April 27, 2012

A submariner at heart ³

Submarine, US Navy • Tags: Boston PA, submarines, US Navy, USS Indianapolis, USS Pittsburgh, USS Requin

April 19, 1927. In the town of Boston Pennsylvania, a baby boy joined the world to begin his own life adventures.

The Youghiogheny River ran pretty wild back in those days and you could expect some flooding along its banks. The town itself was just a whistle stop sitting at the base of a large hill honeycombed with coal mine shafts.

It was just another tiny town in the American landscape, but it was home for 17 years to a boy who would follow his Dad’s footsteps into the US Navy.

John (or Sonny as he was more commonly known as) was a very busy boy. His older sister had a full time job keeping up with him. When she was otherwise occupied, Aunt Elizabeth more than covered for the responsibility. The family was fairly lucky during the depression since Charley (Sonny’s Dad) had a reliable job at the Tube Works and there were lots of places to grow food in Boston.

Sonny was 14 when the war started and I am sure he went through the same anxiety and anxiousness that many did in those years. There had to be a fear on one hand of the unknown. But there was also a fear of missing out on the war completely. From the letters we discovered after his death, we know that John saw himself fulfilling a destiny to serve his country. He achieved that goal when a train ride on March 8th 1945 took him from Pittsburgh to Navy Recruiting Center Sampson in the Finger Lakes region of New York.

Sonny’s journey took him from there to California to wait for a ship’s draft. He was picked up for the USS Indianapolis, a heavy cruiser finishing up an overhaul but at the last minute an abscessed tooth pulled him out of line. He would catch a later ship to the Philippines to prepare for the invasion of the Japanese home islands. That was where he was when the war ended and word of the sinking of the Indianapolis was released to the American people.

Sonny came home and finished his education. He married a beautiful young woman and had five kids.

In 1972, he became a part of the submarine family when the first of two of his sons joined the Navy and the submarine force. While I never called him Sonny (for fear of a belt) I did call him Dad until he passed away while I was on my last ship.

John C. MacPherson was with me in spirit on all five of my boats, all of my brother Tom’s boats, and then he attempted to create his own fleet. As an active member of the Navy League in Pittsburgh, he played a key role in ensuring the USS Requin would find a welcome home at the Carnegie Science Center.

He was also very proud of his role as one of the Ambassadors for the USS Pittsburgh on its commissioning. He made sure that all of his connections were involved in making them welcome and showing the support of the City and its veterans and social organizations.

Of the dozens of ball caps he collected over the years from his two sons, I think he was proudest of the Pittsburgh Cap he got at commissioning.

I was on watch in the EOS of USS Hunley the day the ship received the message that he had passed away. April 27, 1993. I still smile a bit when I think that only my Dad could somehow magically arrange to be born on the 19th of 1927 and die on the 27th just to keep things memorable.

Dad never earned his fish the traditional way but we made sure he had them with him the day we closed his casket. His love of the Navy and his contribution to so many submarine organizations earned him a place in my book as a truly qualified man. He did not live to see the fourth generation join the Navy. But I am sure he is smiling down on his Grandson Theo (EM1 SS) teaching a whole new generation of submariners.

John C. MacPherson, USNR (R)

Love, your son Bob

the rest of the story:

We found Dad’s letters to his Mom after he passed away. It took ten years of effort, but I finally put it all together in book format (self published) called “Love, Your Son Butch”. He ended a majority of his letters with those words so it seemed like a natural title. I count the finding of those letters as one of the greatest gifts in my life.

April 24, 2012

SSN 711 ²

Submarine, US Navy • Tags: Cold War, freedom of the seas, Guam, Leadership Submarine, SSN 711, submarine, USS San Francisco

Reblogged from theleansubmariner:

Seven years ago, an event happened on the USS San Francisco that serves as a reminder that even in this day of modern technology and science, the ocean is still mightier in its capability to test man’s limitations. On January 8th 2005 at 0243 GMY, she collided with a sea mount resulting in massive damage to the bow section, 23 were wounded as a result of the collision and the tragic death of MM2/SS Joseph Allen Ashley of Akron Ohio occured the next day as a result of his wounds.

3800 of the best and brightest ³

Leadership, Submarine, Uncategorized, US Navy • Tags: American, Freedom, Leadership, Leadership Submarine, submarine

Yesterday was Pennsylvania’s annual FBLA conference. The three training sessions were great! The young people who attended were very engaged and challenged me on some very good points. The subject was leadership but covered three areas that I feel from my education and experience are important to developing yourself and others. Those three things are Tenacity, Competence and Communication. I had some very special moments mixed in among an otherwise outstanding morning.

My favorite moment was when a very sharp young lady came up to me after the third session. In my bio, they had included my role as a Naval officer. She walked up to me and said, Mr. Mac, I wanted to thank you for your service. Then she hit me with the second shot: she had already been notified that she was accepted to the Naval Academy later this year and she was excited about continuing the legacy.

I looked at this young woman and saw my country’s future. She already carries herself well and has the “right stuff” so I know she will do well. All of the young people we worked with yesterday had poise and were respectful. Then she hit me with the best part. “Mr. Mac, I have already decided that since I like science and math, I want to be on submarines.” I am proud that we have Americans that still see the value of serving this great land.

