Official Big E Rx Site

Reflections ....

Thanks Nitro for sending in your NPS Photo. There are lots of familiar faces there. I remember MM3 Little. Did he go to the Big E, too? Seems like he and I hung out together but I can't remember where. I also recognize the pride of RL Div, the king of trubitity, the one and only Sohn.

I almost shuddered seeing the likeness of EMCS Seranko again. He hated me. I mean he really hated me. But he hated my roommate Dave Freisleben more. If I recall correctly he was the senior enlisted advisor (our section chief's boss). Toward the middle part of nuke school several of us 8502 EMB'ers decided to bleach our hair. Our chief didn't care (since we were making good grades) and even thought it was funny. I recall his words to us were along the lines: "Hey, whatever it takes ...."

One day EMCS Seranko came into our section and spotted Kevin Kidder, myself, Dave Freisleben, Jim Heartless and a few others with our blondish hair. He then started mumbling something about us being faggy boys. I had no idea what he was saying since all he did was mumble. All I could make out was that he was saying stuff like, "Look at 'em faggy boys... what 'er ya faggy boys? ..... mumble mumble, eh faggy boys?" To be honest most of us only bleached the fronts of our hair (so we could hide it under our dixie cups). Freisleben was the only one who went full tilt boogie and bleached his whole head. After a few days of ignoring his blatant hints EMCS finally ordered Dave to dye his hair back to normal. (I think the rest of us wisely toned ours down enough that he wasn't too upset about it anymore.) Dave tried to fix his hair but something awful happened. It turned bright orange. EMCS took this as a direct assault on his authority and ordered Dave to have it back to normal by the morning or risk getting sent for a psych eval. Dave tried real hard to get it back to normal (we stayed up late into the night trying to dye it back to brown I recall) and by morning his hair was the right color but looked awful, like he had dreadlocks. This was the last straw! EMCS ordered Dave to the barber immediately and told him to report back to him within the hour ... OR ELSE.

I'm not sure why Dave did what he next. Somewhere on this site is the story about it so I won't repeat it here.

It was great seeing LCDR Casey in that photo. I'm not sure if I've mentioned how important LCDR Casey was to me back then. He saved my ass in a way that cannot be adequately described. If I ever cross paths with him again I will give him the biggest handshake possible. I should have named one of my sons after him. Mr. Casey, wherever you are--Thanks!

12/13/04

"Better Get Some Sushi to Go with Them Fries"

This afternoon I was in the store buying lunch. As I walked by the sushi bar I thought to myself, "...better get some sushi to go with them fries..." I do this every time. I started to think about this. Why the hell do I say this every time? OH YEAH--now I remember! It was that horrible night, many moons ago, when Dicko almost got Guido and I killed!

I can't believe how close we came to getting our heads squashed that night. It was in Long Beach, CA. Dicko and Guido had accompanied me home (my dad was living in LA) for a long weekend. This was probably following the '86 Westpac. I took the boys to one of my old favorite hamburger joints. (A place called Tommy Burgers.) For some reason Dicko was drunk out of his skull that night. I was sober enough to drive and Guido was in an in-between stage. As we were eating our food Dicko decided to mouth off to whomever or whatever was around. Those of you who know about Tommy's Burgers know it isn't exactly in the best neighborhood. The "clientele" are a bit tougher than your usual burger joint. On this night Dicko decided to insult one of the biggest and baddest dudes I ever saw. He was a Samoan but for some reason Dicko thought he was Oriental and began hurling insults at him, like, "Hey Fuji...you better order some sushi to go with them fries..." Guido and I almost died. We didn't know what to do. Should we haul ass and save ourselves or try to get Dicko back into the car in one piece. The giant 8-ft tall, 600 lb Samoan guy was actually in a good mood and thought Dicko was funny, even when he said something along the lines of, "Hey buddy, your sister was just here. She ordered a milkshake and a [omitted] to go." The merciful giant allowed us to take Dicko and put him in the car, understanding that he wasn't sober enough to know better. He had a giant heart to match his giant body. This was pretty much a typical steaming night for us back in those days.

12/14/04

NPS Class Numbers ....

Some of this shit might be (probably is) wrong. If so, I'll cheerfully stand corrected.

Upon being lured/enticed/tricked/shanghaied into the Nuclear Power program, we all got sent to boot camp. There, we went to classification where the Powers That Be separated us into ratings. The pecking order for nukes was MM, EM, IC and ET. The MMs usually were the ones with the least academic math background. I had gone to a vocational high school and majored in aircraft mechanics where my math courses were minimal, so naturally I became a Machinist's Mate.

Once boot camp was over they sent all us potential nukes to A school in Great Lakes. In the dead of winter, they billeted us MMs in a drafty, broken-windowed shithole called Snipes Castle. Physically, Snipes Castle was a depressing place, so we made it bearable by living the "Animal House" lifestyle. MM "A" school was about 9 weeks long including Steam Lab. It was a pretty easy course which could be completed in ones sleep. (In fact, I think I DID do it in my sleep.)

At the end of A school they put us MMs through a 3 week course called NucAcademics. This was used to save the Navy time and money by weeding out the guys that probably wouldn't have made it anyhow. Of all the people I saw wash out of the program, most did so here. The course was divided into 3 one week classes. You were given two shots at each week. In all my academic experience I have only flunked four tests. The first two were here. It took me 5 out of a maximum 6 weeks to make it through. After that ordeal we were given our third class crows and sent to the conventional fleet for four to six months.

