A Veteran's Journey

Trivia Questions (Answers @ end)

1. Who said, “If you must look back, do so forgivingly. If you must look forward, do so prayerfully. However, the wisest thing you can do is to be present in the present… gratefully.”?
2. In what movie (and who said it), did we hear, “I’m tired, boss. Mostly I’m tired of people being ugly to each other.”?
3. In what song (and who sang it), do we hear the following lyrics?
   When I think of all the worries
   People seem to find
   And how they’re in a hurry
   
   To complicate their minds
   By chasing after money
   And dreams that can’t come true
   I’m glad that we are different
   
   We’ve better things to do
   May others plan their future
   I’m busy loving you
   (One, two, three, four!)

---

Let’s face it, we’ve all been handed a lemon or two during our lifetime. And I’m not just talking about the fruit. While I’d heard (& used) this expression for years, I had to research its origination.

Professor Google reports it was first used by Elbert Hubbard in 1915: “He picked up the lemons that Fate had sent him and started a lemonade stand.” But many people attribute the expression to Dale Carnegie in 1948: “If You Have a Lemon, Make Lemonade.“

The theory behind “making lemonade” is to encourage optimism and a positive, “can-do” attitude in the face of adversity or misfortune.

Being a Navy veteran, we have a different term we use to describe trying to make something unpleasant seem more appealing than it really is, but it often becomes a futile effort. Before I get to the “Navy term,” let me share a few times when I felt the need to “polish a lemon.”

Making Lemonade in Guam

My first duty station after ABH (Aviation Boatswain’s Mate-Handler) “A” school in Lakehurst, NJ was NAS Agana, Guam. Not that Guam handed me many lemons, but there were times when things could’ve been better.

My job in Guam was simple: wait for aircraft to crash, then put out the fire and rescue people. Hence the name of our division, “Crash & Rescue.” For the 15 months I was stationed on Guam, we worked 24 hours on and 24 hours off.

When I first arrived, our shift change was at 11:30 a.m. That only allowed us a half day of fun in the sun. We petitioned (or whatever you call it in the Navy) to have the shift change at 0800, which was much better all-around for everyone. The Crash Commanding Officer, Bos’n Joye, approved our request, giving us a full day of sun on our time off.

Driving Crash Trucks

Our normal workday in the Crash Barn was 0800–1600; after that, we had “holiday routine.” We spent a lot of time training, both in the class room as well as hot drills (simulated fires).

But every 24-hour shift, we were assigned to one of five Crash firefighting trucks. Three of them spent two 4-hour shifts out on what we called the “alert spot” or “hot spot.” That was a specific area between the two parallel runways, about midfield. This would be the first truck on the scene in the event of an aircraft crash.

In Guam, the runways served both the Navy and the civilian airport–we had to be prepared for both.

There wasn’t a lot to do out on the hot spot and, thank the good Lord, we didn’t have any crashes during my time on the island. We had plenty of aircraft emergencies, though. That’s why we always needed to stay alert, even in the middle of the night. I wrote about That Adrenaline Rush earlier.

It wasn’t the most glamorous job—sitting in a fire truck out in the blistering sun for 4 hours—but we made do. However, the driver had the best job of the 4 or 5 crew members on the truck. I decided early on to “make lemonade” and learn to drive the Crash trucks—all of them. It wasn’t long before I was certified to drive the three different types of Crash trucks plus the 500-gallon tanker (that was a beast, by the way).

Private Pilot? Why Not

I was only 18 years old when I arrived in Guam in November 1973. After a few months getting accustomed to my new surroundings, I grew tired of frequenting the bars and throwing money away on booze. It was time to find something else to do in my off-duty time.

Near the Crash Barn was a flying club, complete with several privately-owned planes (Cessnas & Apaches). Bruce Hallowell, a fellow Crash crew member, took lessons there and talked a lot about flying around the island. I thought, “Why not?”

After my first $9 “intro” lesson, I was hooked. I learned to fly while stationed in Guam and earned a private pilot license. Costs? In 1974, an hour with a flying instructor, including the plane rental, was $18… total!