Seeing so many young people wearing respectable suits and competing in programs like business plans, finances, public speaking, responsibility and so on reminded me that this is still a great country. I know its not perfect and I know there are probably as many kids who would just as soon play Angry Birds than put themselves out there. But for two days in Central Pennsylvania, I got a personal reminder that we still have a fighting chance.

God Bless those kids and God Bless America

Trainer Mac

April 14, 2012

One of the greatest men I ever knew… Uncle Jack ⁴

American History, Submarine, Uncategorized, US Navy • Tags: Cold War, submarine, US Navy, WW2

I am a traditionalist and still believe in the idea that you respect your elders. The elders I am referring to came from a different time (in my case most were of the World War 2 generation). Jack Stuart Patrick was no exception. Like all men, he had parts of his life that he lived with little fanfare. While he lived during World War 2, Jack never went away to war. He tried, but they kept sending him back to his job. I know it was hard for him because of all the other men like my Dad who were sent to far away places. But his job as a machinist in the industry around McKeesport kept him from going anywhere.

In later life, he was a stand up guy who raised a beautiful family. His religious beliefs never needed to be displayed, they were lived. He was humble and quiet and never revealed anything too much about his work. Some things I found out later (after his death of course) was his contribution to this country. He worked at Westinghouse at the Bettis facility. Without his work, the USS Nautilus (and all other boats that followed) would not have been completed with such a high level of efficiency. He never once bragged about it, even on all the boats I rode before retiring.

Thanks for your example Uncle Jack. Funny thing, I can never think about calling him anything else, even years after his death.

For those of us with nephews and some nieces in the next generation…

I have some not so good news for you. While I have a few nephews/nieces who are very deferential and respectful, I had one remind me last night that the old bonds no longer mean much to some of them. One of my “next generations” got married recently and announced it happily on Facebook without formally letting any of the rest of us know in a more traditional way. I thought I had the right to mention in a private note that he was not being very thoughtful in the way he chose to announce it.

It only took a little while for him to respond on his mobile device that I was not only completely wrong but I should wait until I had my own children to offer anyone any advice and that in the meantime I should get my head out of my ass.

Since he had such a manly response (he’s 28 now going on twelve) I responded in a very unkind way and have decided that my services as an uncle are hereby officially discharged in his case. Its not the first time I have been blasted by one of the next generationers. In the past few years I have found that I must have slept through their entire childhoods since anytime I have tried to offer a few pieces of what I thought were obvious pearls of wisdom, it has resulted in other hurtful outbursts. Apparently with a few exceptions, the next generation is the most intelligent, insightful, knowledgeable and sensitive people that have ever lived. (Note to the actual most intelligient and caring ones… please accept my humble apologies… its not about you).

The part that kind of irritates me is that I was there the day he was born.

I was there through much of his pre-teen years in one way or another and our walls and albums at home are covered with pictures of the kids. We babysat them (for free) while Mom and Dad were off in other places, we took them to ice skating shows, movies, dinners, camping and on and on. We never once asked for any payment or rewards. It was just part of being an uncle and aunt. It was a joy for us, especially since we were never able to have kids of our own.

By this time in our life, it is a simple understanding that we were given different tasks since biologically (even with operations) we were not able to have kids. There were a lot of sleepless nights along the way, a lot of pain from the surgeries, and the typical sadness from not having someone to carry on our name.

After last night, I am kind of glad.

If I had ever heard that any son of mine had told a relative to get their head out of their ass, I am not sure what my reaction would be. Probably not good. Instead, I am just as glad to never have been a father than to have raised someone with that little regard for people who have done so much for him along the way.

God Bless the Nephews and Nieces that have brought so much joy to our lives. God bless them for letting us add a little good to their lives. Things have a way of coming around to those who have failed to learn life’s little basics.

Uncle Mac

Note to self: Facebook seems to empower people to do stupid things. Maybe its time to check out and it certainly is time to start narrowing down the list of people you may once have called “Friends”.

April 9, 2012

Field Day ~ The Legends, the Myths, the Reality ⁴

Submarine, US Navy • Tags: Field Day, submarines

When I was on submarines we would occasionally rewrite the words to songs to fit our purposes. Submarines on patrol are notorious for being either very exciting or incredibly boring. For that reason, the Executive Officer will hold a “Field Day” where all of the crewmembers are wakened and set to the task of cleaning.

Today’s blog will cover this exciting chapter of the Cold War and will also publish for the first time the submariner’s version of the Battle Hymn.

One of the great mysteries of all time on board nuclear submarines underwater is this: After cleaning every level surface for weeks at a time, where does the dirt come from? Field Day is a Navy tradition which in and of itself is pretty weird since you are on a ship or submarine and there are no fields. On most of the boats I served on, Field Day was almost always set for Friday. Even if you were coming off the 4-8 watch and had a nighttime missile drills, you could count on participating in this ship wide evolution.

Don’t get me wrong. Sometimes the areas that remained dark during the week (berthing for instance) dirt and garbage just sort of accumulated. Often, the mystery ship mate would drop gear adrift and not be very careful of their travels in the parts of the boat that may produce dirt and grease. So it does make sense to periodically have a scrub down from top to bottom.

I do suspect though that the main reason for the Field Day was to keep the crew mad at the X.O.

Now before you scoff, think about it. If you are cooped up in a steel tube closed off on both ends for months at a time, tension can really build up. Keeping the entire crew focused on being mad at one of the few people they couldn’t get to is nothing short of brilliant. (Note: This is obviously not taking into account the “Great XO’s Door Kidnap Caper – another story at another time since I believe a statute of limitations still exists).

