It's Only Me- Chapter 19- USNS Pawcatuck

I arrived in Barcelona on the 4th of December 1980. I proceeded to the Pawcatuck and was logged aboard. Now it was time to confront the reality that I was a Merchant Mariner. There was a fierce reputation associated with this occupation and I was a bit nervous about "measuring up."

The first thing was to get my berthing arrangements taken care of. When you board a ship you are given the next available cabin in your pay grade. This regulation prevents favoritism which can be attributed to race or influence. I was scheduled for a two man cabin outside the crews lounge. I was shown to it and began to unpack my sea bag. I assumed I would be taking the top bunk.

After about 10 minutes an eldery light skinned black man entered the room. Upon seeing me he went crazy. Actually told me that I needed to pack up and get out. He wasn't going to share a room with a young white guy. Everyone knows that young white guys are filthy, do drugs, have wild parties late at night and there was no way he was rooming with me.

Now on a Merchant ship you either swim or get sunk in the first five minutes aboard. It's all up to you and the attitude you take. In the Navy I boarded Neosho and was immediately asked if my Mother still menstruated. I had 2 choices- bust the guy in the mouth and risk the consequences, or rise to the occassion and meet the guy on level ground. I replied "She's flowing like the Nile, how's yours?" This set me apart as a guy who could take it and give it right back. That was what I needed to do here.

I informed the man, who's name was Sylvester Eldridge, that I was not moving. He went to get the Bosun, who is in charge of the deck crew. The Bosun informed me that Eldridge doesn't take roommates and that he had a private cabin for me. I refused. My position was that if I backed down and accepted a better room rather than the one I was legally entitled to, then I would have a rough time with the rest of the crew.

I informed the Bosun that I was staying in the assigned room. That was the end of it as far as I was concerned. The Bosun left and I kept unpacking while Eldridge continued to rave on about how the "Captain will straighten this out!"

The Captain arrived and asked me to change rooms. I informed him of the Union regulations governing assignment of berthing quarters. I also expressed my concerns about sharing a room with a black man. I told Elridge that everyone knew blacks smelled and were filthy. I was also concerned that he would be cluttering the place up with chicken wings and watermelon rinds.

The Captain refused to budge and ordered me to change rooms. I replied that if I had to move I was boarding the next plane back to New York and he could explain to the Command why he was wasting all this time and money. I also stated that if I did change rooms it meant that this old black guy was really in charge of the ship and if I had any future problems I would take them up with Eldridge rather than the Captain. That did it. He turned to Eldridge and told him "Meet your new roomate." And then he walked out.

Eldridge begrudgingly accepted the Captains ruling and I finished unpacking. It should be noted here that Eldridge and I became fast friends and that he followed me to my next 2 ships after Pawcatuck. He was a Bible thumping old Octoroon, that is a man of mixed blood from Louisiana with 1/8 black blood. Legally, in the old days, this made him white! He was one of the first Christians I ever met that didn't try to convert me. Actually he was quite pleased to be rooming with a Jew. He also was one of the first to make me understand the heritage that ran through my blood. Heavy stuff.

That evening I went out for a walk along the Ramblas in Barcelona. This is a huge boulevard lined with every conceivable type of shop. After a good walk about I noticed that every one was crying. I could gather nothing with my limited Spanish and so I headed back to the ship.

Eldridge greeted me at the gangway and told me that John Lennon had been shot and killed in New York outside the Dakota. I was shocked that he even knew who John Lennon was. His exact words to me were "Bob,a man of Peace has been killed." And this is what made John Lennon so unusual, that he could cross racial barriers and generation gaps. Eldridge summed it up best when he observed that because Lennon had not been afraid to be himself it was now easier for everyone to be a bit more free.

Eldridge and I became inseperable. We saved each others legs when they became fouled in the rigging during UnReps. He saved my fingers when I almost lost them while holding a trolley line and the saddle broke loose- sending the trolley so quickly down the line that I actually felt it brush my fingers as Eldridge pulled me away.

He was 65 years old and had been in the Navy from 1942 to 1960, never ranking above Steward in the Mess decks. That was the way it was back then. He had been home for only 3 Christmas holidays in 38 years! I was living with the Ancient Mariner and I loved it.

The Pawcatuck was built in 1946 in Chester, Pa. She was 34,500 tons displacement and could make 16 knots. She was old but pretty. She was named after a river in Rhode Island.

