Thread: A Story For Veteran's Day

Onboard Navy ships the business of all things topside (the outer side of the ship), the decks, deck fittings (cleats, fairleads, windlasses, winches, davits, etc), mooring lines and all the stuff related to line handling is the realm of the boatswain's (pronounced "bosun's") mates. Submarines have no boatswain's mates. During my first deterrent patrol onboard this ballistic missile submarine (boomer) the Weapons Officer (Weps) found out I was knowledgible in line handliing, knot tying, rope splicing and the like. I was designated Leading Petty Officer (LPO) of Deck Division. What this meant was that in addition to my duties as Missile Technician (maintenance, operation and security of sixteen Poseidon ballistic missiles and associated systems) , I took care of all that boatswain's mate type stuff. I loved it! I was always the first one out on deck when we surfaced and the last one down when we dove. I had a crew of all the young "non-quals" (the guys who had recently reported on board and had not yet learned how to do any watch standing). When we were approaching a doock, while the tugs were nudging us in, I was the guy who threw the "heaving lines" (long, light ropes with a weighted knot called a monkey's fist on one end) over to the line handlers on the pier. I was especially proud of my ability to throw a "heevy" so well the line would be completely straight out with no tangles before the knot hit whatever I aimed at (I practiced this alot when we were in port). On time pulling into the Charleston Weapons Station I won a bet with the Assistant Weapons Officer (AWeps)who said we were too far from the pier to get a line over. I had a special heevy that I made up 100 feet long with a pound and a half of lead in the monkey's fist. The guy on the pier was looking right at me when I threw the line but I guess he was daydreaming. That line straightened out with a snap! just as the knot hit that sleepy sailor right square in his grill. But that's not what this story is about.

We were just wrapping up a two week refit (repair period) but we had still to do sea trials before getting underway for the standard 74 day patrol all boomers endlessly did through the Cold War. Sea trials are a sort of hard core test drive to make sure all systems were operational. We'd take the ship out for a couple days and pretty much beat the snot out of her.We'd run ahead full on the surface, dive and run at flank speed for a few miles before slamming her into "back emergency". Man what a feeling when that 425 feet long 33 foot wide went as fast as she could go and suddenly reversing that gigantic screw (propellor). The entire ship would shudder and roar like she was turning herself inside out. Then we'd go down deep, to what was called "test depth" and check for leaks. The sea pressure would compress the hull and she creak and groan, the floating decks squealing as they slid on the supports. Everyone trying not to appear nervous while keeping an eye on the depth gauges. Then the skipper would order "Emergency blow all main ballast tanks" and all over the ship you'd hear thousands of pounds of highly compressed air dump into the space between the pressure hull and the ocean. The ship would start upward toward the surface, slowly at first but accelerating enough so the ship broaches like a dolphin jumping out of the water at Sea World. But that's not what this story is about either.

During the refit, someone somehow arranged to get a big new coffee maker for the Mess Deck. Personally, I didn't drink the coffee so I never thought about it, but enough of the crew did to justify replacing the old single urn thing with a double urn one. You've seen these things. They are towering brushed stainless tanks with a glass tube mounted on the front to indicate the level of the brew inside and a black handle spigot at the bottom. The tank diameter is about sixteen inches and it is nearly a yard tall. I think you could probably hide a body in one of these coffee factories. But we weren't getting a single one. Someone managed to successfully requistion the Holy Grail of coffee pots, the object of desire of all barristas, the double urn coffee monstrosity!

A tug was pulling alongside when the crane lowered the palletized coffee maker onto the Missile Deck. I was watching as the guy from the sub tender undid the bridle from the crane and ran back up off my ship leaving the coffee thing strapped to an oak pallet in the middle of the deck. I directed the tying up of the tug and from the bridge the Captain shouted "Single up all lines". As LPO of Deck Division, I directed the line handling, still looking at this pallet in the middle of the deck. I ran forward and yelled up to my boss, WEPS who was with the Captain and a few others in their perch in the top of the sail (what used to be called the Conning Tower), "Hey WEPS!"

"What is it Moroni?" Replied the Weapons Officer just as the captain orders "Cast off all lines". So I run around the ship making sure the heavy dock lines get stowed properly in the line lockers in the superstructure, outside the pressure hull. As the tug is pulling us sideways away from the sub tender with much diesel smoke and noise and great churning of the water around the starboard side of the ship. The Captain gives the order, "Station the manuevering watch!" I'm still looking at the shiny stainless steel monument to Java in the middle of the Missile Deck. Then I shifted my gaze to the hatch in the deck leading down below. The Weapons Officer reminds me we were having a discussion, "Moroni! What were you saying?"

" I know you can't see it from the bridge sir" I said as politely as possible knowing I was about to ruin his day, "But there's a wooden pallet with a twin urn coffee pot thing strapped to it out here on the Missile Deck."

"Say again!" shouts WEPS, obviously puzzled and the skipper leans over the edge of the sail straining to demonstrate his sudden interest in what I had to say.

"Yes sir!" and I began to speak slowly, trying very hard not to laugh, "Well sir, there's a wooden pallet with a big coffee pot strapped to it." and by now the tug had us turned in the proper direction and wanted me to give them their lines.

"Let go the tug!" ordered the skipper and I comply as the Captain orders "Ahead two thirds, make your course (whatever it was, I don't remember). So now we were underway, under nuclear power, heading out to sea to begin sea trials. The rest of the crew are down below doing whatever they were supposed to be doing and I was on deck with a coffee pot the size of an insurance building, just me and the coffee pot.

"Moroni!" shouts Weps, "Stay right there!"

"Yes sir. And I walked back to the pallet, sat down on top of the coffee thing and lit a cigarette. One good drag on the smoke and WEPS climbs out of the hatch in the sail and walks back to join me. He stood there for a few seconds shaking his head and cursing under his breath. This guy was a Leutenant Commander who enlisted in the Navy December 8th, 1941 when he was 17 years old. He worked his way up through the enlisted ranks to Chief Warrant Officer to Ensign and all the way up to Lt. Commander. This was one hard cat, a real sailor and he stood there looking at that coffee pot and looking at the hatches that were clearly way too small to accept the coffee tanker. He took a deep breath before he said, "Goddammit Moroni! Why is this thing on this ship?"

"I asked myself the same question. I think it must be a mistake sir. Should we call Chief Panganobon (the head cook)? Maybe he knows".

"No! 'F' Chief Panganobon he's the reason this thing is here! Don't go anywhere!" and he walked forward, returning to the hatch from whence he emerged. A few seconds later he is back up on the bridge with the captain. After a brief conference, the weapons officer called me to the base of the sail, "Moroni!"
"Yes sir!"
"Do you think that coffee urn will float?"
"If it's strapped to the pallet as it is, I think it probably would float. If I cut it loose and open the lids, it'll sink like a rock."
"Okay Moroni, do it!"
"Do what sir?"
"Float test the coffee pot Moroni!"
"Float test the coffee pot aye sir. But I suggest ordering all stop first. That big hunk of stainless would damage the screw sir."
"Good point Moroni. Control Bridge, all stop" I felt the rapid deceleration of the ship as the screw stopped turning. Using a deck wrench I popped the straps on the coffee pot and shoved it into the water even though I forgot to remove the lids that thing fell off the deck and sank into the dark water ath the same rate.
"It failed the float test sir!" I shouted and flung the pallet as far away from the ship as I could and we got back underway.
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