The normal tension of being separated from members of the opposite sex alone can churn up all kinds of angst. People coming onto watch who are perennially late adds its own level of irritations. My worst source of aggravation is when I would relieve the guy before me who was monitoring the potable water tank levels so carefully that he allowed the tanks to run almost dry five minutes after I took the watch. The tanks running low always seemed to happen right as the XO was taking his after post-exercise shower. I suspect that is one of the reasons why he always seemed to be interested in inspecting my areas after the field day.

I will never forget Mark Keef’s favorite saying as he crawled on his belly with his flashlight to find that one loose dust bunny that no other human being on earth would notice: “In order to get to dirt Petty Officer Mac, you have to get to dirt’s level”.

If an enemy was ever to have attacked one of our boats, they would have probably had the most potential for luck if they attacked during Field Day. The passage ways on a submarine are very narrow and need to be secured during field day in order to allow their owners to complete their waxing/polishing. I personally know of at least three ET’s that would have stopped us from going to battles stations if it meant crossing their seven feet of freshly waxed tiled surface. There is no “up and over” during field day.

Like all things must, Field Day’s eventually end.

The results were normally lists of exaggerated “hits” that may or may not get taken care of. If the cooks are in a great mood, you may have an extended “slider” meal with lots of fresh hot fries. Granted, it is nice for the berthing are to smell less like old socks for a few days. But I hope that someday I will get back all of the sleep I lost.

To close out today, I would like to share one of my favorite songs, written in the early days on the USS San Francisco SSN 711. This song was and always be dedicated to CDR Mark B Keef for his relentless pursuit of dirt and grime.

The Battle Hymn of the Field Day

Mine eyes have seen the dirt and grime that covers all our decks,

I have seen the filthy ladders and the garbage in the heads

Crews mess looks like a battleground, the wardroom is a pit

so Field Day Marches on!

Glory, glory what’s a Field Day?

Glory, glory, it’s a good way

to clean up all our dirt and mess and make our XO proud,

So field day marches on.

From the shadows of the turbines, high above the BCP

We have checked the level surfaces for dirt and verdigris

Some men died for their religion, some men died to make us free…

BUT A SUBMARINER DIES TO MAKE IT CLEAN

Dedicated to all the lost sleep, lost boots, and lost Gentlemen’s magazines which were all sacrificed to help win the Cold War.

Mister Mac

April 4, 2012

How Hef saved the world from Communism ⁴

Submarine • Tags: Hugh Hefner, JFK, Marylyn Monroe, Miss April, patrol, Playboy, Saving the world form communism, West Pac

Disclaimer: Although nothing graphic is shown or discussed in this article, politically speaking, it reflects an age where dinosaurs roamed the earth. Skip to an earlier post or come back later next week if you are easily offended.

Early in the history of theleansubmariner blog, I wrote a piece about what the typical guy took with him on board a submarine for a West Pac or patrol.

http://theleansubmariner.com/2011/08/12/what-would-you-take-with-you/

I posted the question about what would you take with you on a number of sites and got some pretty typical responses about music, candy, various types of things to drink (non-alcoholic of course). I was writing a response to another question yesterday and it occurred to me that one of the things I didn’t see as a response was something that was rather prominent back in the day: Playboy magazines and pinups.

Hef actually started his career in the Army so I think in the back of his mind, the idea for Playboy was born as a result of his interaction with the military. In fact, he went to work in the publishing field at the beginning of the Cold War and launched his initial magazine in December 1953. Remember who the first playmate was? That’s right, Marilyn Monroe. Trivia: Hef never met Marilyn while she was alive but has the burial plot next to hers in the cemetery she was laid to rest.

Another Cold War connection was the ALLEGED relationship with a certain young President. Marilyn was sandwiched between the Bay of Pigs and the Cuban Missile Crisis. I find it hard to believe that she would have gotten anywhere near the President if it hadn’t been the “exposure” she got from Hef’s first magazine. Hopefully she was able to do “something” to keep his mind off of all that pressure…

I wonder how many submarines from 1954 to the end of the Cold War carried copies of Hef’s contribution to national security?

There is precious little privacy on any submarine but for a guy who actually gets assigned a rack in one of the berthing spaces (and doesn’t have to share it with his brother Tom via hot-racking) that rack becomes the closest thing to anything personal. Depending on your Chief of the Boat, you could do some light “redecoration” in that area and as long as it wasn’t too wild and explicit, everyone in authority sort of turned a blind eye to it. Frankly, I did manage to get into the Goat Locker as a messenger to do wake ups, and from time to time observed the art work that adorned the racks in there.

You were underwater on patrol (boomer) for months and at that time there were no females on board. At least not physically. Many of the guys had pictures of wives and sweet hearts pasted up in the open areas. But once they opened their bunk pans, out popped Miss January or Miss February. These patriotic girls gave their all for the boys in blue poopy suits.

My favorite of all time was Miss April 1974.

There were probably others that stood out more or had assets that were more remarkable. Some were intellectually more stimulating and all looked forward to the handsome man of their dreams coming into their lives later on. Marlene Morrow helped a generation of young men Spring into Spring back on those days.

In her Bio, she tells about growing up in Montana then moving to Osaka Japan where her father played baseball for a Japanese team.

At one point she wanted to be a missionary but later gave that up so she could be a housewife and have lots of kids. That was before she was discovered and ended up in the pages of the April issue and on my bunk bulkhead.

