1971 - Seasick

Ahh, the life of a sailor. The comradre, the spirit of the sea, the salt air. The polished brass, which I polished, and the sore ankles from high hatches, the cat-o-nine-tails and the midnight floggings. Hanging by the yard arm and keel-hauling the scurvvie lubber who ships aboard the Queens finest... uhh... I... well... (arrr... when ships were made a'wood and men were made a'iron, matie...) and... ...I... uhh... never mind.

1971 – Seasick

By 1971 I was an old salt who would soon be leaving the military service of my country and nothing was going to make me seasick anymore. This was not the condition of Mr. Parker (real guy but not his name.) Mr. Parker was a brand-new ensign recently assigned to the USS Southerland and we abused him mercilessly. As this was our first 3-day transit our first stop would be Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. He had at least 3-days of this abuse to deal with. Mr. Parker had shown up for his first watch at sea in CIC (Combat Information Center) looking distinctly green with unfocused eyes and a desire to be anywhere else… so, of course, we took advantage of the situation by advising him of the best way to kick this unfortunate circumstance. As his ears and his eyes were sending different signals to his brain, it was in a confused state. In this condition his head could not yet rationalize the sight with his sense of balance. This sent shudders of sickness through his bones and passed that right on to his muscles, which relayed the condition onto his stomach. We had advised him to lay flat on the deck to ameliorate some of the effect of the rocking ship. Of course laying flat with head toward the bow and feet toward the stern would cause the least possible amount of movement on his inner ear and had the best chance of calming his confused equilibrium. This is the reason he had him laying athwart-ship, head to port, feet to starboard. In this position we easily had plenty of room to stand above him, cigars in hand, watching his legs and head exchange relative positions every 37 seconds. Head up, feet down… head down, feet up… head up, feet down… head down, feet up… all the while the ship plowed ahead diving, on the other axis, into the oncoming waves and riding back up their oncoming sisters (then continue this incessantly 24-hours a-day for the next 3-days.) This while we discussed how bad Navy cooking could be when it was at it’s worst. Salt-pork and beans, 5-week old formaldehyde cornbread & worm and weevil-infested oatmeal, mmmm. I believe he pretty much lived with that bucket that day. Thinking back of that day probably brought back memories of my first few days aboard my first, and only, Naval Vessel.

Arriving in San Diego from Iowa City where my parents now lived I was transported to 32nd street Naval base by a base bus where I was directed to the pier where I was to find my new assignment. I wondered through the NavSta gazing around me at all of the new sights. My experience in Illinois, with ships, consisted of tankers and transport ships we could see on the horizon as they were headed for the Port of Chicago. Occasionally we would find a large vessel tied up to a Waukegan pier but they were much smaller than the ships I was seeing and, of course, none of them were Naval vessels. Even though Great lakes Naval Base was right there just a mile north of Waukegan the only “ship” assigned to the base was a small minesweeper used only occasionally for training. These big grey ships were actual SHIPS! They were BIG! Of course later in my career I would not be impressed by what I eventually learned were some of the smallest combat vessels afloat but… for now… huge! I clearly remember walking down the pier and spying the Hull Number, DD-743, thinking “This is almost unreal. Almost as if I’m dreaming… this MUST be a form of shock because as unreal as this feels… here I am. And THIS is my new home. Incredible!”

I was soon signed aboard and assigned to a birthing compartment with the Radarmen with whom I would be working. As the division was shorthanded the traditional 6-weeks or more on deck crew (scrapping, painting, scullery duty, boiler duty, etc) was skipped and I moved straight into the crew I would be working with over the next 3-years excepting changes when others came or went. We had a Chief: RDC Royster who was a big, big (big) guy. He was strong, commanding but fair and I appreciated his patience as well as that of RD2, soon to be RD1 Gerry Youngquist. Also assigned was RD2 Mitch something, RD3 Jerry Seals, and several other guys whose names, after these many years, I don’t recall. The other fairly new seamen were RDSN’s Morrison, Blumberg, Cash and Kleindienst. With all of whom I was soon to became close friends.

My first time at sea was to arrive within the week. THIS was a new experience. All hatches were dogged and tied down for sea. As we never knew what kind of swells we would work in for the next few days everything that might possibly tumble across the room was tied down securely. As we got underway in our dark little room behind the bridge I sat at the radar repeater (scope) taking readings of bearing (direction) and range (distance) of anything in the bay. My legs hung loosely down towards the floor and I found the sensation of them moving mysteriously back-and-forth to be interesting and a bit surrealistic. Fascinating – Then we passed 1-SD & everything changed. 1-SD is the last buoy leaving port or the first when entering. The bottom has dropped to offshore depths and the port authority’s dredging responsibility was in our rear-view mirror. In this case our rear-view-mirror was the Aft-Lookout. The ships bow dove into the oncoming waves and gave a subtitle bounce. As this was my first time a-sea I thought we must have met an unseen storm offshore. Naaa – this was just the ocean meeting the relative calm of the bay. I was further fascinated by my legs when they began to make big movements back-and forth… back-and-forth… back-and-forth. I watched my legs move back-and forth… back-and-forth… back-and-forth. This so cool and… gulp… or is it? I bounced off my seat and headed like a shot for the trash can. OH! MY! GOD! I feel like crap! Unhhh – Oh… no. Oh… please. Just… let… this… go… away. I was not in a good place. Oh I was sick… really sick. Nothing was making sense. The walls were where the floor should be but… no they’re ok or… no now they’re the other wall. I was sent to the bridge-wing to get a breath of fresh air.

