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| Sweepers, sweepers, man your brooms...
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A very warm night, this July 3rd.
Doesn't take me much to just close my eyes, on a warm night like this, and drift back, way back, to the summer of 1981. It's steamy, and the air is still. I'm nineteen years old, and yes, miracle of miracles, I still have a beautiful, thick, coffee-shaded head of hair. I'm sitting on the foc'sle of the USS Farragut (DDG-37), my back against Mount 51, which is the ship's five inch, fifty-four caliber. I'm in my dungarees- blue denim bell-bottoms, blue chambray shirt, dark blue ballcap, and black workboots known colloquially as 'boondockers'. I have the Duty Blues- in other words, absolutely nothing to do, whatsoever, so, there I sit, staring off into the gloaming, across Hampton Roads, to the lights on Craney Island. I'm wearing a Sony Walkman, and it's playing 'Reggatta De Blanc' by the Police. Some out there would actually ask just what the hell a Sony Walkman was. Well, let's say it was the earliest version of an Ipod...as a circular, flat stone rolled by an Austrolopithicene could be the earliest version of a Pirelli P6.
My ship's moored at Pier 21, Destroyer and Submarine Piers, at the Norfolk Naval Base. The Norfolk Naval Base is easily the size of a small city...and on a hot summer night, it certainly is lit like one. Lights everywhere. Aft of us on Pier 21 would be our sister ships, the King (DDG-41), and the Dahlgren (DDG-43) Across the pier would be the Pharris (FF-1094), and moored outboard, the Conolly (DD-979). All these sturdy, hard-working vessels, along with mine, are now gone. Some have taken on a new incarnation as razor blades, as the old saying goes.
All the ships present- all the combattants and auxiliaries and even tugs- have guys doing the Duty Blues on a Saturday night. Some watch a movie on their mess decks. Some play cards in their berthing compartments. Some use the Quarterdeck telephone to call Dominos for a delivery (present active duty personnel pay heed: you could DO these things in the days before 9/11!). Some watch TV- a rerun of 'The Dukes of Hazzard', perhaps. On this steamy, humid night, the Quarterdeck watches all are resplendent in their dress whites, the others wear dungarees or khaki, and the guys coming back off Liberty dress in black T-shirts with logos on them that read 'AC/DC', or 'Led Zeppelin'. Usually the Southerners wore, regardless of the weather, checkered flannel shirts, black denims, and boots. African-American shipmates all traveled in packs in those days- out of comfort, perhaps out of safety. One could only hope that the packs that bluejackets travel in on Liberty are more integrated nowadays. We didn't have racial animosity on my ship- it was more a case of comfort levels. Maybe people are more comfortable now. I'm thinking there's a good chance of this, since women nowadays are numbered in the crews on combattant ships.
I'd sit there, on the foc'sle, and just relax, with my Walkman, and look out, and see ships out there in the channel, moving from port to starboard, and vice-versa. Even though visibility's impaired by the pea-soup humidity, you can still see running lights. Every so often, Roving Security comes by, making his rounds. He says hello. Tells me there's extra pizza there on the Mess Decks. The movie they're showing's 'Meatballs'.
I sigh. Light a cigarette...
"Hey!" Cookie's standing in front of me, holding a plate of scrambled eggs, pork roll, and white toast, obviously for someone else, since my order of a chef's salad is already sitting in front of me. "You awake there?"
"Of course I'm awake. Was I asleep?"
"Couldn't tell, you might've been."
"You're a character, you know that?"
"Staring off into space, you are." Over her voice, I hear the satellite feed playing Smokey Robinson's 'Being With You'. Big hit that summer of my aforementioned reverie. You don't have to be Einstein to figure out what triggered this. "Somethin' botherin' ya?"
"Nothing, really. Just fiddling through the file cabinets in my mind."
"Ah." Cookie refills my coffee, and hands me two Equals. "I'd like to purge some of the file cabinets in mine."
"I'd never do that myself. It's good to go back to them on some days."
Cookie nods, and heads back up the counter.
It's reasonably crowded tonight, this July 3rd. Mostly families here late, after the movies let out. I sip my coffee, and sigh. I open the file cabinet, pull out the file that I was previously perusing, and head down to the ship's mess decks to watch 'Meatballs', as the voice on the 1MC announces "sweepers, sweepers, man your brooms..." |
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Posted by Knoxxie03 on 2008-07-03 23:41:35 | Rating: | Views: 87
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I know this is an older post, but it's the one that I located you through. I was Googling USS Farragut blogs as I do every so often just to see who might be out there. Hell, it's lunch time here at work, what else I got to do?
First, let me say I'm always impressed by your memory of so long ago. I have trouble remembering 2001, let alone 1981. I envy you for that, even though it's probably my own fault for past deeds and all.
Anyway, I miss hearing from you even if it was only occasionally. The last thing I tried sending to the yahoo address I have for you was returned undeliverable, so I never tried again.
Hope all is well with you. I'm going to enjoy keeping up with your blog, now that I've found it. I love your story telling ability.
Well, lunch is just about over, so gotta "turn to".
Dan O
(Opie)
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Posted by DanO
on 2008-08-15 12:29:59
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Glad you're here, Opie. Damned glad.
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Posted by Knoxxie03
on 2008-08-18 19:13:11
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