Just A Sailor
Preface: Title blatantly stolen from Steve Waterman’s book “Just A Sailor”. We met once and I have a signed copy. Kinda happy to give him a nod here.
—-
This post may seem a bit of a whine, perhaps, but it is primarily just a sort of journal entry. It was suggested I post some Navy stuff and that process has been ‘interesting’, and perhaps a bit painful at times.
I consider myself a Vietnam vet. Says so on my DD-214 as well. Still the only VN mud I got on me was during a single trip to a bar in Da Nang. I can document being shot at by shore batteries and firing back. I can document helping to pick up downed aircrew in the Gulf of Tonkin. There is more similar, but I did my job well enough. Thing is… I was Just A sailor.
Of course there were sailors in the thick of things, from Corpsmen to SEALS, and others like Steve Waterman. I wasn’t one of them. I was Just A Sailor.
Came back to CONUS in May 1969. Arrived via SFO, in uniform, and was spit at and called a “Baby Killer”. But I was Just A Sailor.
Certain veterans groups said I didn’t qualify for membership back then. I was Just A Sailor.
Those last two items serve to highlight the one common area each and every Vet with a Vietnam Service Medal in their records share; the way we were dealt with when we came back and how we coped with that. I was painted with THAT brush as broadly as any other. Even tho’ I was Just A Sailor.
No two human beings standing side-by-side will experience even the simplest of things identically. That one saving grace, at least, makes me feel okay to call myself a ‘Nam Vet… even if I was Just A Sailor.
Category: Geezer Alert!
ZP, well, SOMEONE had to do it!
I have memories of a few instances where I believed that I had about 10 seconds to live. As they say, there’s nothing like the prospect of a hanging at dawn for focusing the mind. Not combat, but pretty hairy nonetheless.
Having said that, I wouldn’t trade a second of being “just” a Sailor. The first ten years I was in the Navy, I should have been paying the USN. It was awesome being a Cold Warrior in Reagan’s Navy. While my buddies were taking the 0645 train to Manhattan, I was crisscrossing the world chasing the Rooskies. It was fucking spectacular.
Not to go too, too overboard, but I’ve always loved Roy Batty’s speech at the end of Blade Runner:
“I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time… like tears in rain… Time to die.”
My memories aren’t as intense, but how many of my 9 to 5 friends can say they’ve seen a sunset at sea from the fantail of a DD or all the stars in the universe in the middle of the ocean.
Yup, no regrets.
Yep, me…I’m just a sailor too! We were at Yankee Station in the Tonkin Gulf sending planes into help the ground pounders, if you find one of them that saw the planes get them out of a tight spot, they won’t call you “just a sailor”, We lost 7 men on our cruise, God Bless ’em
Rest in peace.
I was just a sailor on the Nimitz when we had a flight deck fire that killed a kid in my squadron.
I was close enough to the blast that it knocked me backwards and smoked my float coat.
Fun fact, NavyMustang, that line wasn’t in the original script for Bladerunner. Rutger Hauer ad libbed it on the spot.
Aye,
My glory days were from 1979 to 1989: Boot Camp and BT “A” School at Glakes; 2 ships out of Newport, RI; instructor at SWOS Plastic Palace; EOOW Class # 1 grad; and my final ship out of San Diego.
We were “steamin deamons” and always underway, along with the rest of the fleet. We chased those commie bastards till they ran out of gas in some cases as they never figured out how to UNREP.
Good times …. I would do it all over again.
Hmmm. MCPO, did you ever run into a BT named Carl Baxley? I knew him when I was stationed in Hawaii back in the day.
MustangCryppie
I was just googling my Company Commander from boot camp and found your post. I was privileged to serve under Chief Carl Baxley in 1980 during basic training. He was a blessing to have as a leader for a few weeks.
