#187—Westpac ’75: Transit to PI

Trivia Questions (Answers @ end)

  1. Who said, “You don’t improve your life by doing more. You improve it by doing less of what doesn’t matter.”?
  2. In what movie (and who said it), did we hear, “It’s what you do right now that makes a difference.”?
  3. In what song (and who sang it) did we hear:
    The bar-maid is mad ’cause some guy made a pass
    The juke box is play-in’ there stands the glass
    And the cigarette smoke kind-a hangs in the air

I’m writing a multi-part series of articles about a US Navy cruise in the Pacific, commonly known as a “Westpac.” I made one Westpac in 1975. It made quite an impression on me and it’s something I love to write about.


Blog #187 (audio)
Published: February 23, 2025

If you missed the prior blog posts, check them out:

WESTPAC—A US Navy deployment from the west coast to the western Pacific Ocean involving a variety of ships, including aircraft carriers, cruisers, destroyers, and submarines, as well as aircraft and other supporting units. Back in my day (mid ‘70s), the forward deployment base was Naval Station Subic Bay, Philippines. Currently, the forward deployment base is Yokosuka, Japan.


We were in and out of Hawaii twice before heading to the Philippine Islands, fondly known as “PI.” The two things I remember most about Hawaii (besides the beautiful water and beautiful women) were my visit to the Arizona Memorial and… drum roll, please… The Red Door Lounge.

I mentioned the Red Door Lounge, only because it had a red door, blue drinks, women dancing on the table, and a kick-ass country band. One night out on liberty, my shipmates encouraged me to climb on stage to join the band (not the women on the table) and play a few songs. After all… my nickname was Chet Adkins. I got through Leroy van Dyke’s The Auctioneer just fine, and leaned into Johnny Russell’s Rednecks, White Socks, and Blue Ribbon Beer as a tribute to my buddies. I’ll admit, I’d had a few drinks, and I probably sounded like crap, but it was a great memory.

On a more solemn note, several of us took a ferry ride out to visit the USS Arizona Memorial, which straddles the sunken battleship. It was quiet and serene, much like a church before a funeral. It wasn’t as big as I thought it would be, at least not compared to Kitty Hawk. The most visible feature is the barbette to gun turret #3, poking out of the water.

USS Arizona Memorial, Hawaii.
Public Domain Image.

Peering down into the crystal-clear water, I realized that more than 1100 men were still entombed. It was an awakening for me—these guys were our age when they lost their lives defending our country, their ship, and their fellow shipmates in an unprovoked attack.

Bird in the Water

While in and out of Hawaii, we continued flight ops & training exercises, usually from 1000 through midnight. During the first day out, an F-4 Phantom from the VF-114 squadron (“Aardvarks”) was conducting touch & go landings on the carrier. I was in my usual place along the Foul Line, next to the Crash tractor. We always kept our eyes on the aircraft, both coming & going… you just never know.

On one of the touch & goes, the horizontal stabilizer locked, placing the Phantom in a nose-up attitude. Without enough speed, the aircraft stalled. The pilot applied afterburners, but it was too late. We watched as both the pilot and RIO (Radar Intercept Officer) punched out about 800 feet up.

F-4J Phantom from VF-114 Aardvarks in flight, assigned to USS Kitty Hawk. 1972
Official US Navy photograph.

At that point, almost every Crash training film I’d watched over the past couple of years came into play, all within a few seconds.

The jet was lost to Davy Jones with no chance of recovery. Fortunately, the crewmen parachuted down safely into the ocean to our starboard side and the SH-3 plane guard helo was there within a few minutes. Both crewmen were quickly recovered, and neither injured.

We didn’t know what went wrong, but we later learned that it was an “equipment malfunction”—the Navy’s way of saying, “it’s none of your business.” I was fine with that… at least he didn’t crash on the flight deck.

Dealing with Slackers & Attitudes

There are two kinds of shipmates in the Navy: those who want to do their jobs, and those who don’t give a rat’s ass and skate as much as they can. I was the former and most of the guys I worked with had a good attitude. In a world of constant danger on the flight deck, you cannot allow guys with GAF (Give a F**k) attitudes to work on the flight deck.

We had a way of dealing with it—”blanket parties.”

The Blue Shirts usually took care of such things since most of the skates in our division were FNGs with an attitude and were in the Blue Shirt crew. When one of these guys copped an attitude, several of the older, more experienced Blue Shirts would find him alone, throw a blanket over him, and punch him all over his body. It rarely took more than one blanket party to straighten his sorry ass out. The next day, that guy learned to carry his own weight.

Sometimes we just wanted to have fun with a new recruit, especially if he was arrogant and thought he was better than the rest of us. One of the more painless methods of humiliation was the “balloon shaving cream trick.”

