New Homeport Island (8 page)

Hudlow took on a blank stare and said, “I only like black guys.
I’m not a racist…I’m a sexiest”  
Nueme and I were bent over the generator removing bolts
 from the sump cover she leaned in toward me with a huge smile
 and laughing as she asked, “What did he just say?” I replied
 with a laugh, “He only likes black guys.”  
In the aft section of the ship DC3 Jennifer Hennely and
DCFN Culd were trying to determine exactly what makes that
 sound as the rocking of the ship caused slamming noises with in
 the repair locker they were standing next to. Hennely said, “That
 sounded like the fire axe hitting the prefabricated shoring
 material.” Culd replied, “Sounds like a possum with a machine
 gun to me.” Hennely looked at him astonished at his redneck-
 isms to which Culd responded, “I’m just sayin’” Just then EN2
Rivers ran by with EN3 Gruble and DC3 Risely to the steering
 gear room. As DC3 Risely passed Hennely she grabed his arm
 and said, “What’s going on?” Risely said, “…One of the
 steering gears.” and continued back toward the steering gear
 room.
Culd yelled across the passageway into the machine shop,
“Mic…something’s wrong with the steering gears.” Hennely
 looked at Culd and said, “A possum?...go get the keys.”  Over
 the 1MC the word was passed, “Now man aft steering”
The bridge crew was stumbling passed the captains at sea
 stateroom drenched in water as they left the bridge. Captain
Artimus just outside the bridge door in the P-way leading back
 to officer’s country told the starboard bridge wing look out
Seaman Tammy Melad, “Call it away.” Sn Melad replied,
“What do you want me to call away?” she stood there soaked
 and trembling from the cold. Artimus replied, “Flooding on the
 bridge.” Artimus headed to his stateroom to change into a dry

uniform. Tammy headed down to use the 1MC mic in combat
 information central. “Fuck this!” yelled seamen Sirey as she
 looked down at her drenched uniform and noticed it actually had
 ice crystals in it. She had been the port bridge wing look out, she
 looked over at Ens. Spayner standing there trying not to laugh
 with a delirious smile on her face. Spayner asked, “Weren’t you
 on the port bridge wing?” Sirey responded, “Ya…” Spayner
 then asked, “...And Melad was on the starboard bridge wing…”
 and with a laugh she continued, “ and your both wet…because
 it’s flooding on the bridge?” Sn Sirey responded in anger, “Okay
 ma’am first…fuck you I’m freezing. Second a wave knocked
 out the bridge windows.” Spayner continued to try and contain
 her laughter and told Sirey, “Go change before you get
 hypothermia.” Sirey recovered her sense of dignity and replied
 as she headed down to female berthing, “Thank you, ma’am.”
DC3 Risely now in the steering gear room wearing a sound
 powered head phone blurted out, “Of course…I make my way
 back here and now there’s flooding called on the bridge.” He
 looked at EN2 Rivers and leaned over the starboard steering
 gear as he removed his headset with a cowboy like demeanor
 asking Rivers, “So, ben…what’s that…like nine decks up and a
 football field forward?” Rivers replied, “I think it’s more than
 one hundred yards forward…you better get started. I’ll wear the
 phones.”    
Nueme and I were finishing up at the generator in the aft
 engine room and she asked me, “Did they just say flooding on
 the bridge?” I replied, “Ya...” She asked with an obvious cold
 chill about her, “Why are you looking at the hull like that and
 doesn’t that mean we’re sinking?” She then visible shuddered
 and continued, “…I mean the bridge, that’s…that’s all the way
 up there.” I got a bit of a funny delirious smile myself and

listened for any unusual hull noise. Once I realized no one was
 calling out any flooding over the 2JV and we were in one of the
 lowest points in the ship I said, “Probably just a broken water
 line to a fan coil unit. But, I’m not going to do what I’m
 supposed to do. I am going to head up there.” I smirked at her
 and squinted saying, “Don’t make me so nervous.” Nueme said,
“Going up there isn’t what you’re supposed to do?” I replied as I
 left the space, “No, it should be the DC-men but the bridge
 flooding is absurd so I’ll need to figure out what they should
 have said.” And I sprinted up the ladder. Having done a
 significant amount of time in heavy sea’s on my first ship, about
 a week stuck in a hurricane in route to Singapore, being at a
 running pace on a ship rocking that hard was something I could
 manage.
I reached the bridge and there stood Artimus and Clarkson
 discussing life at sea. As I walked toward the bridge door
Artimus said, “Are you headed that way?” gesturing to the
 bridge door with his thumb. I replied, “Yes sir.” Artimus smiled
 and said “Perfect, show her how to properly enter a flood space
 that I have order no one to go into.” I replied, “Aye sir.” I then
 grabbed a dogging wrench from off its clip on the bulkhead and
 tapped from the center of the door down and then removed the
 bottom air test fitting. The captain had an astonished look on his
 face and blurted out, “And what are you listening for when you
 tap it like that.” Clarkson interjected, “He’s check to see if it’s
 flooded or at what level the flooding is at. But that’s the bridge
 sir.” Artimus looked at me with a glare and said, “What level are
 you at Lyon?” To which I responded, “There is no flooding sir
 the bottom air test connection is open and no water is coming
 through.” Artimus asked, “You mean that small tube there?
Hand me the cap.” I handed him the cap and he added, “Well,

