by Robert Lyon
“Umphff…it’s all yours” Clarkson headed back to inform the captain we actually have the window covers.
After I had placed the windows back in I adjusted the course and speed of the ship from the ships control console and announced in sarcasm, “For the benefit of the flight box
recorder, this is Lyon I am the only one on the bridge. The bridge window plates are installed, the bridge windows were knocked out by …cough…cough… a rogue wave. Heading now one five zero flying at eighteen knots.”
Over a speaker in the overhead came a response, “Lyon your emergency transmitter is on. Is the ship okay?” I replied,
“Yes sir.” The voice then asked, “Why did say
‘cough…cough’?” I replied, “A rogue wave is likely what will be reported, we are now skipping across the tops of the waves rather than plowing the troth.” The voice on the speaker replied,
“Very well, get your captain to the bridge as soon as possible.” I replied, “Aye sir.” I called over the 1MC, “Secure from flooding on the bridge. Now commence normal underway routine; set the normal underway watch.” The captain stepped in and said, “You didn’t have to say that last part. Where are you going to be?” I said, “Back down in engineering sir, HT1 will get the windows back in.” Artimus replied, “Okay, pass me the ah…the watch.” and I said, “Captain Artimus has the deck and the conn.” Just then Ens. Mulner stepped on the bridge and said, “I have the conn.” The captain looked at me and said, “go ahead.” I replied,
“Ens. Mulner has the conn.” Captain Artimus said, “just go.” and I headed back to the aft engine room.
Clarkson stepped in and reviewed the log book verifying I had made the correct entries. Captain Artimus told them, “Don’t let that ever happen again or I will shoot you; or you will have to shoot me.”
Risely was at repair five the midships repair locker dedicated to the machinery spaces. He had been trying to figure out what equipment was required for flooding on the bridge and was stupefied by the realization that if the water is that high then we are sunk. He stumbled about in confusion like a drunken
sailor. As I passed he looked and me and asked, “is it over?” I replied, “Yes.” Noting that his eyes were oddly wide and he was drooling I suggested he head to berthing for a while.
We remained out to sea for four days. The storm settled and lingered silently over the seas, long flat gray sheets hovering above us. An occasional snow flurry, as though we were in a snow globe, was the only feature to be seen, no stars, no birds, no sun or moon. The rolling of the pacific had become gentle again, like a mother rocking a cradle. Cracking sounds from the ship as the ice fell away and melted were the only disturbance in a now serene environment. We maintained twelve knots and there was no wake to speak of and the break water was little more than a whisper around the bow.
On the third day the sky opened like an oyster shell and we could see the blue beyond once again. The chill had rattled our bones with shivers and fatigued our souls, dream was preferred to reality and many of us went from work straight to sleep. Our dreams are carried briefly into the light; and we recall the whole journey, not just our waking efforts on the decks but the common song we sung…the tone and meter of our days trapped within the belly of our leviathan.
The sea is a bitter mistress, jealous, and carnivorous; every journey survived is cause for elation, the celebration often being a night or two drunken as we wait for our land legs to return and stirring a romantic inspiration from some attractive lover, or mysterious stranger. I stood on the fantail smoking under the newly blued sky, with Mitch Hackel and Tom Norrie. With a sigh and a hung head Tom uttered, “I hope they are kinder to me in my next life.” A phrase we adopted in the aft engine room as a means to tell ourselves there is still hope, as well as the phrase
‘better you than me.’ which caught on so well, it’s been heard
throughout the entire navy. Fortunately for them, that day would end with pulling back into port. The snow had melted from the pier and much of the roads, and not an angry lawyer in sight.
Through the course of the week the work load grew as discrepancies to safe operation were found rather than shrinking on tasks accomplished. In the GS division there was a trust meeting of the E-5 and E-6. GSM1 Hudlow sat with his fellow cohorts on the mess decks at about ten a.m. while the workers diligently toiled on discrepancy list they complied during their workday in preparation of C.A.R.T. 2, Command Assessment of
Readiness and Training.
