It was supposed to be a glorious day.

My dream of being a commissioned naval officer had certainly yielded some unexpected outcomes.

I had gone from being a pretty respected Machinist Mate Chief to being a focus for one man’s vitriol. The Chief Engineer that I ended up working for on the Hunley was not the leader I had hoped for. To say that the guy was abusive would be an understatement. Over the years since that time, I have heard from so many of my friends and colleagues that the navy has a bad habit of advancing bullies and tyrants. The system just seemed to have that flaw as an institution.

Not to say that all are flawed. On the contrary, I have also worked for some of the very best men and women I could have hoped for. But you always remember both ends of the spectrum.

Maybe you could point at me and say that I was part of the system and maybe some who worked for me might say the same about my flaws.

I guess time will tell the story in full someday and that might be true.

But on the morning of April 27^th, 1993, God and fate intervened and the one who had caused so much stress and disruption in the lives of an entire department was finally on his way home. The ship had been tied up in Florida and was getting ready to get underway. The new Chief Engineer was on board, and he and I had already developed a good working relationship. Around 0730, as I was preparing the engineering team to get underway, someone came down and quietly said that the old engineer had left the ship with all of his belongings.

It was like the weight of a million struggles was suddenly released from my soul.

But I didn’t have much time to celebrate or even take a small victory lap.

The Hunley was already an old girl when I had arrived several years before and she needed all of my attention. Despite the hell I had been through, I was one of only two of the officers on board qualified to stand Engineering Officer of the Watch. The two engineers that had been aligned with the outgoing engineer were still smarting from their letters of reprimand for following his order to surreptitiously disposing of critical spare parts and neither was qualified to run the plant. So along with my good friend, we were the ones who were tasked with taking the ship home to Norfolk.

The thousands of hours we had put into keeping the ship running made sure we could answer all bells.

I trusted my hand-picked crew of enlisted people in the Engineering Operating Space to respond to any request from the bridge. In the enginerooms, the diesels all answered their call to supply power to our giant motor. I knew all of the leaders and people by name. The release from the pier and underway were flawless. Not bad for a ship that had a poor record in doing so.

We had just passed an INSURV inspection and received kudos from the OPPE team that ran us through our paces. It was a challenge for me since I was the EOOW for the underway parts of the inspections. But again, the ability to maintain focus in the face of chaos ruled the day. I was almost shocked the day they told us they were going to decommission the ship. After all, we had just put about fifteen million dollars into her to upgrade everything from propulsion to habitability. She was ready to sail anywhere and continue her function as a provider of services to fast attack submarines.

But the world was changing quickly.

The Cold war had long since ended and the bureaucrats in Washington were already salivating over the prospects of a cost savings from defense cuts. Eliminating assets would be an illusional savings since the money would be spent on other non-defense programs. The government never really shrinks. It just changes where it wastes taxpayer dollars. The Hunley would be another victim of that drawdown. Like a forest, the old must sometimes fall victim to the fire in order for new growth to begin. Her time was about to end.

I did not know that as we sailed on smooth waters off the coast of Florida.

The weather was calm. We soon settled into our underway routine and I sat back into my watch stander chair on the port side. The team settled into their routine as well and everyone was pretty excited about sailing home and seeing their families. I was staring at another ten hours on watch. With only two of us qualified to stand watch as EOOW, twelve on and twelve off was the drill.

SO, it was a surprise when about an hour into my watch, Karl and the new Chief Engineer came into the control room. Karl informed me that he was there to relieve me so that I could go to the captain’s stateroom. The engineer walked with me up the three decks without saying much of anything. Frankly, I was concerned that the old CHENG had done something as a going away present to put another nail in my career coffin. I just keep breathing and kept walking.

The captain, who was also pretty new on board invited me into his stateroom and handed me a message.

It was from the Red Cross, and it informed me that my father had passed away.

I thought that I was prepared for that message. I had talked to my dad in his hospital room by phone just a day before this happened. But are you ever really prepared for the death of a man who shaped your life? We had grown up together in so many ways. He was stuck with a rebellious son, and I was stuck with a father who wasn’t sure how to deal with that son.

Now here was that son standing in the stateroom of a man who had quickly earned his respect. A man that saw the things clearly that his predecessor did not. I wanted to hold my emotions as tightly as possible. There was still a trip up the coast and many people relying on me to be there. You need to be focused. On a ship that old with a history of casualties because of age and design, expecting the unexpected was critical.

The rest of that hour is blurred in my aging memory. I got to use the MARS radio hookup and talk to Debbie and my family. Then I went back down and resumed my watch.

It took less than five days to get to Norfolk. Then a quick drive home. Then saying farewell to my best friend.

I’ve written about this before. But I always get a bit reflective on this date.

I’m not sure if I have remembered it all accurately.

But on this day of that anniversary, I am also facing my own mortality. I have now lived longer than Dad did. I long for the day when we will meet again face to face. I am forever grateful for the gifts he gave me along the way. The greatest will always be that he lived long enough to see me free from the situation that caused so much pain. I rarely think about the guy who caused all of that chaos. I heard that his career ended up pretty badly. Sadly, it did not end before he wrecked so many other people’s lives. But all things do come to an end.

As it turns out, it was a glorious day. 

My Dad gained his wings. I was freed from a nightmare. The ship completed her mission.

It’s hard to believe that I have been retired from the Navy for thirty-two years.

Mister Mac