I ended up on a rust bucket 40's era destroyer in Norfolk named the USS R.A.Owens (DD-827). I spent about 5 uneventful months there before getting orders to NPS Bainbridge. I always felt sorry for those poor schmucks spending their entire Navy hitch polishing deck plates on the Owens.

NPS class 7401 started coming together in Bainbridge, MD in June 1973. We were called 7401 because we were to graduate in January '74. The second NPS class to graduate in '74 was from Mare Island Ca. and was called 7402. So that year at least, all the East coast classes had odd numbers and the West coast classes had even numbers. Those of us with minimal math background (like me), or had done poorly in NucAcademics (also like me) had to arrive several weeks early to go to "pre-school". This was to get us up to speed for what lay ahead. (Sort of a Nuclear Headstart Program.) Again, we had a fairly sizeable attrition rate.

When they finally assembled us into sections, the lowest number sections were the "dumbest". Section 7401-1 were the "dumbest" of the MMs. Section 7401-2 were the "dumbest" EMs. Sections one through seven were all MMs and EMs. ETs didn't show up till section 8. In all, I think there were about 13 sections. The guys in the higher sections mostly had some college and pretty well breezed through NPS. Interestingly, some of these guys were the ones who struggled in prototype. As part of 7401-3, I myself flunked the first and third math tests and spent the first half of the school on "Mandatory 25". (Fortunately, the second half of NPS and prototype in general didn't really pose that much of a problem for me.) After Christmas break, it was time to wrap up, review and take the long-dreaded Comp. As we were leaving NPS they were bringing in class 7405 (or maybe it was 7407). My understanding is that they were the last NPS class of Bainbridge.

Amazingly, 7401-3 sent six guys to the E. Four of us ended up in 1MMR steam side. We found it amusing in '77 and '78 as we former classmates all relieved each other as CMO.

12/16/04

KP Note: Thanks for the history lesson PP. Most of it agrees with stuff I've heard so I assume it is correct. If others out there remember other aspects, please share them with us. In my time there were only MM, EM and ET nukes. The IC nukes were phased out (I only recall only one IC nuke on the E in our era).

As for me, I had almost three years of college under my belt when I took the ASVAB and nuclear qualifying exam. But, for whatever reason, I failed the nuke exam. I have no idea why. Maybe I just didn't try hard enough; or I was sick, or was hungry .... who knows. So the MEPs guy says, 'sorry dude, you missed one too many.' He talks to someone, who looks at my ASVAB score and the fact that I had some college and together they decide to give me a waiver (they could care less whether I passed or not, as a nuke I was worth more points to them). I was sure that under these circumstances I would be an MM, as I was told by just about everyone that this would be the case. I wanted to be an ET but knew the deck was stacked against me.

So on that day in boot camp, when us freshly head shaven nuke candidates filled out our 'wish list' for which rating we wanted, I put down EM first, ET second and MM as my third choice. I was 100% sure I'd be designated as an MM. To my surprise I was classified as an EM! I guess no one put down EM as their first choice (or maybe they just needed EMs). To be honest I was kind of upset, since I had already resigned myself to being sent to the fleet as an MM. I thought the "MM" rating symbol was the coolest one of the three (Maybe because I saw that movie The Sand Pebbles so many times.) In the end I was very happy being an EM.

In 8502 EMB we definitely had a mixture of smart and stupid in the section. The first "ac board"; however, thinned the bunch considerably and the remaining ac boards took one or two more each time.

In prototype I saw many of the "top" NPS students struggle and those that barely made it through school do exceptionally well. I think that was the case for most of us. At prototype "book smart" didn't help you all that much.

IKE BITES and an Observation ....

This is not so much a sea story but more of a comment - although it pertains to my time on the Eisenhower, this topic does transcend all vessels and all eras...

Here's the deal: In the 4 1/2 years I was on IKE, not once did I wash my blanket. Moreover, I never once saw anyone else's blanket come back from the laundry on laundry day...

Now am I just particularly revolting, or is it SOP for a sailor to never wash his blanket?

What's even more disgusting, my first day aboard when I was issued the blanket, I didn't wash it - and I sure as hell didn't wash the damn thing when I left the ship... so here it is, 25 years later, and some sailor is using that blanket - has it ever been washed???

Speaking of washing bed linen, on the IKE we had a particularly vile and disgusting sailor who would go long stretches (entire cruises) without washing his sheets. - They would turn a brownish-yellow and have an oily sheen. After the stench got unbearable, his rack-neighbors complained to the division LCPO. The chief came down to inspect and was so grossed out by the sheets that he started dry-heaving. Chief made him deep-6 the sheets and get new ones. Those sheets were so saturated with oil that we had better have been outside the 50 mile limit when he tossed them overboard!

-Peter Wentworth

PS. If I can put in a plug for my website, I have a sea-stories website for the USS Eisenhower at www.ikebites.com

12/21/04

KP Note: Wow, what a great site (puts this one to shame:). I wish I could organize this thing in such a way.

More NPS Thoughts ...