The rush of chilly early morning air slapped me in the face… I didn’t care… I felt like… ooooh… just a minute… ooooh… not so good. The horizon bounced up and down with the swaying of the ship. A damp smell of wet salt hung in the dead air. My eyes agreed with the sight of the changing horizon but somehow the fact that my feet and body were not agreeing with all of my other senses continued to distress me, although not as much as a few minutes previously. After a few minutes that turned into ½ an hour I re-entered my workplace, CIC. As I re-entered the smoke-filled and stuffy compartment I took one good breath and did an immediate about-face back to the wing where I spent most of the rest of the day.

My second time at sea I was perfectly ok. It was a lovely spring day and a beautiful day to be at sea. The smell of the salt air and the sounds of the circling seagulls blended with the sound and feel of the engines that were pushing us along at a good clip. The exhilaration of the day made it a delight. The wind blowing through my hair and the movement of the deck under my feet reminded me of my kind of carnival-ride. As I have had a weak stomach for many years I avoided the Tilt-a-Whirl, the Octopus or any other ride that flung me around at irregular intervals. I loved the Ferris Wheel or anything that took me high or fast… just not with unexpected movement. I had a great time.

My third time at sea was a repeat of the first for half-a-day until my body accepted the sensations as something I was getting used to and, in fact, this time after we tied back up to the pier I was dock-sick for 2-days. Nothing was moving and my body was screaming “Comeon! Pick an environment and stick with it!” After that I never had one minute of sickness even when seas were rough enough to keep both the chief and the captain in their rack.

Now, standing over Mr. Parker, I celebrated my saltiness in the traditional manner. I was being cruel and mean to the newest “boot.” We let a woozy Mr. Parker up after a while and called his boss, Lieutenant JG Weaver who took the rest of the watch for Mr. Parker who spent the rest of the day in his rack.

The following day Mr. Parker was fine so we sent him to the bridge for a conference with the captain. Unfortunately for him he wore a “Kick-Me” sign on his back. The captain, of course, informed him that he had not requested any such meeting. Mr. Parker turned to go. The Captain kicked him in the butt. During the next watch so we made sure Mr. Parker understood the officer of the watch was responsible for watering the compass rose at the beginning of each mid-watch. It took only 15 minutes for him to figure out the compass-rose was the etching on the face of a compass that tells you which direction the needle is pointing. When he returned, now wiser, he refused to go pickup a bucket-of-steam. A little while later Ladd asked him, “Are you looking forward to your first liberty ashore? Have you ever been in Hawaii before?” Mr. Parker answered to the negative to the last question. No, he had never been in Hawaii and was very excited about our scheduled 3-day stay. We assured him that Hawaii was a great port and to take full advantage of guided-tours the first time there. “Did you sign the Port-List, yet?”

“What’s the Port-List?”

“The Port-List is the sheet used for the list of people that have requested shore liberty… you know, so you can leave the ship for the day.”

“I’ve never heard of this… where do I find this list? I really need to get my name on this! Who keeps the list?” We quickly informed him that it moved from compartment to compartment until everyone had gotten a chance to sign. We also told him that, of course, we need to keep a skeleton crew on board to man the basic operations so if one did not get on the list they might be stuck with duty for 3-days. “Where is the list now? How do I get signed up?” Mr. Parker’s face reflected real concern. Here he was in Hawaii and he wouldn’t be able to see any of it! This would never do! “Can one of you help me find it?”

I reached for the squawk-box, “IC – CIC”

“CIC – IC – Aye” Answered from the box. Leonard, a good friend and fellow musician was manning the Internal Communications station. I told him Mr. Parker was looking for the Port-List and asked him if he still had possession. “No, I just sent it to the sonar-dome for sign-up. It should be there for a few minutes, but it’s almost full. If Mr. Parker wants to get signed up he better track it down right away.” Leonard clearly knew the joke. The “Port-List,” in reality is the number of degrees a ship may lean, or list, to port, aka: the left. As far as liberty went – if you didn’t already have duty assigned you were available to leave, period. No need to be on a list. Facts were, if the ship leaned slightly right we would have a “starboard list.” This was a common method of messing with a new crew member so virtually everyone would be in on the joke. Most would go along as they, too, had been a victim of this earlier in their own on-board career. Mr. Parker headed for the deepest level of the ship’s bow where the sonar-dome was located. I called ahead, “Sonar - CIC”

“CIC – Sonar – Aye”

“Jimmy, Mr Parker is on his way down to sign the port-list. Let him know where it is, ok?”

“You got it, Lar. Hmmm, I think it was just picked up by a BT (Boiler Technician). We’ll send him to the bilges, thanks. I’ll call Hymie and give him a head-up. CIC – Sonar – Out”

An hour later Mr. Parker showed up a bit dirtier, greasier and none too happy. “I’ve been all over this ship! After I got to Sonar they told me the list had just left and sent me to below to the bowels of the ship. When I got there they sent me back up and way-aft to the After-Shaft Alley. They sent me to the Signal Bridge, then to the After-Lookout and to the Ward Room! The Captain was there and he sent me to the Chain Locker! They sent me to After-Steering who sent me to Stores who sent me to a storage hold but it was already gone and they sent me to the Electronics Tech Department. Henry, the 2nd class ET finally told me about the list! You guys have been messin’ with me! He told me how you are sending me all over looking for the port-list.” Mr. Parker now knew the joke was on him. We looked at each other – fun while it lasted. Mr. Parker continued, “Henry said it had been on the bridge the whole time! When I got to the bridge Mr. Fink had the OD Watch and he told me I had to wait until I was off watch to sign! I’ll be there at 4:01.” Eventually Mr. Parker found out the whole truth and, yes, get went ashore and had a great time.

And… bonus… Mr. Parker can now easily find almost any department or work station on the ship – and no place was too remote for him – after all… he had probably already been there.