100 Per Cent Honest to Goodness Sea
Stories
as submitted by our own crew
members
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You have all heard those ridiculously unbelieveable sea stories about submariners and submarine life. Finally, the CHIVO crew will bring to you the real story - the no BS - the straight skinney - coming to you hot off the mess decks with almost no embellishment. |
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And if it's not 100 per cent true then I never caught that 47 lb large mouth bass in the lake behind my house. But, as you can see, I have the picture to prove it! So, Goat Boat Sailors, send in your sea stories to Justan2@earthlink.net, and I'll post them below. But be careful, because I am going to hang your name on your tale, and the entire crew will be keeping you honest.
Hi Stan, Thanks for the news letter which is much
appreciated. Yes, the
SubVets WWII national organization is ceasing to exist in 2009 and just about
all the WWII vets (myself included) down here have been part of SubVets Inc for
years already. Of interest....there has been recent material released, including
the latest Polaris issue, that covered captured Japanese subs in particular the
I-400 and that it was sunk off Oahu in '45-'46 time frame .I'm reasonably sure
that we were the ones that torpedoed it to it's final resting place with a MK 14
out of the forward room. On one of the photos I sent you years ago, there was a Japanese
sub in the back ground and I believe it was the I-400. Please ask the few others that were there in '45-'46 if they
remember it (or am I hallucinating?). Regards, Gerry (June 08) Charles Hicklin EM2(SS) 44-45 Plankowner sent in
some additional information about CHIVO's rocket launchers: Somebody jumped to the wrong conclusion about
the rocket racks. I was on CHIVO when the base installed the racks just ahead of
the forward torpedo hatch (below the deck line). They had two side-by-side sets of
rockets ,a swing gate at the bottom allowed the second set of rockets to hit
the firing pin. Rockets were loaded up through the hatch form the FRW TORP
ROOM. The firing key was passed to the bridge via an electric cord from
below. Only two men at most were exposed topside to load. The first time we test
fired the rockets they shot off so fast that the bridge declared a hang fire and
waited a long time before allowing anyone to check. They hardly believed the
report that all rockets were gone. Think about the topside exposure, the electrical connections, and the reload problems if one believes the pics on the
website. Charles R Hicklin
(January 07) Paul Seery, a radioman aboard the USS Fred T. Berry
DDE-858 in May 1954, sent in this fond memory about working with USS CHIVO during an Atlantic
crossing and subsequent Med run. A footnote from Stan - If some of you radiomen or crew members
from that trip would like to get in touch with Paul, just contact me for his email address.
(January 07) Charles Hicklin EM2(SS) 44-45 Plankowner sent in
this information about CHIVO and her rocket launchers. Modern submarines with their
Tomahawk cruise missiles have nothing on the Goat Boat. (January 07) Terry Rehmann EM3(SS) 44-46 Plankowner - More Rockets: (December 06) Kurt von Gehr ETR2 (SS) 63 - 65 (December 06) Terry Rehmann EM3(SS) 44-46 Plankowner sent in
the following: A footnote from Stan - I never went that deep on Chivo.
When I was aboard (late 60's) we were limited to 412 feet, but USS Chopper (SS342), Chivo's
sister ship ended her career with a dive to at least 1000 feet ...but not on purpose...
She was operating on daily ASW training ops in GITMO and had just rang up a full bell ahead.
Then she suffered some AC power failures and lost normal indicators and power for the diving
planes. For some reason the emergency indicators were not working. Ended up they
ran the planes into the stops on full dive and couldn't tell manuevering to take off the full
bell. Chopper was out of control and driving herself towards crush depth. The
senior electrican on watch in maneuvering was eyeballing the depth gage and finally went to
all back emergency on his own. By this time they had about a 70 degree down angle, and
they were blowing everything up forward trying to get the angle off.
Stan,
I came upon a photo taken in Genoa, Italy, May 6, 1954 that shows the USS Joseph P.
