Been There Done What

Been there done what?
It's been long enough now to talk about this stuff without fear of embarassing someone other than yourself !!

SOMETIMES IT'S BEST TO BITE THE BULLET

A couple of shipmates were coming back to a ship in a condition unfavorable to the quarterdeck watch ... seems they were smelling of foul breath and a bit late on returning after a stint in Taiwan..

One bit the bullet and went on to the quarterdeck to sign in and the other attemped to climb onboard via the mooring lines holding the ship in place to the dock. All went well for a bit until he came upon the rodent shield on the line. Some how he managed to get over it (he described it as pretty damn tricky and hard) and on he went to the side of the ship to come aboard. Upon arriving he finds the quarterdeck watch, along with the OOD or Chaplin (memory fails at this point) had been standing there observing his many slips, hangings, gronts and goans as he manueuvered his way along the line.

(as told to me by Mike Coughlin LST 1169)

(I know my ship had these shields, and likely used them while I was onboard, but most of my memories are of not being tied alongside of a dock or pier .... mostly to buoys out in the bays.)

         FILL'ER UP - DANGER, DANGER

Surely when you made your first trip to the Far East, you noticed a lot of the differences.

Prior to going overseas, I spent some time with a group from the ship that played as a band at several bars and dance halls. I became aquainted with this one person who played the fiddle. I cannot recall his name, but believe he was from the mountains of Tennessee or Kentucky. He was in short, a Hoot!! Seems he could talk the paint off the bulkhead and had a knack for convincing you he was right in his message.

When we arrived in Yokusuka Japan my first time, I was walking behind a group after arriving at the dock via a LCVP on a liberty run. I was observing things in the distance and the surrounding area when this fiddler yells, "Come on Benton, let's take this cab." He was on the left hand side of the small car getting in the front seat. To me this was the 'driver's side" and I thought; Damned if he hasn't already talked the cabbie into letting him drive the cab!!" Of cousre when I got in I noticed they drive from the right side.
                           (sometimes I got lucky, ccb)

KNOCK OFF "ZIPPO"

Every sailor likely bought a lighter when they visited Japan. One with his ship's name or photo etched into it's side. Did you notice how little lighter fluid they put in the lighter before you left? Probably not, but once you left and lit a few cigarettes it was out of fluid. Conservation or protection??

When mine gave out I filled it from the high octane gas stored up near the bow gun mounts. Of course the filling was to the max, allowing the cotton to get fully saturated. Afterwards, maybe 15 minutes later my leg started to itch and burn in the area of the lighter. Sure enough, it had leaked and the high octane fuel leakage had burned my leg. The reason was the small string wick allowed the fuel to leak by it. Better made "Zippo" lighters had a much tighter fitting wick to keep the fuel from leaking. All of my subsequent fillings were just enough to get the lower cotton dampened .... knowing it would leak otherwise, and I didn't care for the burns again.
ccb

CLIMBING AND CLINGING

After a typhoon had finally let us proceed in a direction of our choice in 1955 I was asked (?) to climb the mast and install a temporary running light. Our mast had broken in the heat of the storm just above the yardarm eliminating our original running light. The seas had settled down quite a lot and although we were still rolling pretty much (When doesn’t a LST roll?) it seemed a relatively safe thing to do. I was given some sort of safety belt or lines, had a line attached to me for lifting the running light after I got to the proper height, and loaded with tools I might need. I started climbing, and the higher I got the more the roll of the ship was evident. It got to the point of timing my climb to the short duration the ship was in the horizontal position, then hold on tight while it rolled over to one side or the other. There was a bit of the free-fall effect when it hit the max on the roll and started back up. After getting to the point of the broken yardarm I tied myself to the mast and lifted the light up by the line that had been attached to me. Not as easy as said. We had already installed an electrical cord, so all I had to do was lash the running light in the proper position. It was hold on, then tie, hold on, then tie, until I got it attached well enough. Power was applied to the light and when determined it was okay, I came back down using the same timing method, hold on then climb, hold on, then climb until I reached bottom. As I recall, we went into Sasebo, Japan for the repairs, both to our mast and to the several splits in the main deck which occurred during the typhoon.

