Читать книгу Adventures In Navyland - Joe Psy.D. Callihan - Страница 4

The time was 1965 during the Viet Nam war era. Since my 1963 graduation from high school, I had been attending St. Petersburg Junior College. My scholastic deferment nearing an end, a decision needed to be made regarding which branch of the military services I should choose to enter. The word among my fellow students was “Coast Guard.” Why? Stay home defending the coast of America. Sounded smart, but the waiting list to sign up was a million miles long.

I was also working in a hamburger place at night, while attending college classes in the daytime. Mr. Emerson, “M” as he liked to be called, had been a first class gunner’s mate in the Navy during WWII. So I sought his advice as to which branch might be the best to choose. Having been there, I believed he would know first hand if the Navy would be a wise choice. Surely he would know it all, both the good and the bad about the Navy.

He was very kind when I approached and asked him why he had chosen to join the Navy. When he asked why I wanted to know, I explained my decision making dilemma. At this “M” said, “I’ll be happy to tell you why I chose to join the Navy.” Then he gave me his sales pitch. “The Second World War was on, and I knew as a man I had to do my part. Like you, I wanted to make the best choice of branches to join. Observing the Navy I found they served three full meals a day, you did not have to eat rations. I could have a nice warm bunk to sleep in each night; not a wet and muddy trench somewhere.

Also there would be no snipers shooting at me from trees; no land mines to worry about stepping on; there would be movies shown almost nightly; and there was a laundry on board, no having to wear the same stinking clothes for weeks or months at a time. I thought about this and came to the conclusion, if I had to fight in a war, doing it in comfort and style would be a good idea.

What a Salesman! It took me no time at all to go down to the Navy recruiter’s office and sign up for the Navy Reserves. I had been told by fellow students, if you can’t get in the Coast Guard, go for the Reserves. At least you can get some training, and an opportunity to advance in rank, before going on active duty. This too made sense to me. So now I am a Seaman Apprentice in the Navy Reserve. As an immediate reward they furnished me with a couple of those Popeye suits to wear. Here I guess it’s only fair to admit, I always have believed the Marines have the best looking dress uniform of all the services.

But now a taste of reality began to set in. I experienced first hand some of those “benefits” “M” had told me about. I soon discovered there were a few less glamorous things he had left out, most likely as a good salesman - deliberately. The missing descriptions began to become evident in my Navy Reserve life, especially once I was assigned drill duty on board the USS Greenwood.

Yes, there were indeed three full meals a day. But most of the time they tasted like what you would want to feed your worst enemy. I did have a nice warm bunk to sleep in, that is when I could sleep. Unfortunately it was the upper bunk. When the waters were bumpy, I had to hang on to the pipes just above my head to keep from falling out.

Those pipes were a source of many a Technicolor dream. When Reveille would sound in the morning, you had but a short time to get out of bed, get shaved and dressed for inspection. Upon hearing the trumpet sound, I would make the effort to quickly rise up to get out of my bunk. Forgetting about the many pipes running about half a foot above my head – BONG – was the sound I would make, as I banged my head against each one. I would see red stars, blue, green, and yellow ones. Then hearing one of my shipmates call out a warning: “Hey Callihan! You’d better stop laying there. You only have a few minutes to get ready for inspection.” Sometimes guys would show up with a hangover from drinking too much. I would show up with a pipe induced hangover.

There were also some good things: no snipers were shooting at me from trees, no land mines to step on, and it looked as if the Captain was doing a good job watching out for sea mines. Surely there had to be some other good things. How about the movies onboard? Oh yes! It took the trip to Guantanamo Bay Cuba for me to learn about the movies onboard. As we went steaming toward Cuba, movies were shown almost every night. However, they were shown on the rear gun turret, the one downwind from the smoke stacks. My shipmates and I were only able to see half of any movie. The other half of the time was spent wiping cinders from our eyes.

Yes, there was also a laundry onboard; I did not have to wear the same clothes for weeks at a time. But I had not been not told about the fact that although you marked your serial number on each piece with indelible ink, many times when you got your laundry back, 30 to 40 % of it was missing. I often had to spend money replacing what was lost. I guess it had become somewhat of a tradition, as no one was ever interested in doing anything about it.

Was I glad I had chosen the Navy Reserve? Somewhat glad, at least until being on a ship I learned what the word “sea sick” could mean to me. It happened shortly after we had been flown to Key West. The Greenwood had been in dry dock for repairs. They were now done, and the ship was deemed to be sea worthy. After arriving in Key West, we took a side trip to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, then Montego Bay, Jamaica, before returning the Greenwood to St. Petersburg.

Up to this time, my weekend drills had been aboard a ship which was tied to the dock. Now as we were underway and leaving Key West, what happened next was unbelievable. The weather was perfect, the sky clear, the sun warm, winds soft, and the water was as smooth as a mirror. Where was I to be found? Hanging over the railing, vomiting my head off!

I was a disgrace! The “old salts” would come by just to observe my condition. “What’s the matter,” they would ask, “don’t have your “sea legs” yet?” Then to make things worse, they would offer a cure. “You go down to the mess and get some scrambled eggs and burnt toast, that will help settle your stomach.” “Shut up! Don’t even mention food to me!” I would yell back, just before my next round of vomiting the very thought of food would provoke. I could hear their laughter as they walked away. So you had to join the Navy! I was thinking. How stupid, why didn’t you know you were prone to sea sickness?

But amazingly enough, I did seem to grow “sea legs.” One day, suddenly I discovered no longer was I prone to sea sickness. I had gotten used to the movement of the ship over the water. I even now enjoyed watching as the bow plunged into the waves. The up and down motion now seemed natural to me. This proved to be a blessing as we hit the Windward Passage at the bottom half of Cuba. I will tell you more about this in a later chapter.

These are just the beginnings of quite an Adventure in Navyland.

I hope you will enjoy going back in time with me. Some of what you will read will bring laughter; some of it tears, and some of it will make you angry.

I hope you enjoy reading about my Adventures in Navyland.