Kennedy DD-850, USS Fred T. Berry DDE-858, USS McCaffery DDE-860, USS Norris DDE-859 and
the USS Chivo SS-341. We were part of a Hunter Killer Group CortDesRon 6 and
trained/operated with/against the "Chivo" on our Atlantic crossing. The thing that
stands out in my mind was the number of times the "Chivo" sank the accompanying Carrier
and us as well as many others, I am sure. I seem to recall hearing that the Chivo
sank us 14 times on the way over to the Med.
While our time together in Genoa was short, I can still recall the cavalier attitude of
the crew of the "Chivo." They were great guys and as radiomen we shared a lot of
laughs and a few bottles of Chianti wine.
STAN here is the skinny on the rockets. I was on the Chivo when they were installed
in June or July of 1945. They did not replace the 5" gun. They were just in
front of the torpedo room hatch, behind the bow tank, and deep in the superstructure.
All torpedoes except the ones in the tubes in the forward room were removed and replaced
with 5" rockets which had to be loaded by hand through the hatch. We were going to
destroy Jap radar stations for the invasion.
The first time we test fired the rockets with a firing key on the bridge, we got a swoosh
and nothing; so we thought we and a hangfire. After a long time we sent a TM out
the hatch to look and all 6 or 8 or how many we loaded were gone and none left.
We also had new ECM gear to jam Jap radar while we tried to destroy it. We had the
two 5" guns and 40's. They took out the Chief 's bunk and put in a stable element
gyro to be able to fire the 5" at night by radar. All of that plus the 50 cal's
required 52 men to man and pass ammo. One other sub was equipped the same, but I
do not remember the name.
The leading TM in the forward room unvoluteered for subs and they let him transfer.
A baker named Spinalli tried, but they would not let him go so one night after making sure
all the officers were in their bunks he opened the a main vent valve in the galley and the
noise got their attention. He was gone the next day, but in 1947 I saw him back on
a sub when I was on the TORO. I ask him how and he reminded me of his chocolate
eclairs.
Forgot to tell you about our Rockets -- It was my job to go out the forward
hatch and into the super structure to plug them in and retreat back below. There
were 15 shells in each bay and they rolled on a sprocket when they fired. I don't
remember anyone getting hurt, but it sure knocked hell out of the deck. They also
installed these on the Chopper-- same results -- Total of 90 shells.
While reviewing the new names on the muster list, from the latest e-mail
newsletter, I saw a few that brought back this memory.
We were on a classified operation and to pass the time a contest emerged
among the three watch sections to see which section could log the most EW
and SONAR contacts. Each team had a name. Seeing the names
on the roster reminded me of two: Hodde's Humpers and Lavery's
Lackadaisicals.
I was aboard when Chivo made her test dive. We started at 0 ft and
dropped 50 ft at a time to check for problems, continued down to 612 FT. In
the forward room we hung some line from port to starboard with a slight bow in it,
and when we surfaced the line was taut. They said the hull compressed approximately
2". Sea water pressure is 44 lbs. per sq in at 100 feet, so we had about 260 lbs
per sq in on the hull.
When the speed finally came off, the Chopper went to an even greater up as she shot up
to the surface. One deck plate in the foward torp room fell through the open forward
battery watertight door and stuck itself in the goat locker bulkead. And a chief,
coming out of the goat locker, fell from the forward battery through the control room
breaking his shoulder on the air manifold as he went by.
At the same time the destroyer working ASW with Chopper was totally unaware of any of
this and was beginning an attack run on Chopper. When Chopper came busting out
of the water the destroyer almost ran over them.
Chopper came so far out of the water on surfacing, that her own weight cause her to sink back
to almost four hundred feet before stopping the second time. After everthing settled
down, Chopper returned to GITMO, and she never dove again. The sea pressure had warped
and twisted several hatches so badly that they couldn't even be opened.
They did a study and measured how high the bildge water came up the bulkheads, how much angle it
takes for coffee cups to fall out of their holders, etc. to see what kind of angles Chopper
experienced. As unbelieveable as it sounds, the inquiry calculated that Chopper
exceeded 1000 feet and never experience any major flooding, just many, many leaks.
Stan
(December 06) Terry Rehmann EM3(SS) 44-46 Plankowner sent in
an additional tale:
Thought of another event worth passing along. On the way to Pearl Harbor from
New London, Lt Talifaferro dropped a ring from his finger in the head in the forward
room on the way from New London to Pearl Harbor (and he wanted it back).