I have to weigh in on this nuke school reminiscing. I graduated number one in class 8503. I had no prior college, and I was never on mandatory hours. I think I averaged 11 hours of study time per week during nuke school. I would say the secret to my good success was trying to get to bed by 10:30 on week nights and being very focused during study time on memorizing that day's notes. Yes, nuke school was a lot about memorizing, but I don't say that to put it down. It was a tough school, and to this day graduating number one out of 500 plus students remains my proudest academic achievement. I'm now 38 years old, and I still don't have a single college credit that I can claim. But in my job with a major utility company I basically fulfill the function of an electrical engineer, and it's my Navy nuke background that allowed me to get into that job. I wish I had gone to college and gotten an electrical engineering degree, but my parents not only would not provide any support but even put up a pretty big road block (I was accepted for a 4 year Navy ROTC scholarship and was accepted to UVA and Va Tech but still couldn't put the college thing together). I expected back then that the Navy nuke enlisted thing was a decent alternative to a traditional 4-year college education. I believe it was. I am thankful and proud to have served. Merry Christmas to all and God bless.

Joe Brown

12/23/04

Reunion Info!

KP,

Apologies to all regarding my lack of getting any reunion stuff together for 2004. Having no experience in this stuff and with too much going on at work and home, I bit off way more than I can chew.

I had contacted a military reunion planner who basically gave some suggested time frames to do reunions in Vegas. He overwhelmed me with a bunch of info about dates, tours/activities, food and bar suggestions, etc. Once we had a date and desired activities, he would help pull it together.

Rather than go through a formal planner, I suspect talking directly to a hotel and getting a conference room for a few hours on a Saturday night (maybe with a cash bar) would suffice. The "group" cost would be cheapest this way. Not sure what everyone really wants to do, but a bunch of "tours" to Hoover Dam and other Vegas sites is more than I think most of those I have corresponded with want in a reunion. We can set a date, name a place, and roll on. Those wanting a more extensive Vegas experience can make those plans on their own.

What do you think?

Rob

1/2/05

KP Note: I say let's roll! Pick a date and we'll be there;)

The F Word?

A while back I wrote an entry to your site, but then decided it probably wasn't appropriate. I'm sure you don't want to clutter your site with rambling musings like this, but maybe you can get a private chuckle out of it.

Pat

KP Note: Sorry Pat, I gotta share this with the boys. It's too good to keep to myself;)

KFP,

Since I started reading this site, several things have caught my attention. Here's one : People seem to be afraid of the "F" word. Most on this site elect to write "f__k" when they really mean fuck. I personally tend to write "f**k" when I mean fuck. Somehow, in this age of political correctness we feel that dashes and asterisks make it all acceptable. I mean REALLY! Come on! Who the f**k do we think we're fooling here? Everyone knows the word we really mean. (What the f**k's up with that?) I personally think it's bullshit, but sometimes it's just easier to go with the flow. The F word is quite possibly the most versatile word in the English language. It was during my 4 years on the Enterprise that I learned how to interject it into common, everyday verbiage. You know the drill : "Fan-F-tastic." In-F-credable." Un-F-believable" "Out-F-standing." And let's not forget that 60s classic : " Far-F-Out!" A few variations have even become so popular that they are known by their initials alone. They have now worked their way into everyday lexicon : BFD (Big F Deal) NFP (No F Problem) WTF? (What the F?) To this day, when I see three capitol letters together and one of them is an F, I just cannot help but think it's the F word. Sometimes this really f**ks me up. (Think : NFL, KFC, UFO etc..) I currently live in a town named Benicia. Thinking I'm funny, I sometimes wear a ball cap from our local Fire Department. (Think about it.) In a class of it's own is MFP. This unfortunately does not enjoy widespread usage. I think this is primarily due to the fact that it takes a skilled and experienced practitioner to employ this term correctly. In the hands of an expert however, its as versatile as the F word itself. (Maybe even more so.) Several years ago I received a really great E mail. It listed a number of quotes supposedly spoken by famous historical figures. (Einstein Picasso, Noah etc.) The quote I most remember was, "What the f**k was THAT!?" It was attributed to the Mayor of Hiroshima. To this day my friends can use that quote and abso-f**ing-lutely crack me up. I'm not sure why the f**k I wrote this. I guess I just felt it was something that needed to be said. Somehow, I feel much f**king better now.

PFP (Oops! There I f**king go again!) (I'm sick, but at least I realize it.) (OFW. TYFG.)

1/4/05

KP Note: Remember how right out of boot camp, every other word that came out of your mouth was the "F" word? You didn't even know you were saying it. I still remember the look on my poor mother's face when she came all the way out to see me for graduation and I kept using my new-found seafaring vocabulary in our conversation. You know, the truth is I hardly use swear words these days. But get me around some old navy buddies ..... then I pick up right where I left off! I don't think you can tell a sea story without using the F word.

Micah Reddick Comes Aboard and Brings a Tale ...

Reddick, Micah RE14, RE11 2000-2005 email: johndo4091@aol.com

KP Note: welcome aboard Micah! It's always good to see another Fwd Group RE, especially when he comes bearing a story. Hey, did they do away with the RE01 and RE04 designations? Oh well.

