Many Navy stories start with the saying "Back in the days of wooden ships and iron men…" this one was back in the day of steel ships, planes, and little else.
I spent the better part of 2 years on board the aircraft carrier USS Bon Homme Richard – CVA31, from January 6th 1967 until October 31 1968. I was assigned to the ship following a brief time at Norfolk Naval Base in Virginia. Several of the guys that I worked with there were also assigned to the Bon Homme at the same time.
I remember arriving at the dock in San Diego close to midnight in a fog so dense that you could only make out the outline of the ship from 20 feet away. My first impression was the sheer size of the ship! I had never actually seen a carrier before that time unless they were across the way from the repair ship in Norfolk where we worked during the day. It was a relief to finally get on board a fighting ship and to get out of Norfolk, which was not the friendliest place to be stationed. Although the town depended upon the Navy for its existence, there were plenty of places in town with signs posted saying "No sailors allowed"!
The next morning I was assigned to the EE Division which included all the Electricians Mates (EMs) and Interior Communication Electricians (ICMen). There were about 200 men that comprised the division. Most of the training from that point on was self study and hands-on work. Promotions in rank depended upon your scores on Fleet-wide exams and the availability of the higher rank opening. Like all things government, there were quotas for each job.
We pulled out that day so that the air crews stationed at North Island Naval Air Station could practice take-offs and landings on a carrier. At the conclusion of a weeks worth of this, we headed for Pearl Harbor and Operational Readiness Inspection. This meant drills to fight fires, launch protective air screens and train for General Quarters. I learned quickly to dread this since the different drills could happen at any time – day or night. After that, things settled into a routine of work, standing watch and trying to sleep.
As far as accommodations, most of us shared 2 berthing spaces with about 100 men per berthing compartment. Each man had a bunk (called a "rack" in Navy jargon) and a 3 foot by 3 foot locker to store all your possessions including all uniforms etc. At most, there was room for a camera and a book. The bunks were 3 high and were made of a piece of canvas laced to a metal rectangular frame and a 2 inch mattress on top. A lucky few had a pillow. The bunk sagged to the middle just like the hammocks that it replaced. There was about 24 inches between bunks, so once you were in there you really couldn't turn over without bumping the guy above you. The showers and toilets were located in the "head" up 1 deck above. There were 2 rows of sinks and mirrors, a row of shower stalls, and 2 rows of toilets facing each other with no dividers or doors for privacy. The one benefit was, as you finished a story or two in a magazine, you could easily pass it on to the guy on the toilet next to you. This took some getting used to. I think it took a month before it was just matter of fact. You came in, took care of business and left. Very few lingered.
We had no chairs or tables to sit around when off duty, so we sat on the metal deck (floor) if we wanted to read, play cards, write letters or just relax. On the ship, airplanes took priority over everything else. What space wasn't taken by the planes was filled with bombs strapped 3 to a dolly.
While at sea, we were expected to work every day from 0800 hours until 1600 hours (8:00 AM to 4:00 PM). After work, you would have a watch station to man for 4 hours at a time. Sometimes if we were short of men, we would stand 4 and 4 watches. This meant that you would be on watch for four hours and off watch for four hours. This cycle repeated 24 hours a day, every day, until more men were available; sometimes for almost the entire deployment. During the "off" time you would get chow on the mess decks, sleep, or read and occasionally write letters home. There was no possible access to telephones or other communication and there was no means of entertainment or recreation other than the ship's closed circuit TV which sometimes showed a movie. We had 1 TV for the entire group of Electricians Mates. It was located in the Power Shop. Mail would take weeks if it arrived at all. It was delivered by other ships during re-supply or on an on-board cargo plane used to shuttle people and small parts on board. Mail call was always a big deal and a great disappointment if you didn't receive any mail. Along with the mail sometimes came the dreaded and usually expected "Dear John" letters.
While in a combat zone off North Viet Nam, we took on ammunition about every 3 days. A supply ship would pull up along side while we cruised at normal speed. They would shoot lines across and then cables attached to the lines were pulled aboard and fastened. Pallets of bombs would be sent across the lines, 9 bombs to a pallet if they were 250 pound bombs - fewer to a pallet for 500 pound and 1000 pounders. These bombs were each handled manually by teams of 4 men each who would insert bomb lugs in each one then lift and carry them to a waiting dolly. This could go on for hours. Until you were promoted to Petty Officer, you were liable to be assigned to these work parties. After that you may be assigned, but to supervise and make sure that there were no slackers.
Life on an aircraft carrier has its own unique risks and we seemed to have a fatality every at-sea period. You could be badly burned, killed or maimed while working on live electric since we couldn't shut down any critical circuit while we in a combat zone. Death was only inches away on the flight deck. People were killed by propellers, getting sucked into a jet intake, or blown over the side by prop blast or jet blast. There was always ammunition packed into every nook and cranny and the danger of fire at sea was the biggest threat to large scale loss of life.
The Tet offensive, siege of Khe Sanh, the deadly fire aboard the USS Forrestal, and capture of the USS Pueblo by North Korea all took place during our deployments. So we stayed pretty busy supporting troops on the ground and sailing off North Korea for a while to back up the diplomacy over the release of the Pueblo's crew.
Both deployments to the Western Pacific lasted 9 months. We would stay at sea off the coast of North Viet Nam for somewhere between 30 and 90 days. We would pull into the Philippine Islands or Japan between these at-sea periods for repairs that couldn't be done at sea and for R&R breaks for the crew. As the months stretched on, this routine seemed endless, nevertheless, I wouldn't have traded place with our troops in-country in Viet Nam. Since no alcohol is permitted on Navy ships, our in-port beer consumption had to last us until the next time in port and we endeavored to do our best. A group of 5 of us probably kept the San Miguel Brewery running double shifts. Most Navy bases overseas had a Navy Exchange store that sold high quality cameras, stereo equipment and even Japanese motorcycles. I bought my first good camera there and that lead to a life-long hobby of photography.
Getting out at the end of my tour on active duty was a day that brought probably the most mixed feelings that I have ever had. On one hand, I would be re-united with my family but on the other hand, my buddies on the ship meant as much to me as any family members. The act of leaving was really anti-climactic. It was tradition that your best friends would see you off and one of them would carry your sea bag off the ship for you.
I stood in line for a few hours in my dress uniform to pick up my orders releasing me from active duty. When I finally received them from the ship's clerk, my friends and I walked to the gangplank, I shook hands one more time, saluted the Officer of the Deck, requested permission to leave the ship, saluted the flag, and walked down the gangway. A minute later, I climbed into a taxi alone and headed to the airport. One minute I was a sailor and the next, I was a civilian. I felt so much like a fish out of water that it just seemed wrong. I discovered that I had nothing in common any more with the life I had before going on active duty and though I was home, I had as deep a feeling of loneliness as I have ever experienced. I suspect that the troops returning home today go through the same thing. It was months before I would truly feel at home again.
My Navy buddies and I have stayed in touch over the years and continue to chat by phone, and get together every few years. As time goes by, some of the memories stay fresh. Luckily, the bad ones have mostly faded with age and the stories get tamer; but to the old gang, we'll always be a bunch of old salty dogs. It's my sincere hope that today's Sailors, Soldiers and Marines can settle in comfortably when they return home and stay in touch with those buddies that their lives depend on today.
I wish them my most sincere thanks and prayers for a safe return.
Paul Stegeman
Cold Spring, KY
Electrician Mate Third Class
Viet Nam 1967 and 1968
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