The Memories Behind Me

I used to work right here.
Or at the plot table in the rear.
It was a feeling held so dear,
which I somehow still recall....

In the recesses of my mind,
there are places where you'll find-
the memories left behind,
are not that far at all...

It's Only Me- Chapter 17- USS Milwaukee

My transfer from Neosho was a low key affair. The Milwaukee was moored 2 piers down from Neosho at Norfolk Naval Station. So on a rainy and cold April day I shouldered my seabags and walked to the Milwaukee. This would be my home for the next 2 and a half years.

If I thought the Neosho was big at 28,000 tons displacement, then the Milwaukee was huge. She carried 7 million gallons of fuel compared with the Neoshos 5 million gallons. Her draft was 36 feet fully loaded. With a beam of 98 feet and a length over 800 feet long she was a behemoth!

She was also a lot newer than Neosho which was built in 1952. On Neosho it was not uncommon to wake up with something scurrying across your chest or crawling up your arm. The Milwaukee by comparison was launched in 1969 in Newport, Rhode Island and was clean as a whistle.

The Captain was a “maverick”. That is someone who joined as enlisted and went on to become an officer. It was quite a feat and the crew loved him. This was Captain Hawkins. He knew every ones name and every ones job assignments. He had an open door policy and encouraged the crew in circumventing the Chain of Command in order to get things done.

She was a hard working ship, never pausing too long before heading back to sea and more assignments. She also dispensed food and ammunition along with all the same fuels that we handled on Neosho. It was clear that we would never go hungry. And that we would always be busy!

We had a sponsor in the Milwaukee Beer Company. They provided us with a supply of beer for recreational use when the ship threw parties ashore. Our engines were painted with the Milwaukee Beer emblem as were the sides of our 2 helicopters. We carried 2 CH-46 Seahawks and housed them in a hangar on our aft helo deck. This was also an area where the crew hung out at sea, playing basketball and Frisbee. It was rumored that you could track us simply by following the trail of Frisbees and basketballs that had gone overboard at various times. Hey, it’s hard to make a free throw while the ship is rolling.

I was assigned again to a deck Division. I stood watches and did maintenance. I was beginning to realize that I should have taken a school.

When you first come aboard any ship you are assigned things like a lifeboat, a duty station, a cleaning task, etc. My first UnRep (Underway replenishment) station was on the flight deck as a "Cargo Hooker." This involves attaching a 6 foot lightweight plastic pole to a cargo net that is filled with supplies. These supplies can range from ammunition to food or clothing. You stand in the center of the helo deck and when the chopper is about 5 feet over your head (an awe inspiring experience to be sure!) you "hook' the pole to the bottom of the helo and away she goes.

I was preparing to go on deck when an old Chief petty Officer handed me a steel shackle and said, "Here kid, better take one of these so you don't get blown overboard." He was joking so I put the shackle down and stepped out onto the helo deck. Here comes the first chopper. It gets about 10 feet over me and the downward force of wind from the rotors has me reeling like a drunk! I get the cargo hooked and run back into the hangar. Finding 2 15 pound shackles I attached them to my inflatable life vest, one on each side near my waist. I would never go out there again without my 30 extra pounds! That old Chief may have been kidding me but the shackles were a great help.

One day while standing watch on the bridge I noticed the Quartermaster laying out the ships course to Spain. He was using a pair of dividers and walking them across the chart laying out our PIM. (Plan of Intended Movement) I was struck then and there as if by lightning. This is what I wanted to do. Navigate.

I approached the Quartermaster who smiled and said- “Oh yeah, well take this copy of Bowditch and when you’re done you can ask for the courses to take the test.” Sounds really simple. But let’s explore the offer.

Bowditch was written by Nathaniel Bowditch in the 1700’s and is comprised of everything known about Navigation since the Egyptians and even includes Navigation in Space. It is also a very math oriented subject. Now I had graduated High School with only a General Diploma due to not having had the required 4th year of math. So I had to set about learning trigonometry and logarithms if I wanted to do this.

I went to the training officer who did all he could to discourage me. I put a request in through the Executive Officer, LtCdr. Martin, who flatly refused me based on my having been busted for grass and also having done 3 days bread and water for an Unauthorized Absence while aboard Neosho. So I took things in my own hands and set about to become a Quartermaster.

In the Armed Forces you can request any courses you want from The Naval Education Training Command in Washington. They send you the study materials and the tests. When the tests are done you mail them in and they grade you. If you pass they send the Notification to your ship and the Captain. This puts him in an awkward position. If he has an opening in that field he must use you or explain to the Commodore why he is going to the extra expense of having someone else assigned and transferred to his ship to do the job when there is already a qualified person aboard. So it was full steam ahead.

This was also around the time that I became known as “Willie”. Everyone in the service gets a nickname. Mine was merely a shortening of my last name. But it was bestowed on me due to my demeanor while on the helm. Casual is the best description. I usually had one hand on the wires overhead and assumed a somewhat slumped posture while steering- as if this was all pretty routine. Like Tugboat Willie.
I passed my course with Excellents and Superiors. I think my lowest score was a High Average. So against their better judgement Cdr Martin and Captain Hawkins were forced to let me become a “striker” for QM3. It was a rank that I would hold and lose several times before my enlistment was over. But my overall responsibilities continued to grow, even when I was demoted.

I loved “star time” which is the time around dawn and again at dusk when you take sightings with a sextant and use the resulting lines of position to correct or at least monitor the error in your electronic gear. This was before Navigation satellites and GPS systems. We had Loran and Omega systems- they were good but were frequently affected by the weather. At times like that we would steam based on a dead reckoning position which theoretically is alright but does not account for the set and drift factors caused by the wind on the surface and the currents below. So it was an art as well as a science.

I became quite good at the sextant as well as the electronics. One time we had steamed 4 days in the Med without a star fix or sunline. We were pretty sure of where we were but needed to prove it. Dennis Laglands and I cranked out the radar to something like 80 miles and picked up a Cape. Consulting the chart we drew a line of postion from that Cape to our assumed Dead Reckoning position and were with in 5 miles! Not bad considering that we had been taking educated guesses at the set and drift of the last several days.

Late in November of 1978 we got word that we would have 2 weeks in the port of Valencia, Spain. This is a city on the East coast of Spain, very cosmoplitan and with several Universities located there. There was a music district with nightclubs and coffee bars. There was hashish available everywhere and we lost no time in making friends with the local college crowd.

