I got involved today on a thread that discussed the insanity of walking away from an untenable situation in such a manner as to speak truth to power and refuse to be oppressed all at once. I love being involved in conflict with the power structure. Don’t tell me that I can’t express myself or that I need to be “appropriate” or that I need to mind my manners. Fuck that shit! I’ll make you think and work hard if you are my boss. In that frame of reference I am posting here today a story I wrote many years ago but only now have I actually put it into a form that is easy to share. So, for your enjoyment or edification I submit herein.

Avoiding the World’s Largest Spouse-Swap Club

Or: The Beginning of the End of My Naval Career

Tender Mercies

Twelve miles up the Cooper River from Charleston, South Carolina the Naval Weapons Station looks like a scene from “Tarzan of the Jungle”. The USS Hunley, a submarine tender equipped to repair and replenish Polaris Submarines laid moored med style at the end of the three hundred foot concrete pier Charlie. Day and night seven days a week throughout the year the crew of twelve hundred men toiled with military efficiency to push the submarines lying alongside out to patrol duty, participating in Cold War activities.

This was 1972. The Hunley was ten years old having been built in Newport News during the early ‘60’s. The war in Viet Nam was raging still and across the world in the Pacific Ocean attack submarines were cruising the seas around Southeast Asia maintaining the shipping lanes for the United States. There was also a squadron of Polaris missile submarines deployed out of Guam targeting Russia and China. There the ancient USS Orion, another submarine tender, laid moored med style at the end of another concrete pier. The Orion was old, in hard shape and needed to be sent back stateside to undergo a major overhaul of all her systems. Orion was built during the 2^nd World War to maintain fleet boats in the Pacific. She had sailed to many forward harbors in this effort and had performed admirably always. But now thirty years later she was showing signs of wear; her repair department was having a difficult time maintaining submarines tied up alongside with her hotel and service systems stretched past their capacity. Additionally her propulsion system was worn and antiquated and it was doubtful she could make it across the ocean to Mare Island Naval Shipyard. Orion needed to be relieved very soon.

In the world of the U.S. Navy ships are rotated from forward base to home base to shipyard in a slow, constant effort to keep the fleet and its tenders in optimum operating condition. In this case being discussed the Hunley was needed, as the most available tender, to sail to Guam to relieve Orion for her overhaul which would take at least 12 months to complete. Each vessel was manned by twelve hundred sailors many of whom were married with children. What was about to happen was an Atlantic/Pacific Submarine Force personnel department operation of major proportion. The crew of the Hunley was going to Guam from South Carolina on the east coast and the Orion was sailing from Guam to Mare Island on the west coast. The movements of the ships were timed to allow no break in coverage of repair time to the squadrons of submarines in each area. (It must be mentioned here that another submarine tender, USS Canopus, was part of the rotation. Canopus would be in Charleston in time to allow Hunley to sail on schedule. To complete this picture of rotations the Hunley would sail for Bremerton, Washington for overhaul and conversion upon completion of Orion’s overhaul with Orion returning to Guam to recommence her duties. More than a trip to Grandma’s for a weekend!)

No News Is Good News

Someone in Washington must have left their brain on the bedpost overnight. Let me explain. A month before Hunley’s sailing date word arrived that no wives and children would be moved to Guam. In other words this would be an “unaccompanied tour of duty”. Our families would stay anchored in Charleston during our forward deployment to Guam. So far, not too bad. Then word arrived that Orion’s wives and children would be left on Guam while Orion was undergoing repair in California. Now as far as scheduling of deployments goes this whole configuration of home port swaps was going to test the response time of pissed-off sailors. Long deployments in the Navy are pretty regular. The sailors and their dependents regularly endure long periods of separation. The crews of the Hunley and the Orion were being put in a unique situation here. Twelve hundred sailors were being sent to Guam without their honeys to keep company on an island eighteen miles long and three miles wide with the honeys of an absent ship for at least a year. Can you say, “wife swap”?

Believe me here. I don’t pretend to think that the Hunley crew would not somehow discover an island of lonely women. In addition and under the circumstances there existed on Guam abundant service clubs that served inexpensive alcoholic beverages. Guam is a duty free port and as such material goods are cheap. A bottle of whiskey cost a few dollars and a case of imported European beer cost the same. During the period this all happened most Navy guys were medium to heavy drinkers. In my case I never drew a sober breath. In my imagination, my existence on Guam without the steadying influence of my wife, I would be constantly inebriated. The news was not good. A bunch of drunken sailors mixed with abandoned women made for trouble.

What to Do?