We worked the Med from one end to the other. Ships were literally lined up to the horizon waiting to take station for their fuel. We sometimes worked 24-36 hours, sleeping on our feet while pumping. We got overtime and also "penalty" time when we missed a meal. All in all this was going to be a good job!

When we hit a port we went crazy! Without the constraints of the Navy Shore Patrol we were like Kings in a foreign land. We had stacks of cash which made our behavoir acceptable to the locals, who depended upon our spending for their living. Actually I think they found us amusing the way we dashed about, buying up everything in sight, fighting with one another etc.

One incident still stands out as a true indicator of the difference between Americans and Europeans at the time. We were in Palma on the Island Of Mallorca. A few of us had a truly wonderful dinner at a nice local restaurant. We had sampled all of the local wines and were feeling quite good. One of the guys really admired the hand written menus, which were unlike anything we'd seen in the States. So he took it with him when we left. In the States this would have gone unnoticed.

We got about 150 feet from the restaurant when the waiter came charging down the street shouting "Alto, bandito!" Catching up to us he started stabbing my friend with a fork while unleashing a tirade in Spanish against the pilferer of the menu. It took 4 of us to subdue him and then we had to deal with the local cops. They took a $10 bill from us and gave it to the waiter, who seemed satisfied with the settlement.

There were 108 of us aboard Pawcatuck and we did the same amount of work as a Navy crew of 375 had done aboard Milwaukee. We were in the big league now. 108 was also our hull number- which never occurred to me until this writing.

After about 6 weeks I switched from Deck Maintenance to the Watch Division. This put me back on the bridge full time, most notably as an UnRep helmsman. It also kept me near the charts and navigation equipment which I had grown so fond of on Milwaukee.

The only drawback to the change was one of my new roomates. I had to switch to a 3 man room which was how the watches were set up. 3 men to a watch for 4 hours twice a day. Each team slept in it's own space so as not to disturb anyone else when being woken for your watch. But in every crowd there is one loose cannon and in ours it was Herb Feller.

Herb was a truly obnoxious and drunken fellow from Philadelphia who loved nothing more than to create problems. He soon set his sights on me. My crime was that I loved all the old movies and music that he had grown up with during the 1940's. I suppose he felt that I was robbing him of his memories or something, I'm not really sure. But it all came to a head one night at about 3:45 in the morning. The curtain to my bunk was ripped back and my covers snatched away. I opened my eyes and there was Herb holding a chair over his head with the clear intention of using it to reconfigure my countenance. He was on a tirade about my mother being a whore etc. Anything to get me to jump up so he could use that chair on my head! Not a chance.

Reasoning that a drunk can only hold a chair aloft for so long, I waited. Gradually you could see the chair lowering inch by inch as he became tired. When it was sufficiently lowered I sprung from my bunk. Taking advantage of the ships roll enabled me to knock him and the chair down. The Bosun was summoned by someone and the Captain awakened. Herb was taken away and I went back to sleep.


We weathered a few storms on this cruise, none so severe as the one on the Milwaukee. The worst place to be during a storm was on the tank deck which was one deck lower than our main deck and open to the sea. It would be very easy to get washed overboard from this location. Still it had a strange fascination, being so close to the swells as they buffeted the ship. It has a stark beauty which must be seen and felt up close to do it justice.

In March, after only 4 months we headed back to the US for a drydock period. We would be in drydock at Bayonne,New Jersey. This was directly across from about 57th Street in Brooklyn. I hailed a guy with a small boat and for $40 he took me across to Brooklyn. From there I carried my sea bag to Colemans Hardware on 5th Avenue at 51st Street. Mark Shorr was a part owner of this store with his father in law. It was always fun to see his face and the surprise on it when I would arrive unannounced. I stashed my sea bag with him and went for a walk.

I went home with Mark to the house in Rockaway. I had begun to stay with Mark and Lois everytime I was in port or on leave. Things with my parents would never be right and so Mark and Lois became my family. I was always treated wonderfully by Mark's Mom Estelle and Lois' parents, Aaron and Reva. As a matter of fact, it was Aaron who really started me thinking about what it meant to be Jewish.

Knowing that I had no family to speak of, Aaron and Reva always made sure I was included in the family gatherings on Jewish Holidays. I was still getting very high and although I was probably a sorry spectacle at times, they never once closed the door on me. I was always invited to the family functions and will always be grateful to them for it.

Funny thing is that Lois had a Grandfather who had been in the Navy. And no one in the family seemed to know it! He had actually been aboard the first Milwaukee, which was a light cruiser in the late 30's or early 40's. I used to marvel at that coincidence, and still do.

