now a taste of reality began to set in. I experienced first hand some of those “benefits” “M” had told me about. I soon discovered there were a few less glamorous things he had left out, most likely as a good salesman - deliberately. The missing descriptions began to become evident in my Navy Reserve life, especially once I was assigned drill duty on board the USS Greenwood.
Yes, there were indeed three full meals a day. But most of the time they tasted like what you would want to feed your worst enemy. I did have a nice warm bunk to sleep in, that is when I could sleep. Unfortunately it was the upper bunk. When the waters were bumpy, I had to hang on to the pipes just above my head to keep from falling out.
Those pipes were a source of many a Technicolor dream. When Reveille would sound in the morning, you had but a short time to get out of bed, get shaved and dressed for inspection. Upon hearing the trumpet sound, I would make the effort to quickly rise up to get out of my bunk. Forgetting about the many pipes running about half a foot above my head – BONG – was the sound I would make, as I banged my head against each one. I would see red stars, blue, green, and yellow ones. Then hearing one of my shipmates call out a warning: “Hey Callihan! You’d better stop laying there. You only have a few minutes to get ready for inspection.” Sometimes guys would show up with a hangover from drinking too much. I would show up with a pipe induced hangover.
There were also some good things: no snipers were shooting at me from trees, no land mines to step on, and it looked as if the Captain was doing a good job watching out for sea mines. Surely there had to be some other good things. How about the movies onboard? Oh yes! It took the trip to Guantanamo Bay Cuba for me to learn about the movies onboard. As we went steaming toward Cuba, movies were shown almost every night. However, they were shown on the rear gun turret, the one downwind from the smoke stacks. My shipmates and I were only able to see half of any movie. The other half of the time was spent wiping cinders from our eyes.
Yes, there was also a laundry onboard; I did not have to wear the same clothes for weeks at a time. But I had not been not told about the fact that although you marked your serial number on each piece with indelible ink, many times when you got your laundry back, 30 to 40 % of it was missing. I often had to spend money replacing what was lost. I guess it had become somewhat of a tradition, as no one was ever interested in doing anything about it.
Was I glad I had chosen the Navy Reserve? Somewhat glad, at least until being on a ship I learned what the word “sea sick” could mean to me. It happened shortly after we had been flown to Key West. The Greenwood had been in dry dock for repairs. They were now done, and the ship was deemed to be sea worthy. After arriving in Key West, we took a side trip to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, then Montego Bay, Jamaica, before returning the Greenwood to St. Petersburg.
Up to this time, my weekend drills had been aboard a ship which was tied to the dock. Now as we were underway and leaving Key West, what happened next was unbelievable. The weather was perfect, the sky clear, the sun warm, winds soft, and the water was as smooth as a mirror. Where was I to be found? Hanging over the railing, vomiting my head off!
I was a disgrace! The “old salts” would come by just to observe my condition. “What’s the matter,” they would ask, “don’t have your “sea legs” yet?” Then to make things worse, they would offer a cure. “You go down to the mess and get some scrambled eggs and burnt toast, that will help settle your stomach.” “Shut up! Don’t even mention food to me!” I would yell back, just before my next round of vomiting the very thought of food would provoke. I could hear their laughter as they walked away. So you had to join the Navy! I was thinking. How stupid, why didn’t you know you were prone to sea sickness?
But amazingly enough, I did seem to grow “sea legs.” One day, suddenly I discovered no longer was I prone to sea sickness. I had gotten used to the movement of the ship over the water. I even now enjoyed watching as the bow plunged into the waves. The up and down motion now seemed natural to me. This proved to be a blessing as we hit the Windward Passage at the bottom half of Cuba. I will tell you more about this in a later chapter.
These are just the beginnings of quite an Adventure in Navyland.
I hope you will enjoy going back in time with me. Some of what you will read will bring laughter; some of it tears, and some of it will make you angry.
I hope you enjoy reading about my Adventures in Navyland.
Chapter Two
DID I SAY “I” VOLUNTEER?
I had joined the Navy Reserve during a time of war. I was not drafted and therefore believed I was due a better consideration than someone who had to be drafted. This was my belief. Unfortunately I discovered the Navy Reserve did not necessarily share my belief.
One night while attending my weekly drill, a voice came over the intercom and made the following announcement: “The following report immediately to room 105.” Then the list of names began to be called. Much to my surprise I heard, “Seaman Apprentice Joseph Callihan.” What had I done? What can this be? These were questions I was asking myself as I went immediately to report in room 105.
Arriving, I found a room full of guys who were as confused as I was. What was going on? A 1st Class Boiler Tender soon provided the answer. “How many in here want to be a Fireman?” he asked. Of the 30 of us, one idiot raised his hand. You see, Fireman was one of the worst jobs in the Navy. They worked in the belly of the ship, maintaining the boilers. It was very hot down there, and could get extremely hot in places like the Indian Ocean. Not a job to really desire, unless you wanted a taste of Hell on earth. Still, this one guy actually raised his hand.
The 1st Class Boiler Tender (BT) went on to say, “Well, the Navy has a shortage of Firemen, and the last thirty people who signed up, and that means you, have volunteered to help fill those positions.
What did he say! I was enraged, how could they treat those who had voluntarily signed up (me), in such a callous way? Put those you had to draft there – not me! But what could I do? This is bad, I thought, especially as I am not mechanically inclined.
The next few weeks seemed to look worse for me, as well as the other 28 guys who had no interest in becoming a Fireman or Boiler Tender. The 1st Class BT seemed to be aware of how we felt. For example, after handing out multiple guess questions on a test we needed to pass, he would say: “I’m sure everyone has studied really hard for this test.” When this would get a good laugh, he would continue by saying, “I’m sure everyone knows the answer to question number one is B.” Everyone would hurriedly mark the letter “B” on question one. “These questions are fairly simple, but if anyone has any questions about them, just ask me,” the 1st Class BT would say.
So it began. A hand went up, “Yes, do you have a question?” “Yes, Number two, I know the answer, but I’m having trouble remembering it.” BT: “Let’s see, number two, Oh that one is easy, I’m sure you know the answer.” “Yes, I do,” the student would reply, “I’m just having trouble remembering it.” BT: “Take a look at “D,” doesn’t that look familiar? Does anyone else have any questions?” Immediately another hand rose, “Number three, I’m not sure what it is asking, I can’t understand the wording.” BT: “Let me see, number three, hum, I agree, that does look confusing.
I don’t know why they worded it that way, but take a look at “A,” don’t you think that’s what they had in mind?” Once again, we all rushed to mark “A” on question number three.
BT: “Now, are there anymore questions?” Another hand shot up. “Yes, what is your question?” “Number four, I know it, the answer is on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t seem to get