We were, as I've said, scheduled for 2 weeks of uninterrupted bliss in this great town for the Christmas and New years holidays. But in the Navy things can change quickly. One night we were out drinking and carousing about when the Shore Patrol came around and ordered everyone back to the ship. It was the 23rd of December and some Admiral wanted us to head out to sea immediatley to re-fuel some ships the next day- Christmas Eve! Having no say in this matter we headed back in drunken groups and in spite of our intoxication we got the Old Milwaukee to sea and made the rendezvous the next afternoon.

We worked until about 11 PM that night, grumbling, as all good sailors do. At about 11:30 PM we heard an announcement on the 1 MC that really shocked us. I don't believe it has ever been repeated on any other ships. "All hands lay to the Mess decks for Holiday Spirits." Captain Hawkins had instructed the Medical Officer to bring all the ships medicinal brandy to the Mess Deck and give everyone a shot. We eagerly complied and when we were done I don't believe that there was any brandy left aboard! What made this so remarkable is the fact that consuming alcohol aboard a Naval vessel is illegal. This could have had bad repurcussions for the Captain. But this was his way of acknowledging our hard work and saying Merry Christmas. I don't think any of us have ever forgotten it.

It was not the first time that the Captain had "bent" the rules. Earlier in the year, about 200 miles off the coast of New Jersey, in the Gulf Stream, we were granted a "swim call." This is so rare that it is easy to find sailors who have been in for 30 years or more who never had the opportunity to swim in the middle of the ocean. We had two 24 foot motor whale boats circling in a designated area around us. They each carried 2 Gunners Mates with M-14's. They were supposed to shoot any sharks that might come around. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that the guns were to shoot anyone that was being attacked by a shark, rather than shooting the shark, which would be almost impossible to do.

I have never been a strong swimmer but I gladly jumped in and it was the most heavenly feeling to have the "motion of the ocean" buffeting you gently in the current. It was also a little scary, knowing that danger did lurk beneath the surface.

Soon we heard the shouts of "Shark!" but it turned out to be a false alarm. It was dolphins that had come to play. Now I don't know about you but at 135 pounds I was not an appropriate playmate for a dolphin. So when one nudged me, gently I might add, he cracked one of my ribs. I was forced to dog paddle back to the side of the ship and painfully made my way up the cargo net that was strung over the side for us to climb aboard. But I have never held it against the dolphin- after all I was playing in his yard!

In January of 1979 we had a Change of Command and Captain Hawkins was replaced by Captain Page. He immediately closed the door on Captain Hawkins “Open Door Policy.” There was some grumbling but not much we could do about it.

Captain Page was an “airdale” meaning he was a jet pilot. He flew A-6’s and had also been a flight instructor. The day he came aboard we got underway and I was on the bridge at the helm. Captain Page entered the bridge and everyone snapped to attention when “Captain is on the Bridge” was called by the Boatswains Mate. When Captain Page glanced over my shoulder for a look at the compass I turned to him and said, “You’ve got a real ‘can do’ ship here sir. With a real ‘can do’ crew.” I think the candid way in which I spoke with him was a bit of a surprise. He looked at me and said he was glad to hear it.

For the next 2 years and more we would steam across the Atlantic and back 4 times, head down to South America, transit the Panama Canal and visit the Mid East several times. We never missed a single commitment. During that time we were awarded several Unit Citations for Excellence in Engineering and also Sea Service Deployment Ribbons for time spent at sea. We were a hard working crew and consequently we played equally hard.

Our port visits were the stuff they make movies about. We bribed ships agents to load hashish in with the fresh vegetables and smuggled whiskey aboard in great quantities. There were also small group of sailors who would comb the pharmacies in search of Valiums.

A typical liberty would see the crew rushing out to the brothels and bars. I usually hit the grocery stores in search of tea and snack foods. This also gave me a chance to mix with the locals. I carried foreign language dictionaries with me and could have some discourse by pointing out words and the translation in the books. Through this I was usually able to find some smoke without resorting to the really sordid places where you might get more than what you were looking for. But sometimes it was necessary to resort to the bars and the hookers in order to find something. These times were always fraught with peril.

One time we were in Barcelona and had been making a deal down a dark side street. We sensed something wrong and when we turned to go we were faced with about 8 guys slowly coming towards us. There were 3 of us. Realizing that we had been set up we took the dealer down very quickly, keeping the drugs and taking a refund of our money plus whatever else he had on him. Then Ron said he would take the 2 on the left- and Dennis would take care of the right side. I would take the package and head straight for the guy in the middle. Kind of like football.

We ended up breaking through the line and were chased all the way back to the Navy Yard. Liberty expired at 2 AM and it was past that time now and the gates were locked! There was some scaffolding in place on the side of the wall and we scampered up to the top - our friends in hot pursuit. The wall was 30 feet high and there was no scaffolding on the other side. It would have to be a straight drop.

Ron jumped first and then Dennis went. He hung off the wall before dropping, this cut the length of fall by 6 feet. Good idea. So I did the same. I landed on the steel rail of the train tracks and shattered my leg. Our pursuers did not enter the yard. They remained at the top of the wall cursing us in Spanish. If they had eneterd and got caught they would have been shot. It was kind of like “Sanctuary.”

I was fined $100 for having broken my leg and my liberty was restricted for about a month. The rule was that when you got back on board you had to be able to stand on your own, face the after end of the ship and salute the flag. You could not lean on anyone or anything. You had to be upright. I tried but the leg would have none of it and I went down.

Following this cruise we proceeded to the Panama Canal and through it to support the situation in Nicaragua. Like I said, if there was something to be done the brass knew to call the Milwaukee. About this time we were known as the "Mighty" Milwaukee.

In January of 1980 we were berthed in Norfolk at Pier 2. We were "cold iron", which means we were connected to shore power. Typically it takes about 12 hours to prepare a ship like Milwaukee to get underway. We were about to set a speed record.

On the night of January 3rd I was out with Ron and Dennis and Kurt Baker. It was the usual driving around in Ron's AMC looking for girls and smoking pot. We were also doing qualudes and drinking. So we were in "high" spirits as we returned to the ship about 11 PM or so. As we headed down the pier to the gangway we heard the Collision Alarm go off and we thought, "Oh man, someones in trouble for doing that!" As we boarded the ship was rammed by a Malaysian Tanker named Sanko prestige. She had lost power to her steering and left the channel heading straight for us. As a matter of fact she would impact the area just below my berth and as she rode further in tore my bunk clean off! All that was left of my rack was the JP-5 pipe that carried fuel to the helo deck which was located right above our sleeping area. You can see my towel still hanging from the pipe in the picture.