I remained at Mark and Lois' until May when I left again to join the USNS Jupiter which was on station in Diego Garcia, British Indian Ocean Territory. Eldridge was already on his way to join me there. So on May 17th I barely caught my Evergreen Airways flight to Diego Garcia. It would be a 21 hour flight with a pit stop in Athens, Greece to refuel.

It's Only Me- Chapter 20- USNS Jupiter and Diego Garcia

The CIA had many “fronts” in the 1970’s. Among them were different airlines. Evergreen Airways was one of those. They would be taking us to Diego Garcia on a 21 hour flight from Butler Aviation Terminal in New Jersey via a fuel stop in Athens , Greece. But first you had to get on that plane.

From the moment I approached Butler I knew that this was not going to be an ordinary flight. To begin with there were traffic cones placed to narrow the traffic down to one lane- checkpoint. Then there was the long line to wait for your pre boarding search, conducted by man, machine and dogs. Guys were literally throwing out any drugs they had stashed. Diego Garcia was owned by the British and known to be drug free. And I mean drug free.

The tossing away of good drugs seemed such a waste to me and so I set about picking them up. I even picked up the discarded cocaine, which I did not use. I’m too skinny and nervous for that. Before long I had quite a stash! But what to do with all of this windfall? I had long considered myself to be adept at getting things through, but with the dogs and extensive screening I was perplexed. But not for too long.

I got a hero sandwich and some aluminum foil. I opened the sandwich and placed all the drugs I wanted inside. I rewrapped this twice in foil. This would blur the x-ray imaging sufficiently to pass. I then took a qualude so that I would look and sound drunk. Then I got a shot of Jack Daniels and poured it on my clothes and rubbed some on my face like after shave. Presto- I am an average drunk!

After waiting in line it was my turn to approach the dogs and the x-ray machine. The dog went crazy! I reached out in a drunken fashion, slurring my words as I said, “What a nice doggie! Want some of my sandwich?” The dog began to bark and strain at the handlers leash. I was made to put the sandwich and all the other junk I had bought on the conveyor to be x-rayed. While this was happening a pre cursory inspection of my sea bag was taking place. No worries there. Stepping through the x-ray arch I was asked to open the sandwich. They saw bread and told me to close it. Due to my slurred speech and drunken demeanor I was signaled out to be served no liquor in flight. Mission accomplished.

Settling into my seat at the rear of the plane I surveyed my fellow passengers. 300 government employees ranging from Regular Navy to Military Sealift Command personnel, like me, with a smattering of State Department employees thrown in for diversity. This was going to be an interesting flight!

I immediately recognized an old shipmate named Slim, from the Pawcatuck. His real name was John R. Battle and he was a Third Engineer. But at 6’7” tall he was known as Slim. He was black and from Philadelphia. He was also a friend of Mr. Eldridge and the 3 of us had become fast friends aboard Pawcatuck. He got a seat near me in the rear of the jet. We had good access to the toilet and so we could slip in and catch a buzz whenever we wanted during the flight.

The poor stewardesses really caught hell on this flight. They were approached by every guy aboard seeking to join the “mile high” club. The ladies smiled but you could tell they were annoyed. And as time went on the guys got more and more drunk. This made them even more crude in their behavior towards the stewardesses.

There was a jump seat behind the last row for the stewardess to sit in. I noticed that one particular stewardess was using this seat almost exclusively. Thinking nothing of it I went about my business, listening to music, reading, getting high etc.

As it became dark the cabin lights were extinguished. I was looking out at the stars and kind of talking to myself as I identified the ones I knew. A gentle tap on my shoulders caugt me off guard. It was the stewardess. She asked me what I was doing and I started to point out stuff that let me gauge our course. She then slipped into the seat next to me. She told me that I was the only guy aboard that had not asked for sex. I laughed and told I her I never fished in barren waters. Besides, with 300 guys and only 6 stewardesses I could be in Diego Garcia before my turn came! Not to mention that I was sure the girls were really turned off by all this attention.

So we spent a lot of the flight together, chatting about our lives and travels. We also shared a love of writing poetry. I was really beginning to like this flight!

Landing in Greece we were told we had a 3 hour layover. I set out to get a cab and take a spin about Athens. I had been there before but wanted to go back to the Parthenon for a quick photo. Big mistake!

