A Veteran's Journey

Trivia Questions (Answers @ end)

1. Who said, “The best teachers are those who show you where to look, but don’t tell you what to see.”?
2. In what movie did we hear, “No Matter Where You Go, There You Are.”?
3. In what song (and who sang it), did we hear:
   Well, the south side of Chicago
   Is the baddest part of town
   And if you go down there
   You better just beware
   Of a man name of…

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My Navy “career” was a short four years. Actually, it was 3 Years, 11 Months, & 29 Days, But Who’s Counting?

It may have been short, but during those formidable years, 1973-77, I learned a lot about myself. As my mom told me when I returned home for good, “You’ve matured.”

From an 18-year-old college drop-out to a second-class petty officer (ABH2 – Aviation Boatswain’s Mate-Handler), the Navy set me on a path that I’ve never regretted.

I know from previous emails, comments, and Facebook posts I’ve received from shipmates and other military veterans over the past few years of writing this weekly blog, I’m not the only one. The Navy taught me many things about my job as an aircraft firefighter, both shore and ship. And… I picked up a few other pieces of wisdom along the way.

One “Oh Crap” Moment Flushes 25 Atta-boys

When you do a good job in the Navy and you have a strong leader, periodically you may receive an “atta-boy.”

“Well done, Chet. Next time, see if you can do it better.” Or one of my favorites, “When I want your opinion, Chet, I’ll give it to you.”

After a while, these “atta-boys” tend to add up. I didn’t keep a journal of all the atta-boys I received in the Navy. Because if I did, I might only have had enough to write on the side of a red solo cup.

I can honestly tell you that when I trained as a Yellow Shirt director aboard USS Kitty Hawk (CV-63) after coming out of the Bremerton Shipyards, I was stoked. I’d been in V-1 Division/Crash since reporting aboard in March 1975 and loved it. I’ve written many blog posts about those times, especially during Westpac ’75.

But a Yellow Shirt director was something completely different. Here I was in Fly 3 (Flight Deck Director #36–I still have my jersey), directing F-14 Tomcats, A-6 Intruders, and A-7 Corsairs that were parked way back on the fantail in Fly 3—all multi-million-dollar aircraft, mind you—many of which were parked only a few inches apart.

That’s quite a responsibility. When you’re new and in training, everyone on the flight deck knows and keeps an eye out for you.

“Nice job, Chet. Smitty musta parked that Turkey tight back there last night after flight ops.”

Yeah, the accolades kept coming. “Atta-boy” after “atta-boy.” As a new Yellow Shirt director, I was eating it up.

Then, something happened. Not that I was being careless, nor was I trying too hard, but there was one time when I was directing an F-14—the pilot was in the cockpit on the controls, following my signals—when I turned him toward Cat #4, the launch catapult on the far port side of the flight deck. I guess he read my hand signals to “hurry up,” so the pilot gave his F-14 a little too much juice, swinging the tail a little too quickly.

No, it wasn’t a “crunch”—that’s when one aircraft scrapes another, grounding both aircraft until checked out. My good friend and fellow Fly 3 Yellow Shirt, ABH1 McKay, who also happened to be the Fly 3 LPO (Leading Petty Officer), was also directing another F-14. My Tomcat’s jet exhaust blew Mac down and swept him a few feet down the fight deck.

Let me pause here for a quick moment.

They say working on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier is the most dangerous job in the world. I’ve been there and done that and, in a sense, tend to agree. I’ve also been a local city firefighter. But on the other hand, I’ve not served in a forward combat unit; I’ve never been shot at, nor have I been under an artillery barrage like many of my Vietnam veteran friends. So, I don’t know if it really is the most dangerous job. But there is danger lurking, especially if you don’t watch what you’re doing or where you’re going. You have to constantly keep your head on a swivel, aware of everything going on around you. I still do that today.

I would venture to say, however, that most airdales (those men & women who work on the flight deck) have been blown down by a jet’s exhaust at least one time in their careers. It happened to me many times.

Needless to say, ABH1 McKay, having been blown down by his now ex-buddy “you know who,” rolled to one side as we’d all been taught, immediately popped up, and walked back to his position directing his aircraft. Without even a slight glance my way, we all heard on our flight deck radio headsets, “Another 25 atta-boys just got flushed, Chet.”

Just Call Me, “Clipboard”

My dad was a lawyer here in Gainesville, Florida. Back then, in the 60s & early 70s, there were no required specialties, such as Criminal Law, Family Law, or Personal Injury, like there are now. Some lawyers had their own niche, but many solo practitioners, like my dad, practiced what he often called “door law.”

