A Sea Story…Kinda

From time to time I go back and read things I have written.   Most of what I write, including the things you guys never see is based in truth.  I shoved a mean ass cat in a mailbox when I was about 8 years old.  The mailman opened the mailbox and the cat launched into the jeep with him.  Now I am a huge advocate for animal warfare, but of all the cats I have ever met, that one deserved to be shoved in a mailbox.  I wrote a long story about that some years ago.  I can see the humor in it. I wrote about church pot luck dinners. I used to attend those as a child.  I still find it amusing on what a child hears while trying to get at the desert table. Kids pick up on allot of things adults think they don’t hear or wont understand.

I write because I like it.  It allows me to organize my thoughts. I hope those that read what I write get something from it, even if its just a laugh. Tonight I found something I started years ago, I never finished it because the topic was to difficult for me to continue at that time.  reading others comments on this blog has given me what I needed to re-tell a story I have only shared in parts with one other person.

I was in the Navy Stationed on the USS Coral Sea CV-43. We were on Med Cruise 87-88.  On January 31 1988 we were in a real bad storm.  The ship was rocking and rolling. Green water was breaking over the bow and I was scared shitless. I had been in storms but never anything that bad. We were getting the crap beat out of us. I can only imagine what it was like on the small boys.  I remember a hatch leaking on the main deck and it was like a water fall. It seemed like every few minutes the flying squad was being called away for something.

I was TAD from E Division to the MAA force.  My partner and I along with 4 other teams patrolled the ship while at sea or in port. We dealt with security issues, long lines and general bullshit that goes along with having 0ver 5000 people shoved together. Most of the stuff we did dealt with minor theft and crowd control, but we did respond with the Flying Squad to everything from broken pipes to personnel casualties and main space fires. Very often we got there first.  I spent more time in an OBA (Oxygen Breathing Apparatus) Than I care to think about.   On a side note the Navy used that system for years, they now use Air Paks like the Fire Dept uses. I never understood what a chemical oxygen generator, that was worn on the chest and got hot as hell when it was working plus had the added habit of blowing up if it came in contact with salt water was ever a good idea on a ship.

Back to the Storm. Word had been passed that no work was to be done on the weather decks.  It was one of the few times I remember the deck edge elevator doors being shut.   There had been a constant banging on the port side of the ship from late morning on.  It was loud and annoying. I guess it annoyed one of the Junior Officers so bad that he ordered a 2 man crew out to secure the piece of equipment. A personnel casuistry was called away very close to where my partner and I were at the time and we got to it first. It was the guys that had been sent onto the sponson to secure the equipment.   The equipment was a big  thing  that was used for underway replenishment.  It is what the cables the held the fuel hoses attached to.  As the guys were trying to secure it the ship took a roll and crushed one of them.

I put on a Kapok and headed out, My partner stayed at the door, it could not have been more than a minute before the Flying Squad got there but it seemed like a lifetime. in many ways it was.  When I got to the guy he was alive, when I left he was dead.  The medical guys did everything possible to save him. had we been in the best hospital in the world with the best surgeons they could not have done more than the HM on the flying squad did, and the doctors that soon arrived.

It took a couple of days to fly his body off. The milk locker was cleaned out and he was kept in there until a plane could get him home.  One of the odd things about a carrier is the amount of space. The hanger bays are huge,  large odd shaped items from every dept are stored there. Transport coffins qualify as large odd shaped items.  I dont know how many of you have ever seen one. they are about 7 feet long 2 feet wide and about 2 feet deep. they look like something a band would use to move large electronics. They are made of aluminum and have handles like a foot locker down each side.  They will not fit into a milk locker.

The door of the locker was sealed after his body was placed in it.  A guard was placed outside the door.   This milk locker was right next to the mess deck. The entire time his body was there no one made a sound. Silence and Respect.  When his body was flown off the ship the entire crew watched the coffin being loaded onto the plane.  When the weather cleared we has what was the first of what turned out to be two memorial services for lost shipmates that cruise. I later learned that it took ten days for his body to get home.

We made a port call soon after. I saw the HM that was on the Flying Squad on liberty. He was as drunk as I have ever seen any man. He saw me and said it should not have happened. I have not ever been a heavy drinker. I can count the number of times I have been drunk on my fingers. I got plastered that night.

In the years that have passed I have relived those minutes in my dreams, at first it was all the time, as time has passed it has become less frequent.  Now it is only once or twice a year. I rarely drink milk. I used to all the time. I cannot stand loud repetitive noises.  I have been close to his grave many times. I cannot bring myself to visit it.

I tell this for a reason. I do not suffer from PTSD.  I have other dreams that involve some aspect of my service that I look forward to.  My life, other than a some lost sleep and an aversion to milk has not been affected.  What I have from this is a small understanding of what it must be like to really have PTSD.  I know fine men who have closed off their lives  to almost everything because of PTSD.  When i read that a politician is using PTSD as an excuse for cheating it really pisses me off.  When the media talks about it like its something you catch like one would a cold it drives me up a wall. When a see a 100 percent combat disabled veteran brag about his visit to the VA and  use it as an excuse for extreme and irrational behavior it takes every fiber of my being not to respond in kind.

PTSD has been something I have thought allot about lately. It seems that in the last few months it has become more and more of a topic and justification for every possible action.   The only solution I can see is to educate the public on what PTSD really is. Maybe then the media will call bullshit on it as an excuse.  When Brigadier Generals/Congressmen  are allowed to get away with this kind of bullshit it makes me loose faith in the oath I took a long time ago.

A lie no matter who tells it is still a lie. We as Veterans have an obligation to hold our own to a higher standard. Some may see that as harsh. I see it as keeping the Faith.

Category: Veterans Issues, War Stories