A Night in Jax

Well it was not long after I reported onboard to the Pig from NPTU Charleston that the ship went to Fleet Week in Lauderdale. On the way back, we stopped in for an overnighter in Jax. Now this wasn't my first time in Jax since my brother was stationed there a few years prior. I knew a little about the town and decided that I might get us around. as it turns out, I was wrong. Way wrong. It was me and a handful of my fellow RE guys out looking for booze and boobs. We happened upon this club in town where the drinks were cold and large and the boobs, well they were just large. I wound up blowing a couple hundred bucks on liquor and dances and all of a sudden realized HOLY SHIT, we gotta jet. The 5 or so of us that hadn't already headed back piled into a taxi. One poor fella was so drunk that he handed me his wallet and told the driver if he puked, I would pay him. Well, I'd known this cat for a few years already as we partied together long before either of us joined the Nav. I'd never seen him puke and he swore I never would (and that was just fine with me ) but I swear to god he coughed some up and swallowed it again. Anyway, we successfully made it up the brow after a few minutes gettin his sea legs to walk on land again. So up the brow we went and across the quarterdeck, lo and behold who was standing there but the damn CMC himself. I thought we were in some deep shit when I heard the familiar voice yell out the S-bomb. "SHIPMATE! just why do you think you can walk onboard my ship with those ear rings in." We had both forgotten the ole boy had put his 4 gage nails in his ears while we were out checkin out the scenery. Not to mention he flashed his ID card upside down to the q-deck guys. Man o man was there some fancy sidestepping goin on in hangar bay 1 about that moment. Lucky for us, the CMC was a bit happy himself and just took the nails and let us go about our business. The next morning at quarters was quite a sight to see. Another division had stolen our muster location so we had to move the division to EL3 for muster that morning. About the time the LPO's called us to attention for quarters what do I see, but the tallest lankiest drunk dude you've ever seen. Just strutting right through the hangar to quarters, with the wrong division. So I drew some attention from the LPO so he could go round up our wayward shipmate. Upon corralling him into ranks with the rest of us, the distinct aroma of alcohol leeching out through flesh permeated the entire division. The div-o asked the chief if it was him, chief asked divo the same. The LPO's were sniffing each other and everyone else just chuckled as the offender was standing right in the back, swaying back and forth just like we were underway. In '03, we returned to Jax and I returned to the site of that festival while we were there, I didn't get nearly as drunk, but I did sneak a few pics of some chicks with their tits all over the place.

1/4/05

Motherf--kingmotherf--ker!

Like you, KP, I seldom utter curse words. I might, for example, say 'arse', rather than the alternative. Even during my Navy days I mostly adhered to this practice, but I must confess for some reason the 'F' word seemed to develop a certain appeal. What is it about that word that squidly types love so much? In RE Div aboard Ike back in the late 80's we used to have to perform this particular task fairly often at sea that we came to dread. I guess these (ladies) and fellows these days with the solid-state rod drives don't deal with it anymore. Back then we had GE Amlidyne DC generators that provided rod drive power. Something about the JP-5 fumes that constantly got sucked into the plant would upset the friendly copper oxide film on the commutators of these machines. This would lead to destructive 'arcing and sparking' and we would have to resurface these things. We would set up a stoning rig and grind copper off with coarse and then fine stones to get a new surface. Pretty soon though we'd have to undercut the mica between the commutator segments. What a pain this was. At this point the machine would be tagged out, and frequently we'd need to rotate the machine by hand to expose a new area of segments. We fabricated a special tool that we could place on the end of the shaft to rotate the machine by hand. We called it the motherf*ckingmotherf*cker. You gotta love squids. Who else would come up with such a colorful name for a simple tool?

Joe B

1/6/05

KP Note: I hope them commutators had a nice "dog brown" look to them!

A GW Nuke Stops By ....

I went into boot camp in Dec of 91. Prior to this I had no experience in anything except wasting time, beer drinking, and surfing. I joined because a friend of mine said I was screwing up and needed to straighten out! I thought about it one day as I was ditching college and surfing and realized he may be on to something. I went to a recruiter in shorts, no shirt, and flip-flops and told him I wanted to join the navy. He said "get dressed and we'll talk about it." I took his pre-ASVAB test and aced it. He then signed me up for the ASVAB and got a 97. The next thing I know, I was convinced to join the program I said no matter what I would not: The Navy Nuclear Program. You see my dad was an Ex-Nuke. He was on the Francis Scott Key and has been in civilian nuclear power since 74. Well I made it through boot camp with no problems, "A" school was rough due to my future wife attending University of Miami and I went to power school in Orlando. Needless to say this did not help the GPA! I made it to power school and finished with a 3.24. This was higher than I got in high-school. I went to Balston Spa for prototype and then to CVN-73 the George Washington as an MM3 to work in 2 MMR. I was a good mechanic but bad sailor. I got out in Oct of 97 because I couldn't get a detailer to understand why a sailor from San Diego wanted to get Shore Duty there instead of doing a third Med cruise in 4.5 years. When I got out I thought very little of my time in. The 90's were an unfriendly time to be in the service and it left a bad taste. I did not want to work in civilian nuclear power after seeing the hours and schedules my father had worked through. I decided to get into a new field. I was a Nuke MM as I said when I was in. Although we had theory on electrical circuits, we didn't have much hands-on. My first job was as the Maintenance Manager at a Plastic injection molding company in Vista, CA. I taught myself how electrical control circuits work, electrical wiring, PLC control systems, Robotics, and troubleshooting for injection molding machines. I went on to work at 2 other molding companies and Upper Deck. I found that in 2 years of working in this Industrial environment I had learned what my peers who had been in the industry for 10-30yrs knew. After 9-11 I talked to a recruiter about signing up again. I found myself feeling proud of my service. Well the recruiter told me that I might go back as a different rate, and rank. I told her @#$!% you! At this point I started to look for a new job. I was 29 years old, missed being treated with respect, missed being respected for my knowledge of my job. I stumbled on a job as a Service Rep for the USMC out west. By the grace of God I was selected for the job. I spent 2.5 years working out of my house, training Marines on the gear, offering Service Support, and traveling around the US helping them. It felt so good to be back with the Fellas again. I told them how proud I was to help them daily! Then the opportunity presented itself for me to move to PA where the factory was and run the Training for all Military projects out of the Factory. I moved my wife and Daughter (she's 22 months old now) back here. I now understand the importance the Nuclear Navy has had on my life. I am now very proud that I served and served as I did. I am a member of the VFW post in Greencastle, Pa where I live. If anyone on this site knows of any ex-nukes that are looking for jobs near my area, have them send me a resume. My department has 1 ex Marine, 3 ex Army and myself. I need to tip the scales! Great site!

