses for God and offers prayers for His intervention in the lives of the people he meets. And the results are so evident that they cannot be ignored. Mr. Rothackers' Faith in God literally leaps from the pages and touches your heart.

This was a real departure for me in terms of reading material. I am Jewish. But the message in this book goes beyond labels. Spirituality knows no bounds, it crosses all lines of demarcation, it pierces the most dense barriers. All you have to do is let it in. And then pass it on.