Hudlow spoke to the small group with an assumptive demeanor, “So what do we need the guys to do to get squadron, our I.S.I.C. to pass us on them knowing what to do?” Norrie got a big smile and wiggled his butt in his chair as he leaned forward slightly raising his hand before he spoke, and Hudlow interjected, “The floor recognizes GSM two surface warfare specialtist Norrie.” Norrie stammered a moment and said,
“ah…okay, what’s I.S.I.C.?” Hudlow responded, “The floor recognizes me. That’s a good question Norrie, what is an I.S.I.C. anyway?” There was a pause as they looked around them.
Hudlow said, “Okay…meeting adjourned.” GSM1 Shrotz interjected, “The floor hasn’t recognized you, and it means
Immediate Superior in Command.” Hudlow responded, “Okay, the floor recognizes the swabbie, say again swabbie!”
GSM1 Shrotz said, “Okay, the floor recognizes me. My shit and Aux2 are ready, and I know what I’m doing ‘floor’.”
Hudlow said with a sense of defeat, “Look, I’m just trying to help you guys out. You know I got promoted way faster than you guys.” Gillis laughed and said, “you were still at the training command! You had all the time in the world to study for the
test.” Hudlow responded, “That’s exactly what I’m saying. And you guys were out here; you shouldn’t have had to study at all.”
Shrotz interjected, “Well…you’ve got a point there. An ignorant point; but a point.” Hudlow responded dismissively as he placed some tobacco dip in his mouth, “So what’s your point?” Shrotz replied, “I don’t have one.” Hudlow sighed, “That’s my point.”
Shrotz got dizzy and fixed his navy issued glasses to his face and said, “That you have no point? You called this meeting!”
Hudlow smirked and said, “Exactly…point of order.”
In the chiefs mess there was a similar meeting taking place.
Chief Rickly said, “Hey Carl, your idiots are having a meeting on the mess decks and let me just say, you can’t make this shit up. I was just around the corner and Hudlow is recognizing the floor.” The command master chief said, “ya..ya..carl has idiots.
Let’s get this meeting started. Who’s taking the minutes?”
Rickly chuckled and said, “You asked that every time and I offer to take them every time and then you say since we don’t have a legalman or a yeomen; it’ll have to be the master at arms.” The
CMC responded, “Okay, let’s do that then. So, who’s taking the minutes?” Chief Ballzese said, “Me.” as he spit tobacco slim into his otherwise empty soda can and glanced at Rickly smugly.
Rickly pointed at him and said, “Don’t you start. Okay let’s get started.” Master Chief Hauldbalm retorted, “We just did where were you?” Rickly shrugged and sat down.
Being inport after a storm at sea tends to remind a crew it’s good to plan ahead. The oncoming inspection would be just another step in certifying the ship. As the Advanced Training
Group arrived the chief petty officers were deep into their holistic plan to bring about world peace through a single cup of coffee and the officers were scripting a series of responses to upcoming disasters. Knowing the training gaps made it easy to
foresee the drama and not pointing out deficiencies in sailors holding a rank worthy of consideration also afforded hero moments…at least, in the eyes of the officers. To most of the crew the training deficiencies led to moments of gross incompetence rather than opportunities for subordinates to
‘shine’.
“So the big heroes are back for a jaunt at sea, huh?” the
ATG chief asked. “Big hero’s?” as the petty officer of the watch
OS1 Worksen. “Ya, huh…I’m chief Bladd with ATG, you’re the ones that declared martial law aren’t you?...because it snowed?”
The chief said with a smirk not knowing if he would be struck with a fist or see the young guy giggle. Worksen replied, “You’d have to ask the captain, chief. I don’t know anything about declaring martial law, I know we sent out some electricians mates to restore power and a lot of us had to get a ride in.” Chief
Bladd said, “Well, my ride in was okay and I’m told it was a big deal, they don’t want you guys looking bad so were gonna’ make sure everything is up to snuff.”