The island of Guam isn’t that big: 4-8 miles wide by 32 miles long. There were a few “restricted” areas where you might be shot down if you flew too close, but those were clearly marked on the map. Besides, there were plenty of other areas where I could fly. Talk about clear, blue water and sandy beaches… Wow! I even took a few buddies on flights around the island.

When you’re in the Navy, and I’m sure in almost every branch of military service, it doesn’t take you long to learn “the Navy way,” and how to work the system. That knowledge of “working the system” would come in handy throughout my life.

Making Lemonade on the Carrier

I had to think about this one for a bit, but there were those times (you know what I’m talking about) when life just didn’t seem all that fun on the flight deck of USS Kitty Hawk. That didn’t happen often, but when it did, I think we all figured out how to “make lemonade.”

I was an ABH (Aviation Boatswain’s Mate-Handler) and worked on the flight deck in V-1 Division, originally assigned to Crash. Later, after the Bremerton Shipyards, I became a Yellow Shirt director. So my viewpoint may be a little different from others who served in the Navy.

I never dove headfirst into grease, like the ABEs in the V-2 Division: they’re the guys who worked the Launch Catapults, the Jet Blast Deflectors, and the Arresting Gear. I don’t think a day went by that they weren’t covered in grease.

And I never swam in JP-4 and JP-5 jet fuel, like the ABFs in the V-4 Division: they’re the guys who kept the aircraft fueled day in and day out. V-3 Division (also ABHs) worked the hangar deck, and I’m sure they had their “fun times,” too.

V-5? I’m sure they did something <grin>… but the only time I saw them on deck was when they were escorting the Miss America Tour to and from the COD (Carrier on-board Delivery) during Westpac ‘75. I’m kidding, of course, because we all know they played an important role in air traffic control. They just always seemed to stay clean.

FOD Walk Downs…
… or how to keep from having to make lemonade

FOD (Foreign Object Damage) walk downs weren’t always fun, but we all knew they were necessary. The squadron maintenance folks certainly appreciated what we did.

For those of you who’ve never heard of a FOD walk down, it’s basically a gathering of every able-bodied flight deck member. Before flight operations began, we lined up across the bow, shoulder-to-shoulder, and walk aft down the flight deck toward the stern.

The goal was to look for any object (FOD) that could be sucked up into a jet intake, thus potentially damaging the engine and ruining a perfectly good flying machine. Even a small wing nut can tear up an engine.

It was also a way to meet up with other shipmates either in another division or squadron and chew the fat. A chance to catch up, so to speak. Or, in some cases, an opportunity to collect the money you won the night before playing an all-night poker game. But I digress…

Making Lemonade in the Shipyards

I wrote about life in the Bremerton Shipyards in two earlier blogs [Part 1, Part 2]. While we worked a “normal” workday, 0730-1700, there wasn’t a lot to do at night in Bremerton. I also knew that the Navy would not be my lifelong career after my 4-year commitment.

My discharge date was July 8, 1977. I “felt” my attitude change during our time in the shipyards (’76-77), I made a conscious decision to take a basic electronics course at the local college, Olympic Community College. That course set my journey for my “professional” career(s).

Several of us in V-1 had studied and took the second-class petty officer exam in August while on Westpac ’75. My good friends, Glenn Law, Ed Boes, Gary Borne, and I spent a lot of time studying during the cruise and it paid off… sort of. While we passed the exam, we were all “PNAs” (Passed, but Not Accepted). We didn’t have enough time in service.

The four of us also took the second class exam again in February. At the time, one of my duties was the V-1 Division Training Officer (that’s a nice “skate job” while in the shipyards), so there was no excuse to not to study for it.

In late April ’76, I learned that I had passed the E-5 exam and would be promoted to a second class petty officer, ABH-2, on June 16, 1976. My salary would now be a whopping $492 a month.

Normally, an E-5 is required to have three years of service before advancement, and I was one month short (I joined in July 1973). But because I had joined the service as an E-2 (Airman Apprentice) with a year of college under my belt (even though I flunked out of college after my first year), the Navy gave me the waiver.