Jim Winslow

jewinslow@jlg.com

1/10/05

Throttle Man 101

Well, to be honest I have no idea what that thing-ma-jig was between the throttles. Being an RE I never had to qualify throttleman (though you RM and RC types did everything you could to get me there). But, being the "circuit" guy in plant I do recall having to at least pretend to fix these odd-ball IC systems. Here were the answers that came in. I'll give the most weight to Mark's answer, as he was both a qualified throttle-dude and PPWS. Read on brothers:

Hippo says it came from shaft ally, and was used to tell if the jacking gear was engaged and working or if something was wrong down there in the bowels. Throttleman would lock out the throttles with the bar you see in the picture.

Blue Lou says: Can't tell you the circuit it's on, only an EM would know that, but it would ring whenever speed changes were requested. The throttleman would acknowledge the "bell" and adjust throttles appropriately. Or he would go back to sleep and pretend it didn't happen. This was extremely annoying during maneuvering when idiots on the bridge would constantly change the bell by 2 or 3 rpms.

And Mark says: The small brass claxon horn was the wrong direction alarm (circuit DW).

It rang (when it worked) when a throttle was open opposite than what was ordered on the EOT. The throttleman was supposed to close the offending throttle at normal throttling rates until the bell went away. Then he (or she now) would open the throttle in the direction of the ordered bell.

1/16/05

Hong Kong '74, Part 2:

This is my rendition of PP's story on page 34, probably one of my best liberty days while overseas. l just want to mention a few things he didn't. As PP stated, we took a tour from special services and our first stop was climbing Victoria Peak via a tram. Within 5 minutes of getting off the tram, a local vendor peddling slides of HK approached me and l politely declined. l then went to take pictures of HK harbor. l decided to take a panorama picture which would take 5 shots with my instamatic camera, overlapping so l could put them together later. l take the first 2 pics and someone taps me on the shoulder; it's the slide guy again. l'm thinking, can't you remember you just asked me 5 minutes ago? Again l declined and went back to my photos, finishing the last 3 shots. By then, it was almost time for us to leave, so we headed back for the tram. Out of nowhere, here comes Mr Slide Guy again, this time blocking my path. What a persistent bastard, l thought, and to get rid of him , l bought 4 boxes of slides, thinking that they were probably all the same thing. How right l was; there were some duplicates, but they were better than my pictures turned out. When he tapped me on the shoulder, clouds moved over without me noticing, changing the light on my pictures, so some turned out lighter than others-thanks, pal! You got me twice! In the Tiger Balm Gardens, PP disappeared for a while, and l was taking pictures of damn near everything. There was a group of Chinese schoolchildren there taking in the sites and l got a shot of two of the cutest little girls drinking cans of Coca Cola , but, alas, it ended up being blurry. Then on to the Tai Pak floating restaurant in Aberdeen, where we quaffed liters of San Miguel and gorged ourselves on that 7-course meal. It was a 2 story boat and the lower level was loaded with pictures of American movie stars who had eaten there. The only picture l can remember was that of Liz Taylor (always had a "thing" for her!). We then went to Repulse Bay, (where the HMS Repulse must have repulsed something), for a little shopping and more wetting of the whistles. As we drank, l brought up something PP did that l didn't like (in a friendly manner), and that was when he said "Bud" to someone; to me it sounded phony, and he wasn't like that. Then he told me that he didn't like me saying "Yee" instead of "yes"; so then we laughed and decided to answer "Yee, bud" to all questions that required an affirmative answer. The tour ended, and it was tattoo time. As PP stated, it was on a day off in Saratoga in a whiskey clouded conservation that l told him that if we ever went overseas together, l'd get tattooed with him. To this day l remember making that promise. So, off we went into the Wan Chai district (supposedly off limits) to get inscribed skins. We picked out what we wanted and the artists sat us down with Anchor beers (Asian anchor beer). When l looked at the guy who was going to do my tattoo, l did a double take, as he was cross-eyed! "Hold the phone" l said, "this guy isn't doing me!" He's f**king cross-eyed! Dude didn't understand but one of his co-workers did and assured me everything was OK. Reluctantly, l sat back down and went on with the procedure. It stung like hell and the beers did not take away the pain! In the end, l endured the pain and we headed for the ship. We had a duty the next day and ended up removing wet asbestos insulation in one of 4 plts reactor compts and my tattoo scabs got rubbed off, pretty much removing the color of my tattoo. l was pissed! That was the only time l had to do any work in any reactor compt the whole time l was on board. A year later to the day of getting tattooed, PP and l both had our colors redone at a parlor next to the Dragon Palace in Alameda. Attached are photos of the ship from a ferry taking us to HK, a shot of 2 goofy nukes pulling in to HK, and PP's tattoo, which was much better than mine.