Why her? Well, like many guys, I joined the Navy when I was pretty young. I had a girlfriend back home but the time apart finally caught up with us. I knew on the previous patrol that things weren’t so great when I only got two family grams from her. During the off crew she finally confessed that she had given up on waiting and was “promised” to a boy at the bank she worked at.

Needless to say, a whole lot of dreams came crashing down around me and I had a rough time getting grounded. That is until I saw a picture of Marlene on the cover of April’s issue.

She was everything that XXXXX was not. Passionate for travel, she dreamed of going around the world in a trailer just to see what she could do. HEY… ME TOO. Her ambition was to be a dancer and eventually settle down to have about four children. HEY… FOUR SOUNDS LIKE A NICE ROUND NUMBER.

Marlene was related to no less than three different United States presidents: Washington, Monroe, and Madison. HISTORY… I LOVE HISTORY>>> I CAN SEE THIS WORKING!

I never did meet Marlene.

She apparently went through a lot of personal struggles after her days as a Playmate. From what I have found, she has finally settled into a life that is at least calm. But I will forever be grateful to her and her companions for the distraction I needed at a time when my world was pretty awful.

(You can Google her, but you better have your Liberty Pass squared away… 38 years has not made her any less attractive – at least at that age)

The girl from my youth went through a few more husbands based on things I hear from old friends. I think how differently life would be if we had finally stayed together. The girl I did end up marrying (32 years married this year) was a blonde haired blue eyed girl who has fulfilled every dream I could ever have wished for. (Maybe Marlene had a bit more influence on me than I thought.)

From what my active duty nephews have told me, Hef is still contributing to national security. Like the submarines they ride though, everything is done with a great deal of stealth now. I suppose it had to happen (even without the addition of females to the boats).

But if anyone ever makes a picture about those days on the 41 for Freedom boats, her Fast-boat friends, and the Smoke Boat Grand-daddies of them all, they will have to rate the thing at least an “R” if the action moves to the bunkrooms.

Thanks Hef. We haven’t always seen eye to eye on everything but your role in history will always be secure in my mind.

Mister Mac

Final thought… I wonder if the Commies had their own version of Playboy…

Do you suppose that’s why they lost?

March 17, 2012

Fenian Ram: The Green Submarine ^Reply

American History, Submarine • Tags: England, Erin go Bragh, Fenian, Fenian Ram, holland, Ireland, submarine, US Navy

Any submariner worth his salt has heard of a good Irishman named John Phillip Holland and his submarine design changed the way wars would be fought at sea forever.

On April 11, 1900 the United States Navy purchased his boat and named it the USS Holland. (For submarine purists, please take note that the first submarine was named after a living person and not a fish).

There was a long path for Holland to get to the point where his boats would gain acceptance. His initial design in 1875 was turned down by the US Navy as unacceptable. The little Irishman was determined to succeed however and with the aid of some good friends, continued his designing refinement.

This is where it gets interesting.

The “friends” that funded him were from a group called the Fenian Brotherhood which was the American equivalent to the Irish Republican brotherhood. Their real goal was to have him create a submersible that could be used against the hated British. The English occupation of Ireland had started as far back as 1169 and had been fiercely resisted throughout the years that followed. This little invention was going to give the Irish their first real weapon to attack the world’s greatest navy.

The Ram was launched in 1881 (almost twenty years before the American Navy got their first one) and trials soon followed. For its tie, it was a remarkable design. Holland had equipped it to take advantage of buoyancy in its maneuverability. It also had a crude torpedo system that gave it a remarkable capability. The whole story can be found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fenian_Ram

Holland conducted extensive tests of the boat including firing the tube with dummy projectiles. The Irish were on their way to having a secret weapon that would certainly gain the attention of the world once it got to its new home.

Displacement: 19 tons
Length: 9.4 metres (31 ft)
Diameter: 1.8 metres (5.9 ft)
Test depth: 18 metres (59 ft)
Complement: 3 men: operator, engineer, gunner
Armament: 230 mm (9 in) pneumatic gun

The project took a bad turn though since the Brothers were slow in paying Holland for his work.

A dispute followed and the Irish stole the submarine from Holland and took her to New Haven CT. This is when they discovered that no one actually knew how to run the thing. They approached Holland once more and he refused to help. The little submarine that would change the world would have to wait for another time and another Navy. The prototype changed hands a few times but eventually ended up in a museum in Paterson NJ.

The Irish would remain under English rule for a few more decades. The Easter uprising of 1916 created a climate for change. The Dáil (Irish Parliament) was formed on 21st January 1919 and independence was declared.

The last question remains, as Ireland gained its independence, why didn’t they pursue their own submarine fleet? They had already seen the value of submarines in a conflict with England and submarines would be relatively cheap to build.

The answer comes from a relatively obscure set of negotiations between the Irish and the British. Submarines were indeed on the discussion menu.

The following sections are from the notes of Michael Collins, one of the heroes of the Irish Revolution:

" It was in the midst of our consideration of the defence clauses in the British proposals. Mr. Lloyd George made it quite clear to us that the British people could not, or would not, for the sake of their own safety, allow any Irish Government to build submarines. England did not mind if we built a dreadnought or two, a battleship or two although these concessions do not appear in the signed Treaty. In fighting for vital concessions we were not weakening our position by claiming anything so obviously useless as the right to build and man a few capital ships ! It must be apparent to everyone that to do such a ridiculous thing would be to play England’s game.

