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   A couple months ago, I read a book intitled; “APOLLO RISES” written by Mike Ellis, who was a Radioman First Class on my first cruise. I’m a real fan of Tom Clancy and I’ve always enjoyed reading his work. There were two reasons I read him; One, was because I love the military jargon that follows a great story. Two, was to see if the Navy, or the Military in general has ever let Tom into a radio shack. I could tell by what he didn’t talk about and by the way he portrayed the story that he’d never been in one. He probably never will be either.

   Mike on the other hand, has spent a LOT of time in a radioshack and in particular the Columbus’. The story starts in one, and with his narative, moves throughout the ship. It gives an excellent feeling of what life is like onboard a ship and how the rest of the crew feels about us ‘Sparkies’. As I read it, I could see myself watching all this action as it happend and I’d recommend it to anyone who’s interested in that genre of writing. If you’d like to get the book, you can write him at: mrellis1@cox.net and he’ll let you know.

   Actually, it was Mike’s book that got me interested in this series of stories. As I read his book, I remembered different things that happend in those spaces and decided before I forgot them again, to write them down. I don’t have the imagination to invent people, or plots, but only to pass on what I’ve seen and learned. I envy his ability.

   The Blue team won, and all was right with the world once again. Evidently, our Captain’s method of eliminating ‘The Red Hoard’ wasn’t met well with the judges. The ‘Scuttlebutt’ (there’s two definitions of scuttlebutt; One is a water fountain, the other is any rumor you may hear while gathered near one) from the bridge had it that the Captain was criticized for using methods that wern’t listed on the major battle plan. What was wrong, was the blue team beat the hell out of some Greek’s and Italian’s along with the other half of our 6th Fleet. COMSIXFLT (Commander, 6th Fleet) was heading up the other side, and he got his ass handed to him by an admiral with one less star. The crew knew we won, they didn’t know that it was won with shame and deceit. Communications knew how we won and why. After excercises like that, the Captain laid off all the drills and exercises for the ride to Malta, which only took a day or so, but any break is a good break.

   It was at times like these where we were entertained by our less ’salty’ sailors. Somehow, these guy’s had lived on that ship at sea for over a month now, and they still didn’t know that our mail was delivered by the ’Mail bouy’. “Somewhere up ahead of us” the Chief would tell one of his men, “the U.S.S. John F. Kennedy was dropping off our mail into buoy’s as they traveled along, and we have to pick it up”. Then they would outfit this guy in Full Battle Dress, sound powered headphones and all, and stand at parade rest holding a pike hook right up on the bow.  He would stand thusly for two hours when he would be relieved by another poor sucker. All the while, guys are walking by them and giving them all kinds of a hard time. These kids knew, because everyone who walked by them would say; “You let that mail bouy get by and your going in after it” that the whole ship was watching. After a kid was relieved, he’d be taken away enough that the next guy couldn’t hear, and fill them in on what was going on. After they found out, they’d go right back to the bow and give the next guy holy hell.

   My brother Butch filled me in on another one they use to do. Several times a month, there would be an exercise where the Command structure of the ship would be put to a test. Communications would receive a FLASH TOP SECRET ‘RED ROCKET’, and ‘the messanger of the watch’ would RUN the message down to the Combat Information Center. When we received a FLASH, it meant we had to deal with it as fast as humanly possible. It being a ‘RED ROCKET’ meant it had to do with a Nuclear War, whether it be real or a drill. No one knew until the message was de-coded and interpreted by the CO, XO, Op’s Boss, and the Weapons Officer, otherwise known as “The Emergency Action Team”. Butch and I were standing on the ASROC deck one afternoon when “Away the Emergency Action Team!!” sounded over the 1mc and just that quick there was an FT (Fire Control Technician) hauling ass down the ladder, ran across the deck and almost jumped off the next ladder to the Main Deck. Butch started chuckeling as this guy went by and I asked him what was up? “He’s on the ‘Emergency Action Team’ and he’s heading for the storage hold two decks below our berthing”. “What the hell is he going to do when he gets there?” I asked him, and he said; “Wait”.

   During the period when we were 20 or so miles from Lebenon, there was a ‘war’ going on in the Northern Agean Sea. It was the ‘Blue team’ against the ‘Red team’ again but this time, the red team was NATO, and we were sailing right into the middle of it.

   Communications had been diligently receiving all the traffic (messages) that had been generated just for this exercise. Besides the normal channel that ‘fleet broadcast’ was recieved on, we copied two others. To make sure I don’t end up in Levenworth, I’m not going to get into that much, but for NATO messages, we copied a fourth. All of the messages we received from NATO were for this exercise and it added an already overworked crew to a new level. Just on the one fleet broadcast, we would process over 10,000 messages a month. Most of them had to do with us where we had to take some form of action. The other 30% was just read by the command structure here for information only. In any case, the messages had to be handled by us and now NATO was going join in on the fun. We went from two watch sections operating on three shifts, to two on two. ’Port and Starbord’ is a lot more than just the sides of the ship, for the guys who had to work under those conditions. 