I climbed our Ship’s Main Mast that one time and had to go before a Captain’s Mast one time. I think I enjoyed the climbing of the main mast the better.

ccb EM3 a couple of times

Funny Painting Feeling

It was not totally unusual for me to assist in restoration of the ship's paint although I was by training an electrician. My problems, small as I considered them, seem to occur all too often after being out to sea for duration of more than a few days. Celebration on being back in port sometimes got a bit out of hand when time went by all too fast, a ride back to the ship on a scheduled liberty launch left without me, and the free rides or lodging given by the Shore Patrol interfered with my shipboard work schedule. When these occasions came up the Captain or Engineering Officer would see that I caught up with my work onboard ship by a thing called extra duty. I spent several nice weekends with the “Little Monster” removing paint in various areas and then applying new paint to the newly prepared surface. The usually hot tank deck was a popular location for me to work. However on one occasion I was delegated along with about three others who were on “extra duty” to paint in the port shaft alley. It was a confined space without any mechanical ventilation. We had been there painting for about an hour or two and found ourselves laughing at just about anything anyone said. The Sargeant at Arms who was to ensure we did our work came by to see how we were doing. When he got to the hatch and started down he knew from experience we had a problem. He directed all of us to drop whatever we had in our hands and to meet him on the main deck by the fantail. When we got up to the main deck some proceeded to get sick to their stomach. I didn’t get sick but noticed I had numbness around my face and hands. Fortunately we all got back to normal after a while on the fantail breathing that fresh ocean air. The Boson Mate let us go and had another party go down and clear out the paint and brushes. Had he not come by when he did, we surely would have started falling like flies from the effects of the potent paint fumes. It taught me a lesson about confined spaces and the dangers in working in them. Even so, I still had those liberty problems. Some habits are awfully hard to lose.

ccb EM3 (a couple of times)

Same Song, Second Verse, Pain Hurts

When I came aboard ship I was, of course, regarded as a “Boot” to everyone who had boarded the LST 1126 before I did, even if just the day before. “Boots” are not suppose to know much about anything, especially technical things. I may not have been the brightest lamp on the tree, but I did not just fall off the watermelon truck from the country.

An Engineman 2nd Class Petty Officer was shooting the bull about electricity, telling of how very low voltages could kill, and how alternating current hurt more than direct current. Maybe I should have kept quiet being a “Boot”, but he was wrong and talking in my field of expertise, be that level what it may. I had been working with my Dad wiring homes, and businesses for the past three or four years, and recently graduated fourth in the class from Electricians Mate Class “A” School at San Diego Naval Training Center. I was sure what he was saying was wrong and set out to prove it.

First he said Alternating current hurt more than Direct Current. I challenged that and asked that he put his finger into the socket of our Bunk Bay lighting fixture, because it was “Only” Direct Current. He stepped right up and did just that !! Of course he tried to be faster than the 187000 Miles Per Second electricity, and failed drastically. Round one: Near blister on right index finger.

After regaining his composure, he stated that he meant Direct Current like “Batteries” that started cars, liberty boat engines, and the Main or Auxiliary Engines of our ship. I challenged that too, because I had felt the wrath of the package of Batteries, 36 volts each, wired together series - parallel to give ultimate power to start those diesel engines. I lured him (along with a couple of others) to the Main Engine Room and placed him on the down side of the DC Battery Package. I asked that he grab a nearby particular metal pipe, (one I had accidently used myself) and the final terminal of the Battery Pack. He did it, and again tried to beat the speed of electricity. He again failed grossly. Round two: Big Surprise !!