As the chiefs and officers of the Advanced Training Group crossed the quarterdeck an entirely different type of dark cloud began to form over the ship. The chiefs headed to the chiefs mess and the officers to the wardroom lounge. The quarterdeck received a call from the chief’s mess informing them they should have announced their arrival on the 1MC or at least called the captain. After the phone conversation Worksen keyed the 1MC, “A.T.G. arriving.” followed by a clank of the bell. The messenger of the watch looked at Worksen with an odd look and
Worksen asked, “Just the stinger right?” The messenger of the watch, BMSN Dawlson said, “Wasn’t one of them a captain?”
Worksen replied, “Screw it the word’s already been passed.”
The officers made a parade of phone calls followed by a meandering promenade to the wardroom, as the chiefs many of which were already in the mess, started the one upmanship and glad-handing.
“So, how was the underway?” asked Chief Bladd. Master
Chief Hauldblam replied, “We were walking on the bulkheads.”
Chief Bladd smiled and said, “You head out because of the snow?” Master Chief Hauldbalm replied, “There was a small boat in distress, they got into safe harbor before we reached them…better safe than sorry I guess.” Bladd looked stunned,
“You see that? They only tell us half the story…didn’t hear anything about a small boat trapped out there.” Chief Dotle replied, “Ya, instantly made friends with our captain as soon as they found out we were on our way to render assistance. He must have guided them through the storm over the radio. It was very rough out there.” Bladd said, “Sounds like a good guy, you guys got lucky. They’re making a big deal about your rep. they don’t want you to lose it so the inspections gonna’ be tight.”
In the wardroom lounge the officers from the ship mingled indiscriminately snatching folders, reports, and instructions out of each other’s hands just as they had finished reading it; like a news room working on a deadline. Spayner asked, “Why am I reading a grocery list?” Mr. Mormus replied, “It’s better than this laundry list.” Spayner said, “No, this is an actual grocery list.” Captain Artimus stepped around from the dining area into the lounge and said, “Give it to the supply officer.”
As they commenced their meeting reviewing the evaluation points and performance objectives, the ship slowed in its daily routine, waiting for a work list the length of your arm to come flooding out of the wardroom. Officers and chiefs unfamiliar to the crew would be found wandering the decks or conversing in
the passageways. They would tour work centers and offices asking questions and inspecting equipment and paperwork. At this point the crew knows only two things, stay out of their way and ‘it is better to be alive’. The work load is soon to become demanding, even overwhelming, and has been known to prompt divorce because the sailor is never home, or long bouts of sobriety in unmarried sailors.
I was back in the engine room and Mitch was in a good mood, “What are you sweatin’ now Rob?” Mitch asked. Norrie interjected, “He don’t know he just sweats sweatin’” Depree said, “It’s the inspection…he was on a tender and he has seen it much better than this and so have I.” I said, “The inspectors look lost, the officers are hiding, and the chiefs are going to declare us all super bowl winners…happens everytime.”
Hudlow came up to the boiler flat from the lower level with a clip board in his hand with an astonished look on his face and said, “I checked what they said to check…we’ve got a lot of work to do, I’m going to the mess. Depree get Nueme and do wipers, Lyon and Norri get two gen. ready, Hackel and Separk head back to three gen. and clean it up.” We all headed out to our spots thinking here it comes.
Up in C.I.C. there were circuit cards everywhere, the operational specialist had every manual they could get their hands on out; including ones for other systems for comparison.
They were searching for a master lamp driver somewhere in the system, it seems one of the inspectors made a sarcastic comment regarding burnt out indicator lights and he was misunderstood.
But at least they looked busy. OSSN Williams said, “I thought these things had bulbs.” Electronic technician first class
Spaclavia said, “I don’t care what you have to do Athena, the
lamp test button has to light them all.” Williams replied,
“Worksens on watch once he’s done he’ll show us.”
In Auxiliaries space one, EN3 Rich, EN2 River, and EN3
Elper were combing through the wiring and gauge lines of number one A.C. River asked, “When did this thing become a rats nest?” Elper responded, “It’s the electrician’s mate’s dude.