   As soon as we cleared the sight of land, the bos’n’s got real busy. I have no idea where Captain Robeson learned this trick, but the crew really got into putting it all together. Since this was an on-board decision, I had no idea what these guys were doing when I walked up from berthing to Maincomm. I looked above me, and I could see guys stringing cables from from one high point to the next with #10 cans attached to it. I was going to ask someone there what was going on, but things wern’t going well in Maincomm.

   The first thing you notice when walking into communications is the rackity noise. We had 6 teletypes running at all times and it was a background noise that you learned to ignore, but when it was quiet, it was trouble. To have it that quiet and having the crypto alarms going off too, is impossible to ignore. Our Department head, the one earlier refered to as; ’Captain Audio’ had decided to come up and ’help the boys’. He got like that sometimes, and when he did, shit happend. He had noticed in the messages that there was some garble. The message itself was quite readable, but it ‘annoyed him’, so he grabbed a pair of headphones and started checking out the receivers. We kept a plexaglass ‘Status board’ and on it, was the number of the receiver, what frequency it was set to, which crypto it passed through, and which teletype printed it. EVERYBODY knew that, it was the very first thing taught to anyone working in ‘Fleet Broadcast’. Not Captain Audio. He went from receiver to receiver, just turning dials, and flipping switches, oblivious to what was going on around him. When the watch officer heard what was going on, he ran up to Maincomm and diverted his attention while the rest of us, put it all back together. We often spoke about who’s side that guy was on. It was when I was coming off watch that I found out what the bos’n’s were up to.

   Normally at sea, at night, it is absolutly black out there. There arn’t any running lights on a war ship so you learn your way around in the dark, but this night it wasn’t a problem. In all of those hundreds of can’s, they had placed lightbulbs, and strung them up the length of the ship. Suddenly, we were the Michelangelo, on her way up to Instanbul. As soon as I saw it, I started to laugh. I’d been reading all evening about the “REDS” coming south towards Athens and I was going to get to watch. They wern’t far off, maybe a half mile from them to us, and our lights were giving us a nice view. As each ship passed our stern the signal bridge would flash to them; “Bang bang, your dead” and we sunk the whole lot of ‘em on our way to the Bosporus.

   Using the ‘Big eyes’, we could see the bay and the city beyond from a long way out. The ‘Big eye’s’ are two sets of binoculars that are  mounted on a pedistal, on both sides of the Signal Bridge. I don’t remember what power they were, but the lenses were 5″ across. The Signal Bridge was on the 07 Level, one level above us, so that put it 110′ or so above sea level. The binoculars were strong enough that we could pick out the top’s of radio masts from a ship that’s hid over the curve. I pointed it at the bright white blob on the horizon, and it was the Acropolis. Even from 20 miles out, it’s a hellava sight.

   We wouldn’t be able to use it here as such, but in other ports we could use those glass’s for some ‘Signal Bridge Liberty’. It’s amazing how many people think no one can see in their windows, when they’re on the tenth floor. Villefranche, France was the best port for that, but we’re talking about Athens here.

   Phaleron Bay, has been there longer than Athens, so every boat or ship that ever came into that bay to trade, anchored where we were. Standing there on the Signal Bridge looking out over that marley colored bay, I could almost see a fleet of Greek warships accompaning Helen what’s her name, back to town. There’s a good side and a bad side to anchoring out in the bay. On the bad side, if the seas are too rough the liberty boats can’t get to shore, so everyone has to stay. On the good side, if your allready ashore, the Navy would put you up in one of the nicer hotels in town and you didn’t have to report back until the liberty boats ran again. I was never one of the lucky few who would get to stay the night. Once you did get to shore though, it was always worth the ride. If you had signed up for a tour, you loaded onto the buss’s right there, if your just going to do some shopping or bar hopping, the taxi’s could be picked up there too. I remember one instance where two men of unknown origins were trying to start a conversation. The two of them went through 5 or 6 languages until they found one in common. It was Latin. People who say that Latin is a dead language should spend some time on a fleet landing somewhere in the world. I had signed up for a tour of the ‘antiquities’, as they call them, so I saw the Parthenon and everything else that’s on that acropolis. Your given an inner peace when you climb those steps to the temples and I knew right then, that the Old Gods, were still there. It was felt even stronger when we went to the temple to Poseidon. Many of the column’s had fallen but just walking among them gave me a feeling of his strength and power. I can see why the Christians were so big on converting those people, it’s a very believable and comfortable religon. When we were shown the spot where Saul of Tarsus read his letters to the people on the Acropolis, I could feel his presence. That guy was all hell-fire and brimstone and I’ll bet he had a hard time converting a lot of them. If any of you are fortunate enough to make it to that city, go to Poseidon’s temple, kneel on one knee and put both palms onto the ground. You’ll feel him there, and please pass on my best respects during your visit. You’ll be amazed how strong they still are and how peacefull you’ll feel whenever you remember. Life wasn’t all that peacefull, back on the ship.