" We could indulge our vanity if we were foolish enough to waste public funds in such a manner by having an infant navy that could never mean anything at all to the British sea power BUT WE COULD NOT HAVE ONE SUBMARINE ! SUBMARINES ARE CHEAP TO BUILD AND REQUIRE FEW MEN TO OPERATE THEM ! SUBMARINES ARE A REAL MENACE TO ENGLAND

" I fought my best to try to argue the point. ‘ After all I said to the British Prime Minister, ‘, Ireland could never hope to wage an aggressive war against England.’ Restricting our offensive armament seemed to me on a par with muzzling a Skye terrier. ‘ ‘ Submarines replied Mr. Lloyd George, ‘ are the flying columns of the seas.’ He looked at me straight as he said this, and slowly a twinkle came into his eyes. Then he spoke again. ‘ And I am sure,’ he said, ‘ there is no need for me to tell you, Mr. Collins, how much damage can be inflicted by flying columns ! We have had experience with your flying columns on land ! ‘
" There was nothing to be said then ! He knew what he was talking about. More than that he knew that I knew !

" But De Valera and Childers saw nothing disadvantageous to us in this prohibition of submarines. Perhaps it would be more nearly accurate to say that De Valera did not visualise the potential value of Irish submarines and that Childers did ! In any event, Document No. 2 conceded this British claim fully. Document No. 2 gave way to England on a point that really mattered ! This cannot be stated too emphatically. Such a concession to British necessity, real or supposed, was nothing but rank dishonesty. LET US AGREE SINCE WE MUST THAT WE SHALL NOT BUILD SUBMARINES, BUT DON’T LET US PRETEND THAT WE ARE DOING IT FROM ANY MOTIVE OTHER THAN THE REAL MOTIVE !

Collins knew that the Irish were about to throw off the yoke of English rule that had existed for 750 years.

The British already knew that Germany had tried to arm the Irish during World War 1 and realized that an Ireland with a submarine force (and a base to operate out of) would cripple the home islands.

That is one of the major reasons why, to this day, the only Irish submarine ever built is sitting in a museum in Paterson NJ.

Well, that’s all for today. Even though my heritage includes Scottish, Irish, English and Welsh (with a wee spot of Prussian according to Ancestry.com) I like to recognize the achievements of all my forefathers.

Erin go bragh

Mister Mac

March 7, 2012

Sticks and Stones ⁷

Submarine • Tags: bad language, Boot Camp, Chief, Profanity, Rush Limbaugh

WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS LANGUAGE THAT MAY HAVE BEEN TYPICALLY HEARD BACK IN THE DAY WHEN WE WERE MUCH LESS SENSITIVE. IF YOU ARE EASILY OFFENDED OR ABOUT TO TESTIFY BEFORE ANY CONGRESSIONAL COMMITTEE ABOUT HOW UNFAIR LIFE IS, PLEASE STOP READING NOW AND GO ABOUT YOUR BUSINESS. THANK YOU.

What’s in a name?

This story probably has more relevance for those of you who served in uniform but is probably not exclusive to service members. Somewhere along the way, you probably had a nickname. Whether it was because your name was difficult to remember or because there was someone else there that had the same name, you were assigned a moniker which became stuck like glue to you.

I had a number of them from early in my career. I am not sure if Bob or Robert threw most people off, but somehow Mac was easier to remember. I went from Mac to Petty Officer Mac to Big Mac to Chief Mac to Mister Mac. Even after the service, Mac stuck around for a long time. Its only been recently that I have become “Bob” again. I will not share some of the more fragrant nicknames I probably had along the way. Old age has helped me to sublimate them in my brain.

SERIOUSLY, IF YOU ARE TROUBLED BY LANGUAGE THAT MAY BE DEEMED INAPPROPRIATE IN A HEARING BEFORE LIBERAL LEGISLATURES THAT IS BEING HELD TO MERELY SHOWCASE A NON-HEALTH CARE RELATED ISSUE AND EMBARRASS OUTSPOKEN PUBLIC FIGURES, GO BACK TO READING YOUR ENTERTAINMENT PAGES ON YAHOO.

LAST WARNING

In the beginning (boot camp or basic) the nicknames were “group focused”. I always remember the first wake up call I had in Camp Barry as we were blissfully slumbering on our finely prepared beds.

“Reveille reveille up all bunks… hit the deck shitheads. Get your sorry asses out on the grinder in three minutes or you’ll be doing pushups until Christmas.” Of course this was accentuated to a broken broom handle banging on the sides of what we would later learn was a “Shit-can”. I am not sure why they called it that since I never saw anyone actually use it for that purpose. But for the remainder of my career, any object that was used for waste collection was most commonly referred to as a shit can.

The words “shit can” have many uses in the Navy. When you are about to get rid of a disruptive sailor, you are ready to “shit can” them for instance. Shit can’s are not very smart either since anytime someone does something stupid things, they are “as dumb as a shit can”.

Back to the first thought though: shitheads. The Petty Officer who was assigned to greet us that first morning had probably practiced his wording before he got us up at 4:30 that first morning. For a long time, I wondered why he would be so snarly at 4:30 in the morning to a bunch of complete strangers he didn’t know. It finally occurred to me at one point that if he was waking us up at that early hour, he had to have been awoken much earlier. Maybe even before the first pot of coffee was brewed, No wonder he thought we were shitheads.