Dennis, Ron and I raced to the bridge. We began to energize all electronic gear and synch in all Navigation Systems. We phoned the Engine Room and the watch down there began to get steam up to the boilers. We weren't sure what orders we would receive, but in the event of fire we needed to be ready to pull out to an anchorage. Carrying 7 million gallons of fuel is no laughing matter. An explosion will take out just about everything for a quarter of a mile in all directions.

Captain Page was called from his home in Virginia Beach and made the half hour trip in about 15 minutes. He was more than pleased with our performance that night. We never did have the fire and so didn't have to pull out- but the point is that we were ready.

The result of this collision was a "yard period" across the river in Hampton Roads. We were scheduled for some major work which was completed in about 3 weeks. At that time we were asked to refuel a task Group across the Atlantic in the Azores. This would turn out to be one of the biggest adventures of my time at sea.

We made the Azores and did some work in the Caribbean on the way back to the US. This was now February of 1980. It was a Wednesday and I believe it was the 6th. I had the Dog watch that afternoon, that is the watch that runs through evening chow and you get relieved for about 30 minutes or so by the oncoming 8-12 so that you can get to eat.

Upon returning from chow I noticed that the barometer had dropped another .02 of an inch for the second hour in a row. Something was brewing along the lines of a low pressure system that would bear watching in the coming hours. I informed the officer of the deck, I believe it was Ensign Tyler that evening- he was a portly, pipe smoking fellow who affected an intellectual air that was mostly a façade. He reacted with a derisive “Hmphh.” This was not all that unusual a response to receive from some of the younger officers. They seemed to look down upon the enlisted as an inferior class of people, lacking the money, or brains, or sometimes both- to get into college and become officers. They never understood that there were people who wanted to enlist, in the ranks, and serve there.

So nothing was done except that I informed the deck officer that heavy weather was approaching and a life line on deck would be a good idea. A 500 foot mooring line was secured to the after and forward bulkheads by means of shackles affixed to padeyes which were welded to the respective bulkheads. For some reason no precautions were taken to secure the ship for heavy seas.

I was relieved by QM3 Baker at 1945 for the 20-2400 watch. Star time was not an issue that evening due to the weather. We were running on Omega and Loran with a dead reckoning tracer as a back up. I entered into the Pass Down the Line log that the barometer had fallen for 2 hours in a row and to be aware of any changes in the sea etc. I left the bridge, and as was the custom of the day, smoked a joint before preparing to shower and retire.

By the time I got back to the after house and the Navigation Division berthing space the ship was being tossed and buffeted by huge swells and violent gusts of wind. The helmsman was a deckhand and the ship was not being handled properly. We were taking a lot of punishment that could have been avoided by having a more experienced man at the helm.

By now, objects all over the ship were being loosed by the storm and there was no way to stop the seeming avalanche of food supplies, crates, forklifts etc that had not been tied down. The 7 million gallons of fuel that we carried started to have its’ own inertial effect upon the handling of the vessel, making it even more unstable. The “Mighty Milwaukee” was taking rolls in excess of her design and the ship would shudder as she laboriously struggled to right herself after each successive roll. Standing was now impossible and most of the men were braced in their “racks” with feet and hands braced against the nearest stanchion or bulkhead, feet dug into the rims of the thin sleeping surfaces that served also as covers to the coffin like clothes compartment that lay beneath each. The coffin like similarities of these lockers were not lost on the men at a time like this.

Lockers were toppling and tables and chairs were being literally pitched as the violence of the storm increased. Most of the crew was now motion sick and those that weren’t were unable to do anything but hang on for the wildest ride any of us had ever been on.

Shortly after 2300 (11 PM) the phone rang and someone told me that the bridge was on the phone. I was told that the Captain was ordering me to the bridge. I went, on the double, expecting that I was about to be chewed out for the storm having taken us by surprise. I started across the deck and made it about 50 feet before turning back and using the cargo deck- which although it had the advantage of being enclosed , had the hazard of forklifts,tools and cargo being tossed and thrown about with considerable violence. Added to this was the possibility of falling into one of the open elevator pits. These were large, seven story deep shafts that were sometimes left open. Tonight , unfortunately, was one of these times. The effect of the ship moving about under me not only prevented me from walking a straight line at this point, but it was now carrying me close to these pits and several times I came near to falling in one. They were located on both the port and starboard sides, increasing this likelihood as I struggled forward.

At the end of this journey on the cargo deck I was faced with 4 interior ladders, steeply angled as compared with a normal stairway, but still an improvement over the exterior ladders which were precisely that, ladders welded to the bulkheads. Unknown to me at this time was that many of these ladders had been torn away by the tons of water crashing against the superstructure.

The bridge was a scene of disaster. There were 22 people in there- way too many. Captain Page was braced in a corner, legs apart and arms against the forward portholes, concerned but very much in command. “Well Willie- what do you think we should do?” Captain Page had been a Pilot– flew A-6’s and also was a flight instructor. With a good sense of humor and a relaxed demeanor among the men, he was a well liked captain and a good leader. He had a hard act to follow, coming on the heels of Captain Hawkins, who had come up from enlisted ranks via the NESEP program, which although not that rare, was quite an accomplishment and the men had idolized him as “one of us.” But Captain Page had more than filled his shoes and it was a ”tight” crew.

My first suggestion was to rid the bridge of as many of the puking , moaning men as possible, placing them in the passageways leading to the bridge itself. Everyone had plastic trash bags to puke in and the stench was beginning to become overpowering.

Standing was impossible at this level, we were hanging on to the overhead and the wire banks and piping that line it. Captain Page ordered me to take the helm.

The compass card was swinging wildly, port to starboard and back again over a field of approximately 180 degrees. We were at the mercy of the sea unless we could stabilize ourselves and begin to make some sort of headway. The Captain then ordered me to steer as necessary to make headway and hold course- I was hanging onto the overhead and steering with my feet- literally counteracting the swells by kicking the helm hard left and hard right.

I then received via the Captain , several course changes prompted by the other officers present on the bridge looking for the course that would give us the “best ride”. Captain Page asked my recommendation and I chose West as that would bring us toward our destination of Norfolk but not put us in shallow waters that could hazard the vessel. I was of the opinion that with 65 foot swells breaking over the bridge and winds of 98 knots (107 mph) with gusts greater than that, there was no course that was going to give a good ride. The Captain ordered me to make it so, which I immediately did.