Several of us would gather around the recruit’s rack in our berthing compartment. His privacy curtains were down. We’d fill a balloon with shaving cream, blow it up a little, then while guys held the curtains down, one of us would open the corner flap and let the balloon loose in his rack. Once the balloon finished its “duty,” we would all quickly split—he didn’t know what hit him.

I have to admit, that was one of the funnier things we did on the ship.

On To PI

We left Hawaii on Wednesday, June 4, heading for PI, a trip that would take about two weeks. During that time at sea, we easily got into our daily routines.

One of my other favorite at sea pastimes aboard Kitty Hawk was my job as a radio Disc Jockey. I had the 0600-0800 morning show for the onboard KRAL Country station. My call sign was “Country Chet Adkins.” There were two other radio stations, too: KROC (Rock) and KSOL (Soul).

KROC Radio DJs.
USS Kitty Hawk Westpac ’75 Yearbook.

After my radio show, I’d head down to eat chow, then up to Crash where I’d spend the next 16-18 hours on the flight deck.

Routine: Radio show – chow – flight ops ’til midnight and chow sometime in between.

It’s Not Just a Job… it’s an adventure!

About halfway between Hawaii and PI, Kitty Hawk experienced a major problem around midnight in one of the main engine rooms. A steam line ruptured, then a sea valve malfunctioned, causing the machine room space to flood. No one was hurt and everybody down there got out.

That was the good thing.

The not-so-good thing was the CO announced over the 1MC, “Anyone with scuba equipment please report to engine room #1… and bring your equipment.”

That was scary, and I had fleeting thoughts about 5,500 sailors abandoning ship.

I had just closed my eyes after climbing into my rack. We went to General Quarters. The flooding caused the ship to list to starboard, so we moved the Crash equipment and aircraft to the port side of the flight deck to help balance her out.

I can’t make this shit up… That was a fun night.

The Alert 5

It’s a long cruise to PI and because we knew there would be Russian surveillance aircraft in the air, the CO established what’s commonly known as the “Alert 5.” We were still in the Cold War era and didn’t trust the Russians any more than they trusted us.

That meant we’d have two F-4 Phantoms on the catapults ready to launch from a cold start within five minutes. We kept this routine up around the clock, primarily because the Russians didn’t work nine to five, either.

A pilot & RIO sat in the cockpit of each aircraft, just… waiting. Nearby would be the starter equipment hooked up to the aircraft as well as a full crew, including maintenance and ordnance men. A Yellow Shirt director would join them… all ready to go at a moment’s notice.

Russian Bear, F-4 Phantom
F-4 Phantom from VF-114 “Aardvarks” fighter squadron escorting a Russian Badger.
Official US Navy photo.

When the Russians flew anywhere close (and yes, they did multiple times), the Air Boss would announce over the 5MC, “Launch the Alert 5!” At that point, the Plane Captains would signal the Pilots to start the F-4 Phantoms, spool up the engines, and check the ordnance. The Yellow Shirts would direct the plane up to the catapults and when all was ready, the Shooter would launch the aircraft.

All within five minutes. Talk about efficiency and excitement!

Cruising by Guam

Several days out from PI, we passed close to Guam. My good friends, Glenn Law and Gary Borne (R.I.P.), and I went down to the ship’s communications office. We wanted to send a smart-ass telegram to some of the guys we knew were still at NAS Agana, Guam. Something like, “Better food, better accommodations, fresh air, tons of free time, etc.” (cause that’s what shipmates do).

But when it came down to it, the Communications Officer put a limit as to what we could say. Basically, Hi from Gary, Chet, and Glenn.

Glenn Law, Gary Borne - NAS Agana, Guam (1974)
My good friends, Glenn Law (l) & Gary Borne (r) at NAS Agana, Guam. 1974.
Photo credit: Andy Adkins

We also picked up three A-3 Skywarriors, aka “Whales” from the VQ-1 squadron. This was the same squadron who were only a couple of hangers down from the Crash Barn. These guys were big… much bigger than the other aircraft aboard, weighing in about 80,000 pounds.

During the transit from Hawaii to PI, the ship began “water hours.” That basically meant the ship turned off the fresh water during certain hours to conserve it, since ships make their own fresh water from the ocean’s salt water with “magic” (desalination process). The ship would turn the water back on only during certain periods of time and then only for a couple of hours.

If you couldn’t grab a shower during those water hours, you’d end up “mud-packing it,” meaning you’d hit your rack without a shower. That happens more often than you’d think.

Other than that, those transit days were Just another fine day in the Navy! Livin’ the Dream, baby!

Next up, liberty in PI!

Until we meet again,
Andy

Previous Blogs mentioned in the Post:

Answers

  1. Attributed to Leo Tolstoy.
  2. Black Hawk Down (2001), Struecker (Brian Van Holt)
  3. Rednecks, White Socks, and Blue Ribbon Beer (1973), Johnny Russell; written by Bob McDill, Charles Neese, Wayland Holyfield.

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