   During the episode where that Soviet, Destroyer Escort made us cut those fuel lines, the ship was covered with #5 Crude oil. The deck hands had spent almost all of their time in port cleaning and painting over the damage done to us. It was one of these guys who looked out over the side and saw a nightmare floating right next to the ship. During World War 2, the allies had mined the harbor when the Nazi’s occupied the city and one of them had let loose it’s bond to the ocean floor. Not a hundred feet away from us, bobbing in the waves, was enough explosives to send us right to the bottom. It’s scarry enough when ‘General Quarters’ is sounded at sea, but when it’s sounded in port, visions of Pearl Harbor run through your head. A utility boat was lowered over the side and a crew along with one Marine were given the task of getting rid of it. They drew up alongside the mine, tied a line to it, and pulled it out to sea. Once out there, the Marine dispatched it with one well placed shot, and life got back to normal. The one other thing I remember about that visit was that was the first time I drank an entire fifth of Wild Turkey and then walked back to fleet landing. It was about then I started laying off the booze.

   At the end of our ten day visit, we weighed anchor and headed North towards the Bosporus where we were going to invade Northern Greece and sink half the 6th fleet.

   It was on the ride to Athens when we almost had that mishap with the Soviet DE, during re-fueling operations. I’ve allready covered that in an earlier entry, but there were two other things that happend on that ride: Butch and I got to watch a Soviet Mig fly by the ASROC deck, and our sleeping compartment flooded.

   Butch and I use to get together at least once a week on the ASROC (Anti Submarine Rocket) deck to bring each other up on family matters. The ASROC deck is located amid-ships, on the O2 Level. All the floors are numbered on a ship; everything above the Main Deck had a ‘O’ in front of it. Those below the Main Deck would have just the number. The area is like a patio in your back yard, with a missle launcher in the middle of it. It’s located near enough to our work spaces that we’d catch each other as one or the other would be going on watch, and the view was astounding. Being on the O2 level, we were about 40′ above sea level, so you were close enough to watch the sharks, or dolphin’s, and high enough you could watch the whale’s out a ways. The sea had started to pick up towards the end of our picket duty, so we were riding 20′ swells. That sounds high, but if your riding a 670′ ship, it’s just a nice ride. Butch use to write home alot, and I didn’t. I’d try, I had dozens of half written letters home with a squiggle at the end of the last letter. I’d fall asleep while writing them, and would’nt be able to get back to it for another three days. Anyway, Butch and I would get together and he would have a list of question’s that mom wanted to know, and anything I wanted to pass on. Butch and I are standing looking Aft off the Port Quarter, when we see a black dot on the horizon. Our Aft 39 Radar’s were down so the ship was down to MK1 EYEBALL, and I think all the watch’s spotted it at the same time. Butch yelled “OHSHIT!” and bolted up the ladder to his computer room. Over the 1MC ‘General Quarters’ sounded and that patio got busy real quick. I watched that black dot get bigger and then take on some form, and then he was going by below me! Honest to God, that plane was below me, and that pilot had a shit eating grin on his face. It took about as long to happen is it did just to read it. A MiG is not the thing you want to see doing that. As he cleared the bow, he pulled up into a 60 degree climb and did a roll over on the way out. It was a beautiful thing to watch, but if time’s were a little bit different, that would have been the last thing I ever saw. “WOW” I thought, and headed for MainComm.

   As the sea grew in strength, we found out what a ’sea duche’ is. Our berthering compartment was # 3-18-O-L. We were two decks below the Main Deck, 18 Frames aft of the bow sprit, (a frame is the ships ribs, one compartment may have several frames in it, or just a few) the O-L show’s it’s a living compartment. The Chain locker was right in front of us, so we use to get some pretty good rides being that close to the bow. Our flushing system in the heads (bathroom/showers) is all salt water. When we’d use the head at night, the urinals and toilets would have phosphorescent critters flowing through them. It was a hellava light show, but the problem was a little further down stream. The used water would exit the ship just above the water line and it had a check valve between the two. When the bow’d go below a certain point the valve would close to keep the sea water out. The valve broke. Yeah, it feels just like your thinking right now. Talk about a suprise! It got worse though, it didn’t take long before the water line in our sleeping compartment was bunk deep. To any future sailors out there, never take the bottom bunk. Damage Control got the pumps running but they couldn’t fix the problem. After they got it pumped dry, it was obvious that the head needed to be scrubbed down and then re-painted. It was talked about at quarters the next morning (Quarters we’re held every morning around 0730. Our Division officer would take a roll-call, he’d go over the ‘plan of the day’ and anything else he wanted. He told us that we were going to be cleaning and then painting it. One of the guys asked him if there was any particular color he’d like, and he said; “I don’t give a shit what color you paint it, paint it Pink”. Honest to God I heard him say it. We went over to the paint locker and got some white lead and some red lead and mixed up a batch. One of the guys made cutouts of heats and lips and a few other things and used them for stensils. We even painted the seat.