Navy Time

FISKE DAYS

  My judgement has gotten the better of me.  Not through coercion or extortion.  A lady's request did it.  All she said was "please" but that was enough.  So here I am, back reliving my days aboard the USS Fiske (DD-842) - a  Gearing-class destroyer of the United States Navy.  I'm too old now to try and report back on board.  Besides, I'd probably get seasick, anyways.  Don't have the stomach that I used to.


A Normal Day in the Atlantic

  Another thing I forgot, what it was like being at sea.  Having served on USS Coontz (DLG-9), a West Coast ship,  the Pacific Ocean is a lot calmer than the Atlantic, as the gif shows.
 

  October 1965 was when I first laid sight of her at the U.S. Naval Station pier, Newport Rhode Island. Tied up snugly in a nest with other destroyers she was going to be my home. They had me join Chief Williams to run A/S division, a mixture of Sonar Technicians, Torpedomen and ASROC-gunnermates with a few ETs thrown in.  I'd just left the Fleet Sonar School in Key West, Florida having completed a short 'C' school.

  It was while I was there that I got my first whiff of an Atlantic hurricane - Betsy, they named her.   California earthquakes were common and I've been through many but those hurricanes get scary!  Wet, too.

 You might want to skip this next part because I am going to digress for a moment and talk about Navy schooling.  Oh, not the types, because there are hundreds, but the difference between 'A', 'B', and 'C' schools.

 When I first joined the Navy they sent me to the basic school, an 'A' school it is called to learn a trade.  In my case it was at the Fleet Anti-Submarine Warfare School in San Diego California and I was going to be an SO(G), Sonar Operator (Surface).  Later I attended the advanced school, labeled a 'B" school.  It was about this time when the Navy changed our designation to Sonar Technician (ST).  Guess they didn't like people saying they attended an SO(B) school.  Actually, to be as technician was more inviting than simply being an operator so, zippo-changeo, we were technicians.   Oh, the 'C' schools was, and still are, for 'specialty' training.  Now, back to the Fiske.

 Shortly after reporting to my new home the Fiske underwent to Gitmo for Operational Readiness Inspection but better known as 'sea trials'.  Gitmo is short for Guantanamo Bay Naval Station, Cuba. This was not a fun period.  Lots of drills, GQ, setting condition Zebra and stuff.  After successful completion, she returned to her home port to join the rest of DesRon 12, at Newport.  Nest-time again.  I didn't care but nesting was a hassle for those on the Quarterdeck.  We must of had lots of light bulbs, I doubt it was favorite time for Electricians.

 

Gatun Lake, Panama

 We were expecting lots of liberty and relaxed time but someone decided they needed us in Vietnam so come January (1966) we said good-bye to family and friends, cast-off all lines, shifted colors, and set sail for the Pacific heading south into the Caribbean towards the Canal Zone.  Of course, being an Atlantic ship it meant via the Panama Canal and transiting Gatun Lake. Liberty in Balboa became our first foreign port.  Not the best in the world but interesting.  Our first big change... we were now a member of the 3rd fleet.  No biggie, but a requirement.  One belong to the 2nd fleet while in Newport but Pacific ships took their orders from Commander of the 3rd fleet.

32nd St Naval Station, San Diego

 It was while standing at sea-detail, preparing to meet the pier at San Diego's Naval Station and seeing all those other grey monsters that I wondered "just why did the Navy need us?"  I mean, there were ships everywhere all belonging to the sixth fleet.  The Navy certainly didn't need an old WW2 destyroyer to come all the way from the east coast just to help out in Vietnam.  But I guess they did because here we were.  But not for long.

 

 It is sort of sad when you pull into a beautiful city like San Diego and the only people waiting for you are line handlers.  No family. No friends.  Just guys wishing the ship would hurry up so they could go back to whatever they were doing. I guess that is why one of the first things we did was take on supplies.  Never anything one really wanted just things to keep the ship running and all of us fed for the next couple weeks.  We even had to change piers inorder to take on fuel. Great! More sea detail and line handling.  So after a few days we were off to Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.

 It takes a week to reach Pearl.  For some that is seven days of sea sickness.  For most of us that was seven days of late-night watch standing, old movies, and tilted decks.  You can always pick the new guys.  They are the ones who leave their food tray unattended when they get more (whatever) only to find it waiting for them upside down on the deck.  Happens everytime.

 A day away from Pearl we and USS Dyess (DDR-880) separated from the rest of DesRon 12 to rescue a pilot of a small plane that had run out of fuel.  The pilot had to ditch and was picked up by the Dyess.  We rejoined the squadron, gave a salute as we passed USS Arizona Memorial and for the next five days enjoyed the warm air of Hawaii.

 It was my visit to Hawaii that introduced me to PCT, Pearl City Tavern.  Now a lot of guys hit Waikiki or patrolled Kings Street looking for working girls.  Those in the know took me to PCT and I was sold. PCT was a combination of tavern and Chinese restaurant.  Not just any old tavern but one with life monkeys behind the bar.  You could sit there for hours and watch them roam around. Food was good, too... especially after that shipboard chow. 

 

 Enough R&R! Goodbye Pearl.   Two days after we left we crossed the International Dateline and entered the Realm of the Golden Dragon.  Now we could truly say "Subic Bay, Philippines here we come!"

 

(to be continued)