I've just added a "new" picture to my blog. The black-and-white photograph was taken by a Photographer's Mate, who's name I've completely forgotten, as we were preparing to deploy on my final Med Cruise on the USS INDEPENDENCE(CV-62), in early July 1974. We had been married for less than five months at the time, and I did everything I could to get out of having to go for less than half of the six months-long deployment, but got screwed by this young Ensign, and had to stay until the morning of October 1, 1974, before I could execute my transfer orders, a grand total of 84 days aboard ship, and 6,000 miles further from home.
All of that is irrelevant, the fact of the matter is that this is our favorite photograph of the two of us. No wonder, we're almost 40 years younger, but it's pretty symbolic of what our life together has been, saying good-bye for periods of time. That may sound pretty sad, but the "welcome home's" were always extremely nice, so it evened out, so-to-speak. It's actually my second favorite of her, my favorite being a full color, studio portrait she had done in 1973 for me. She's so beautiful with long hair! Not that she isn't beautiful with her hair worn short, but I really loved the long hair. I don't have many pictures of her with her hair long, so I kind of treasure the ones I do have.
OK, back to the tale of Steve vs. The Ensign. The guy was a "Yalie," a little rich-kid, playing "navy" with some new kids he got to boss around, because he hung around school long enough for Daddy to buy him a degree in something totally stupid. I was 22, had made E-5, and was a Shift Supervisor for the Intel Center; he was 21, and he had just graduated, sent through OCS, and then to the Indy. Shortly after he came aboard, I didn't see him out on the pier, and didn't salute, and he got all over me about it. Seriously, I didn't see the little SOB, and it was all a mistake, but he made such a big deal out of it, I made a vow to never salute the little sh*t if I saw him out in town, screw the consequences.
It was about a month before I found out about a Sixth Fleet regulation that would allow sailors in deploying units a chance to execute orders early, as long as the orders didn't have a "NET" (no earlier than) date, and had less than 90 days left before transfer. I was on the pier, and sure-enough, here comes the young Engign, and I suddenly had to repair a shoelace. When I stood back up, there he was, waiting for me to salute him.
I refused.
The Ensign informed me that it was appropriate for an enlisted man to salute his "superior" as a sign of respect.
There was something about the word "superior," maybe the snotty way he said it, or the fact that he used "enlisted man" as though we were some sort of sub-species, but that part of my brain that keeps my mouth shut was suddenly paralized.
"Excuse me, Sir." I addressed him appropriately. "As far as I know, I have no superiors, and damn few peers. Sir!" One thing I learned in the Navy, always have a wittness. Two of my shipmates heard him use the word "superior," and knew that the Navy was, at the time, trying desperately to NOT give the appearance of any form of "class distinction". Both saw and heard my reply, and would attest that it was done with all courtesy, I walked away.
A month later, I find out about the Sixth Fleet-thing, and submit a request to transfer early, since I would have 84 days left aboard when the Indy deployed. Somehow, it ends up in the Ensign's hands, and he says "No". Department Head: "No." XO: "No." CO: "No."
The little bastard had the balls to hand it to me saying, "You're too valuable to the Division. We need a contact-relief, and he won't be here until October. By the way, you're value to the Division is to fill a TAD spot on the mess decks, as a Master-at-Arms. You go tomorrow." He walked away, smiling back over his shoulder. I was screwed, no doubt, but he thought he had the last word. I love it when the smug ones think they've had the last laugh; they're so confused when they find out that they're wrong.
Oh, yeah, I went to the mess decks. They tried to make me move in to what amounted to transient quarters, but I declined to move, and my supervisor told them to back-off. It was ninety days of Hell. The only good thing was that the time went by really fast. I was even released a few days early from my 90 day sentence, ironcially serving 84 days as a Mess Deck Master-at-Arms. In truth, I learned a great deal about myself in that 84 days in Hell, and had a positive influence on a group of young men who didn't understand why they had to spend time "mess cookin'".
I was the Starboard Section Leader, and in charge of 50 these confused young men. We worked pretty hard, one day on; one day off if we were in port, 12 hrs on; 12 off at sea. We had meal hours that overlapped, at sea, to where there was always some place to get a meal, 24 hours a day for as long as the ship was out of port. When the spaces weren't used for meals, they were used for bomb assembly and transfer to the hangar deck. In between, my people cleaned. They cleaned during meals, too, grabbing a tray at some point, and then back to work. My Section, when I took it over, had the worst rate of Unautorized Absence (UA) in the Supply Department. My "boss," a grizzled E-5, who was just waiting to retire, told me that I would have to "ride these [people] every... moment." I told him I didn't work that way.
On my first day back in the Intel Center, I was greeted warmly by everyone, and shocked everyone by seeking out the Ensign, and publicly thanking him for sending me out to the mess decks. I was, actually, somewhat sincere in my gratitude to this Ensign, I offered to take him to dinner at the NCO Club in Naples, and to see Morey Amsterdam's show on our last night in Naples. We drank, we ate, he had a whole bunch of drinks, I sipped two beers the whole night, he had a few more drinks, and I ended up with this seemingly boneless mass of Ensign, trying to catch a cab back to the Fleet Landing before the expiration of liberty at 0400. Somehow, I made it on to one of the last boats back to the ship; the Ensign didn't. I don't know what happened to him, but the CO was pretty hard on guys who missed ship's movement; he'd be less than enthused about an Ensign missing movement.
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