that’s one instruction you followed properly.” I said, “Sir, our
 concern is hazarding the ship, a violation of the UCMJ and the
 only way the bridge is flooded is if we are sunk. The pitching
 and rolling of the ship isn’t that kind of descent.” The captain
 handed me back the cap and said, “You’re right.” Then he
 returned to his stateroom. Clarkson asked if it was safe to open
 now and I said with a degree of doubt inspired astonishment,
“...Yes.”
I was just beginning to stand up as she reach for the water
 tight door handle and we ended up in an ‘awkward elevator
 moment’ I said, “I’ll get it.” and she joked, “did someone
 knock?” I opened the hatch to find one of my suspicions
 confirmed the bridge windows had been knocked out. Clarkson
 sat down in the X.O.’s chair and said, “That’s what I was telling
 him, I’m not afraid of getting wet.” She turned and looked at me
 with a flirtatious smile. I winked back at her and said, “I’ll get
 the bridge window plates.” The cabinet at the back of the bridge
 on the starboard side is where the foul weather gear was stored, I
 grabbed myself a jacket and tossed one to Clarkson. Then I
 grabbed the bridge window plates and started putting them in the
 window openings and spun the clamps down as quickly as I
 could. As Ensign Clarkson watched me she uttered, “Oh
 shit…you got this?” I replied, “Ya.” She said, “Say it the right
 way” with a tremor in her voice from the cold. I announced,
“This is Lyon…Acting D.O.D. deputy. I have the deck and the
 conn.”  Clarkson uttered again this time an unintelligible noise,
“Umphff…it’s all yours” Clarkson headed back to inform the
 captain we actually have the window covers.
After I had placed the windows back in I adjusted the
 course and speed of the ship from the ships control console and
 announced in sarcasm, “For the benefit of the flight box

recorder, this is Lyon I am the only one on the bridge. The
 bridge window plates are installed, the bridge windows were
 knocked out by …cough…cough… a rogue wave. Heading now
 one five zero flying at eighteen knots.”
Over a speaker in the overhead came a response, “Lyon
 your emergency transmitter is on. Is the ship okay?” I replied,
“Yes sir.” The voice then asked, “Why did say
‘cough…cough’?” I replied, “A rogue wave is likely what will
 be reported, we are now skipping across the tops of the waves
 rather than plowing the troth.” The voice on the speaker replied,
“Very well, get your captain to the bridge as soon as possible.” I
 replied, “Aye sir.” I called over the 1MC, “Secure from flooding
 on the bridge. Now commence normal underway routine; set the
 normal underway watch.” The captain stepped in and said, “You
 didn’t have to say that last part. Where are you going to be?” I
 said, “Back down in engineering sir, HT1 will get the windows
 back in.” Artimus replied, “Okay, pass me the ah…the watch.”
 and I said, “Captain Artimus has the deck and the conn.” Just
 then Ens. Mulner stepped on the bridge and said, “I have the
 conn.” The captain looked at me and said, “go ahead.” I replied,
“Ens. Mulner has the conn.” Captain Artimus said, “just go.”
 and I headed back to the aft engine room.  
Clarkson stepped in and reviewed the log book verifying I
 had made the correct entries. Captain Artimus told them, “Don’t
 let that ever happen again or I will shoot you; or you will have to
 shoot me.”
Risely was at repair five the midships repair locker
 dedicated to the machinery spaces. He had been trying to figure
 out what equipment was required for flooding on the bridge and
 was stupefied by the realization that if the water is that high then
 we are sunk. He stumbled about in confusion like a drunken