Once we got to Pearl Harbor he got the ok to remove the lid on the tank and dressed in
his shorts he lowered himself into the tank. After a short while he surfaced
with a smile and the ring and a VERY STRONG ODOR. Quickly leaving the
room he went topside for a hosing. If he ever shows up ask him if he still has
the ring. I was one of his aides helping him to remove the lid------
(November 06) Robert Machen EM1(SS) (68-69) sent in this
information. It was originally written by Michael Skurat, a Member of the Groton Base
USSVI & Central CT Chapter of SubVets WWII. It's sort of long but contains lots of
interesting information.
There have been many major changes in the U.S. Navy Submarine Service since the WWII Diesel Boat Era.
It might be interesting historically to note some of them. Initially there were only
seven pay grades (actually eight). They ran from one to seven with Apprentice Seaman (AS) as
one, Seaman Second Class (S2/c) as two, Seaman First Class (S1/c) as three, Petty Officer Third
Class (e.g. MM3c) as four. Petty Officers Second and First Class as five and six.
Chief Petty Officers were initially promoted to "seven A" for one year (Acting Appointment) and
then to Chief Petty Officer as pay grade seven. There were no Master or Command Chief, etc.
The "C" for Chief Petty Officers preceded the rate designation, for example CMM not MMC as
today. For all of the seaman ratings there was a comparable Fireman (F).
The Officer's rank structure has remained consistent with minor exceptions. During WWII a
five star Fleet Admiral rank was added and bestowed on Nimitz and King. No one has been
promoted to that rank since WWII. Another thing there was no Commodore rank utilized.
Officers were promoted from Captain to Rear Admiral (lower half) and thence to Rear Admiral (upper
half). The Rear Admiral (Lower Half) was replaced by the Commodore rank. As it is
customary to call any Commanding Officer "Captain;" it also was customary to call a Submarine
Squadron Commander "Commodore."
Before WWII an Apprentice Seaman's pay was $21.00 per month. Pay was increased in WWII with
Apprentice Seaman at $50.00 per month and to around $120.00 per month for a Chief. All
personnel on Submarines got 50% submarine money and 20% sea duty pay. When added together
added up to about 80% extra pay. If you were married and/or had dependents your pay was
reduced by $28.00 per month, the U.S. Navy supplemented another $22.00, and your dependent was sent
a monthly check for $50.00. Consequently, an Apprentice Seaman would get $22.00 per month.
However, enlisted personnel below pay grade four could not marry without the permission of
their Commanding Officer. This was breached more often than observed and obviously many
sailors entered the service married.
At one time the Navy Paymasters would pay personnel with $2.00 bills, so that when spent it would
indicate to the local economy the impact of the service. Also when being paid by the
Paymaster on board a tender you would line up with your "pay chit" to draw your pay.
When you reached the pay desk you would salute the Paymaster, put your fingerprint on the "pay
chit," and draw your money. There was a posted pay list indicating what you had on the
"books," and you could draw all or whatever amount you desired.
Submarine and sea pay were a real boon especially when sea store cigarettes were six cents a pack
and a bottle of beer on Bank Street was twenty-five cents. Later when you came in off patrol
you would have that back pay and be really flush.
Due to rapid expansion of every aspect of the U.S. Navy, if you could cut the mustard, promotions
were forthcoming. Many enlisted personnel were commissioned (called mustangs) or advanced
in rating because of the enormous need to fill billets in new construction and replace casualties.
Classes at the U.S. Naval Academy graduated early. Personnel with special
qualifications were coming into the service already rated and/or commissioned. You could
see a Chief Petty Officer with no hash marks. These ratings were derided and called "slick
arms" (no hash marks) and/or "Tojo" ratings by the old-timers.
Some enlisted personnel commissioned as regular line officers, Warrant Officers and Limited Duty
Officers (LDOs) in specific areas. Such commissions initially were considered temporary
with revertion back to their permanent grades at the conclusion of hostilities. They
created many specialty ratings. In their "Crow" the specialty designator was a diamond with
a letter inside, e.g., the letter "A" would be for a coach or professional athlete who would
conduct physical conditioning, etc. Most, if not all, of these ratings ceased to exist with
the end of the war. Some referred to these as "square knot" rates.
