MySpacedotYorktown
When I hear or read the term
myspace.com I think of my space on the Yorktown. Ain't never been to
one but I spent nearly four years on the other. As a fresh 17 year
old seaman apprentice right out of bootcamp, I reported aboard the
Yorktown a month or so before our west-pac cruise in late 1964.
There was very little on the job training for a rookie radarman in
CIC as all the equipment was shut down while in port but as a rookie
swabby, I learned right away how we got that name.
I
was assigned to countless work parties cleaning the OI (Operations
Intelligence) division's spaces. That was a big adjustment for me
cause I thought everything looked just fine as it was. I soon
learned however, that petty officers saw the same spaces I did in a
very different light. They saw dirt and grime EVERYWHERE, even where
I had just cleaned. The other few guys and me in the "work party"
would study the situation over a cigarette, still not see what the
hell he was talking about then just do it all over again. That went
on for almost a year anytime we were in a port. I was becoming torn
between being at sea with almost no work parties with coming into a
port and having to be a swabby.
That first year I was usually told to clean the heads, sleeping
quarters etc. along with other guys of my low rank and seniority.
The term "lower than whale shit" comes to mind. I didn't bitch and I
don't recall other guys complaining much cause that's just the way
it is and we were all in the same boat, as it were. I learned to use
a buffer, scrubber, swab, broom, rags and elbow grease. Life was
good.
It happened during my second year. I was assigned my very own space.
I was finally in charge and totally responsible for a OI div. space,
all of it. My space was a passageway outside of CIC on the starboard
side, one of two ways to enter CIC. It was "L" shape, about ten feet
long, painted all gray with a linoleum deck. I can see it to this
day. There were all kinds of cables and ducts in the overhead and on
the bulkheads. Still don't have a clue what all those things were
for but it was My Space.
When not on other duty, I would just clean and clean. I remember
waxing the deck and getting pissed when some jerk would walk through
while it was still wet. Sailors would say something disrespectful to
me but officers would always say sorry. They would see I was on my
hands and knees and the deck was wet but still walk through leaving
foot prints behind but always the gentleman, say sorry.
Once, before an inspection, I stood in my space and thought what can
I do to really make it my space and not like
all
the other passageways on that deck level. After all, this was part
of CIC and not some dumb airdale pilot ready room, Air Intelligence,
or the Admiral space next door. Then it hit me, this whole ship and
everything in it is gray. I found a small can of red paint somewhere
and painted a very large bolt at eye level bright red. Man did that
stand out. The next day I stood there waiting for the inspection
officer to come by so I could show off my new space. Well he and an
OI chief came by shortly and I stood at attention, identified myself
and the space number saying ready for inspection sir.
Before that day it was always a nod, a grunt and the officer and
chief or 1st class PO would move on to the next space and just
repeat everything. This day they looked at the brass ID over the
door to CIC and noted it was bright with polish, the deck was shiny,
all good, and there was a bright red bolt looking back at them. The
officer asked me what that was and I replied "pure sex, sir". His
face cracked a small smile, nodded, and moved on with a glaring
chief in tow. I passed inspection but as I recall, I was motivated
later that day to find some gray paint and paint that bolt again. It
may have been my space but it was that old chief's Navy.
seeing
his beaten up face as he worked in the personnel office.
k
#1 in 1967. Proof some sailors have a sick twisted sense of humor
(good for them and hand salute!). I often wonder where in the
dickens someone found a live chicken in Long Beach, California.
Speaking of chicken; how about all that dang baked rabbit the cooks
had to serve while in dry dock??? Most guys thought it was chicken
(more that once it was actually posted on the menu board as baked
chicken) but this country boy knows rabbit when he tastes it.
Besides I was on a work party that brought it on board.
He
then inquired, "Did you all get your Christmas
love letters from your girlfriends and wives, all
stinking of perfume?"
The
PO1s said, "Great!" and handed them all
snow shovels. So as we sat in the warmth and listened to
a boring lecture or some Navy skill we had to learn or
Navy history, the boys who eagerly tried to get out of
the lecture were out in the cold shoveling snow.
I
then put that piece of paper onto the clip board, put on
my best white hat, and strolled boldly out into the
hangar deck, up the ladder to the 06 level, got into the
little toilet water closet, locked the door and did my
Naval duty.
can see
that is just bullshit on your clipboard. You're gonna
get caught and I'm not gonna be able to take a shit
during the next GQ!"
Senior
Chief Emiliano Relleve was a real spit and polish
type of Chief. I would tell my fellow PH2, when Nature
Called, "I'm going down to E.M.S." He's say "fine. See
you in 10 minutes." This would occur each morning at
different times. Once, the Chief was in the same
compartment and I announced, "I gotta go to E.M.S." PH2
Steve Freud said, "Ok Dan, see ya later."
was
completely covered (and thus "inside" and hats are never worn
"inside" and without a hat on, saluting officer is not required.)
Division was to assemble
R-1820 engines on
stands. We were located in hangar bay 3 and as I
recall we worked uncovered while crawling on, over and under the
large powerplants. We were told that if we wandered more than a few
feet from that post we had better have a ball cap or white hat on.
Our shop was just inside the fantail starbord side so we pretty much
were uncovered most of the 12 hour shift. When we went to chow or
whatever we pulled our caps from our back pockets.
Reminds of the
scene in the Sand Pebbles as the Chinese threw garbage
on the sailors as they walked strong tall and erect with
their rifles at sling arms back to their gunboat!