First I had to clear Customs. Arriving from the US and then going through Customs with no baggage caused some concern. But I got out. Grabbing a cab I imparted my intentions to the driver. About an hour later I had a funny feeling and signaled the driver to turn around and head back to the airport.

When I got there and went through Customs all sorts of red flags stood up. I had just gotten to Athens, deplaned with no luggage and one hour later I’m going through Customs to leave Athens. I was grilled in some form of English by the head guy and then cleared when they realized I had US Government orders to catch a flight. These flights were priority flights as there was only one every 8 weeks.

Racing through the airport I arrived at my gate only to find everyone gone! Worse was the fact that I could see my plane slowly taxiing to the departure line! Thinking fast,or not thinking, I sprinted through the emergency exit and onto the tarmac. Racing out toward the plane and flailing my arms while shouting was the only thing I could think of to do, so I did.

Two jeeps with machine guns and soldiers appeared, converging on me in a vee formation. Raising my hands and holding my Orders aloft I pointed at the plane and myself. They finally got it- I had missed my plane.

A tanker truck was produced and I climbed atop it just at the area of the forward hatch to the plane. The hatch was opened and the co-pilot, laughing, reached down and pulled me up. I walked down that aisle to my rear seat amid applause and cheers from 300 amused Americans, some of whom I knew!

Safe aboard we took off and headed South. That night we crossed the Equator by air. Jane sat beside me and later wrote a poem about it- and me. We were becoming pretty friendly- not sexually- just friendly. And it felt really good to be the only guy in 300 that she really would spend time with. Towards the end of the flight we exchanged contact info and she said we would see each other again. Right…

Arriving in Diego Garcia was a very tedious affair. Diego Garcia was run by the British and drug free. I mean it. They even confiscated tee shirts that said Panama Red! They took my photo of a friend named Helen smoking a hash pipe! They were nuts! It was only by carefully shuffling things about that I was able to retain my stash. The entire process took 12 hours inside a sweltering airplane hangar with no food. We kept reminding the Brits that we had won the Revolution and saved them twice from the Germans, but they were unsympathetic to anything we had to say.

Diego Garcia was a strategically located harbor in which to place a Pre Positioned Force. We needed to be able to insert at least one combat Division and all it’s logistical supplies into the Middle East. The down side was that the private companies sent their oldest ships and least qualified personnel there and collected millions for it.

We were anchored on station, about 4 miles from shore in the middle of the most beautiful lagoon. This meant we almost never went to sea. I spent most of my time swimming, running, playing handball against the superstructure and fishing.

Diego Garcia is in the British Indian Ocean Territory where commercial fishing is banned. But fishing for pleasure is not. So we had a great diet of red snapper, shark, octopus, and everything that we could catch. We also had C-5’s landing daily with steaks and lobsters from South America and mail out of the Philippines. A letter from the states took about 9 days to arrive. It was heaven except that there were no women!

In the evenings I ran through the jungle screaming, coming out by the shore and swimming about ½ mile a day. I also did push ups every mile on the 7 mile run to the airport. I was gaining weight for the first time ever. I was about 146 pounds! I used to tell the Bosun, a mean Cajun fellow from Louisiana who was about 6’3”and 225pounds that when I hit 150 I would kick his ass. Every night when I came back from running I would weigh in. Bosun was always there looking over my shoulder and he always had a cookie for me to help me reach that goal. I am glad I never did!

But Bosun had a separate feud going with Eldridge. And soon it would involve me! As I have stated previously, Eldridge was 1/8 black, or Octoroon, making him legally white. Bosun, who was also from Louisiana was ¼ black, making him a Negro. No kidding, this was law in Louisiana when they were kids growing up. Although it meant nothing to me, it meant a great deal to them.

Realizing how close Eldridge and I were infuriated Bosun. He would never tangle with Eldridge as they were both of equal size and strength. But one day things came to a head.

Bosun had tasked me with a garbage detail. It was not mine to do but I didn’t care and went to do it. Eldridge saw this and was infuriated. Approaching Bosun he demanded that I be relieved of this duty. Words were exchanged and they parted. A few minutes later Bosun approached me with a length of timber and said, “Here, hold this.” As soon as I took the timber Bosun hauled back to punch my lights out! Quickly I stepped to the side and back. With a quick movement I landed the timber on his feet and took off. This man could kill me with one punch! I went to the Captain to report the incident. He asked me if Bosun had “connected” with the punch. When I said he hadn’t the Captain said- “Well then, no harm done.” Infuriated at this I picked up a paper weight and swung at him with it. He flinched before starting to yell at me about assault and filing charges on me. I smiled as I said, “What’s the problem? I didn’t connect.” I was thrown out of his cabin but count it as a victory. A truce was arranged between Bosun and I by Eldridge.