Houval was supposed to replace the grommets. ”
On the bridge BM1 Branson, SN Melad, and BM3 Brock were straightening up the bridge when Ens. Clarkson stepped through the water tight door she asked, “What are you guys doing up here?” Branson replied, “We’re boatswain mates ma’am were supposed to be up here, aren’t you and engineering officer ma’am?” Clarkson responded a bit nervous, “Ya, I just needed to step out of the wardroom for a minute.” Then
Clarkson broke wind with a loud and nauseating fart and said with a big bright smile, “Thanks…enjoy that.” Branson’s eyes began to water and Tammy Melad asked, “Are you crying because we get shit on all the time, or does it smell that bad?”
Branson looked over rubbing his nose and coughed out the reply, “Both.” and they all laughed. As they left the bridge down the passageway they passed the wardroom door just as
Captain Artimus stepped out, his eye were red and teary. As
Melad walked past him she asked, “Clarkson?” The captain replied with a distant look, “Yep..” Bm3 Brock smacked Melad on the back of the head. The Captain rested his head in his hand covering his eyes with a groan.
The end of the workday was near and the inspectors would be there all week. Mr. Yurganson of ATG announced to the crew through a grapevine of khaki wearing chiefs and officers at quarters being held throughout the ship that, “This will be a quick and painless process of verifying the captains assertions
that this is by far the only ship he would choose to command, and meets the rigorous demands of the navy and the job at hand.” Unfortunately Captain Dave Artimus tends to believe
‘word play’ to be some form of brilliant legal trickery that causes a win every time. As his semantics change it is not seen as a clarification but as an attempt to recant his statement. The reply from the Advanced Training Group was a reassuring,
“We’ll get you there captain.” As ATG made its way through the ship the pending man hours began to stack up and the earlier statement of ‘a painless process’ was updated to being only as painful as a root canal.
The Auxiliaries division as well as the deck division and a few electricians mates stood at the anchor windless it’s conduit box was full of lint and dust, its electrical wiring had been yanked from their connections with bare wire showing past chemically damaged insulation, and its bearings rumbled even with the anchor chain pulled away. Elper and Dames stood astonished looking at it, Elper asked, “Who even takes care of this thing?” Brock and Sirey responded, “You do.” And Haydel added, “And their chief says we do.�
�� Sirey asked, “So what do we do? draw straws?” EN2 Dames said, “Okay, I’ll say it.
Check the PMS cards, those say what rate is supposed to do what.” Sirey asked, “Like what?” Brock replied, “grease the bearings” Haydel replied, “Clean the controller and pecker head.” and Elper replied, “refilling the air oiler.”
In the forward engine room Gillis stood with Washam at the module door to Gas turbine module two alpha enclosure and they were attempting to explain the oil leaks coming from all over the engine. Washam told the inspector, “It just hasn’t had a water wash yet.” Gillis said, “We’ll get someone in the to wipe it up…it’s not like we can fix a labyrinth seal; we’d need a new
engine.” The inspector, Lt. Yurganson responded, “How about we take care of what we already have. That’s what the
Preventative Maintenance System is for.”
Meanwhile in Admiral Dufsin’s Yeoman second class
Karen Meslanka walked into the admirals office and said,
“Admiral preliminary reports from the Afloat Training Group have arrived regarding the Paul F Foster.” Dufsin replied as he took the paper work from her hand, “How are they doing.”
Karen replied, “Well it starts with explaining they introduced themselves as the Advanced Training Group and goes downhill from there.” Dufsin said, “Advanced? …On Artimus’s ship?” and he began flipping through the pages. YN2 Meslanka waited a moment and asked, “Will there be anything else sir?” Dufsin replied, “Call chief Tayed and have him to head over there.”
Meslanka responded, “Yes sir.” and headed to her desk.
As ADM. Dufsin flipped through the pages he said to himself, “Well that’s a fail.” and dismissively tossed the report to the side and turn on his television…it was Wapner time. ‘The people’s court’ and the ‘jerry springer show’ were favorites of his and were replayed at lunch time on his ships just so those crews would know ‘what the hell he was talking about.’