There were right arm and left arm rates. Right arm rates were considered "Sea Going Rates"
(BM, QM. GM. SM, FC, TM, etc), and the "Crow" was worn on the right arm. Left arm rates
were ancillary and were MM, Y, EM, RM, MoMM, ET, etc. Right arm rates were senior to left
arm ratings. There was no Boatswain Mate Third Class, they were called Coxswains.
Seamen and Firemen wore a "watch stripe" round the right shoulder - white for seamen red for
firemen. There was other colors of "Watch Stripes" for aviation, CBs, etc. Indication
of rate was on the uniform cuffs. One white/red stripe for AS/FA, two for S2c/F2/c and
three for S1/c and F1/c. The present diagonal 1, 2, or 3 stripe(s), in color, was originally
for WAVE uniforms and after WWII were adopted for the present enlisted uniform and the watch stripe
was eliminated.
The "T-Shirt" as a part of the enlisted uniform initially served two purposes. (1) It was to
be worn without the Jumper on work details, especially in tropical locations. (2) It was
meant to have the high white neckline to show in the "V" of the Jumper. Some personnel, to
enhance the appearance would cut the shirt tab off and wore the "T-shirt" backward for a better
appearance especially if with age and washings it seemed to sag. The popularity of the
T-Shirt expanded into wide public acceptance after WWII and it is now utilized, not only as an
undergarment but as outerwear with various designs, logos, etc.
There were no Silver Metal Dolphins for enlisted personnel. Dolphins for enlisted personnel
consisted of embroidered "patches" (white for blues and blue for whites) sewn on the right forearm.
Silver Metal Dolphins for enlisted personnel was authorized after WWII.
All enlisted personnel wore embroidered "patches" as distinguishing marks e.g., if you were a
designated striker you could wear the insignia for that specialty on the left upper sleeve.
Other distinguishing marks for enlisted personnel were "patches" on uniforms, e.g., an Expert
Lookout patch - "binoculars", a diver - "divers helmet" (M for Master) with degree of qualification
indicated on the chest section of the helmet. These were worn on the right upper sleeve and
there were many of them.
One "perc" that has persisted is the wearing of gold rating insignia and hash maarks for those with
12 years of good conduct. Chief Petty Officers merely pinned their fouled anchor hat
insignia to the front top of their hat covers. The black band and background for the
insignia was initiated after WWII. Officers did wear Gold Metal Dolphins as they do today.
Unknown today was also the fact that there was a dress white uniform for enlisted personnel.
The collar and cuffs were blue and were adorned with piping. What is worn today are "undress
whites". Pictures of them are in old "Bluejacket Manuals". Officers wore swords for
ceremonial occasions as they do today, but back before WWII Chief Petty Officers had a cutlass for
ceremonial dress occasions.
Another uniform item that is now passe is the flat hat. Once the ribbon had the name of your
ship, but this was discontinued for security reasons and all flat hats merely had U.S. Navy in gold
on the ribbon.
In boot camp all of your uniform items were stenciled with your name and service number.
There were no doors on lockers and each item had a prescribed method of folding and stowing.
It was even prescribed as to how you would pack your seabag.
Originally, the entire submarine base was literally below the railroad tracks. Later as the
base expanded it was called "lower base". Most of the upper base buildings, i.e., Morton
Hall, Dealey Center, etc., were constructed for WWII. The road from the present main gate
past the golf course was the Groton-Norwich road. About half way up the road was an overhead
railroad bridge. The entrance to the base was under the bridge and the Marine guard was
stationed there in a guard shack. The base commander's office was housed in a small brick
building about half way between the training tower and the Torpedo Shop.
Submarine School was six weeks for enlisted and three months for officers. Of some 250,000
men who applied for submarine duty less than 10% made it to Sub School, and many of those washed
out. Submarine School was the sole tyrannical domain of one Chief Torpedoman Charles Spritz.