As we moved through the orientation system, we were treated to many more colorful invectives. Many were family terms of course. Sons of … and Mother… were widely used in a number of circumstances to make a point. I have to admit that after 14 weeks, I not only became numb to it all, I probably added most of the terms to my somewhat limited vocabulary. Whether it was humor or anger, you could always find just the right word for any situation. This was to prepare you for the fleet.

After going through A school and Sub school, I headed to Charleston to pick up the boat. It had already left and I was assigned to Auxiliary Package Course for another few months. During package course, I had my first exposure to the DBF sailors. Since the diesel boats were being decommissioned at a rapid rate, most of my classmates were previous enginemen being converted to A Gangers. Many were much older (late twenties) and had developed their language skills to a fine art form, I had never heard the F word used in so many creative ways. This new training prepared me for my time on my first boat.

I did learn fairly early however that there were some times when the language was not appreciated. Mainly it was with young officers fresh from the academy. They were still fairly naïve and the typical sailor talk was deemed by many to be too crude (until after their first stop in Subic of course). I also saw a transformative change the first time they were monitoring the TDU operations and rotten eggs were being loaded into the chute.

The other time you had to be pretty judicious about your speech habits was around Chiefs. I believe with all of my heart that the saying “It is better to give than to receive” was created by a Chief. You could always tell how good a day it was going to be (or bad for that matter) by how quickly the Chief got to his first curse during morning quarters. I observed this carefully among my early mentors and relished the skills that I would use someday when I became a Chief.

Here’s the interesting thing. While some of the names were probably meant to be attention grabbing, most were not really meant to be hurtful. They were just words that culturally set the tone for the rest of the conversation. Obviously there were some exceptions (I can’t think of any redeeming characteristics about the words dumb-fuck). We just knew that we were going to have to endure a few harsh words form time to time.

Society is maturing I suppose. Nowadays, I almost never use any of the words that once flew easily from my mouth. That seems to be the right thing to do. I do appreciate the education those sailors and Chiefs gave me along the way. Occasionally I am made aware that some people I have been associated with may have said something that could be considered insulting. I just smile to myself and say:

Is that the best you can do slut?

“Fuckin A”

Mister Mac

Disclaimer: No one living or dead or soon to be born was directly or indirectly referenced in any of the above comments. Particularly excluded are any female law students in well known Universities in and around Washington DC or other major North American Cities. Reproduction of this article in any way shape or form would be just plain rude so don’t do it or I will find my old Chief’s hat and level you with my vocabulary.

This is a No shitter.

March 4, 2012

No excuses. ¹⁰

Submarine, US Navy • Tags: San Francisco, SSN 711

For some who follow my blog, I need to apologize but its been a hard week. Thanks to my friend Joey Sagnis, I found out well after the fact that one of the best sailors the Navy ever had passed away.

“Here is Silas’ phone number ***-***-****. He said he would appreciate a phone call. He misses the Big Mac.”

Those words were part of an email I saved from 2005 in a folder where I keep old shipmates info on. As soon as I saw the Facebook entry saying RIP to another shipmate, I felt a rush of grief and guilt mixed together. One phone call in seven years. I really can’t blame him since we have moved for work a lot of times and its been hard for many friends and family to keep up with us.

Like most people, I had good times and bad times in the Navy. Hopefully the bad times taught me something and the good times were certainly life’s rewards (even if I often didn’t deserve them).

The best times always had to do with people and I have many great memories from those days. There will always be one boat and one crew that I can always point at and say: that one was the best.

The San Francisco (SSN 711) was barely in the water when I showed up to help put her together in Newport News. The crew was not all together but as time went by, the numbers got bigger.

Captain Al Marshall was the pre-com CO but since I was just a third class A-ganger, I rarely saw him. The Executive Officer was LCDR Bill Godfrey. He was well thought of by the crew and a really down to earth man. He and his wife were on a short trip in the Caribbean when the helicopter they were both riding went down. No one survived.

Most of the crew were shocked but the new XO, LCDR Mark Keef went about leading them back towards the mission at hand. I would have hated to have been him. To his credit, he added a level of professionalism to the crew despite the tragedy that brought him there. There was little time to mourn since the boat was already marching towards its place in the Navy’s new goal: A 600 ship fleet.

We made it through pre-commissioning with a lifetime of stories to tell. The days when an unexpected snow storm hit coastal Virginia and some of the crew was stuck in the shipyards for days eating food out of the machines and the geedunk. Traffic in that area slows to a crawl with one inch of snow so you can imagine the shock of seeing several feet of drifting snow around the area.

The crew grew to its full size and the day came when we finally opened the galley. We were fortunate to have some pretty good cooks on board as well as a seasoned supply department. Food on a submarine is probably the most important morale builder of all. Even at the end of a shipyard period, the exhausted crew looked forward to the many meals that would come from behind that little sliding window that separated the galley from its customers.

Our commissioning was awesome. Instead of a quiet little ceremony in the shipyard, they had us move to the Aircraft Carrier piers at the Norfolk base. The Secretary of the Navy brought along the Secretary of Defense and it was on this occasion that Casper Weinberger announced officially to the world that under Ronald Reagan, we were going to build our way to a 600 ship Navy. Even though we weren’t the stars that day, it did get us to the front page of most major papers and the evening news.