sailor. As I passed he looked and me and asked, “is it over?” I
 replied, “Yes.” Noting that his eyes were oddly wide and he was
 drooling I suggested he head to berthing for a while.  
We remained out to sea for four days. The storm settled and
 lingered silently over the seas, long flat gray sheets hovering
 above us. An occasional snow flurry, as though we were in a
 snow globe, was the only feature to be seen, no stars, no birds,
 no sun or moon. The rolling of the pacific had become gentle
 again, like a mother rocking a cradle. Cracking sounds from the
 ship as the ice fell away and melted were the only disturbance in
 a now serene environment. We maintained twelve knots and
 there was no wake to speak of and the break water was little
 more than a whisper around the bow.  
On the third day the sky opened like an oyster shell and we
 could see the blue beyond once again. The chill had rattled our
 bones with shivers and fatigued our souls, dream was preferred
 to reality and many of us went from work straight to sleep. Our
 dreams are carried briefly into the light; and we recall the whole
 journey, not just our waking efforts on the decks but the
 common song we sung…the tone and meter of our days trapped
 within the belly of our leviathan.  
The sea is a bitter mistress, jealous, and carnivorous; every
 journey survived is cause for elation, the celebration often being
 a night or two drunken as we wait for our land legs to return and
 stirring a romantic inspiration from some attractive lover, or
 mysterious stranger. I stood on the fantail smoking under the
 newly blued sky, with Mitch Hackel and Tom Norrie. With a
 sigh and a hung head Tom uttered, “I hope they are kinder to me
 in my next life.” A phrase we adopted in the aft engine room as
 a means to tell ourselves there is still hope, as well as the phrase
‘better you than me.’ which caught on so well, it’s been heard

throughout the entire navy. Fortunately for them, that day would
 end with pulling back into port. The snow had melted from the
 pier and much of the roads, and not an angry lawyer in sight.  
Through the course of the week the work load grew as
 discrepancies to safe operation were found rather than shrinking
 on tasks accomplished. In the GS division there was a trust
 meeting of the E-5 and E-6. GSM1 Hudlow sat with his fellow
 cohorts on the mess decks at about ten a.m. while the workers
 diligently toiled on discrepancy list they complied during their
 workday in preparation of C.A.R.T. 2, Command Assessment of
Readiness and Training.
Hudlow spoke to the small group with an assumptive
 demeanor, “So what do we need the guys to do to get squadron,
 our I.S.I.C. to pass us on them knowing what to do?” Norrie got
 a big smile and wiggled his butt in his chair as he leaned
 forward slightly raising his hand before he spoke, and Hudlow
 interjected, “The floor recognizes GSM two surface warfare
 specialtist Norrie.” Norrie stammered a moment and said,
“ah…okay, what’s I.S.I.C.?” Hudlow responded, “The floor
 recognizes me. That’s a good question Norrie, what is an I.S.I.C.
 anyway?” There was a pause as they looked around them.
Hudlow said, “Okay…meeting adjourned.” GSM1 Shrotz
 interjected, “The floor hasn’t recognized you, and it means
Immediate Superior in Command.” Hudlow responded, “Okay,
 the floor recognizes the swabbie, say again swabbie!”  
GSM1 Shrotz said, “Okay, the floor recognizes me. My shit
 and Aux2 are ready, and I know what I’m doing ‘floor’.”
Hudlow said with a sense of defeat, “Look, I’m just trying to
 help you guys out. You know I got promoted way faster than
 you guys.” Gillis laughed and said, “you were still at the training
 command! You had all the time in the world to study for the

test.” Hudlow responded, “That’s exactly what I’m saying. And
 you guys were out here; you shouldn’t have had to study at all.”  
Shrotz interjected, “Well…you’ve got a point there. An ignorant
 point; but a point.” Hudlow responded dismissively as he placed
 some tobacco dip in his mouth, “So what’s your point?” Shrotz
 replied, “I don’t have one.” Hudlow sighed, “That’s my point.”
Shrotz got dizzy and fixed his navy issued glasses to his face
 and said, “That you have no point? You called this meeting!”
Hudlow smirked and said, “Exactly…point of order.”  
In the chiefs mess there was a similar meeting taking place.
Chief Rickly said, “Hey Carl, your idiots are having a meeting
 on the mess decks and let me just say, you can’t make this shit
 up. I was just around the corner and Hudlow is recognizing the
 floor.” The command master chief said, “ya..ya..carl has idiots.
Let’s get this meeting started. Who’s taking the minutes?”
Rickly chuckled and said, “You asked that every time and I offer
 to take them every time and then you say since we don’t have a
 legalman or a yeomen; it’ll have to be the master at arms.” The
CMC responded, “Okay, let’s do that then. So, who’s taking the
 minutes?” Chief Ballzese said, “Me.” as he spit tobacco slim
 into his otherwise empty soda can and glanced at Rickly smugly.
Rickly pointed at him and said, “Don’t you start. Okay let’s get
 started.” Master Chief Hauldbalm retorted, “We just did where
 were you?” Rickly shrugged and sat down.
Being inport after a storm at sea tends to remind a crew it’s
 good to plan ahead. The oncoming inspection would be just
 another step in certifying the ship. As the Advanced Training
Group arrived the chief petty officers were deep into their
 holistic plan to bring about world peace through a single cup of
 coffee and the officers were scripting a series of responses to
 upcoming disasters. Knowing the training gaps made it easy to