Shipboard Life

[Land Owner]

The thread, "The Snipes Lament" got me to thinking (and writing) about two of the sea stories I lived through in the Coast Guard. It wouldn't be proper, though it happens all the time, to drift the Lament thread from the Engine Room to General Shipboard Life...so I started THIS Thread. I hope you join in...

Buoy Tender Duty off of the Atlantic seaward coast of North Carolina (Nag's Head) found us at noon with 38-feet of cage, and a 12-foot diameter, steel drum buoy lashed to the deck. God has a sense of humor and nearly 2,000 tiny sparrow-like chickadees descended from out of the blue to feast on the tiny saltwater crustaceans that had either attached or congregated for safety in the barnacles and seaweed on the buoy and that we had partially scraped onto the deck.

There were, for a moment, tiny birds flying EVERYWHERE. Imagine Alfred Hitchcock's, "The Birds", descending upon a ship. They were in the Galley (on STEAK DAY), in the Berthing area, on the Bridge, in the Stack, down the fan shaft for cooling the engine room (even though there was a small mesh screen on its opening), in the Med Shed, Officer's Mess, EVERYWHERE a passageway was open and they began to DIE on EVERY weather deck and in every passageway of the ship. FREAKED us out!

We suspect it was salt dehydration. Tiny birds with their high energy and hydration requirements, "that far" from shore (about 6-miles), eating and drinking 35,000 parts per million saltwater "bugs", probably succumbed to an "osmotic demand" and lack of fresh water. After we finished the buoy, set it back on station, got a chance to eat a quick lunch (steak with a side of feathers), we had to police all of the dead birds over the side. We fed the fish that day.

[Winger Ed.]

Had a Coastie buddy that was on a boat in San Francisco when all those Indians were squatting on Alcatraz Island.

As they cruised by the old prison one time, they were shot at by what he figured was a .22.
The Skipper stopped the boat.
The crew carried a couple of big empty boxes on deck and set them close to the deck gun,
as they cranked it around to aim at the island.

As the deck gun swung around, kids were running like roaches when you turn the light on.
Nobody shot at them after that.

[Land Owner]

Speaking of fish, we went "fishing" for a similar 38-foot long, 12-foot diameter steel drum buoy in the seaward channel of the southern Chesapeake Bay shipping lane leading to Norfolk Naval Station. They Navy helmsmen like to steer TOWARD the seaward buoy from their "Ivory Tower" on the Aircraft Carrier Bridge, RUN THEM OVER, and SINK THEM. Then they call the Guard to reestablish the buoy. Viscous circle.

Our "Old Man", a term of endearment, and ship was ordered by District to find a few of the sunk buoys, to save the Guard some money, by dragging a huge four pronged grappling hook, the size of an Oil Tanker's anchor, back and forth across the shipping lane in hopes of catching their chain. Three shot of chain, with a shot of chain being 90-feet, is attached to each seaward "can" buoy. Finding the chain of one or two sunk buoys seemed as if it would be "easy".

For an entire morning we steamed back and forth, at the approximate station, where the sunk buoys "should have been". At lunch, we "hooked up". We slowly hauled up a WWII Nun Buoy with its beautiful BRASS lantern hanging precariously off to one side. The Old Man said he wanted that lantern. As I was held by my Chief and two shipmates, I reached as far as I could for the lantern as it unloaded into the briny deep. No luck today, Captain.

We hauled the 24-foot long Nun buoy aboard. As we laid it on the deck, from gaping hole in its side, came 32 of the fattest Red Drum the fishermen among us had ever seen. We ATE fresh fish, some of which had to be frozen, for WEEKS! Now THAT's fishing!

[Land Owner]

Switching back to birds for a moment...in the Arctic Ocean heading to Point Barrow, AL, in a 50 knot blowing gale, snow balls the size of bats out of **** flying horizontal toward us, the carbon arc spotlight illuminating our way forward (but not very far), there was an horrific series of "crashes" into our 250 nautical mile radar antennae.

Through the bridge door, obscured in the shadow of the brilliant arc lamp, we could hear something LARGE flapping on the weather deck. We didn't want to venture out there at first.

Turning the lamp off and adjusting our eyes to the darkness helped us to "see" a half dozen Canadian Geese that had become confused in the gale by the ship's lantern, flew straight at us, attempted to veer up and away at the last second, too late, they crashed into the antennae.

I had to pick them up and take them to the cook. I heard those geese were greasy when eaten. I didn't get any...

[Winger Ed.]

Finding the chain of one or two sunk buoys seemed as if it would be "easy".

Not really.

The bouy's anchor chain won't be laid out straight along the bottom.
It would be mostly in a big pile since the bouy probably sank straight down.

[Mk42gunner]

We did a "demonstration" UNREP once during a tiger cruise, from the USS Midway.

Since we had all those dependents on board we simulated refueling with the forward refueling station, which on an Adams class DDG is below the bridge wing on top of the wardroom. Wouldn't you know, the probe got stuck somehow.

The only two guys with nothing to do were the Safety Observer (1st Div BMC) and the Gunner's Mate (yours truly). Obviously we were tasked to unseat the probe.

Did I mention the receiver is about eight feet off the deck and about three feet from the lifelines? So here's Boats standing on a five gallon bucket working on it, with me holding onto the back of his belt with a deathgrip hoping to keep him from tipping over the side if things go any more wrong than they already have.

Every time the bucket wobbled as the ship rocked I kept thinking "Summary of Mishaps: BMC and GMG2 go over the side..."

I was glad when we finally got the probe out and the spanwire unhooked that time.