I stayed with the San Francisco for four years altogether. Most of the crew made the trip around to Pearl Harbor and continued to make a lot of great memories together through our ops and in-port activities. Our wives grew close, we celebrated the birth of many children, and we shared our wins and losses.

In December of 1983 I made First Class and received orders to the USS Ohio. The boat left for another West Pac and I asked Mark Keef to administer the Oath of Reenlistment on the Bowfin. The guys who had also transferred or were left behind all joined us for the ceremony.

Silas Hines MS1(SS) was standing just up from me on the brow of the Bowfin. I would only see him one more time in San Diego a few years later. He and his wife allowed a few of us to stay with them. Those days will remain a private memory. Nothing bad, just a private memory

Silas was from Oklahoma and lived life to its fullest. But he was also a man of many contrasts. As loud and rowdy as he could be, he lived his life with all of his heart. His favorite movie was Lady and the Tramp. That one kind of shocked me, but I also remember sitting with him on the mess decks late at night just talking about life. Plus he was kind to all of the guys that worked for him. No single guy ever had to spend a holiday alone when I knew him. After talking with his wife Kathy tonight, no one ever did after I knew him as well.

Silas was one of those guys who you expected to run into on submarines. A little crazy, a little serious, a whole lot of dedicated to his shipmates, and lived life better on the edge than in a ho-hum kind of existence. In the years I knew him, I never once thought of him as anything but real.

There is one thing I never got a chance to say to him. I never got to thank him for the meals he made or the joy he added to my life. So if you can read this Si, I know its overdue but here it is:

Thanks Si!

God speed shipmate… see you soon!

Mister Mac

The moral of the story is that life is much shorter than you plan on it being… putting off a conversation with an old shipmate may become more permanent than you could ever believe. If there is someone in your life who meant that much, pick up the phone and call him. No excuses.

The Submariner’s Prayer

Almighty, Everlasting God, the Protector of all those
who put their trust in Thee: hear our prayers in behalf
of Thy servants who sail their vessels beneath the seas.
We beseech Thee to keep in Thy sustaining care all
who are in submarines, that they may be delivered
from the hidden dangers of the deep.
Grant them courage, and a devotion to fulfill their duties,
that they may better serve Thee and their native land.
Though acquainted with the depths of the ocean,
deliver them from the depths of despair and the
dark hours of the absence of friendliness and grant
them a good ship’s spirit.
Bless all their kindred and loved ones from whom they are separated.
When they surface their ships, may they praise Thee for
Thou art there as well as in the deep.
Fill them with Thy Spirit that they may be sure in their reckonings,
unwavering in duty, high in purpose, and upholding the honor
of their nation.
Amen

By: Joseph Sagnis

February 27, 2012

It Happened in 1954 ^Reply

American History, Congress, Freedom, Submarine, White House • Tags: Cold War, Veteran's Day

I really like cruising around the “store” in the front of my favorite southern cuisine restaurant. You can see the old fashioned toys and magic sets mixed in with collectables of one kind or another. One of my favorites though is the rotating card stand that holds the little books about what happened the year you were born.

1954 was particularly busy and had a lot of important Americana scattered all through it. From the schools to the way we lived, 1954 left its mark on the people of this country. Brown versus Board of Education was a landmark Civil Rights decision that led to the end of segregation in the country. The Boeing 707 (America’s first jet airliner) made its maiden voyage. I would take my very first jet plane ride many years later on its successor while heading to boot camp.

Swanson introduced the first TV dinners (which required an oven since the microwave oven was years away). The first all electronic color television went on sale which was just in time for the Rose bowl Parade to be broadcast for the first time in color. The first mass vaccination of children against polio began helping to end one of the most insidious cripplers of children known to man.

It was a time of faith and honor too. The words “Under God” were added to the pledge of allegiance. Today most people don’t realize it but those words were added to strengthen our connection to the almighty in the face of a growing culture called communism. The Iwo Jima memorial was officially dedicated at the USMC War Memorial. The actual battle with all of its sacrifices had occurred less than ten years before and many of the survivors were still coping with aftermath of the death and destruction of that battle.

It was an important time for the Navy too. The USS Nautilus was commissioned opening the age of sustained underwater war capability. 1954 is considered to be the start of “The New Navy”. After surviving the purges of the late 40’s and emerging as an indispensible part of the Korean conflict the Navy started to shake off its former ideology of surface ships with big guns and launched itself into the age of missiles and jets. The scientific advances during that period set the Navy up for years of relevancy to the national defense and ended most talk about obsolescence (except in the Air Force Officer’s Clubs of course).

Armistice Day on November 11th had been set aside years before to recognize the terrible sacrifices and noble service of the men who fought in World War 1. In this year, Congress decreed that the men who had served in all of the Nation’s wars since the Civil War would be remembered by a new national holiday known as Veteran’s day. Congress made many promises to the Veterans and the people of this country that became almost a sacred pact. Veterans of all wars suffered through many debilitating injuries and diseases as a result of their service to the country.

Many veterans and career military people gave the best years of their lives in defense of liberty and freedom. While their counterparts went to work for GM and Ford, they continued to sail the oceans in search of the enemy and man posts in foreign countries far from home. The work always had a background element of danger to it. Planes flying from pitching decks, live ammunition being handled under the watchful eye of foreign armies that were there to attack or defend against you, exposure to asbestos for many who were ignorant of the long term affects and on and on.

It would be okay the leaders promised. We will always remember your sacrifices and make sure we repay you for your service.