Submarine School was called "Spritz's Navy". He ruled with an iron hand and was feared
by instructors and students alike. He had little regard for rate whether you were a Seaman
First Class or a Petty Officer First Class. To call him eccentric was a gross understatement.
He did not smoke, did not drink, and was single. It is open to debate as to if he
ever even pulled a liberty. His total devotion was to the Submarine School. It was
universally conceded that he had gone "asiatic", not 100% stable, and perhaps as a youngster he
might have been dropped on his head. He insisted that personnel, at all times, be properly
and neatly attired in the regulation "Uniform of the Day" without exception. No tailor mades,
proper rolled neckershief down to the "V" in the Jumper with immaculate white T-Shirt showing,
shoes well shined, etc. He did not permit smoking nor any type of horseplay. He
demanded that all personnel move at a fast pace. Chief Spritz had the uncanny ability to be
everywhere at all times and pity the poor individual who crossed his path. His discipline
was swift and sure. He felt it was his personal mission to ascertain that anyone leaving
sub school for submarine duty was in every respect ready. He had many axioms, but his
favorite was "There is room for anything on a submarine except a mistake".
Sub school students were not "boots", many, if not most, had time in the U.S.Navy and were rated.
There is an article in POLARIS issue of August, 2000 (Submarine Saga segment) which delves
into more detail relative to Chief Spritz and is briefly incorporated here as it is a definite
part of the Diesel Boat Era. Sub Vets of WWII in recognition of respect and a fealty
obligation to this once feudal lord and master wear a "Spritz's Navy" patch on their vests.
It would seem that the screening at Sub School served us well. Friction between members of
the crew was unbefitting and unacceptable. If an individual demonstrated an inability to
"get along" he could be transferred to another boat. If the same conduct prevailed there
he would be transferred out of submarines.
The training tower caused many a wash out for both physical and mental reasons. If a person
could not "pop" his ears, it could cause pain and even bleeding from the ears. You voice
changed dramatically to a high pitch under pressure. All personnel had to qualify from the
100' lock with the Momsen Lung. Right after the war it was noted that some German
submariners had made emergency escapes using free ascents. A number of crews from boats
went to the tower and made free ascents.
We had less pomp insofar as the ceremony observed when a member of the crew qualified than is
apparent today. The individual was thrown over the side and then sewed dolphins on his
uniforms. He wore them with pride. They have always been, and always will be, a
badge of honor regardless of manner in which bestowed.
There was less reverence on some other occasions also., e.g., when a "Good Conduct Medal" was
awarded to a member of the crew it would be given by the Captain (or perhaps the Exec) at quarters
amid "hoots and hollers" with cries of "Undiscovered Crime". There was also a bonus system
for awards ranging from $1.00 per month for the Good Conduct Medal to $5.00 per month for the
Congressional Medal of Honor.
"Tailor Made" dress blues were the uniform of the day for liberty. The jumper was skin tight
with a zipper in the side so that it could be taken off. Accentuated bell bottoms were
mandated. The inside of the cuffs were decorated with embroidered color decorations, usually
dragons, etc., and were only visible when the cuffs were turned up.
When you made Chief you initially bought the cheapest hat you could find since it was also considered
appropriate and properly respectful to have all of the crew urinate in your first hat.
Sad to note in this day and enlightened age, all of the military services of the United States were
segregated during our era. The practice was abolished by President Truman over 50 years ago.
Stewards, at that time, were recruited from American territories and from American
minorities. Even in such a tight knit group as American Submarines two racks in the Forward
Torpedo Room hung off the overhead beneath The Torpedo Loading Hatch were reserved for the Stewards.
Rated Stewards wore uniforms similar to Chiefs.
The submarine sailor was a very irreverent individual with an avid distaste for regulations, etc.
The average life span of a submarine sailor was four patrols (about a year). Despite
bravado, that thought always prevailed to varying degrees depending upon the individual.
That premise however, was unsaid but used as an excuse for hell-raising. Rarely mentioned in
tales of WWII submarine lore was the fact that going through minefields was as apprehensive as
being depth charged.
Submarine Officers and crews were very young - anyone past thirty was a very old man.