Steve "Willy" Wilson 4MMR

1/16/05

Pix and A Story!

Greetings KP, I've sent some pix and a story.

First, the pix:

(Pic1) Nuke School Class 8107, Section 1 - MM Rocks. We started 44 strong and pushed out 11. One thing nice to say about that is that we got a lot of attention and we got pretty close-knit.

First Row: IC1 Frank Smith (first on left), our section advisor. A great guy who helped get my ass through nuke school. If I ever see him again, I'll thank him again. The only other person in the first row whose name I remember is the one third from the right, Lt. Tahler. He was a sub sailor who taught RP and what a hot-shit he was. Half an hour with him and I completely understood the workings of Xenon in a post-trip scenario.

Second Row left to right: Bill Pa__ic, Tom Roberts, Adam Mosher, Tim (Sluggo) Colvin, Mark Heinrich, Larry Blaylock, Bob Thor, Mark (Mr. Peabody) Sherwin, Billy Cole, John Strong, Bill Peters.

(Pic 2) Bill P__ric, Tom Wotherspoon, and Adam Mosher steaming on Bogey St. in Singapore. Many said this was similar to PI, but no way. It was mostly deserted. We still managed to get stinking drunk however.

(Click to enlarge)

and now the story...

This is a story that I always relate when called upon by those who were never in the navy to describe the greatest liberty port ever known to man.

The Hideous Change Machine

Quite surprised by his sudden appearance, I was thrilled and relieved to see my friend Adam Mosher at Oakland International Airport. He knew right away that we were headed to the same place, and said "Enterprise, right?"

"Yeah" I replied.

Inside the anxiety I had been feeling was suddenly lifted. I had a bud to travel with. "Hey, where the hell is Subic Bay, R.P.?" I asked.

"R.P. is the Republic of the Philippines, I think," he said. "The Enterprise must be there."

Little were we to know that the Enterprise was just then leaving Pearl Harbor and wouldn't be in PI for another month!

We boarded our plane and flew to Anchorage, Alaska where we caught a MAC flight to Clark Air Base via Okinawa, Japan. The flight was horrendously long and our approach to Clark was probably akin to a bombing run on Hanoi - we bounced around like there was anti-aircraft rounds going off all around us, the turbulence was so violent.

We landed, processed through customs, and picked up a bus for Subic. Our bus driver probably grew up in Hanoi because the plane ride suddenly seemed tame compared to his wild careening down the steep slopes of Mt. Whateverthefuck on our way to Subic. He was passing people around blind curves and left quite a few fist-shaking jeepney drivers in the weeds off to the side of the road.

Now, I had heard a little bit about the Philippines previously from a chief on the USS Saratoga, where I had been assigned prior to my nuke school class starting. He showed me a rather large, bulbous knot on the side of his head one day and said "You see this? I got this from wandering off the main drag in Subic Bay." I think he may have realized that I wasn't sure what he meant and he continued, "I took a 2x4 to the head because I was drunk and didn't understand what the hell I was doing. All I'm trying to tell you, is watch your ass out there." I'm not sure I still got what he was getting at, but I did know that when I arrived at that base, I was fearful of leaving it.

Adam and I enjoyed quite a few weeks keeping to the EM club on base (no ships meant we were the only guys coming to the club - and we were treated well) and also did some snorkeling over at Grande Island. Hell, we even got assigned as Shore Patrol riding the boat out to the island one weekend. It was a glorious time, but we still hadn't set foot off base yet.

Then one morning, in stumbles a rather drunken squid who proclaimed quite loudly, "Mojo make me smart!" just prior to collapsing in a snoring heap in someone else's rack. We looked at each other and decided we'd give it a shot. Talk about kids in a toy factory...

We soon settled into a routine and as both of us were engaged, we always seemed to inevitably end up at a particular bar at the end of Magsaysay. It was called the Terrace Bar and there was a second floor that looked out on the street below. We liked this place because we could get a cold, cheap brew and not get hassled by the girls that worked there. It was very low key and suited both of us just fine.

Ding ding, ding ding. Enterprise, arriving.

What a change comes over Olongapo when a big ship comes in.

After checking onboard, we are of course cut loose as no one wants anything to do with us while we're in PI. Adam and I make our way to our favorite low key hole in the wall only to find it teeming with squids.

Somehow, we manage to get a table and are instantly finding ourselves accompanied by female companions. We let them know that we're not interested and that's ok with them, they stay anyway. Two tables away, quite a ruckus is building as ten or so squids are stacking peso coins 7 or 8 inches high (maybe more).

The next thing I know, a young lady with a long shirt and what I thought were very tight, black shorts (they were short hairs I later learned) is on the table being helped by a lady on each side taking her hands. As she starts squatting I still don't understand what's going on and ask one of our female companions "What the hell is she doing?" "Peso show" they said in unison and the act suddenly became crystal clear to me. I couldn't see anything from my vantage point (and wasn't sure I wanted to) but when she stood up, I could clearly see that only an inch or so remained of that initial towering pile of coinage.