Something else happened that year in our hometown. On the day I was born, my Dad’s post war business went bankrupt. A not so reliable partner left town quickly and Dad was left holding the bills in his hands. It had to have been tough on him. Another mouth to feed, unpaid bills to creditors, not enough capitol to escape the end. It wasn’t until years later that I found out the rest of the story.

When Dad knew that it was over, he went to every creditor he owed money to and made a promise. To keep his honor and good name, he promised each and every one of them that he would pay them all back. He needed more time of course, but his request was granted by all of them. Over the course of my entire youth, he scrimped and saved from his paychecks and by the time I left for the Navy, all the bills were paid. Every single one. You see, to my Dad, a promise was something you kept. It was dishonorable not to do so.

Well, 1954 is a long time ago. Education is open to all but with the way its been largely turned into a retirement home for people formerly known as teachers, I have to wonder if that was such a great bargain for anybody. God seems to have been turned into some kind of pariah and it won’t surprise me if he is finally thrown out of all public life to satisfy a small segment of our “citizens’. I won’t mention the pledge of allegiance since I am sure it will be a historical foot note before I am turned into a pile of ashes.

Saddest of all of course is the ease with which politicians and their backers have forgotten the pledge to care for those who gave so much for the freedom we enjoy. I’m kind of glad my Father is not around to see what is going on right now. I think it would kill him.

Mister Mac

For you history buffs, 1954 had another significant event that probably has something to do with the world today. 10,000 Mau Mau Rebels were rounded up in Kenya by British Forces. A large military-sweep of Nairobi led to the internment of tens of thousands of the city’s suspected Mau Mau members and sympathizers (Operation Anvil). The operation was one of three prongs meant to put a large rebellion to rest. Sarah Obama, President Barack Obama’s grandfather’s wife told him that her husband was imprisoned for six months and tortured before being tried in a British court.

Yep, 1954 was pretty pivotal.

April 19, 1927. In the town of Boston Pennsylvania, a baby boy joined the world to begin his own life adventures.

In 1972, he became a part of the submarine family when the first of two of his sons joined the Navy and the submarine force. While I never called him Sonny (for fear of a belt) I did call him Dad until he passed away while I was on my last ship.

John C. MacPherson, USNR (R)

Love, your son Bob

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Thanks for your example Uncle Jack. Funny thing, I can never think about calling him anything else, even years after his death.

For those of us with nephews and some nieces in the next generation…

It only took a little while for him to respond on his mobile device that I was not only completely wrong but I should wait until I had my own children to offer anyone any advice and that in the meantime I should get my head out of my ass.

The part that kind of irritates me is that I was there the day he was born.

After last night, I am kind of glad.

Uncle Mac

Share this:

Like this:

Today’s blog will cover this exciting chapter of the Cold War and will also publish for the first time the submariner’s version of the Battle Hymn.

I do suspect though that the main reason for the Field Day was to keep the crew mad at the X.O.

I will never forget Mark Keef’s favorite saying as he crawled on his belly with his flashlight to find that one loose dust bunny that no other human being on earth would notice: “In order to get to dirt Petty Officer Mac, you have to get to dirt’s level”.

Like all things must, Field Day’s eventually end.

To close out today, I would like to share one of my favorite songs, written in the early days on the USS San Francisco SSN 711. This song was and always be dedicated to CDR Mark B Keef for his relentless pursuit of dirt and grime.

The Battle Hymn of the Field Day

BUT A SUBMARINER DIES TO MAKE IT CLEAN

Dedicated to all the lost sleep, lost boots, and lost Gentlemen’s magazines which were all sacrificed to help win the Cold War.

Mister Mac

Share this:

Like this:

Disclaimer: Although nothing graphic is shown or discussed in this article, politically speaking, it reflects an age where dinosaurs roamed the earth. Skip to an earlier post or come back later next week if you are easily offended.

Early in the history of theleansubmariner blog, I wrote a piece about what the typical guy took with him on board a submarine for a West Pac or patrol.

I wonder how many submarines from 1954 to the end of the Cold War carried copies of Hef’s contribution to national security?

My favorite of all time was Miss April 1974.

I never did meet Marlene.

Thanks Hef. We haven’t always seen eye to eye on everything but your role in history will always be secure in my mind.

Mister Mac

Final thought… I wonder if the Commies had their own version of Playboy…

Share this:

Like this:

Any submariner worth his salt has heard of a good Irishman named John Phillip Holland and his submarine design changed the way wars would be fought at sea forever.

This is where it gets interesting.

The project took a bad turn though since the Brothers were slow in paying Holland for his work.

The answer comes from a relatively obscure set of negotiations between the Irish and the British. Submarines were indeed on the discussion menu.

Collins knew that the Irish were about to throw off the yoke of English rule that had existed for 750 years.

Erin go bragh

Share this:

Like this:

What’s in a name?

Is that the best you can do slut?

“Fuckin A”

Mister Mac

This is a No shitter.

Share this:

Like this:

Thanks Si!

God speed shipmate… see you soon!

Mister Mac

The Submariner’s Prayer

Share this:

Like this:

Saddest of all of course is the ease with which politicians and their backers have forgotten the pledge to care for those who gave so much for the freedom we enjoy. I’m kind of glad my Father is not around to see what is going on right now. I think it would kill him.

Mister Mac

Share this:

Like this:

Follow “theleansubmariner”