Admiral Charles Lockwood (Uncle Charley) ComSubPac was most forgiving, as were Skippers and Execs,
of transgressions of both Officers and men. Returning from patrol crews were treated
extremely well. Another "perc" of the submarine force was that any record of "minor"
disciplinary action that a member of the crew suffered would be entered into the "page 9" of his
service record. Virtually all disciplinary action was handled internally on the boat.
However, both the original and the carbon copy (BuPers Copy) were retained in his jacket.
When transfered, the original and the copy were removed by the Yeoman to be deep sixed.
Unless there was a serious offence personnel were transferred with a clean record.
Many friendships were formed in sub school, plus other training and schools and transfers were not
uncommon due to the needs of new construction, promotions, etc. Consequently, the force
became even more closely knit. It was the rare boat that did not have personnel whom you
knew.
Submariners were very independent and resourceful, both individually and as a group. Needs
(and desires) of the boat as prescribed by the U.S. Navy, did not always coincide with what was
considered proper nor adequate. Therefore, a system of "midnight requisitioning" and
"midnight small stores" was developed to enhance efficiency. This avenue of acquisition was
considered a solemn duty in promoting the war effort. Those proficient and innovative in
this endeavor were greatly admired. It was an art as well as a science executed individually
or as a group cooperative effort. Some of these escapades took great ingenuity as well as
"brass balls". As a term of affection they were called "scroungers" and/or "dog robbers".
If a Skipper or Exec made an "innocent" passing remark that some particular thing might be
"nice," it would appear mysteriously in due time.
Although we had an evaporator to
make fresh water, battery watering was primary. In the design and scheme of things, personal
hygiene or washing of clothes did not seem to be considered. One Engineering Petty Officer,
called the "Water King" ran the evaporators. Personal hygiene or washing of clothing was an
afterthought. The use of after-shave lotions, deodorants and especially talcum powders
prevailed. Large cans of "Lilac" were the norm, purchased inexpensively and sprinkled
liberally.
When conditions approached that of a Chinese garbage scow junk with an over flowing head
and the crew in dire need of fumigation, the Skipper might decide to allow showers piecemeal by
sections. You lined up to enter the shower, the Chief of the Boat turned on the water for
2 seconds and shut it down while you soaped down. You were then allowed a correspondingly
brief rinse.
Each member of the crew was allotted one locker which measured about 12" high,
18" wide and about 18" deep. You kept your uniforms under your mattress. Your rack
had a plastic zip around cover. Your mattress was encased in a "mattress cover" which was
akin to a oversized pillow case. The matress cover could be turned over once and some even
turned them inside out and got two more uses. Less the uninitiated be stunned by that you
must be cognizant of lack of water for regular laundry.
To reenter a submarine after handling lines etc. when returning to port was a shocking revelation.
It was impossible to believe that you had survived that malodorous environment.
Politely put the atmosphere was conducive to a shanty town house of ill repute that also was
inundated by a back up of its sewer system. Pity the poor relief crew that had to come on
board and make the boat shipshape again.
Ribald humor was the tenor of the
day. No topic or human frailty was off limits. Nothing was sacred. Horseplay
and trickery were the order of the day. The antics and demeanor of the crew, both at sea
and ashore, would not be socially acceptable nor politically correct nowadays. I fear that
the late Admiral Rickover would have been aghast.
One real advantage was food, especially
when you first went out. Although they were ridden without mercy the cooks did an excellent
job of feeding the crew. We ate family style off china plates. Our officers ate
exactly what the enlisted personnel did. The stewards would come back to the After Battery
Galley and fill their serving plates and bring it to the Forward Battery for the Wardroom.
When leaving port rations were stored in every conceivable space (including the shower since it
wouldn't be needed). However, as supplies diminished the cooks were hard pressed to come up
with varied favorable menus. All boats had "open icebox," so you could prepare and cook
anything you wanted at any time as long as you cleaned up after yourself. The After Battery
"Mess" was for chow, off duty recreation, meeting space and a hang-out.
On board an informal, but professional, attitude prevailed. To the unacquainted it could
appear that the rapport between Officers and men was quite informal and to a degree it was, but it
in no way detracted from efficiency, military courtesy, tradition or discipline. There was
a strong mutual respect. Aye-Aye Sir, Very Well, and Well Done were accorded as appropriate.
