Category: Geezer Alert!

Preface: Title blatantly stolen from Steve Waterman’s book “Just A Sailor”. We met once and I have a signed copy.  Kinda happy to give him a nod here.

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This post may seem a  bit of a whine, perhaps, but it is primarily just a sort of journal entry. It was suggested I post some Navy stuff and that process has been ‘interesting’, and perhaps a bit painful at times.

I consider myself a Vietnam vet. Says so on my DD-214 as well. Still the only VN mud I got on me was during a single trip to a bar in Da Nang. I can document being shot at by shore batteries and firing back. I can document helping to pick up downed aircrew in the Gulf of Tonkin. There is more similar, but I did my job well enough. Thing is… I was Just A sailor.

Of course there were sailors in the thick of things, from Corpsmen to SEALS, and others like Steve Waterman. I wasn’t one of them. I was Just A Sailor.

Came back to CONUS in May 1969. Arrived via SFO, in uniform, and was spit at and called a “Baby Killer”. But I was Just A Sailor.

Certain veterans groups said I didn’t qualify for membership back then. I was Just A Sailor.

Those last two items serve to highlight the one common area each and every Vet with a Vietnam Service Medal in their records share; the way we were dealt with when we came back and how we coped with that.  I was painted with THAT brush as broadly as any other. Even tho’ I was Just A Sailor.

No two human beings standing side-by-side will experience even the simplest of things identically. That one saving grace, at least, makes me feel okay to call myself a ‘Nam Vet… even if I was Just A Sailor.

Was digging through some old records and found my Commission. The Cherry River Navy is a super secret organization for those of us with super secret squirrel missions that can’t be discussed among ordinary folk.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I can’t discuss my time as a SEAL/Ranger/Force Recon with you lot, but I DO expect proper honors and respect as an Admiral!

Rats… The NSA deleted my real name after I posted this.

Heads up Jonn, they’re HERE!

Bizzaro World is a place in the comic book (Sorry – Graphic Novel) universe… supposed fiction.

Yet every day some current news item hints that it is becoming more and more real. Could be my advancing age, or my own personal illusion of reality, but I gotta wonder aloud here.

I won’t waste your time with my own lengthy list of such seeming portents of this shift of realities other than offering this: The immediate trigger for this post takes the form of a cute young lady and her words, but ALSO in my case she seems a harbinger rather then just an idiot.

Hmm… It may well highlight my concerns to add a sort of disclaimer. I’m not certain I can use the term “cute young woman” without being denigrated as a sexist.

So, MY opinion about Marie Harf  is mine alone and NOT the opinion of this blog.

If you can also cite similar concerns about Bizzaro World encroaching on your reality I’d ask that you only put your personally most egregious single example in the comments. On the other hand, if nobody else actually HAS any such it’ll entertain my shrink so I win regardless.

 

A Brother Nam Vet suggested I post more Navy stuff so, that barely still functioning part of my brain began casting for memories. Then Cabin Fever amplified the effort.

Being underway on a cruiser/destroyer class ship is simply an experience that those Airdales and Bubbleheads in The Navy can only rarely equate to. [grin]

Off to VietNam we go. Getting there was trivial. It was just a cruise. Leaving Long Beach the first time was bad for some though. I was thrilled. It was late ’65 or early ’66 and I was going to war. I worked on them high tech missiles (Terrier/Tartar) and was fresh out of school and ready. I don’t recall the various ports we might have visited on the way. I did visit Hawaii on at least one trip or other… but the dates are jumbled.

Somewhere along the way I first discovered that our wake could glow in the dark, and that I could count the stars. Don’t let that memory of mine disappear as trivia, please, because the night at sea factors heavily into the rest of this post.

Once on station (Gulf of Tonkin) we spent most of our time at what was then known as Condition Three. Some may know it as “Port and Starboard”, basically 12 on and 12 off. I still got to visit the Fantail at might though.

Once there our aft missile house became pretty much useless at night. The Airdales decided to land a helo on the fantail. After that we spent most of our time “up-north”. Got an official piece of paper that says we picked up 18 downed airmen that cruise.

Other cruises on different ships followed and our missions were varied. But one thing was a constant – most nights at sea. Standing on the fantail with a vibration from the screws permeating everything. The critter lit wake fading into the darkness as the disturbed water slowly settled down. We operated frequently under “darken ship” rules so I could only barely see my hand in front of my face. The only light that of the wake and the stars. It is an almost out-of-body experience.

One night WAS different though. Up near the DMZ, as I recall, we were just a few miles off shore and I noticed a flash out of the corner of my eye. My first thought was that a shore battery firing at us… again. Then, before GQ could sound there was another flash and then many more. The flashes expanded into orange fireballs and faded. No sound over the ship noise and vibration, mind you, just the lights ashore. Scuttlebutt was that it was a B-52 ARClight raid. I dunno for certain, but I am glad I wasn’t on the ground there.

I could ramble on with memories, and memories OF memories, but for this sailor those nights at sea were special, and have likely been special to all those sailors who left port and found themselves far from land – at night.

