Category: War

In Quiet and Peace

USS Andrew Jackson SSB(N) 619 – U.S. Navy Photo

Long ago, three addresses and two houses and one widower hood past, a summer visitation to Grandmas settled one evening to watch “Band of Brothers”. A grandson by marriage, left to his room while watching, finding it too violent. Which I thought was, “good on him”.

I cannot, not remember the scene where Dick Winters is portrayed on D+1, of 7 June 1944: “I would live this war one day at a time, and I promised myself that if I survived, I would find a small farm somewhere in the Pennsylvania countryside and spend the remainder of my life in quiet and peace.”

As an old man, I cherish my quiet and peace. And understand how much of modern noise is exactly that, just meaningless noise. I remarked today, to my very young neighbor and dog rescuer, that as much as her dog has learned to trust me, she still suffers from unimaginable treatment before her rescue as a puppy, from a Dumpster. Some scars are always felt.

Sea Story -And This Is No Sh*T!

It is nearly an obligation to relate the experience of the previous generation to the latest. Which explains my relating the experience of a then, very young Submariner to my young neighbor last afternoon. I told her about “Kiddie Cruises” aka Annapolis Midshipmen ordered to the USN Fleet, in summer.

USS Andrew Jackson SSB(N) 619 – U.S. Navy Photo

I was crew aboard a Lafayette Class Fleet Ballistic Missile Submarine. We operated from a tender in Rota, Spain.

Weapons Gang is also Deck Gang so I was top side when a Midshipman (not lying, blonde good looking boy) crossed the brow and announced to the Chief Steward, Senior Chief Petty Officer Willie Jackson (who NOBODY messed with and whose shoulders blotted out the Sun) his bags were on the Pier. Chief Jackson rolled his eyes while our XO, LCDR Russell took his cigar out of his mouth and explained to the Midshipman how much time he would be allowed to retrieve his bags and report to the Wardroom where the errors of his ways would be explained, in plain language.

Submarines are a meritocracy and nobody cares about your rank. And no one aboard was going to sign that Child’s Qual Card.

Garden Of Stone

Aisne-Marne American Cemetery – Belleau, France

Made this photograph in late September of 2o17. From St. Paul Metro Station in the Marais District of Paris, it’s a short ride to Gare Est. Then, a morning express train to Château-Thierry. Next, a local taxi.

99 years after the Battle of Belleau Wood and 1 year before the American President, in Paris, chose not to attend the Centennial Memorial. It was attended by the Commandant of the Unites States Marine Corps. And Marines.

On my visit, I walked the Battlefield in silence and solitude. The American President who dishonored Marines, I do not forgive.

Memorial

As a Submariner, I only made two Surface voyages. Both, were as one of six Enlisted Sailors and a LTJG, as a USN security party aboard Merchant Marine converted WWII Victory Ships: USNS Norwalk & USNS Marshfield.

USNS Marshfield (T-AK-282)
USNS Norwalk (T-AK 279)

It was a long time ago. Charleston to Rota, Spain or Holy Loch Scotland were about 10 days, each way, at about 17 knots. Good chow and decent twarthship racks.

We kept watch on a cargo hold of Polaris Missiles. Thermonuclear weapons included. Monitored temperature and potential leaks of hydrogen isotopes.

Had an M1911A in a holster, riveted to a desk. Of boredom, on watch, I would field strip and reassemble the other five stored there. Like solitaire. After awhile, I would do it with eyes closed and time myself.

There is great spiritual peace to be found, alone on the fantail at 0300, mid Atlantic. No light pollution and the stars are clear.

Both ships have been scrapped, long ago. Memory continues.