We spent the next 9 hours or so riding through this maelstrom and upon breaking out of it in the morning and later approaching Virginia Beach, we were greeted by the most dazzling sight- over 12” of snow blanketing the Beach and everything beyond! After the violence of the past 10 hours the contrast was extraordinary and we began to open hatchways and portholes to air the ship out. The crew began to come back to life- restowing all the gear that had been thrown about but not washed overboard. The Officers took toll of the structural damage to the ship- ladders gone, boats torn loose, rigging fouled and ruined.

We moored at D and S Piers on the James River and there my memory fades a bit- we were very tired and I imagine that we cleaned ship and had an early knock off that day.

A week later on the 12th of February we were already back out to sea. We were doing an underway replenishment when Captain Page approached me at the helm with an envelope saying “It’s a little bit late- read it later.”

The remainder of the spring and early summer found us everywhere doing everything. We even played cat and mouse with the Russians off Greece for a week or so.Around this time they were testing the limits of our foreign policy to see how far they could go in provoking us at sea. They were also beginning to become a "blue water" Navy, going out of the Baltic and further into the Med and Pacific. We were not permitted to respond to any of their actions and this was a very hard thing to swallow.

In late July we reported to the Brooklyn Navy Yard for repairs and conversions. It was a real thrill to sail up the Narrows and under the Verazzano Bridge. I had watched that bridge being built and when it opened in November of 1964 my brother and I were the first bicycles over it. When the Milwaukee got to the Brooklyn Bridge we had to cut the mast to pass under. Someone had misjudged our draft.

We entered the Navy Yard and moved into barracks across from the Yard. I stayed with my parents for a few days before finally moving in with Mark and Lois. Their house would continue to be a haven for me over the next several years.

By September I was mustering out and it was especially nice to be getting out in my hometown of Brooklyn, New York. Now it was time to put my experience of the last 4 years into action. I was going to get my Seamans Papers and join the Union. I was going to be a Merchant Marine.

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!

"The Christmas Song" - Mel Torme and Judy Garland (1963)

No Christmas can be complete without this classic, which was written by Mr. Torme when he was just 19 years old. This version is taken from the 1963 Judy Garland Christmas Special. A portion of the following is reposted from last year. The rest I just thunk up…

Everyone knows the version of “The Christmas Song” by Nat King Cole. You might have to jog people’s memories with the first line, “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…..” but for the most part, everybody knows the rest of the song. That’s why I chose this version to post. It’s from a 1963 television special, but it is performed by its composer, the marvelous Mel Torme. And, as if that weren’t enough of an attraction, he is joined by the legendary Judy Garland in delivering one of the most beautiful versions of this iconic song.

This is the time of year to kind of relax and reflect back on where you’ve been and what you’ve done; not to mention where you’ll be next year at this time. One thing’s for sure, you won’t get through the holidays without hearing this song. Some things never change.

Mel Torme was only 19 years old when he wrote this song; others would follow; but had he never written another, it’s almost enough to say that that song alone would have fulfilled his destiny. Enjoy this by the fireside if you can…

________________________________________________

The "New" USS Milwaukee LCS-5

The "new" USS Milwaukee, LCS-5, was launched in Marinette, Wisconsin the other day. This is the 5th vessel to bear the name Milwaukee, beginning with the first Milwaukee in the Civil War. I served as a Quartermaster aboard the 4th USS Milwaukee, AOR-2, a fleet replenishment "oiler" in the 1970's. 

The new ship didn't seem to want to cooperate, taking 10 blows from the champagne bottle swung by Mrs. Leon Panetta, wife of the former Defense Secretary, before sliding down the ways for her first taste of the sea.

For a better video, with some more background about the ship, go to this link, which is a broadcast from Milwaukee about the ship's launch. For some reason it would not load here correctly.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0vAcUevLzhU

Fair winds and following seas to all who will be sailing her!

"Old Sailors Poem" by Larry Dunn RMCM, USN - Ret.

The following poem was sent via e-mail to all of the crew members of the USS Milwaukee, the fleet oiler I served aboard when I was in the Navy. I could think of no more fitting illustration than the one above, which is a comparison of the real life photo used by Norman Rockwell in his iconic drawing.

The poem was written by Chief Dunn and published on the spiritual blog The Chronicle Watch, which is located at http://www.chroniclewatch.com/ and  forwarded to me by Dennis Bieak, an old shipmate from the 1970’s. It was forwarded in caps, so I’m leaving it that way. Something’s in life don’t need to be polished to shine brightly….

Old Sailors Poem by Larry Dunn, RMCM, USN (Ret)

OLD SAILORS SIT AND CHEW THE FAT

ABOUT THINGS THAT USED TO BE,

OF THE THINGS THEY'VE SEEN, THE PLACES THEY'VE BEEN,

WHEN THEY VENTURED OUT TO SEA.

THEY REMEMBERED FRIENDS FROM LONG AGO,

THE TIMES THEY HAD BACK THEN.

THE MONEY THEY SPENT, THE BEER THEY DRANK,

IN THEIR DAYS AS SAILING MEN.

THEIR LIVES ARE LIVED IN DAYS GONE BY,

WITH THOUGHTS THAT FOREVER LAST.

OF BELL BOTTOM BLUES, WINGED WHITE HATS,

AND GOOD TIMES IN THEIR PAST.

THEY RECALL LONG NIGHTS WITH A MOON SO BRIGHT

FAR OUT ON A LONELY SEA.

THE THOUGHTS THEY HAD AS YOUTHFUL LADS,

WHEN THEIR LIVES WERE WILD AND FREE.

THEY KNEW SO WELL HOW THEIR HEARTS WOULD SWELL

WHEN OLD GLORY FLUTTERED PROUD AND FREE.

THE UNDERWAY PENNANT SUCH A BEAUTIFUL SIGHT

AS THEY PLOWED THROUGH AN ANGRY SEA.

THEY TALKED OF THE CHOW OL' COOKIE WOULD MAKE

AND THE SHRILL OF THE BOS UN'S PIPE.

HOW SALT SPRAY WOULD FALL LIKE SPARKS FROM HELL

WHEN A STORM STRUCK IN THE NIGHT.

