One Sailor’s Pre-Com Experience

     I reported to the Pre-Commissioning Unit, USS McKee (AS-41) in March of 1981, a DP1, with ten years service, and six years in grade.  It was my fourth assignment, third as a DP1.  I had previously worked as a Storage and Retrieval Operator on the USS Independence, an LHA Computer Systems instructor at FCTCPAC, and a scheduler at EPMAC in New Orleans.  I’m going to “blow my own horn” here, to that point in my career, I had done pretty well, and was considered as a subject-matter expert on the different computer systems at each stop.  Twice, supposedly, I had been recommended for Navy Achievement Medals, but somehow they had never materialized.

     I had been married for seven years, and had three kids, the middle one born three months premature, and did not surviving her birthday.  My son Cory, who is currently on active duty as a Master-At-Arms at NAVSTA San Diego, was born exactly 355 days after we lost Amy.  Let me tell you, there’s nothing like losing a child for putting strain on a marriage.  We were in chaos, and ended up separating in June, shortly before I was sent to Seattle.

     When I arrived at the detachment in West Seattle, at Lockheed Shipyard, I was handed a check for $6,000, told to find my own accommodations, as best I could, and given a list of hotels where McKee sailors could get good rates.  I settled, for a while, on a place called the Cosmopolitan Motel, on Fifth Avenue, a fifteen block walk to Seattle Center, or a three block walk to the Monorail Station.  Later, I moved into the New Regency, a block towards the Center.

     There wasn’t a lot for us to do, at that point.  The det was in trailers, Lockheed not allowing anyone to occupy spaces on-board until after the Fourth of July weekend. We’d muster, take turns making ServMart runs, and otherwise look for reasons to be somewhere else.  The SO was pretty cool about it, as long as what work they did have got accomplished, he’d see us in the mornings, and the less he knew, the better.  My first three weeks in Seattle were pretty sweet.

     After a spectacular Fourth, both weather-wise, and activity-wise, we were finally allowed to start inhabiting spaces, and ADP Division (S-8) were among the first.  We started with a refurbished AN/UYK-5 computer system, courtesy UNIVAC, a card reader, a teletype, four 1/2 inch tape drives, and a printer that could keep working through an RPG attack.  We had four 1710 keypunch machines, and a card sorter, to generate input.  The UYK-5 was reportedly 20 years obsolete when I was in A School ten years earlier.  The computer had a memory of 16K – and no, that’s not a misprint – and relied on cards and mag tape for input, boxes of 181/2 X 141/2 inch paper, more mag tapes and cards were the only outputs.  A typical update for SuDAPS, IMMS, or Payroll could take an shift of four keypunchers an entire shift to prepare, and hours to actually update the data, and getting the required output materials.  It was stone-age data processing on it’s best days.  Our computer, however, did not work.

     We had, I think, five or six DS’s, who spent long days, and longer nights, trying to get “the box” to work.  I can’t remember how many times we ran across Elliot Bay to Bremerton, getting parts and technical advice, and begging for computer time to try and get our stuff done.  We had a constant flow of people coming and going, all hours of the day and night, from an LPO’s standpoint, it was a nightmare.  The original computer didn’t start working until three days before Commissioning, and even then, it’d still screw up.  I wasn’t ever sure it was right.

     Because of all the traveling we did, it was sometimes 0300, or so, before we’d return to the yard, and on two occasions, DP’s found the Executive Officer passed out in the parking lot.  My folks practically carried him, both times, back to the Quarterdeck.  Rather than being grateful, the XO hated DP’s, and S-8 Division as a whole. 

     I was given the assignment of presenting ADP spaces to the Secretary of the Navy, John Lehman, on Commissioning Day, an honor, but a real pain.  We had rehearsals, probably a dozen of them, all conducted by the XO.  At first, it was working uniform, but a bunch of them were in Service Dress Whites.  Needless to say, the XO was critical of everything about me, and my presentation.  It was all BS, all SECNAV wanted to see was a shiny new addition to the fleet.  Our computer might not work right, but it looked new, so I knew he’d be OK with things.  The XO, however, was not pleased.  I thought to myself, “Okay, Asshole, if you don’t like it when I play it straight, wait until SECNAV gets here.”

     Prior to Commissioning Day, I had purchased a “brand new” set of whites, belt, buckle, medals, even new Corofam shoes.  My uniform, for the occasion was spotless, much to the dismay of the XO, as he previewed SECNAV’s route that morning.  I knew he wanted to find something, and I didn’t give him a chance.

     When Secretary Lehman showed up, he was very pleasant.  I gave him the traditional reception and salute, he returned the salute, and shook my hand.

     “This looks like new equipment.  Is it all new, Petty Officer Martin?”  SECNAV inquired.

     “Sir, you are standing in one of the finest examples of a Data Processing Museum that the Navy owns.”  I replied.

     “How’s that?”

     “Well Sir, the computer system is 30 years out of date, and has limited abilities.”  I told him.  “Do you have a pocket calculator?”

    Secretary Lehman confirmed that he did indeed have one, and he pulled it out to show me.

     “Sir, you have more physical memory in that calculator than this computer.”

     By this time, I could see the red creeping up from the XO’s collar, and he was giving me the “stink-eye.”  I was enjoying myself.

    “How many people work in ADP?” the Secretary asked.

    “Actually, about half of ‘em, Sir.”  was my flippant reply.

     Secretary Lehman laughed; the XO turned completely red, his demeanor telling me that I was “really going to get it” later.  Even I had to chuckle a little.

     From that point on, I explained how the system worked, how many people it took, man hours, all that.  At the end, he thanked me, shook my hand again, and left.  The XO lingered long enough to say, “We’re going to talk about this later." then he too was gone.

     Apparently, I did something to impress the Secretary.  Before he left, he dictated a Letter of Commendation, had it put on the ship’s Commissioning stationary, and signed it.  When I got the call to go see the XO, he handed me the letter, and told me to get out.  I was the only presenter to receive such recognition.