Never saw the sunset off a fantail in the infantry, but I sure did see some of the coolest winter sunrises at Fort Drum after waking from a night of sleeping in the snow, I’ll never forget the thousands of rainbows shining off the ice crystals….nothing like training to fight those Russkie commie bastards during the 70s and early 80s…still have that little yellow Ft Drum E-Club ID Card floating around the house (a bit stained but legible)…good times indeed.
Zero, I’ve seen that pic of you in a bar in Olongapo surrounded by hot little honeys where I’m sure you were being:
Just a Sailor.
Heh…
Yeah, I’m sure he’s a “Shit River Centurion.”]
Right, ZP?
Well… I have walked over THAT bridge more than once.
Throughout the mid to late 80’s my ship tended to visit the PI quite frequently. The fleet was expanding at a rate second to WWII build up. Crossing the bridge was always fun, as there would be 2 or 3 tiny skiffs in the river with 2 or 3 young boys asking for “Pieso Joe”. Some would drop the coin straight down into the boat, I often would toss it to port or starboard in hopes that either a dive from the skiff or the sudden imbalance would cause a capsize.
Either way, I was always generous and I enjoyed the party once I was in Subic City!
We spooks had a bar we went to all the time, One 4 Da Road on Gordon. Great place. The ladies there took good care of us. There were really great people.
One time I flew into Cubi to pick up a ship. Just so happened it was practically the only skimmer in Subic at the time. Olongapo was a ghost town.
Headed down to One 4 Da Road and I got my usual warm welcome from the ladies. I was the only customer in the bar for the entire day. About 1800, I got tired and lay down on a big, wide couch. One by one, the girls moseyed on over to the couch and cuddled up to me. By the end of th night, there were about 10 of them snuggled up to me.
Lordy, that was a GREAT night! I still miss those ladies!
Hey, it’s a tough job but someone has to do it!
Because of my rate, I’d catch shit from black shoe (real) sailors. “F’n Airdale, I see where you earn the flight pay, but dammed if I can figure out how you earn the base pay!”
My response was usually along the lines of “Stop trying to figure, shoe, it’s not your strong point.”
Then the fight started….
Good times!;-)
AW1, as a spook, I was a black shoe in a zoom bag. Oh, yeah! FUN times.
One squadron I was with wouldn’t even let us do post flights. Our job was to take out the pisser…FOREVER.
There was a time when the squadron wouldn’t even give us PRC-90s. And we won’t talk about parachutes. But that was long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away.
Overall, my flight tours were the best ones I had in the Navy. Sometimes, I thought that I lived on the plane, but it was worth it.
Dumping the pisser was important, MC! I was not EP-3 or VPU, but on occasion we would have riders and some “special” gear. Those CTR’s were EW Gods. And they didn’t get a PRC-90, and I did make them don their parachutes, and run through their ditching drill duties.
Safety, ya know. They got off light, ’cause I’d have my Airmen do the same with a helmet bag on their head.
AW1Ed…you didn’t happen to be in VP-31 in the 80’s were you?
Negative, OldSarge57. I was East Coast P-3’s, VP-49 in Jax and VP-23 in Brunswick. Right time frame, though. Had a blast finding those Commie bastard submarines!
Yeah, I never could figure how I was a highly trained recce machine, but the airedales couldn’t trust me to do “plugs and covers.” Hmmm.
AW1, there was a guy who flew with me in VQ who ALWAYS took out the pisser. For some strange reason, it was a matter of “pride” or just plain sick orneriness. If he was on the flight, he had to take it out.
Anyway, when he PCS’d, some of the guys presented him with an embroidered patch that looked like one of those Lockheed 1000 hour pins…except that it said “1000 GALLONS.” He LOVED it.
Just like when I PCS’d. You probably remember the P-3 patches which had the different sensor stations on them. SS3, etc. Well, I was kind of infamous for my talent for flatulence. My Sailor had one of those station patches made up with the word SAGE (JACKS in the Lant. I don’t know where you flew.) instead of a position designator. I LOVED it.