The vast majority of the crew was rated and competent in their skills. Obviously so
were our officers.
There was no such thing as stenciled ratings on dungaree shirts so a person coming aboard a
submarine at sea would have a difficult time determining any individual's rate. Also there
was an axiom that in submarines "you left your rate on the dock". Ability was the hallmark.
This is an attempt at recollection after the passing of a half-century so any errors or
omissions hopefully forgiven as "senior frailties". Much of this is collective memory and
is a compilation of boats in general. There is no pride of authorship so any comments,
additions, corrections and/or deletions are welcome and appreciated. This is merely a
historical comparison as best one can do and is in no way a negative reflection between "then and
"now".
Michael Skurat Central Connecticut Chapter U.S. Submarine Veterans World War II
(November 06) SN(SS) Daniel Chun (65-66) sent in this tidbit with
the header: Hey, this is no shit!
During the Gitmo cruise of 1965 The Goat Boat made a weekend stop in Montego Bay, Jamaica.
Jack Lehnert and I (as well as the rest of the liberty section) got an overnight liberty and
planned to make the best of it. Jack and I bought swimsuits and matching shirts (ya gotta
remember, it was the sixties) to get around the ban at that time on enlisted men wearing civvies
on liberty in a foreign country.
We got a hotel room in a nice place and rented a motorbike. Jack let me drive because I
told him I was experienced. At that time he didn't pay too much attention to the many scars
on my legs. Sliding along on concrete and running into fixed objects on a motorcycle is
still "experience." Right?
Today I would opine that riding a motorbike in a swimsuit, while drinking copious amounts of rum,
at night, in a foreign country where everybody drives on the wrong side of the road, is not a
bright idea. Well, back then I wasn't known for being the brightest bulb on the tree.
Those who know me today might say nothing has changed.
So there we were, Bacardi'd up, cruising all over the place, narrowly averting death as Jack let
loose in my ear with terrified screams when I took the right fork in the road instead of the left.
We found ourselves in a shanty town up in the hills thinking that we might be lost. Then, in
a crowd of people we recognized some of our shipmates (who shall remain forever anomyous for
obvious reasons). The others in the crowd were Jamacian, er..., ladies of the evening.
One of the ladies, rather large and smelling worse than a pig boat crewman, being the hard working
girl she was, left her sailor and sauntered over to us. She made a business proposition that
I recall was something like, "Hey mon, you want go poo-see shop?" I sort of stared at her,
swallowed hard and responded with, "Huh?" To eliminate any doubts we may have had as to the
nature of her proposal she reached over and grabbed me where my legs straddled the seat of the
bike and said, "We go f**k now."
I made a whimpering noise and Jack, just trying to be polite asked, "How much?" She released
her grip on the jewels and turned her attention to him as I gunned the two point something
horsepower engine and got the hell out of there. We were back on the coast in short order
and enjoyed the rest of our stay. In spite of the efforts of my shipmates, I managed to
remain chaste that night and until my wedding night several years later.
(October 06) In a letter Samuel "George"
Daniels QM2(SS) (57-58) wrote the following:
I would like to have the name of the Chief of the Boat when I
reported on board the Goat Boat - Jan 1, 1957. (He was) a
heavy set Chief Commissaryman with a raspy voice and about 50 gold
hashmarks !! (Remembember how old a 37 year old seemed when
you were a teenager !!)
He was very influencial in my life. He asked if I was
married - I said yes.
Did I have kids? - I said no.
He asked why not? - I said I am only an E-2 and can't afford
them.
He said if you wait till you can afford kids - You'll never have
any !! He told me to go home right now and get started.
I did, and we did ! ( I told Jan - the COB said )
and our first two daughters were born in the Naval Hospital,
Key West.
A footnote from Stan - George and Jan are still married and celebrated their 50th. wedding anniversary on April 29, 2006. They live in Escondido, CA and plan on coming to our next reunion.
Another footnote from Stan - Does anyone know who the COB was in 1957. Some crew members suggested that it was TMC(SS) Tex Reilly, but our records show that he left the boat in 1956, so it must be his relief.