The Jupiter was not an oil tanker like I was used to. It was a Roll on/Roll Off vessel used to carry and transport vehicles like cars etc. We carried tanks, jeeps, cherry pickers and all things military. And accidents happen. And when they do I have found that your enemy will sometimes come to your aid faster than a friend.

It was about 3 in the morning when I slammed a hatch on my hand and the pain was unbearable. I was sure to lose a nail or two- but the pulsing pain was really a problem. Bosun saw me walking the deck and asked me to come to his cabin. Taking a pin he heated it up with his lighter and then twirling it like a drill bit he bored through my nail, releasing the pressure. I have to admit that I didn’t trust him, but I was in such pain that I would have tried anything.



Around this time there were pirates in the Indian Ocean as well as the Straits by the Phillipine Islands. Just like today. These were the only times we went to sea; looking for pirates. Several years ago I wrote a short piece about this. If you will excuse some redundancy I will reprint it here and then pick up the narrative.

Her Majesties Law

Back in 1981, the summer to be exact, I was stationed in the Indian Ocean as part of the US Naval Logistical Supply Force in Diego Garcia. It was there that I first observed those characteristics so unique to the English; the “stiff upper lip”, and “never say die” etc. for which they are known the world over.

I tell the tale with some trepidation, in that over the years since these events occurred, I have, at the urging of family and assorted friends alike, told and retold the story; and as the old adage notes- All tales get better with time and the re-telling.

And so it is with this; that I may have inadvertently created the classic yarn- a “sea story” if you will-without ever having meant to do so. For in my mind this is the story exactly as it happened.

One of our collateral duties that summer of 1981, as support to the British Governor of Diego Garcia, Lt Cdr Wells of Her Majesties Royal Police, was to go out on pirate patrol every two weeks and scour the seas and neighboring islands in the archipelago for gun runners and drug smugglers. Our story concerns the gun runners.

Diego Garcia is the main island in an archipelago in the Indian Ocean. It is located 900 miles from Madagascar off East Africa, several thousand miles west of the Philippines, roughly 1200 miles from Sri Lanka to the North, and of course to the South by thousands of miles is the Antarctic.

Now Diego Garcia is literally a speck in the midst of the great vastness of the Indian Ocean. It is horseshoe shaped, and at 34 miles long with its’ widest point one quarter of a mile, it is not very large at all.

Our closest neighbor was some 60 miles to the Northeast, a sister island, considerably smaller, named Peros Banhos. While Diego Garcia had been used by the French as a coconut plantation up until World War II, when it became an outpost manned by India under the auspices of the British; Peros Banhos had never been anything but what it was- a volcanic eruption in the midst of nowhere-destined for nothing.

Now our story begins with the Governor of Diego Garcia, the aforementioned LtCdr Wells of the Royal Police. A short (4’11”) knock kneed man who wore khaki shorts and knee socks, Lt Cdr Wells was known, despite his appearance, as a tough man. We were about to find out just how tough.

As I said before, we were tasked on the USNS Jupiter with the twice monthly blessing/curse of conducting pirate patrol to the Northeast at Peros Banhos and as far East as the Philippines. I say cursed/blessed to make clear the point that while no one really enjoyed all the work involved in “getting underway”, we were quite glad to be going anywhere at all, as we were officially “on station”, welded to our anchorage in the lagoon at Diego Garcia as part of the Rapid Deployment Force for instant insertion in the Middle East in the event of another crisis on the order of the taking of the US Embassy in Tehran in 1978.

Sometime in July 1981 we received word from aerial reconnaissance that there were people on Peros Banhos and we were sent to investigate.

The 28,000 ton Jupiter was gotten underway with all the usual stress/strain attendant to such an endeavor, for the 60 mile journey to Peros Banhos. Once there, we put the engines on standby and lowered the 40’ utility boat away. We headed toward the island with Lt Cdr Wells attired as usual in his khaki shorts, knee socks and combat boots.

We had intended to go as close in as possible with the 40’ boat and use the Zodiac raft we had trailed behind us should it become necessary to cross over shoals or coral. We never got the chance however, for just as we were about 15 feet off the beach, at that point in these islands where one can stand thigh high in the water, where small shark play and feed, we observed ashore, a man startled by our arrival, jump up and race away into the jungle growth. He was carrying an automatic rifle, what looked to be an AK-47.