Oddly enough the bar in Da Nang had the equivalent of a Filipino band. I just don’t recall if they were actually so?
If anybody actually reads this… PT made me do this series.
Back in the mid 80s, we would eat at tthe E-club at Cubi Point. At least once a week, they would have Vegas style Filipina showgirls.
One time we caught them when they were practicing a new number set to the song “Manic Monday.”
They played it over…and over…and over…and over…
Oh, and every couple of bars, the girls would throw in a “WHOO!” THAT was special.
I still can’t hear that song without immediately having a picture of that day flash into my mind.
I’m pretty sure that would qualify as PTSD.
Yup. I still have “nightmares” over it. Oh, by the way, when they “whooped” they did this cute little jump in the air. Pretty special.
Zero, you just reminded me of some Vietnam history although it may be apocryphal. When I landed in country in 1965,, I quickly learned that the common term of reference for the locals was, “Zipperheads” or “Zips.” No one seemed to know why or from where the term had come.
Years after the war had ended, I ran across the term on the Web with the explanation that it had originated from a popular Filipino band that played in one of the coastal cities and was named Zipper and the Heads. Some of the characters in movies about Vietnam also used the term. Wikipedia has an entry but no explanation for the origin.
You suppose it was the band you referred to?
I dunno. My short trip to Da Nang was in ’68, and I only remember snippets. The brass was touring Monkey Mountain and few of us got a few hours ashore.
Someone commented that the Bar looked and sounded just like those in the PI.
That’s about it.
Oh yeah, I had the mid-watch on the fantail with an M-1 and a .45 after we got back so I only had part of one 33 beer at the bar. We were anchored out and there was some concerns about bad guys in little boats.
Yeah, most every remote U.S. military place I went to in the world had a contingent of Filipinos making a living.
I’m proud to say I was ‘Just a Sailor’. I happened to see places, and things, that I would have never seen otherwise. I wouldn’t have the job I have now if I hadn’t been ‘Just a Sailor’.
Yes, I wasn’t in the mud or sand, but I did work the Flight Deck of three different carriers as a PC and Troubleshooter. That was anything but a a comfy and safe place to be.
“I can imagine no more rewarding a career. And any man who may be asked in this century what he did to make his life worthwhile, I think can respond with a good deal of pride and satisfaction: ‘I served in the United States Navy.'”
President John F. Kennedy
In regards to Steve Waterman, thanks for the referral to his book. I did not know he had written one and I will have to order it now.
I met Steve in the Fall of 1989 at his dive shop. I was living in Maine at the time and was making lots of money that Fall by diving for Sea Urchins. Some of my best memories from that Fall were of bullshitting with Steve Waterman while he was filling our tanks (a rather slow process for 10 cylinders) every afternoon. He always had a great story to entertain me and my dive partner with and we would sit there mesmerized laughing our asses off. By the way, none of his stories that I recall had to do with Vietnam, they were all about his commercial dive/salvage ops off the New England coast. When I asked him one time if he served with SEAL/UDT in VN, I recall his answer was something of the lines of, “Nah, I was like ‘Radar’ in MASH… kinda like a company clerk.” Years later when I heard that Maj. Dick Winters quote about serving with heroes, it reminded me of Steve Waterman and his humility. Steve Waterman was an awesome asset to the Maine coast, and I hope he still is. I will never forget him… a REAL PHC!
Steve is alive and well , and is living in Georgia . He has published a few books and has some of his stories compiled into a little web site http://www.swaterman/stories.html .
I was on a ship one damned time. And it was a damned time.
I was part of the live cargo (a battalion of Marines) being moved from Numazu harbor to Okinawa in very early ’80.
A typhoon got in our way. I’ve never been more miserable.
It was bad enough that I seriously considered joining up with the Army when it came time to re-enlist just to make sure I never had to ride in a damned ship again… ever.
Seas like that put me to sleep like a baby in a cradle.
Atkron, OH, YES! I loved rough seas.