“Anyone walking in the front door of my office is a potential client.”

Back then, there were also private investigators. My dad, who handled a plethora of Criminal and Family Law (sometimes it was the same client), worked with a great PI, Wynn Phillips. Mr. Phillips, as I called him during my junior high school years, was former Navy. When I told him I joined the Navy, Wynn, as I called him after graduating high school, gave me some unsolicited advice.

“When you’re on the ship, carry a clipboard with you. The Chief will think you’re busy and won’t bother you.” I kinda looked at him like, “Have you lost your marbles?” What kind of advice is that?

I didn’t have too many problems keeping busy while stationed at NAS Agana, Guam. I was in Crash & Rescue and we worked 24 hours on and 24 hours off for my entire 15 months. While on duty, we were all stationed at the Crash Barn, about 25 of us. We didn’t wander about.

But when I reported aboard Kitty Hawk, that all changed. The aircraft carrier was a floating city with a ship’s crew of about 3,600 men (women weren’t on board at that time) and another 2,500 squadron personnel when at sea. When you’re a new boot on board, you’re subject to “selection” for all kinds of work parties and work duties.

“Chet, I need someone to help unload the ship’s store goods. Thanks for being the first to volunteer.”

“Chet, since you’re the new kid aboard, thanks for volunteering…”

And so on and so forth…

After a few months of “volunteering,” I remembered what Wynn Phillips told me. I found a clipboard, slipped in a few pages of official Navy-looking paper, and carried it around with me. Periodically, I’d walk into an office or a berthing compartment, look at the clipboard, turn the light switch on and off, then mark something on a page of official Navy-looking paper, and mutter, “all good to go. Have a fine Navy day.” Then I’d disappear. Worked like a charm.

The “3 Navy Questions”

I reported to Orlando RTC for boot camp, beginning July 1973. I was in Company #163 with Company Commander, ADJ1 Wright.

I believe we were one of the first classes to complete boot camp in six weeks. I don’t know why the rush, but I’d heard they were trying to run us through as fast as possible, even though the Vietnam War was winding down. Maybe we needed to restock the fleet… who knows?

Regardless, while marching as a company from the barracks to the mess hall or the tarmac for PT, we’d inevitably pass another company. Invariably, we’d hear or shout out, “Anyone from Texas?” “Anyone from Alabama?” “Anyone from North Carolina?”

The response would be obviously someone from that state, but before you could turn your head to look, the other company had already marched by and you had no clue who was from where.

Now that I’m retired, living in Florida, when I see another Navy veteran, either wearing a Navy ball cap or shirt, I’ll ask them similar questions.

When were you in? What was your rate? What ship/duty station? Now and then, I’ll spot someone wearing a Navy aircraft carrier ball cap and make my way over. I’ve only met a couple of guys who were on Kitty Hawk at the same time as me and we spend a little time reminiscing. I’ve learned that no matter what years, no matter what ship or duty station, and no matter what rate or rank, we’re all brothers from a different mother.

I’ve heard that same statement from all branches of service.

The 3 Irish Questions

Funny I should mention this in this particular blog, but while I’m on the subject of the “3 Questions…”

My wife & I traveled to Ireland this past May—our first trip to the Emerald Isle. We were on a small group tour. Nine of us, plus the driver/tour guide, traveled around the island having a grand time. We met as strangers, but parted as family—very similar to shipmates.

One thing Denise, our Irish tour guide, mentioned. “Whoever you meet, they’ll always ask you three questions. First, what’s your name? Second, where ya’ from? And third, what do you think of our weather?”

I can unequivocally say that she was 100% right. No matter where we were, whether it was a big town or a small village, the locals all asked the same questions.

In a future blog, I may talk about sampling various Irish whiskeys, both local and international. But that’s for later. <wide grin>

Until we meet again,
Andy

Answers

1. Alexandra K. Trenfor.
2. The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension (1984).
3. Bad, Bad Leroy Brown (1973) – Jim Croce; written by Jim Croce.

Previous Posts Mentioned in this Blog:

• #68–Flight Ops: Another Fine Day in the Navy!
• #30–USS Kitty Hawk @ Bremerton Shipyards, Part 1
• #42–The Shipyards, Part 2
• #49–Westpac ’75: After Six Months, We’re Coming Home
• #54–Westpac ’75 Aircraft Carrier Squadrons
• #48–Not Just Another House Fire
• #4–From Civilian to US Navy