THEY REMEMBER OLD SHIPMATES ALREADY GONE

WHO FOREVER HOLD A SPOT IN THEIR HEART,

WHEN SAILORS WERE BOLD, AND FRIENDSHIPS WOULD HOLD,

UNTIL DEATH RIPPED THEM APART.

THEY SPEAK OF NIGHTS IN PIG ALLEY AND GUT

ON MANY A FOREIGN SHORE,

OF THE BEER THEY'D DOWN AS GATHERING AROUND,

TELLING JOKES AND SEA STORIES GALORE.

THEIR SAILING DAYS ARE GONE AWAY,

NEVER AGAIN WILL THEY CROSS THE BROW.

THEY HAVE NO REGRETS, THEY KNOW THEY ARE BLESSED,

FOR HONORING A SACRED VOW.

THEIR NUMBERS GROW LESS WITH EACH PASSING DAY

AS THE FINAL MUSTER BEGINS,

THERE'S NOTHING TO LOSE, ALL HAVE PAID DUES,

AND THEY'LL SAIL WITH SHIPMATES AGAIN.

I'VE HEARD THEM SAY BEFORE GETTING UNDERWAY

THAT THERE'S STILL SOME SAILING TO DO,

THEY'LL SAY WITH A GRIN THAT THEIR SHIP HAS COME IN

AND THE GOOD LORD NEEDS A GOOD CREW.

The Matchbox Fleet

The following was forwarded by Edward Rothbacker, a crewmember who served on the USS Milwaukee a few years before I did. Ed is also the driving force behind Pianos for Patriots, a group which provides free music lessons for the children of soldiers currently deployed. You may contact him at;

https://www.facebook.com/Piano4Patriots

The Matchbox Fleet

79-year-old Phil Warren from the UK spent 62 years to build this incredible fleet of 432 ships. All vessels are built entirely of matchsticks and boxes of wooden matches. The collection includes nearly 370 American and 60 British ships.

Although now 79 years of age, he began creating his first boat in 1948, when he was only 17. He uses a razor blade, tweezers and sandpaper to carve the pieces and boxes, then assembles them with balsa wood glue. In total more than 650,000 matchsticks are used to create an amazing collection of 1:300 scale models. He has even added 1,200 aircraft, which give an ​​even more realistic appearance to the decks of the aircraft carriers.

The Fleet Is In.

The Subs are running a screening pattern.

And all of the aircrft are ready for launch.

Here is the Admiral reviewing the fleet.

And this is Mr. Warren at work on one his ships.

Veteran's Day - Storm Off Cape Hatteras

I have posted this story here before. I'm posting it again today for Veteran's Day in order to illustrate just how precarious a "normal" peacetime day can be. Now, think about that when you watch the news, and see our troops, in actual combat, around the world today. Although the issues are complex, and some may not agree with the current policies for which we fight, these men, and women, are serving in a way I never had to. All I had was this storm, but it's my storm. I just want to share it as a way of honoring all my fellow Veterans. Each and every one of you has a story to tell. Whether or not you fought in a war, or just fought a storm at sea, your service made a difference. Thanks, and Happy Veterans Day!

We were steaming off the coast of the US heading back from operations in the Caribbean on the USS Milwaukee at the time the following occurred in February 1980. It was a Wednesday and I believe it was the 6th. I had the Dog watch that afternoon, which is the watch that runs through evening chow, so that you get relieved for about 30 minutes or so by the oncoming 8-12 watch in order to eat.

Upon returning from chow I noticed that the barometer had dropped another .02 of an inch for the second hour in a row. Something was brewing along the lines of a low pressure system that would bear watching in the coming hours. I informed the officer of the deck; I believe it was Ensign Tyler that evening; that heavy weather was approaching and a life line on deck would be a good idea. A 500 foot mooring line was secured to the after and forward bulkheads by means of shackles affixed to pad eyes which were welded to the respective bulkheads. For some reason no precautions were taken to secure the ship's cargo and equipment for heavy seas.

I was relieved by QM3 Baker at 1945 for the 20-2400 watch. "Star" time was not an issue that evening due to the weather. We were running on Omega and Loran with a dead reckoning tracer as a back up. I entered into the Pass Down the Line log that the barometer had fallen for 2 hours in a row and to be aware of any changes in the sea etc. I then left the bridge.

By the time I got back to the after house, and the Navigation Division berthing space, the ship was being tossed and buffeted by huge swells and violent gusts of wind. The helmsman was a deckhand and the ship was not being handled properly. We were taking a lot of punishment that could have been avoided by having a more experienced man on the helm.

By now, objects all over the ship were being loosed by the storm and there was no way to stop the seeming avalanche of food supplies, crates, forklifts etc that had not been tied down. The 7 million gallons of fuel that we carried started to have its own inertial effect upon the handling of the vessel, making it even more unstable. The “Mighty Milwaukee” was taking rolls in excess of her design and the ship would shudder as she laboriously struggled to right herself after each successive roll. Standing was now impossible and most of the men were braced in their “racks”, with hands held tightly against the nearest stanchion or bulkhead, and feet dug into the rims of the thin sleeping surfaces that served also as covers to the coffin like clothes compartment that lay beneath each. The coffin like similarities of these "lockers" were not lost on the men at a time like this.

Lockers were toppling and tables and chairs were being literally pitched as the violence of the storm increased. Most of the crew was now motion sick, and those that weren’t were unable to do anything but hang on for the wildest ride any of us had ever been on.

Shortly after 2300 (11 PM) the phone rang and someone told me that the bridge was on the phone. I was told that the Captain was ordering me to the bridge. I went, on the double, expecting that I was about to be chewed out for the storm having taken us by surprise. I started across the deck and made it about 50 feet before turning back and using the cargo deck; which although it had the advantage of being enclosed; had the hazard of forklifts, tools and cargo being tossed and thrown about with considerable violence. Added to this was the possibility of falling into one of the open elevator pits. These were large, seven story deep shafts, which were sometimes left open. Tonight, unfortunately, was one of those times. The effect of the ship moving about under me not only prevented me from walking in a straight line at this point, but it was now carrying me close to these pits and several times I came near to falling in one, or another. They were located on both the port and starboard sides, increasing this likelihood as I struggled forward.

At the end of this journey on the cargo deck I was faced with 4 interior ladders, steeply angled as compared with a normal stairway, but still an improvement over the exterior ladders, which were precisely that, ladders welded to the bulkheads. Unknown to me at this time, was that many of these ladders had been torn away by the tons of water crashing against the superstructure.

