1960's

Back in the 60's, I was assigned to the Surface Division in the Reserves. As one of 2 officers qualified to Command at Sea, I was given the job of selecting a crew to fly to Hilo, on the big island. And take command of the last salt water PC still in commission. There were still three others at Great Lakes training Comment, but they had not been in salt water for years. So I whipped up a crew, basically by interviewing about 50 to 60 sailors, I had a seasoned 1st class quartermaster, an old sub chief engineman, a well seasoned Bo'sun, and myself. We were the only seasoned sailors. The rest were all basically boots, with no experience outside of the classroom. We set up an outline of the ship in the drill hall with folding chairs and started training them in deck seamanship, it was real basic, but we went through line handling, helmsman and diesel engineering. After a weekend of this we could do no more.

The following Saturday, we spent the morning in refresher training and flew to Hilo. We had a full blown change of command ceremony, even to the title B cards being signed over, and I took command. The previous crew had prepared our supper for us. It was greasy baked beans and ham hocks, and grape Kool-Aid. After having an early meal, we set the watch, nothing fancy like the special sea detail that you and I are used to but an under way watch. I took the bridge and we shoved off, clearing the breakwater just on the ebbing tide. Once clear of the harbor and in deep water I turned the Conn over to a young Ensign, this was his first time as conning officer and he was not at all sure of himself, so I decided to stay on the open bridge. Things were running smoothly, so I decided to let him solo, to build his confidences. I told him to call me when he had the Lapahoehoe light in sight, and went down to rest because I could see a long night ahead for me.

While I was in the wardroom, the bridge messenger came to report the light in sight. I sent back a message to report when we were abeam of the light and to keep off shore at least 3 miles. The wind began to pick up and the ship began to pitch and roll. Suddenly the 1MC barked "Captain to the bridge" it took me a second to realize, Hey that was me! By the time I got there, all hell was busting loose. The OOD was hanging on to the splashguard puking his guts out. I could hear similar sounds all around, in the pilothouse and on the main deck. The quartermaster called out that he was taking the helm, as the helmsman was sick. I ordered all hands not on watch, to get below, and sealed the ship for heavy weather. I had the radioman tune in the Hilo radio station and try to get an update on the weather. He soon reported back that there was a sudden storm alert, winds to 50 + mph, and heavy seas. Small craft warnings where out for the entire state.

Bill, this storm had come up out of nowhere. Remember this is before "The Eagle" had landed on the moon. Satellites were just a step above Sputnik. Well, I was sure of myself, because I had been in two weeks of really bad weather on the U.S.S. Fessenden, DER-142. In similar circumstances we had been through 80-100 ft seas, pitching 20 to 30 degrees, and rolling 74-79 degrees with a 6-second period, and a really sick crew. We almost lost the mess deck then, when the aluminum superstructure popped all its rivets down the starboard side and was acting like a huge metal hydraulic shear, going up and down for about 8 inches, but that's another story! Now I was reduced to a crew of 4, the 3 rates and myself, with the chief on the engines, Bos'un on the helm, the quartermaster navigating and myself lashed to the bridge. Everyone else was really seasick. I was sure glad I hadn't eaten supper, so I was fine, just tired.

We made it through the night, the radar didn't give out, so we could navigate. This lousy weather really continued to get worse. I radioed Pearl that we all right and slowly continuing at slow speed to Pearl. I was sure we would not make our ETA. Then the engine room called to say we were taking on water, but the pumps were containing it. We had sprung a seam or two. At daylight the weather improved, and by 6:30 we had still high seas, but the wind was down to trades, and the awful rolling had eased up. I had the crew turn- to, to clean the stink up, with fire hoses if needed, and, while checking constantly with the chief, we increased speed to about 9 knots. I was afraid to try more, because I didn't want to tear the ship up.

We made it back to Pearl Harbor in time for chow and tied her up at bravo dock The docking officer called out "When are you going to secure your main engines? " I replied, " as soon as you get the pumps going, we're sinking, but maintaining the flooding to just below the engine room deck grates." The shipyard relieved me, and took custody of the ship. We secured the crew.

To make a long story short, the ship was dry-docked, welded up, stricken from the naval records and turned over to the Philippine government. That's my whole career as C.O. Afloat. That's the story. I've got no complaints, just regrets. When I left active duty, I checked Bupers, to see what my next assignment would have been, I had been selected as Commodore of a mine sweeping squadron at Charleston. That, I did regret.

As we came to her course, we were about 30- 40ft from her side, just as the OOD came out of the head on the starboard side just aft of the bridge, trying to pulled up his pants. The expression on his face will always stick in my mind. Captain Foley got on the bullhorn with this curse message. "You have an un-holy disregard of the rules of the road". We fell astern, came left and continued to Norfolk. This made a very strong impression on me, I thought about this a long time. What if there wasn't time to turn, could we stop? The book says an emergency crash back would take us 2 miles to be dead in the water. I pondered this a long time, when a few weeks later we were scheduled to make a full powered run. This entails absolute maximum speed over a measured mile in both directions. The crew stationed people in pairs of Dc personnel, augmented by others, all armed with wire pliers and wire cutters all over the place. From prior experience, we knew that vibration nodes would develop, and the last time the port bridge pelorus tried to jump ship. This time we were ready.

Now the whiskey was different from all the others, she didn't have a "Wiggle-wobble" installed. This is no joke, as we all thought. When it came time to install the Westinghouse engines, the manufacturer of such had gone out of business. So? It seems that it was the only source, so we didn't have an over speed suppressor like the others. We set the speed detail, special sea detail plus the vibro-crew, started to build up our speed in the vicinity of the measured mile, until Captain Foley and "Brownie" Cdr brown, the engineering officer were satisfied. We made our northbound and southbound runs, measured at an astounding 39 1/2Kts just about 1230. That's when I approached the Capt. with my idea. "Captain. Sir, I have worked out a way to stop this ship dead in the water in way under 2 miles, and I explained it to him. I would like to try it now. "Let's hear it Skip," and I explained the maneuver to him. He liked it. So, I briefed the bridge crew, and after steering, what the commands and the proper actions would be. When we were all satisfied it was under stood, I was going to brief the engineers, but the Captain said, "no, If this was real, you wouldn't have time!" So, after positioning the first div Bos"un in the eyes with a paint chip, and instructions to mark the bow's position to starboard, I sounded the collision alarm, All stop, All back emergency full, Shift control to after steering, Split your rudders, Close the barn doors". Inboard 300 degrees towards the center line, thus effectively closing off the ballroom. This produced the following effect. The bow dipped almost under, the ship shuddered like a dying cow, The 2nd Div Bo'sun, caught unawares, back peddled as if on a flatbed trailer, jamming to a stop. When I could see no more forward motion, I ordered "All stop". Then the reports came in No damage, no injuries. The chip is abeam turret 3, she stopped in the astounding distance of 600ft from a measured speed of 39-1/2 Knots.

I wish this had been done when the Eaton collided, it might have been avoided. Later, the supply officer came to the bridge to report all the cups, bowls, and plates had bee stacked clean on the mess tables. When last seen, they were all headed forward at an extreme rate of speed, towards the bow. Only shards were found, massed against the forward bulkhead. This was the only casualty found, and thus we again proved to be the fastest and the best, at stopping, and breaking up the plates, a feat that has never been equaled. Now, you engineers. Figure out how many foot pounds of energy were overcome to absorb 48,000 tons of weight at 39-1/2Kts in 600 ft, 1/10 of a nautical mile. The average speed would be 19.75 Knots.