In horror, I then watched as one of her assistants stood below, hands cupped to collect the slippery booty, while peso girl patted her stomach vigorously.

"Clinkity clinkity clinka clinkity clink"

The hideous change machine was forever burned into my psyche.

1/17/18

Salinity Schilinity ...

In a personal email from my old chief I gleaned a paragraph for use on this site (as it is relevant to photo quiz above):

"The salinity monitoring system (circuit 2SB, I think) was a disaster until EM2 Schaaf went through all the plants and troubleshot and repaired them, module by module. He did a fantastic job. After that, perhaps, the 1 planters had forgotten how to use them, as they hadn't worked for so long. Good job, Schaaf. This would have been sometime after the 1986 WestPac"

Yeah, Schaaf was the best troubleshooter I ever met. There wasn't anything he couldn't fix. The aft group had Ricky Khun and the fwd group had Lee Schaaf. When Lee was short, probably in his last 100 days, he was 'put to pasture' as we called it, meaning he wasn't really assigned to any plant or office job and basically just helped out where needed. By then I was 4-plant LPO and was constantly bothering him to help me out with all the things I couldn't fix. He was always there when we needed him and I will be forever grateful to him. I paid homage to him in the 4-plant dopeybook with a cartoon right before he got out (see RE04 site) called Feline, the Ace Troubleshooter (Feline was his dopeybook name). The cartoon exaggerates his expertise by showing Lee completely disassemble the "All Stations" amplifier and put it back together again exclaiming, "Yep, just what I thought, a blown fuse!" Often you'd walk into SWGR and see Lee tinkering with something and it would be in 1,000 pieces. You'd swear he'd never get it back together again and he always did.

By the time I was Forward Group Supervisor (~1989) the salinity system had gone completely tit's up. We spent countless hours trying to fix it and never got it to function as designed. It was probably the worst thing I bagged poor "Billy Jack" Harger with when he took over for me as Group Sup. As I was headed out the door I think I said something, like: "Oh, by the way, the entire forward group salinity system is totally f__ked up and there are no parts existing anywhere on this Earth to fix it!" I may or may not have then done that "BOHICA" sound effect (with hand gestures). Believe it or not when I went to college afterwards my senior project was to design a solid state salinity system. I chose to do it because I thought it would be fun to redesign something that was so FUBAR in my past life. I should have sold my design to the navy as it worked like a charm.

1/17/05

Brown Outs and Salinity Modules ....

Like you, KP, I was the forward group sup on the Ike from around late 1989 into early 1990 right before I got out. I remember one time ( I think it was in 2 plant, which on the Nimitz class is the aft plant) we had a whole bunch of salinity modules that all got fried at the same time. I think the conclusion we came to was that our self-imposed brownouts were causing these things to blow. It seems like we ran drills almost every night when at sea. I was on the primary drill team. During ORSE workups we would also have a second drill team so we could run drills on two watches. I'm struggling to remember the details of how some of the drills were set up, but the end result was often that one of the SSTG's would find itself coasting down. As soon as the electrical operator would notice it he would trip the output breaker. But being human he wasn't always real fast on the trigger, so sometimes frequency might decay to well below 60 HZ with associated voltage decay before the breaker would be tripped. It doesn't do much harm to ordinary light bulbs, but it's not really good for most anything else electrical such as motors and vacuum tubes in 1950's vintage conductivity modules. So the bottom line is we were shooting ourselves in the foot. The Nimitz-class carriers are set up so that numbers 2 and 4 SSTG's can also serve Rx Coolant Pumps in a variable frequency mode. When in this mode the voltage regulator would vary targeted terminal voltage on a linear curve corresponding to frequency (Volts/Hz). There was an underfrequency relay that would automatically switch the regulator to Volts/Hz when frequency would fall below the setpoint--something like 55 Hz I think. So I thought why not use this same relay on all SSTG's and have them normally set up to trip the output breaker on underfrequency (when not supplying coolant pumps of course) and thereby avoid brownouts. I think I went so far as to write up a suggestion to go to NAVSEA 08. I wonder if it ever went anywhere?

Joe B

1/19/05

Salutations to the Coral Sea ....

Seeing the name Coral Sea in writing jogged an old memory.

I think it was the '76 Westpac. We were operating with the USS Coral Sea. Unfortunately (for us, not them) their evaporators kept breaking down and they'd have to pull into Subic early for repairs. When they'd pull in, we'd have to pull out early and take their commitment. This led to some pretty hard feelings on our part.

Once, as we were pulling out early, the two ships passed each other just seaward of Grande Island. Supposedly, good ol' Capt. CC Smith called the crew to attention and then announced "Hand salute to the Harbor Queen." over the 1MC. Evidently the skipper of the Coral Sea heard this and made a big stink about it. You just had to love old CC.

1/24/05

KP Note: I love reading about CC. No doubt his leadership style wouldn't fly today but I bet he could out skipper any of today's cover-yer-ass Captains. I remember when I worked as a contractor for the army in the late 90s there were big changes taking place and the "hard-nosed" scrambled-egg on the hat brass were being washed out to make room for the PC candy-assed perfumed princes. Guys like Patton, Ike and Bradley wouldn't have had a chance. I think now that we're at war the army's "Cooperation of Others," which was the much-hyped new policy (Known as COO) is out the door.