Robert

[Land Owner]

I was on the Tender's Deck Crew with a 38-foot can buoy tethered by crane hook over the side awaiting the CO's "Let 'er go" when it was on station. The BM Chief would tap me on the hard hat, at which point, I would take my 8-pound sledge hammer, pull a safety pin, and release the chock holding a 12,500 pound concrete sinker over the side.

Three shots (270-feet) of chain attached to the sinker were neatly faked down in large loops on the deck with the end of each loop tied to a Head Chain by a piece of twine. On this day, in about 110-feet of water, I got the tap, pulled the pin, released the chock, and got hit in the leg by the first loop of faked chain as it let go of the twine.

My dungaree pant leg was pinched between two links of the chain about 12-feet above the sinker, which spun me around 180-degrees and headed me over the side. Were it not for the cat-like reflexes of the BM Chief standing, now facing me, grabbing the cords of my work life jacket, physically throwing me back on board, and across the still unraveling links of buoy chain toward the Forecastle Deck, I would have been 110-feet down (perhaps) with another 1.5 shots of chain raining down on me.

Time slowed WAY down. In about 2 seconds (it seemed) it was over. When the buoy was set and released about 30 seconds later, while I regained my wits, I remember the Old Man inquired if everyone was alright. I gave the Chief two thumbs up, and he matter of fact told me to go change my pants, now hanging in shreds from my waist with no stitched seams remaining.

Some days on the Buoy Deck were tougher than others.

[Nazgul]

Did 3 years in the MARDET on a carrier in the 70's. One nice evening in the Med the Capt decided the Marines would "Man the Highline" in he old fashioned way with a Destroyer while underway. This involves almost all of us keeping a line between the ships taught while they winch people/supplies/mail from one ship to another. Went well, secured from it and was catching my breath when I noticed the lights of the other ship getting real close.

It hit us and we spent several quality hours in GQ locked in the belly of the ship while they fought fires.

Don

[popper]

Unhooking 8" projectiles from the high line in heavy water is fun.

[lightman]

Cool stories, Guys! Life aboard ship sounds rough.

[EMC45]

Thank God I was a Seabee.

[Land Owner]

I'm 6' 4" tall. Passageways doors, with their structural rigidity, security "dogs", and perimeter "knife edge" for watertight closure, are on the order of 5' 10" tall, putting my forehead in the crosshairs if my internal "personal space" monitor doesn't involuntarily protect me.

The first week after Basic found my Tender underway for Sea Trials out of Portsmouth, VA with a Ship Rider (Naval Commander) taking notes and grading the crew on its efficiency. At the sound of GQ, everybody, including me, hit the deck headed to their assigned battle stations with the thought of making a name for the Guard in record time.

I ascended the ladder out of the berthing area in two bounds, rounded the corner, entered the Mess Deck on the starboard interior side in a tear, and headed aft to my assigned space. The first step through the rear Mess Deck passageway door was successful.

My "personal space" alarm didn't go off and I smacked my forehead squarely on the knife edge of the door, laying me out on the door's threshold in the process. I woke momentarily, found the Ship Rider smiling down at me while pinning an "INJURED" sign to my shirt. He ordered me to the Med Shed for attention and made me a part of that first test to see how long it would take my shipmates to report me missing from after-steering and NOT manned and thus NOT ready. They did pretty good too - so I was told.

When secured from GQ, the C.O. called an All Hands On Deck, expressed his pleasure at Ship's Company enthusiasm, a successful first test according to the Ship Rider, and stressed to the crew that SAFETY FIRST was the watchword in training - all the while looking STAIGHT AT ME. That day I received a BAD headache, a 1/4" thick indention line across my forehead, which eventually went away, and a "personal space" alarm for EVERY ship's door thereafter.

[jsizemore]

I'm 6'3" and worked in the hole. Started on the lower level and worked my way to the control room. 50 years later I still jerk away from "stuff" contacting my head.

[KenH]

Does "shipboard" life count as living aboard a 40 ft sailboat for 25 yrs? Raising a wife and two little girls aboard?

Just one of the many "funnies", we were driving back from "up home" in NW Alabama one Christmas when a alternator support broke on the van. I was pulled over doing repair work, and hear the oldest daughter (around 7 or 8 at the time) with a ham radio mic in her hand calling "Coast Guard, Coast Guard, this is Sailing vessel Viajera calling Mayday, Mayday".

Only one time had she ever heard the vessel Viajera call Mayday for Coast Guard, but I guess she remembered it.

[Idaho45guy]

I did a WESTPAC on board the USS Abraham Lincoln (CV-72) during Desert Storm. My "sea stories" are more akin to "prison stories" due to over 5000 people in a small space.

[Mk42gunner]

I'm just over 6' tall and my last ship was an LSD. Holy Crist they have a lot of room compared to an Adams or a Knox class. People can actually meet without touching in the passageways.

On the 0-4 level there were doorways with knee knockers that were poorly designed, it didn't take but one time stepping on it while trying to go through to learn not to do that again. I think I saw stars for three days.

Robert

[Land Owner]

It a standing requirement, for entry into the Coast Guard, that you must be at least 6' tall.

[Land Owner]

So you can WADE TO SHORE if your boat goes down.

[Nazgul]

So you can WADE TO SHORE if your boat goes down.

My neighbor is a retired Coastie, flies the CG flag all the time. Of course I fly the USMC flag at my house. Lots of trash talk goes on.

His daughter was in school with my daughters. She was a great kid, absolute athlete, was on the Soft ball team with my daughter. Her dad coached. She was killed in a car accident shortly after graduation. Spent a lot of time with Dad trying to help.

Sorry, off topic.

Don

[Land Owner]

No, not really OT Don. Bad things happen to good people. This thread is about LIFE, and it goes on - even unto death.