The bridge was a scene of disaster. There were 22 people in there- way too many. Captain Page was braced in a corner, legs apart and arms against the forward portholes, concerned, but very much in command. “Well Willie, what do you think we should do?”, or something to that effect. Captain Page had been a Pilot, he flew A-6’s and was also a flight instructor. With a good sense of humor and a relaxed demeanor among the men, he was a well liked Captain and a good leader. He had a hard act to follow, coming on the heels of our former skipper, Captain Hawkins, who had come up from the enlisted ranks via the NESEP program, which although not that rare, was quite an accomplishment, and the men had idolized him as “one of us.” But Captain Page had more than filled his shoes, and it was a ”tight” crew.

My first suggestion was to rid the bridge of as many of the puking, moaning men as possible, placing them in the passageways leading to the bridge itself. Everyone had plastic trash bags to puke in and the stench was beginning to become overpowering.

Standing was impossible at this level. We were hanging on to the overhead and the wire banks and piping that line it. Captain Page ordered me to take the helm.

The compass card was swinging wildly, port to starboard and back again over a field of approximately 180 degrees. We were at the mercy of the sea unless we could stabilize ourselves and begin to make some sort of headway. The Captain then ordered me to steer as necessary and hold course. I was hanging onto the overhead and steering with my feet- literally counteracting the swells by kicking the helm hard left and hard right.

I then received, via the Captain, several course changes prompted by the other officers present on the bridge looking for the course that would give us the “best ride”. Captain Page asked my recommendation and I chose West as that would bring us toward our destination of Norfolk but not put us in shallow waters that could hazard the vessel. I was of the opinion that with 65 foot swells breaking over the bridge, and winds of 98 knots, with gusts greater than that, there was no course which was going to give us a "good" ride. Remaining upright was the chief concern of all. The Captain ordered me to make it so, which I immediately did.

We spent the next 9 hours or so riding through this maelstrom and upon breaking out of it in the morning and later approaching Virginia Beach, we were greeted by the most dazzling sight; over 12” of snow blanketing the Beach and everything beyond! After the violence of the past 10 hours the contrast was extraordinary and we began to open hatchways and portholes to air the ship out. The crew began to come back to life, re-stowing all the gear that had been thrown about but not washed overboard. The Officers took toll of the structural damage to the ship; the ladders gone, boats torn loose, and rigging fouled and ruined.

We moored at the "D and S" Piers on the James River, in the Naval Station at Norfolk, and there my memory fades a bit. We were all very tired and I imagine that we cleaned ship and had an early knock off that day.

A week later on the 12th of February we were back out at sea, headed to the Azores to bring a load of fuel to the Task Group operating there. We were doing an underway replenishment when Captain Page approached me at the helm with an envelope saying “It’s a little bit late, read it later.”

It burned a hole in my pocket for several hours until I was able to leave the wheel and read it; you have to remember that Captains do not often slip notes to their crewmembers; The note, which I still have; it hangs on the wall of my TV room; says the following;


It was,and remains, I think, one of the proudest moments of my life.

The Ghost Fleets

This is one of the "Ghost Fleets" which are scattered about the United States. They consist of older naval ships in need of extensive repair, and in some cases, modernization of the operating systems aboard them. My old ship, the USS Milwaukee, was part of the ghost fleet in the James River until it was sold for scrap and dismantled about 2 years ago.

The Ghost Fleet pictured above, which is administered by the U.S. Maritime Administration, sits off Fort Eustis in Newport News, Virginia, right across from the Norfolk Naval Station, which is where the USS Milwaukee was homeported during my time aboard her. It was begun in 1919, after the hostilities of the First World War were over, and the troops shipped home. With so many ships idled there was nothing else to do but "mothball" them for future use, or sale as scrap. Some of those ships were used in the earliest days of the Second World War, when the United States was supplying the British with the materials of war under the "Lend Lease Act." We were actually buying time until we could build newer ships of our own to ferry men and supplies to Europe. England, with the aid of the Ghost Fleet, bought us that time.

By the end of World War Two, when the problem of too many ships presented itself once again, the Ghost Fleet numbered well over 700 ships. And that was just in Virginia! There were other Ghost Fleets, most memorably for me the one near Philadelphia, which my parents took us to see when I was about 10 years old.

During the Korean War some of the ships were actually used in atomic bomb testing in the Pacific. Others were used for target practice, which, once sunk, were turned into artificial reefs. Some of the other vessels were sold for scrap, while in 1964, 120 of the old Liberty Ships became "silos" for the surplus wheat our government had bought as a means of price control.

When Vietnam became a major conflict some of the older ships were pressed back into service for a bit before being sold off. By the end of the war there were only about 300 ships left. Today there are only 23 of these vessels left, nested together in groups of 2 and 3. Since 2001, more than 800 ships have been sold to keep pace with the goal of getting rid of the ones that leaked, or were about to start leaking, oil and PCB's into the James River. Obviously, that goal has been met.

I'm not sure how I feel about the demise of the Ghost Fleets. The past is always present, and history repeats itself much too often for my tastes. If it were up to me these ships would have remained in place, with appropriate maintenance to ensure their avalability in the future, should the need arise. But then again, there are "experts" who know more about this than I. I just read a lot of history. And of course, I'm not that objective, I just really loved those old ships.

Photo coutesy of kitsune @

http://www.kitsune.addr.com/

Pianos for Patriots

Pianos for Patriots is an organization just recently founded by a crewmember from my old ship the USS Milwaukee. Ed Rothacker, an accomplished pianist himself, is teaching piano, for free, to as many children of deployed service members as he can handle. He then recruits them, and others, to teach another kid for free. He's working with his VFW Post, the USO and Congressman Steve Stivers office. He is also asking for donations of musical instruments from various sources. So far, with limited coverage, they are doing suprisingly well!

Ed has filed for incorporation and 501C3 status this week. The above logo was produced by Rick Isbell who works in The Office of Veterans Affairs for the Mayor, City of Columbus.

Eventually there will be a website where families and teachers can request to participate in the program. There will also be a link for donations of musical instruments, music store gift cards and cash. (This might still be a number of months down the road.)In the meantime, you can e-mail Ed with any ideas, or help, at;

edrothacker@sbcglobal.net or, you can contact him by phone at the following numbers;

614-876-9606 (Home) or at 614-325-8680 (Cell)

Thanks Ed, for spreading the gift of music! It's one of the few things which unite us all.