(October 06) Got this email from John C.
McGuckin MM2(SS) not a CHIVO crew member, but a brother
to our own Charles "Mac" McGuckin FN(SS)
(69-70):
I had the below decks watch on board the Amberjack, SS522 one night
in 1967. We were outboard the Gilmore and the Chivo was
outboard us. You were attempting a battery charge and had
some problems. We had to assist twice on the 12 to 4 with
OBA canisters, spare fire extinguishers, tools and electrician's
tape.
About 0300, I discovered a extremely dirty, desheveled, and
demoralized engineman, covered with soot and with his eyebrows
burned off, sitting in our after battery. He identified
himself as "nine finger Ables", the leading engineman from the
Chivo. He asked for a cup of coffee because their coffee
machine was "no more good".
I got him a cup along with a generous shot of 190 from my
auxiliaryman's "cleaning fluid" stash and he sat and drank it and
asked for another. I went off and made my rounds and when I
came back he was still there except that he had an officer who also
looked like he had been on fire talking gently to him, trying to
get him to come back and try the battery charge again.
Ables replied that he "liked this submarine because it wasn't on
fire and there was no smoke or fireballs bouncing around the
decks." After a while, he agreed to go back, and he thanked
me for the good coffee and encouragement. I guess he was
successful because the Chivo left the next day.
Several years later, after I had got off active duty, my younger
brother, Ed McGuckin came out of Sub School and sure enough, he got
his orders to the Chivo. Ables was still on board and became
Ed's sea daddy and helped him get qualified in record time.
I still wonder if it was the coffee or the gilly.
(October 06) Robert Machen EM1(SS)
(68-69) sent me this poem:
These ships are now black, they were all grey,
and that diesel oil smell it got worse every day.
These ships and their crews worked together as one
and saved our country from the rising sun.
They ran over the oceans and under them too,
and never a gripe or a whimper heard you.
The men of these ships were all tried and true
and oh yes, these are boats not ships, to you.
Salt water makes them shine with a glimmer and sheen
these boats are called a Diesel Submarine.
When WWII was over and through,
the Cold War started and Korea too.
Our men in the boats never missed a beat,
they reworked the damned things, now that was a feat.
They changed the sails, the shears and all;
they put snorkels in her to make her look tall.
They increased her speed both on top and below
and put new, young men in her to handle the show.
She traveled far, she traveled wide and she listened and she saw,
then on her return she reported it back to the Navy Ops Bureau and all.
Why , we’d be gone three months at a whack,
and low and behold all of a sudden we’re back.
None dare ask where we’d been or had seen,
for top secrets the word and from us you’ll not glean,
one bit of information, nor a word, nor a sign
and thanks to all and the new subs design.
But through all of this you could not erase
the smell of that damned diesel oil in your face.
It was always there even though you scrubbed
and never went away no matter how hard you rubbed.
Then a fresh wind came blowing in and things began a changing.
A new type of power did increase the subs size and also her worldly rangings.
With Nuclear Power and ICBMs, the future for Diesels was beginning to dim.
By the year of 1975, there was hardly a diesel afloat.
She’d given way to nuclear power and now the Navy could gloat.
We’ve got a true submersible here, she's long, powerful and black
and if it weren’t for the men in her, she never would come back.
But us old timers still think of days, when we in the boats then were young,
when we launched our torpedos, fired our guns and escaped with the Momsen lung.
When everything we owned smelled of Diesel, the smell of the submarine sailor
and every 6 months we bought new dress blues especially made by a tailor.
How we always looked sharp in our new jumpers of blue and those tight pants with a bell,
but you could tell what kind of ships we were from because of that diesel oil smell.
So here’s to the old time sub sailor, I raise my glass to you.
I toast your honor and courage and yes, that diesel smell too
The Diesel Boat served her purpose; her time has drawn nigh.
To our shipmates who have gone before us and now dwell with the Lord on high,
it’s for you I write this poem and I’ll finish with a sigh,
as soon as I make this last request just before I die.
This last request of the good Lord I make
and it’s for all in Heaven’s sake,
Please dear Lord, oh please hear me well, can’t we get rid of that
Diesel Oil Smell?
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