Reporting For Duty!

Hey there KP and all the other former and current nukes reading this. I wrote in about two years ago when I was considering joining up as a nuke, and thought I'd write in an update for all the salty dogs, as I'm sure some of you are curious about what's going on in nukeworld now.

I signed the papers in March of '03, shortly after my 18th birthday. They gave me 10k for signing. I waited about 8 months in "delayed entry program", and tried valiantly to fuck up the last part of senior year, just because I was a lazy shit. I shipped out to Great Lakes on Oct. 29 of that year. Boot camp was mostly a joke. I thought I wanted to be an ET when I put in my dream sheet, but for once, the Navy did something right and made me an MM. No disrespect intended, but I'm not cut out to be a wire biter. Finished boot camp, and shuffled over to NNPTC, Charleston, SC. Not my favorite place, by any means. Interesting Nuke pipeline fact: The attrition rate is now something like 3%. You could put a three year old through A and power school, and he couldn't get dropped academically if he tried. I'm dreading standing watch with some of these brain dead MF's. There is one guy in particular who you could count on failing every test, and he failed comp, but they AC boarded him through to prototype. Said individual recently failed S8G offcrew exam with a 1.5 and is 10% behind the curve. I got through NNPTC with most of my dignity and dangly bits still intact (SC has the highest STD infection rates in the country). Two months ago I made it up to NPTU Balston Spa, where I am currently a student in S8G. We just started in section this last monday. Hopefully will be qualified soonish (2-2.5 months), and get some staff hours. I wouldn't know what to do with myself on 8 hour shifts. We filled out our dream sheets last week. I'm a sub vol (insert sub joke here) so I put Bangor, Wa first, so I'll be on a carrier out of Norfolk (my last pick) in four months. Overall, I'm pretty happy with my decision to join as a nuke right now (but pin on my second class rating badge and I'm sure I'll be as disgruntled as the rest of them). For all of you Saratoga guys, I'd love to hear some war stories from Caroline St. or where ever else you caused a ruckus here back in the day. If anyone has any questions about the pipeline, or anything else, feel free to email me at djmadsteeze@yahoo.com.

Jeremy M., MM3

1/25/05

KP Note: Wow, so you did it Jeremy! Good for you. I remember talking to you. Hopefully when you get to the fleet you can keep your positive attitude (you'll need it). If you want I can pull some strings and get you sent to the Big E;) Let me know. I got friends in high places.

Guitar Legend Peter Nathanson?

Right before I left for boot camp I went to live with my mom in Norwood, MA and spent the better part of each day playing guitar (I did this during my DEP period for about 3 months). While in Norwood I took guitar lessons at the local music store. The other day I found some old music notes from that era and on them was the name and address of my teacher, a guy named Peter Nathanson. This guy was awesome and I learned more from him in that short 3 months than I did from any other guitar teacher. Curious and all, I did a Google Search on the name and here is what I found:

http://www.bluesweb.com/peternathanson/index.htm

Needless to say, I bought one of his CDs and was blown away by how much I was really influenced by him. I sent Peter an email but have yet to hear back from him. Hopefully I will.

As far as my playing goes I am in the beginning stages of forming a blues band. We lack still a bass player (Arggh get out here!). The drummer is 'old school' and often she and I break into songs that our younger counterparts never heard of. One night she and I played, in order, every song on the Fresh Cream album while the others just looked on scratching their heads. We're also guilty of spontaneous Led Zeppelin.

2/3/05

Port Louis ....

Seeing and reading about the aftermath of the tsunami in the I.O. brought back a memory.

January '75, we rounded the tip of Sumatra and entered the I.O for our first time. (We had no idea about Ache Province or what would happen there 30 years later.) Near as I can tell, we passed right over the site where the undersea quake would eventually take place.

After more than a month of doing circles, we pulled into beautiful Mombassa. Shellback cards newly in hand, we had a week of drinking shitty beer and buying cheap wood carvings. As soon as we pulled out of Mombassa we hauled ass for the tiny Island of Mauritius just east of Madagascar. It had just been hit by a cyclone and they needed help. It was pretty neat pulling into Port Louis. The water was eerily still. All around us were green, craggy, volcanic peaks. From the shoreline smoke slowly rose into the still evening air. The only sound came from the anchor chain as it slowly played out. I don't know if you ever saw the movie "Mysterious Island" based on the Jules Verne novel, but that's exactly what the scene reminded me of. This was one of those rare moments that were really what I joined the Navy for. (Too bad the nuclear power program didn't allow more of those moments.)

For the better part of a week we sent work parties ashore to help the people dig out. We provided medicine, food, water, and labor to help the survivors. Everything I saw seemed to indicate that the people were truly grateful. Politics, reporters and the like didn't seem to get in the way.

After we left Mauritius, we had traveled almost completely east across the I.O when we had to do a U-turn and head back to Africa. Idi Amin of Uganda was acting up and we went back to the area as a show of force. We traveled back at flank speed (losing our non-nuke escorts in the process). Once we were in the area, Idi calmed down and stopped eating people. So we turned around and headed east once more. Now Idi starts acting up AGAIN. Back to Africa at flank bell. I'm not sure how many times we did this, but it sure seemed to get repetitive. One thing this proved : Not only could the old gal haul ass, but she could do so indefinitely.

2/3/05