Fred D. Haynes - USS Milwaukee CL-5

Fred D. Haynes, a crewmember on the old USS Milwaukee, CL-5, passed away last week, reminding me of how little I know concerning the earlier incarnation of the vessel I served aboard in the 1970's. This article is dedicated to Fred D. Haynes, as well as all of those who sailed that Milwaukee, long before I was even dreaming of going to sea. Fred, this is for you.

Before there was a USS Milwaukee AOR-2, aboard which I served in the 1970's, there was an earlier USS Milwaukee, a light cruiser desiginated as CL-5. A trim and highly maneuverable class of vessels, she was designed for early escort work of the type that would become instrumental in winning the 2nd World War.

The USS Milwaukee has taken on several different incarnations over the years. Milwaukee CL-5 was the 4th ship to bear the name. The CL-5 was laid in Seattle in 1918, launched in 1921 and commissioned in 1923.

The ship then did shakedown cruises and was eventually fitted with the newest sonar gear. She then traversed the Pacific for several years while gathering data about the seafloor, The Milwaukee Seamounts in the Northern Pacific are named for her.

During the 1930's the USS Milwaukee was on duty mainly in the Pacific and would go on a "show of force" voyage to the far east. She was back by January of 1939 and transferred to the Caribbean where, on February 14th, 1939 she located the "Milwaukee Deep", the deepest area of the Atlantic Ocean, 85 miles North of Puerto Rico and having a depth of about 29,000 feet. This "deep" is part of the larger Puerto Rico Trench.

When World War Two broke out the USS Milwaukee transited the Panama Canal and escorted 8 troop transports to the Society Islands in December 1941. By March,1942 she was back in the Atlantic, steaming up and down the coast of South America. For the next 2 years she would ply the waters between Brazil and Africa.

On May 19, 1942 Milwaukee received an SOS from the SS Commandante Lyra, and went to the aid of the Brazilian ship, which had been torpedoed. When she Milwaukee arrived on scene, the ship had been abandoned. The Milwaukee rescued 25 survivors that day.

Late in the war she was briefly transferred to the Russian Navy and renamed the Murmansk. She did escort duty with the Russians and after the war served as a training ship until 1949, when she was returned to the United States Navy. She entered the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard in March of 1949, and sold for scrap in December 1949 to American Shipbreakers, Inc. of Wilmington, DE.

There would be another USS Milwaukee, a fleet oiler, used for replenishment of other ships at sea. I am proud to have served aboard her. And equally proud of the heritage borne by the ship's name.

This Little Pin - Veterans Day

Happy Veterans Day to all who have served, in times of War, as well as in times of Peace. There are no "good" wars. But there are "just" wars, in which man is pitted against his fellows for a good cause, usually by those who will never have to serve.

So, this little pin represents, not only the 4 years that it took me to earn it, but it represents all of the sacrifices made by the many, over the years, in defense of something greater than themselves. Today is their day.

Thank you.

A Milwaukee Memory from Albert Springer

This is a post from the Milwaukee google group of which I am a member. There are many exciting things posted there from time to time. There are great stories of storms at sea, the ship's part in carrying supplies to Vietnam, bringing King Tut's mummy to the United States, and of course, the everyday tensions that occur aboard any ship. But this one, sent in by A. Springer, a Boatswain's Mate from the ship's first days at sea in 1969, was so low key in it's delivery, that I thought I would print it here. It is an unusually matter of fact account in the life of a ship, and a sailor, over the course of a few months. And it's living proof that you don't have to be a professional writer to convey a slice of life in an accurate and engaging fashion.

From: uss-milwaukee-aor-2@googlegroups.com [mailto:uss-milwaukee-aor-2@googlegroups.com] On Behalf Of Albert Springer
Sent: Thursday, August 12, 2010 8:48 AM
To: uss-milwaukee-aor-2@googlegroups.com
Subject: Boston Yards.

It was 1970 when the Millwaukee returned from Gitmo Cuba and she docked back in Rhode Island base and unloaded all Munitions to that little island in the river. The next day we sailed to Boston and entered the Charlestown Naval yards for repairs. We docked about 3 piers over from the Constitution because one had to walk right by it to leave the base. Then there was the Jarheads and they had a bar with happy hour every afterrnoon about 4pm. Them guys and their little station at the gate would screach you comeing and going even if you just went to the YMCA across the street from the base. The Milwaukee stayed at the yards there untill around August and when she was fit for sea trails we left for a day test after we left the pier they set the watch and i had the helm from around 8 am to 2 pm i know it was a stright 6 hours because the captain didnt want to bother changeing the watch for 2 hours. The USS Kennedy was setting in the South Boston Yards when we left ,and when we were comeing back that day of test run, we meet the Kennedy comeing from the harbor. She was sailing for Veit Nam and her deck had over 100 planes on it, iTHINK we had to man the rail for her passing too. After we passed the lighthouse at the end of the harbor the QM took the helm and i was relieved of duty thank god my legs were killing me. It was the ONLY time i ever stood the helm watch in the daytime, i had the helm watch many a night from 12 to 4 (The MID ) and i think that was because i must have pissed off BM/1st class Lawya once. After the ship was said to be fit and seaworty she then headed to the Med her first time. But she left without me. i got send to the south Antics In Boston where i got my Honable discharge a few months later.

A. Springer SM1 BM.Deck second division. Uss Milwaukee 69 -70

From the Vault - A Sea Story - Storm Off Cape Hatteras

We were steaming off the coast of the US heading back from operations in the Carribean on the USS Milwaukee at the time the following occurred in February 1980. It was a Wednesday and I believe it was the 6th. I had the Dog watch that afternoon, that is the watch that runs through evening chow and you get relieved for about 30 minutes or so by the oncoming 8-12 so that you can get to eat.

Upon returning from chow I noticed that the barometer had dropped another .02 of an inch for the second hour in a row. Something was brewing along the lines of a low pressure system that would bear watching in the coming hours. I informed the officer of the deck, I believe it was Ensign Tyler that evening- he was a portly, pipe smoking fellow who affected an intellectual air that was mostly a façade. He reacted with a derisive “Hmphh.” This was not all that unusual a response to receive from some of the younger officers. They seemed to look down upon the enlisted as an inferior class of people, lacking the money, or brains, or sometimes both- to get into college and become officers. They never understood that there were people who wanted to enlist, in the ranks, and serve there.