After he regained his less than stable composure, I asked about going to the Fire Control Generator to test the difference of the Alternating Current developed there for Fire Control by the Motor Generator. He meekly said he had gained enough knowledge for the day, and could not stand anymore. Later, when passing in a passageway, I would sometimes point to a light fixture. He usually smiled after figuring out that I was pointing at a light fixture and the electricity there.

ccb EM3 (a couple of times)

             Conditions normal, steaming as before.
                     By: Vernon Shope, 1965-1967

I was on fantail watch standing in the gun tub. The night was cool, the seas were calm, and from the galley came seaman Fred Clark. He asked me if I wanted a sandwich, to which I said yes. Down to the galley he went, emerging with a sandwich for me. While sitting there peacefully eating my newly acquired sandwich, Clark told me he was tired of being on the ship, and that he was thinking about jumping overboard. I told him "You don't want to do that." and continued enjoying my sandwich, the cool night, and calm seas.

Then I heard a loud splash!! I looked all around the fan tail and there was no Fred Clark. I looked in the water saw nothing but a wake. After shouting repeatedly for him with no response I reported to the bridge, over my sound powered phones, that I thought Fred Clark had jumped over board.

The search commenced. We checked his bunk and did a quick search around the ship. The quick search produced no Fred Clark. The ship turned around and made passes around the seas over and over. Searching for him to no avail. After about two hours Clark emerged again with more sandwiches, saying "What's going on, Why did we stop?” He was totally unaware they were looking for him.

What he had done was throw an old swab over the side, then crawled down onto the stern anchor where, because of the LST stern configuration, you would have to hang over the stern to see him. There was no way you could see him at all from the gun tub where I was standing watch. After a while he then proceeded down to the mess decks and made more sandwiches, completely unaware of what had taken place.

Footnote: This guy Clark must have been reprimanded, although they were may have been so glad to see him that they may have let it slide.   (ccb)

Now, some say that men make a ship and her fame
As she goes on her way down the sea;
That the crew which first man her will give her a name -
Good, bad, or whatever may be.
The recruits coming after them soon fall in line
And carry tradition along –
If the spirit was good, it will always be fine –
If bad, it will always be wrong.

The soul of a ship is a marvelous thing,
Not made of its wood or its steel,
But fashioned of mem’ries and songs that men sing,
And fed by the passions men feel.

It’s built of ambition of jealousy, strife,
Of friendship, of love, and of fear;
It includes almost all of the making of life;
It’s nurtured on grumble – and cheer.

The soul of ship is a molder of men –
Her spirit lives on through the years.
As she started her life, so she is to the end;
She shares each recruit’s hopes and fears.
And each man who joins feels the breath of her life –
As he stands up and takes heart again –
So he takes to himself the old sea as his wife,
And the ship’s made a man among men.

From The Naval Officer’s Guide, 1944.

Climbing down on the stern anchor was a bit dangerous while underway as described in the strory above. Falling off you could be caught up in the screws pretty easily.

You can see from this photo that a person in the stern gun mount could not see someone on the anchor, especially if it was dark, and if he was leaning against the ship.

I've been on the anchor while painting, and also over the side painting the ship's name and number while doing "community service" for the deck force in my time off. (ccb)

"Sometimes when I reflect back on all the wine I drink
I feel shamed. Then I look into the glass and think
about the workers in the vineyards and all of their hopes
and dreams If I didn't drink this wine, they might be out
of work and their dreams would be shattered. Then I say
to myself, "It is better that I drink this wine and let their
dreams come true than be selfish and worry about my liver."
(Jack Handy)

WARNING: The consumption of alcohol may create the illusion that you are tougher, smarter, faster and better looking than most people.

Would you buy a set of BF Goodrich tires from this felllow?
(CC Benton 1957 fresh out of the Navy)

During a recent ship’s reunion I had the pleasure of speaking with several shipmates who served during periods other than my years of 1953-1957. Records indicate I spent 3 years, 10 months and 20 days in the Navy with 3 years and 3 months of sea service. I found it disturbing to meet those who served a couple of years with me during my tour, and not being able to recall their names or faces. For whatever reason, they for the most part indicated they remembered me. A couple of them tried to shake my memory with tales of us being at or in various conditions or places. One was with me during an SP escorted trip back to the ship’s landing in Japan. He described the episode pretty much like I recalled, only he didn’t recall me as a participant. I was the one who faked an asthma attack, and he was the one who had the aspirator and pills taken away from him by the shore patrol at the landing.