I guess that year at FSU (Florida State University) was worth it, even though they asked me to leave.

Current COVID – Making Lemonade

I’ve never been shot at in a firefight or under an artillery barrage like some of my WWII and Vietnam veteran friends. I can’t imagine…

But like many of my flight deck shipmates, I’ve been in split-second life & death situations multiple times. And… a few more while I was a City of Gainesville firefighter after the Navy.

This current COVID crisis, or whatever you want to call it, got me to thinking about the “lemonade” I’ve been making since March. We all have our ways of dealing with this situation, but for me, I’ve reached back into my old seabag and retrieved some of my Navy traditions, including how to “polish this turd.”

It won’t be this way forever, but I’m assuming it will be around for a while and I’m taking my own precautions to remain safe and healthy. I’ve discovered my “new normal” isn’t really all that different from my old normal. Of course, I miss spending time with family & friends, but we’ve also learned to adapt to alternative methods.

My wife and I are both retired, so we don’t feel much the strain and stress many other folks experience. I do not take this lightly; I try to help when & where I can, but there’s only so much a fella can do.

Video Chatting

As an example of my new normal, my 8-year-old grandson in California calls me several times a week on a video chat app and we play solitaire (with cards), games, and he shows me things he’s building, and reads stories he’s writing (he’s a writer, too <<wide grin>>). Now and then, his 6-year-old brother joins in on the video chat and plays games.

I know they’d rather be with their friends and in their summer activities. But for now, spending a little time with their granddad is, to me, precious. I hope I’m able to help them pass a little time during the day and explore some new ideas from their ol’ Navy granddad. It certainly helps me.

Fresh Air & Exercise Do Wonders

Another example: my wife and I are exercising more; well, I am—she always has. We take long (10-25 mile) bike rides around the city once or twice a week, we’re both into Yoga, we walk and swim.

The “Y” is open, but I’m not ready to go inside to lift weights just yet. We do, however, use their outdoor swimming pool (with reservations), and we swim laps (we’re over ½ mile these days).

All of these outside adventures help us clear our minds of the daily onslaught of [insert your own term here].

Writing Keeps Me Busy

I’m also writing more. I started this weekly blog (A Veteran’s Journey) last November. I finished writing a book, NEVER FORGET, that’s currently with an editor. Who knows where it will end up, but I certainly enjoy writing and as I tell my wife, it “keeps me off the streets.”

I also blogged a three-part series earlier, “Writing Your Own Memoir.” Just in case you might want to write about your time in the Navy (or Army, Marine Corps, Air Force, or Coast Guard), feel free to download the entire 3-part series directly from my website.

It may provide you some guidance (and a distraction) over the next few months. I can guarantee you that writing a short memoir or jotting down your “adventures” will make an impact on both you and your family, and generations to come.

I also have another couple of books I plan to write—but I need to publish NEVER FORGET first (wish me luck!).

When I look back on my short 4-year time in service, the Navy definitely helped me to learn how to “accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

Or in laymen’s terms… “When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.”

Stay safe and stay healthy, my friends.

Until we meet again,
Andy

Andy Adkins is a US Navy veteran (’73-77) and the author of several books. His newest novel, NEVER FORGET, is the story of A Vietnam Veteran’s Journey for Redemption & Forgiveness. NEVER FORGET is FREE (eBook, PDF) for all veterans. Download your FREE copy HERE.

Previous posts mentioned in this blog:

• #35 – US Navy “A” School (ABH)
• #26 – That Adrenaline Rush
• #30 – USS Kitty Hawk at Bremerton Shipyards, Part 1
• #42 – Bremerton Shipyards, Part 2
• #12 – Writing Your Own Memoir, Part 1
• #13 – After 30+ Years, I’m Back on the Flight Deck
• #14 – Publishing Your Memoir

Answers

1. Maya Angelou.
2. The Green Mile (1999); John Coffey (Michael Clarke Duncan).
3. Let’s Live for Today (1967), The Grass Roots; written by Giulio Rapetti Mogol, Norman David Shapiro.