Editor's Note: We want to devote this year to Veterans from all arms of our military. I was in the Navy from '66-'70 and did three tours along the coast of Vietnam on a heavy cruiser, the St. Paul. Over the months ahead we will cover significant charity efforts for veterans in hopes that our readers will become informed and pick a veteran's charity to support.–Bandit
I like standing on the bridge wing at sunrise with salt spray in my face and clean ocean winds whipping in from the four quarters of the globe – the ship beneath me feeling like a living thing as her engines drive us through the sea.
I like the rough metal sounds of the Navy – the piercing trill of the boatswains pipe, the syncopated clangor of the ship's bell on the quarterdeck, and the harsh squawk of the 1MC.
I like the fighting vessels of the Navy–fast darting destroyers, plodding Fleet auxiliaries, sleek submarines and solid carriers, lumbering steel armed cities. I like the proud booming names of Navy capital ships: Midway, Lexington, Saratoga, Coral Sea – memorials of great battles won. I like the historic names of Navy 'tin-cans': Barney, Dahlgren, Mullinix, McCloy – mementos of heroes who went before us.
I like the tempo of a Navy band blaring through the topside speakers as we pull away from the oiler after refueling at sea.
I like liberty call and the spicy scent of a foreign port, the girls and new adventures. I even like all hands working parties as my ship fills herself with the multitude of supplies both mundane and exotic, which she needs to cut her ties to the land and carry out her on a mission anywhere on the globe, where there is water to float her.
I trust and depend on my brother sailors, from far and wide, as they trust and depend on me – for professional competence, for comradeship, for courage. In a word, they are shipmates.
I like the surge of adventure in my heart when the word is passed “Now station the special sea and anchor detail – all hands to quarters for leaving port,” and I like the infectious thrill of sighting home again, with the waving hands of welcome from family and friends waiting pier side. The work is hard and dangerous, the going rough at times, the parting from loved ones painful, but the companionship of robust Navy laughter, the 'all for one and one for all' philosophy of the sea is ever present.
I like the serenity of the sea after a day of hard ship's work, as flying fish flit across the wave tops and sunset gives way to night. I like the feel of the Navy in darkness – the masthead lights, the red and green navigation lights and stern light, the pulsating phosphorescence of radar repeaters – they cut through the dusk and join with the mirror of stars overhead. And I like drifting off to sleep lulled by the myriad noises large and small that tell me that my ship is alive and well, and that my shipmates on watch will keep me safe.
I like quiet mid-watches with the aroma of strong coffee – the lifeblood of the Navy – permeating everywhere. And I like hectic watches when the exacting minuet of haze-gray shapes racing at flank speed keeps all hands on a razor edge of alertness.
I like the sudden electricity of General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battle stations followed by the hurried clamor of running feet on ladders and the resounding thump of watertight doors as the ship transforms herself in a few brief seconds from a peaceful work place to a weapon of war – ready for anything.
I like the traditions of the Navy and the men and women who made them. I like the proud names of Navy heroes: Halsey, Nimitz, Perry, Farragut, John Paul Jones. A sailor can find much in the Navy: comrades-in-arms, pride in self and country, mastery of the seaman's trade, education and worldly experience. An adolescent can find adulthood and serve his country while learning a trade.
In years to come, when sailors are home from the sea, they will still remember with fondness and respect the ocean in all its moods – the impossible shimmering mirror calm and the storm-tossed green water surging over the bow. There will come again a faint whiff of stack gas, a rumbling echo of engines and rudder orders, a vision of the bright bunting of signal flags snapping at the yardarm, and the sloshing mess hall food bins during a storm. Gone ashore for good they will grow wistful about their Navy days, when the seas belonged to them and a new port of call was ever over the horizon.
Remembering this, they will stand taller and say,
“I was a Sailor. I was part of the Navy and the Navy will always be a part of me”