So nothing was done except that I informed the deck officer that heavy weather was approaching and a life line on deck would be a good idea. A 500 foot mooring line was secured to the after and forward bulkheads by means of shackles affixed to padeyes which were welded to the respective bulkheads. For some reason no precautions were taken to secure the ship for heavy seas.

I was relieved by QM3 Baker at 1945 for the 20-2400 watch. Star time was not an issue that evening due to the weather. We were running on Omega and Loran with a dead reckoning tracer as a back up. I entered into the Pass Down the Line log that the barometer had fallen for 2 hours in a row and to be aware of any changes in the sea etc. I left the bridge, and as was the custom of the day, smoked a joint before preparing to shower and retire.

By the time I got back to the after house and the Navigation Division berthing space the ship was being tossed and buffeted by huge swells and violent gusts of wind. The helmsman was a deckhand and the ship was not being handled properly. We were taking a lot of punishment that could have been avoided by having a more experienced man at the helm.

By now, objects all over the ship were being loosed by the storm and there was no way to stop the seeming avalanche of food supplies, crates, forklifts etc that had not been tied down. The 7 million gallons of fuel that we carried started to have its’ own inertial effect upon the handling of the vessel, making it even more unstable. The “Mighty Milwaukee” was taking rolls in excess of her design and the ship would shudder as she laboriously struggled to right herself after each successive roll. Standing was now impossible and most of the men were braced in their “racks” with feet and hands braced against the nearest stanchion or bulkhead, feet dug into the rims of the thin sleeping surfaces that served also as covers to the coffin like clothes compartment that lay beneath each. The coffin like similarities of these lockers were not lost on the men at a time like this.

Lockers were toppling and tables and chairs were being literally pitched as the violence of the storm increased. Most of the crew was now motion sick and those that weren’t were unable to do anything but hang on for the wildest ride any of us had ever been on.

Shortly after 2300 (11 PM) the phone rang and someone told me that the bridge was on the phone. I was told that the Captain was ordering me to the bridge. I went, on the double, expecting that I was about to be chewed out for the storm having taken us by surprise. I started across the deck and made it about 50 feet before turning back and using the cargo deck- which although it had the advantage of being enclosed , had the hazard of forklifts,tools and cargo being tossed and thrown about with considerable violence. Added to this was the possibility of falling into one of the open elevator pits. These were large, seven story deep shafts that were sometimes left open. Tonight , unfortunately, was one of these times. The effect of the ship moving about under me not only prevented me from walking a straight line at this point, but it was now carrying me close to these pits and several times I came near to falling in one. They were located on both the port and starboard sides, increasing this likelihood as I struggled forward.

At the end of this journey on the cargo deck I was faced with 4 interior ladders, steeply angled as compared with a normal stairway, but still an improvement over the exterior ladders which were precisely that, ladders welded to the bulkheads. Unknown to me at this time was that many of these ladders had been torn away by the tons of water crashing against the superstructure.

The bridge was a scene of disaster. There were 22 people in there- way too many. Captain Page was braced in a corner, legs apart and arms against the forward portholes, concerned but very much in command. “Well Willie- what do you think we should do?” Captain Page had been a Pilot– flew A-6’s and also was a flight instructor. With a good sense of humor and a relaxed demeanor among the men, he was a well liked captain and a good leader. He had a hard act to follow, coming on the heels of Captain Hawkins, who had come up from enlisted ranks via the NESEP program, which although not that rare, was quite an accomplishment and the men had idolized him as “one of us.” But Captain Page had more than filled his shoes and it was a ”tight” crew.

My first suggestion was to rid the bridge of as many of the puking , moaning men as possible, placing them in the passageways leading to the bridge itself. Everyone had plastic trash bags to puke in and the stench was beginning to become overpowering.

Standing was impossible at this level, we were hanging on to the overhead and the wire banks and piping that line it. Captain Page ordered me to take the helm.

The compass card was swinging wildly, port to starboard and back again over a field of approximately 180 degrees. We were at the mercy of the sea unless we could stabilize ourselves and begin to make some sort of headway. The Captain then ordered me to steer as necessary to make headway and hold course- I was hanging onto the overhead and steering with my feet- literally counteracting the swells by kicking the helm hard left and hard right.

I then received via the Captain , several course changes prompted by the other officers present on the bridge looking for the course that would give us the “best ride”. Captain Page asked my recommendation and I chose West as that would bring us toward our destination of Norfolk but not put us in shallow waters that could hazard the vessel. I was of the opinion that with 65 foot swells breaking over the bridge and winds of 98 knots (107 mph) with gusts greater than that, there was no course that was going to give a good ride. The Captain ordered me to make it so, which I immediately did.

We spent the next 9 hours or so riding through this maelstrom and upon breaking out of it in the morning and later approaching Virginia Beach, we were greeted by the most dazzling sight- over 12” of snow blanketing the Beach and everything beyond! After the violence of the past 10 hours the contrast was extraordinary and we began to open hatchways and portholes to air the ship out. The crew began to come back to life- restowing all the gear that had been thrown about but not washed overboard. The Officers took toll of the structural damage to the ship- ladders gone, boats torn loose, rigging fouled and ruined.

We moored at D and S Piers on the James River and there my memory fades a bit- we were very tired and I imagine that we cleaned ship and had an early knock off that day.

A week later on the 12th of February we were back out at sea- headed to the Azores to bring a load of fuel to the Task Group operating there. We were doing an underway replenishment when Captain Page approached me at the helm with an envelope saying “It’s a little bit late- read it later.”

It burned a hole in my pocket for several hours until I was able to leave the wheel and read it- you have to remember that Captains do not often slip notes to their crewmembers. The note- which I have memorized, said the following;

"As I think back on the events of last Wednesday night and the sudden and completely unpredicted storm- I continue to think of you and your performance on the helm.

From the perspective of the Commanding Officer, several of the variables which were being experienced were reduced the moment you took the helm. You obviously had the “feel of the ship” and your expertise helped me greatly in making the decisions regarding course and speed to order.

I operate with complete confidence when you are on the helm, and your performance last Wednesday night under the most adverse of conditions reinforced my previous observations of a real ‘pro’.

Many Thanks for a job extremely Well Done.

I called Captain Page one night and we spoke for 20 minutes or so about the storm and the “old days” aboard the Milwaukee. And just before we hung up- Captain Page asked me- “ Hey Willie- do you remember the collision with that Malaysian oil tanker? “

Well, that's another story……