Sunday, January 31, 2016

Navy Life Chapter 9

         Navy Life      Chapter 9                
The cruise back to Norfolk from Scotland took us ten days. This sailor was studying for Interior communications electrician and  still had boat qualifications to finish, this kept me real busy in my off hours. The normal day to day at sea, life was a whirlwind of activity. I had made “Third Class Petty Officer,” and started wearing this rate at the beginning of the new year. That said, me not having any school.  I had trouble with the technical operations involved and maintenance, making my book work and study time much harder. Tommy, was the electrician gang's leader had help me pass these tests. He got me my promotion. His name was Tommy (two shoes.) He was also from California. Tom had been my mentor for six months. The gang leader was a special person. The maintenance of gear and telephones communications equipment was my new job.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               The Skipjack had a few mechanical issues on our return to home port. We were sent across the bay to Newport News Shipyard. While at this repair dock the boat needed spruced up. The captain appointed a painting crew to redo the exterior of the boat's surface area. We had some bumps and scrapes that needed attention. Our hull numbers also had to be painted back on. I was assigned to this paint crew. The red primer was not found at the ships store. We borrowed some primer from an aircraft carrier next to us. Our problem being, their deck crew was using yellow zinc oxide primer instead. It took us two days of chipping paint and cleaning the surface. The boat was ready for primer.  We painted the boat. The Skipjack, was turned into the yellow submarine. We all admired the new look, it was a trendsetter for sure. The skipper was not happy at his return that afternoon.  We were ordered to paint the boat's black finish coat back on. The captain wanted it done now. He said, do it right now or else!! “The Beatles” would have been proud, their new song, forever immortalized.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              The five men would learn to regret that afternoon's paint job. The very next day, we had stenciled the white numbers back on the sail.  She looked great. I had missed a spot down on the bow, near the sonar dome, and was sent out that following cold morning to finish the job. Armed with a paper cup of black paint and a small brush. The mooring line was hanging over to the dock off the bow. I hadn't put on a life jacket or belt harness. I was not tied to the deck track with a safety rope as required. The two minute job turned bad for me. I had slipped on the scum line near the waters edge. This sailor went into the drink. The mooring line saved me from going all the way in, my dry white hat was still on my head. The topside watch announcing “man overboard” on the public address system, by the time the crew got there to rescue me.....I was back standing on the deck. I'd tried to explain, the water was cold, I  had pulled myself out with the mooring line. I hardly got wet really.. They all started laughing out loud, the paint had hit the water before me.  This sailor had a black horizontal line crossed my face. I was painted black from my eyes down. I just smiled, that oil based black stuff would not come off for a week. Trouble seemed to find me in those days, my life was full of surprises.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Eighteen and in the navy was weird at times. I had a pay raise and with my hazardous duty pay, life got much better. A few of my crew and I rented a place on the beach just down from the base. Ocean views and this was my first bachelor pad, life was good. Tommy and this other guy would share all expenses. The place even had a pool. The two bedroom was just fine because the trio had duty on different days. Spending time at the pool, I met my neighbor Carol. She was older but very attractive. Carol was thirty-eight years old and had broken up with this navy chief. This boy's infatuation was hard to hide. She would invite me over for a drink at her place now and then. Most of the crew would build up their sexual stories to share with the others. Many of the facts stretched out of proportions. Carol was easy to talk with, she helped me understand some important differences. Her tutoring got me to realize what was real and what was fantasy.  My education in this area took a major step forward. That few months was very special for your's truly. Now this was the silent service. That said, Carol gave me a good grade.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Things were moving a long and I bought a sports car. Dad had sold my 55' Chevrolet at home and put the money in the bank for me. My new car was a 1956 Classic TR-3 Triumph, had two bucket seats with chrome wired wheels. The Cadillac gray exterior with red leather interior made me smile, what a ride. I had spent six hundred eighty dollars for her. I also had purchased a custom tailored, navy dress uniform, style was important. These long sea runs, meant a reward of more money. I would receive five to six paychecks all at once. Life was fun, when we were on-shore. The nighttime livened up too. These new skills that I acquired and a sporty ride helped. “The Righteous Brothers and The Beach Boys” set the mood. Mom had sent me to the “Arthur Murray Dance Studio.” I hated it in the seventh grade but it now had merit. Nightclubs around Norfolk had a lot of action. Sea time on the boat also meant that I had gained some more weight. Dressing in civvies and knowing how to dance made it easier to talk with the ladies. My dance card was full and a lot more interesting. The surface fleet would go to sea and some of the wives and sweethearts would hit the local bars, not fair but true. Learning these secrets and staying single made the navy more tolerable for me.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  The Ebb Tide Bar and The Peppermint Lounge were my play ground. The night before any sea operation. The off duty crew would meet at Bells. Sometimes the sub sailors would drink till dawn. We would be at muster at the dock, bright and early. The crew standing at attention. Some more sober than others. The roll call and last minute instructions were given by the captain. Then the Skipjack would leave Norfolk, out for more undersea adventures.  Each man knowing the count had to always be an even number. Submerge and Surface needs to match. We all partied as if it were for the last time. These sub sailors counted on each other. That said, you could bet your life on it and did. The boat never cruised on the surface. After leaving port, The boat would always point to the east at a certain place and submerge. This was recorded by a Russian fishing trawler in the area. The same place on arriving back pointed west. Then we would surface.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          The Cold War policy at play. This cruise took us south and to the Bermuda area, The submarine entered the gulf stream and warmer waters. We had exercises with the fleet. Anti-submarine warfare drills. We being the rabbit and all the other warships the hound. The boat was a wily hare for sure. The hunt and kill for the surface navy was near impossible. They would restrict the submarine's movement and depth, even our speed. The Russian subs had moves, "Crazy I'van" comes to mind. The Skipjack also had moves. We called them "Angles and Dangles."  I was the battle station helmsman and sail plane operator. This sailor's youth and reaction time put me in the driver's seat. These maneuvers were serious business for our captain. His French background and youth made my skipper put up a fiery front. The aircraft carrier was ground zero and the fleet tried to protect their prize. Classified details of these drills are safe but the rabbit was hard to beat. We all felt like "pirate's" during the two week trials. The reward was a few days off in Bermuda. The captain was pleased with the crew's performance. Liberty was great, the island being small and easy to navigate.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                This old British port of call had a lot of history. I rented a moped and explored this paradise. It was a mind bender after a few beers because the traffic flow was in the wrong lane. That said, my first trip here was wonderful. The Skipjack left the island as we continued south to Miami. The "Bermuda Triangle" stories in the crew's mess were amazing. The old timers telling their tales trying to scare me.  Compass headings and course seemed harder to maintain. Shorty Longfellow, the boat's quartermaster was plotting the map. He and his bearings were a little perplexed. The sub's short run to Miami was interesting. The boat surfaced pointing west, outside the bay and harbor. The maneuvering watch was manned. The officer on the bridge couldn't visually read the landmarks. The problem being this lighthouse must of moved? The captain said, submerge the boat quick. We had come up off the coast of Jacksonville. That being three hundred miles to the north. Just saying, this was before GPS and computer tracks. The Bermuda Triangle did what? The Skipjack had the best navigational equipment of that era. The captain wasn't very amused.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             We finally cruised into Miami the next day. The paint crew was in trouble though, the boat looked like a spotted cow. Big yellow spots all over her hull. The captain was mortified. The five sailors in the old paint party were ordered on deck to paint them out.  This well before the boat landed at the dock. All of us wearing the proper gear of course.
I blamed it on the triangle some magnetic pull, don't you know.

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