Now make no mistake about it, we were well armed ourselves, with several M14’s and 16’s. In addition we each carried a .45 caliber automatic and plenty of spare clips.

My clearest memory at this point is of LtCdr Wells jumping out of the boat and into the water, running through the maze of startled shark and fish alike, toward the shore, shouting at the very top of his lungs, “Halt! In the name of Her Majesty the Queen!” The man paid no attention to this and lit out for the jungle with no hesitation whatsoever. LtCdr Wells was off and running.

I looked at Joe Cardinute, the bow hook, and he at Jeff Kindle, the boat officer, who looked back at me in incredulity. Should we be following the unarmed Lt Cdr Wells into the jungle in pursuit of the armed man, who had by now surely warned his compatriots and who was now undoubtedly waiting in ambush?

It is with a modicum of shame that I report to you that we did not follow Lt Cdr Wells into the maelstrom. I did, however, gain the courage to shout after his retreating form, “Cdr Wells-You are unarmed!” Never breaking stride he looked back and fixing me with a contemptuous glare replied- “Williams- I am armed- with Her Majesties Law!”

More incredulous looks passed between us still on the boat as Lt Cdr Wells disappeared into the jungle, and as afar as we could tell- to his certain death.

We sat- quietly rocking in the boat, as the waves lapped at the sides, waiting for what we felt was the inevitable eruption of gunfire. We were fully prepared to get underway if necessary and beat back to ship at a moments notice.

Fifteen quiet minutes passed; minutes with no sound save that of the waves licking our hull. We were now completely puzzled, 3 Americans, all young and full of piss and vinegar-who on any other occasion would have no qualms about getting into a fight-ANY fight, yet here we sat-armed to the teeth-immobilized as we waited for this ugly scene to play itself out; when out of the jungles edge came a single file of 6 men, hands clasped behind their heads, eyes lowered and looking as if the principal had just caught them smoking in the bathroom.

Behind them marched Lt Cdr Wells, 5 riles slung every which way on his small frame, casually holding the sixth rifle in one hand, pointed at the sky. His calm expression gave way to a boyish grin when he saw us-in the exact same position as when he had left.

No one spoke a word as we loaded the prisoners into the 40 footer for the return to the Jupiter; with the exception of Lt Cdr Wells, who, regarding me with a bemused look said “Williams, I told you I was armed!”

End of her Majesties Law

By November my contract was up and I flew back to the States. We arrived at Newark Airport at 5:30 in the morning. Customs was there to greet us but we had nothing to declare. Diego Garcia was considered isolation duty so Customs was a mere formality.

As I stepped out of the terminal Bosun Browning approached me and asked me to watch his bags. He went to the bathroom. Quickly I took his bags and threw them into a waiting cab. Handing the driver a $50 bill I said, “Here, take these and I don’t care what you do with them!” I grabbed the next cab in line and headed to Brooklyn.

It was 6:30 AM by this time but still too early to wake Mark and Lois so I checked into a hotel in Sheepshead Bay. I was freezing! I had gotten so used to the warm weather that anything below 70 degrees chilled me. It was 28 degrees outside!

I stayed with Mark and Lois for a few days and then headed South to see friends in Florida. But they were having mild weather so I headed West to see my cousin Mary Ellen and her Dad, my Uncle Roy in San Diego. He was a retired navy Captain. I stayed with Mary Ellen and we went down to Tijuana and shopped abit. I really liked a little leather jacket and was getting set to pay for it when Mary Ellen stopped me. Looking at the man who owned the place she indicated that we were newly weds and rubbing her tummy indicated we were expecting! This cut the price by about a third!

From San Diego I went to visit Joey Hickeys old girlfriend Debbie in L.A. where she was living with the guy she would eventually marry. After a week there I flew back to New York and stayed with Mark and Lois for a couple of weeks.

My plans had been to get enough sea time to enable me to sit for the Coast Guards Third mate Exam. This license would allow me to serve as Third Officer on any ship, any tonnage and in any ocean. I was going to brush up my navigation skills at Captain Ellisons’ Baltimore School of Navigation, located on Commerce Street across from the Customs House in Baltimore. It was also down the street from Baltimore's famous “block.” This was the remnant of a once bustling Vaudeville and Burlesque district.

On January 11th I left New York for Baltimore and the next step in my journey.