Working on a new post at the prompting of a fellow ‘Nam vet, but that process has stirred memories captured by a tune. Brings me back to Gathering of Eagles because that tune reflects why most of us were there in one form or another.

May well be a repeat, if so… sorry Jonn.

Where my head is just now. Revisiting the past is apt to do the same to all of us. Jonn as well. I well remember the look on his face when I asked about 73 Easting.

So… a tune for all of us who just might know:

 

 

Minds out of the gutter!

Can NOT ignore Jonn’s recent post. In my defense I was was writing and missed it.

This has been discussed here before, but I aim to get a bit specific. Sure, this has been cussed and discussed in grand terms and likely with the best of intentions – usually also ignoring or dismissing That Elephant in the Room: SEX!

With all the PC changes going on in our Military even I managed to sorta overlook something fundamental. Every ship I was on in the 60’s had some things in common. Officers had their facilities in Officer Country, Chiefs had The Goat Locker, and pretty much everyone else shared the heads. Taking a leak… might be others also doing so. Taking a dump, you could chat with others while sitting. Even seasickness and discovering what your shipmate had for lunch wasn’t all that unusual – especially getting underway the morning after a good liberty.

I adapted to showering, etc, with others of my gender in school sports. About the only new thing in The Navy that required some minor adaptation was the occasional Salt Water shower… turns out Prell shampoo would lather nicely though.

Flash forward to today. How much of our Defense Budget is being spent on simply providing facilities for female and gender-unspecified folks. It really is a potentially non-trivial matter. Jonn’s Angel – the A-10 is being dumped maybe to fund that latrine with the pink lace shower curtains.

WWI comes most easily to mind… Dig extra trenches for the “others”?

Mind you – racial integration in the military was handled, but that IS a kinda loaded parallel at best. Still, I don’t recall ever hearing any scuttlebutt about two sailors necking while on watch, etc, whatever their racial derivation. Well… maybe in a jocular way.

Lookit, people can, and have, adapted to a rather large variety of alternatives when presented with no other alternative. Many, if not most, have required a blood badge to accomplish that though. Wonder how much blood will be let to make the PC world happy.

Reckon I’m one of them straight geezer reactionaries. Two competent, capable individuals of different genders can most certainly share the same MOS and work side by side in many environments… but not EVERY environment. Shipboard life in the “old days” being the only area I can discuss reasonably, I should probably shut up now. I’ll leave you with one image. It requires some time warping, but it does linger. A General Patton slapping some sobbing transgender GI.

It was a pleasant surprise. A representative of a local American Legion Post here in Central West Virginia called.

Note please, that I’m an annual member of the Legion, and a life member of the VFW and DAV. BUT I don’t go to meetings. First off… the meetings are at night and my night driving vision is simply not good. Just one of those blue headlights oncoming and I’m blind for 30 seconds or so. And as some here might easily testify, I also ain’t very good with mundane social interactions anyway.

So out of the blue I get this call. The fellow said that his post had been notified by National that I was a member in good standing but belonged to no local post, just some sort of ephemeral State post, and he’d like to invite me to join with them.

I described my night vision problem and instead of backing off he started kinda casting around to see if I could get a ride with someone in the area. I was deeply impressed. No one from any other Vet group has expended even that amount of effort.

My contact and I WILL get together in the spring (he’s traveling, as am I) and we’ll see how this shakes out, BUT I am looking forward to the effort.

I joined these groups even after being dismissed many years ago by several of them. Nam vets need not apply. But I have always felt they could provide a sort of backstop to prevent our government from leaving us to rot. So when I could – I joined.

I dunno how this particular exercise will develop, but the mere fact that is has happened is, for me anyway, a sort of bellwether event.

And kudos to the American Legion for the effort, however it turns out for me.

In 1969 I was TDY on Guam. I was assigned to the dive locker. These sailors were Navy Divers. Not SEALS ,mind you,  just work-a-day folks who were responsible for salvage and hull inspections, etc.

They had a thing for the UDT (You Did Its) lot across the bay, more on that in a bit.  On their off time they would take the Mike boat out and visit The Shark Pit to spear fish.  I was diddling with their electronics and adapting well enough.  A UDT type or two would join in because a big Grouper was worth some money with the locals.

At that time there was STILL a Japanese soldier from WWII alive and active on Guam. I didn’t quite spend time looking over my shoulder, but it was a regular topic of conversation.

While there I decided to learn to scuba dive. A Navy Diver types figured I aughta get it done right. So in a regular pool I was put through the UDT type education.  Got my mask ripped off underwater, etc. No official certification – just fun. I then got to go to the Shark Pit and watch from underwater while they hunted.  I also got to help clean the fish.

Odd Wannabe sidebar: I’ve related this story over the years and heard back later that I claimed to BE a SEAL? Never got the connection myself.

OTH When I related this Sea Story to Capt Bailey HE laughed.  He also observed that there was a SEAL Team there  at the time.

So, memories and memories OF memories exposed. I DID get comfortable underwater. I was made comfortable during that visit to Guam.  Truth is… I had never actually heard of the SEALS back then.