My wife Barbara and I spent several evenings over several beers worrying and worrying about this predicament. We were certain through our own discussions and with those of my shipmates and their wives that this was a disaster for all. No good would come from our separation and the men’s proximity to the other families. I never was a good follower because I considered my ideas and concepts equally as good as or better than those of my superiors. I guess that would make them my equals or inferiors. I refused to think that I would go to Guam to let my soul and the souls of my wife and children die slowly over a period of 12 to 14 months. A light went on in my head. I could quit the Navy. Yeah, that’s right. I would quit the Navy. My loyalties to any club or group or institution were solely dependant on my level of comfort with such organizations. In this case I felt justified in bailing out. The sooner, the better. I imagined my decision might include a stint in the brig but I thought that would be rather easy considering the alternative.

I told my wife my plan which was this. I would go to work, report to my department head, the Repair Department Officer, and place my Navy Identification Card on his desk and tell him that I was quitting. Barbara, having shared a few beers with me, thought this was a brave and right course of action. In the morning we still maintained this position and off to work I went. I felt a little excited about my plan and what fun it would be to see the reactions of my bosses. I was ripe for trouble and I was willing to suffer the consequences. Don’t put me in any lose/lose situation you bastards. I’ll show you who’s bullet proof and fearless. Fuckin’ A, ditty bag!

I Quit!

Dwight Hutchinson was the Repair Officer. He and I had served together previously at the shipyard further down the Cooper River in Charleston. Dwight arrived on Hunley well before I did. He was designated EDO, Engineering Duty Officer, and his experience with me from the shipyard led him to assign me the most difficult job in the department, Quality Assurance Officer. I was responsible for certifying the submarines safe to dive to test depth and return after our repair department had broken the boundary of any systems deemed “sub-safe”. My letter of certification had to be delivered to the Commanding Officer of the submarine completing its upkeep period with us before he could get underway. My duties included job planning, writing repair procedures, inspecting work in progress, and certification of all systems involved in the ability of the submarine to dive to test depth and return. This included all the systems required to recover from an emergency situation at all operating depths. My job was vital and my knowledge of the work involved was critical. I was important at least as a whipping boy when something fucked up. In properly doing my job quality assurance work had a secondary effect of slowing down production which was anathema to the Repair Officer, my boss.

I entered Dwight’s cubby-hole of an office at the back of the main Repair Department office right after morning quarters. He asked me what was up in our usual off-hand manner and I told him, “Dwight, here is my ID card.” Placing the wallet size card on his desk and standing erect I continued, “I don’t like the idea of Hunley traveling to Guam without our families so I quit. I quit the Navy. You know where I live. I am going home to wait for the shore patrol to come get me. I would rather spend 6 months in the Portsmouth Naval Prison and then be with my family intact than to go to Guam for a year and lose them all to circumstances.” My heart was pounding but it was a good pounding. I felt empowered. I held his gaze with my own look of conviction. To his credit, Dwight maintained the seriousness of the moment. He asked me what he could do to help me. I told him I didn’t have an answer since the orders we received were from the Bureau of Naval Personnel and seemed unavoidable. All I could say or do to impress him with the severity of the situation was to maintain that the ship was in effect circling the vortex of a massive, threatening whirlpool. It was only a matter of time and slowly but surely the crew would be totally demoralized. It was time to act if at all.

Dwight got the picture quickly. He sensed my anger and determination. He quickly sized up the predicament and without further conversation he asked if I would like to talk to the Executive Officer, Commander Bob Chasse. My insides relaxed measurably and I agreed that would be acceptable. Dwight called the XO and set up an appointment for later in the morning.

I Quit Twice More

The XO’s office was one deck up on the O2 level just aft of the centerline staterooms. I rarely got to see the inside and that was only when I drew the Command Duty Officer watch and needed to enter his office to assume the duties of the CDO after hours. The CDO would enter the office and take notes for the evening watch from the XO. These usually include what type of training drill to run during the evening hours after evening meal was done. Plans of any major activities or evolutions were mentioned as well.

Once inside I guessed the XO had been briefed by Dwight that I was going to ask about the Guam deployment and that I had concerns for the crew’s possible reaction. He calmly looked up from some papers spread on his desk and removed the pipe from his mouth. “What’s up, George?”

“Commander…I’ll tell you what I told Dwight. I am quitting the Navy. I am leaving my ID card on your desk and then I am going home. The Hunley is going to Guam without our families to spend a year, minimum. I fear that my behavior under the circumstances facing us will be out of control. I fear I will lose my family due to the long, stressful absence. I would rather spend the next 6 months in Portsmouth and get out of the Navy still with my family intact than to suffer the loss I think is imminent.”

“Would you like to talk to the Captain, George?”

Shit! Damned right I would! Let me talk to the Man!

“Yes Sir, Commander. I would like that very much.”

“O.K., I will set up a meeting for you to speak with Captain Frost at 1300. Go up at that time and knock on his cabin door and in the meantime I will brief him of your concerns.”

“Aye-Aye, XO. Thank you.”

I liked the XO. He was a no frills kind of man. He was from Northern New England and his flinty style always impressed me. Besides, I must mention that all of the officers so far mentioned in this narrative are submarine sailors and all with diesel boat experience. That made this line of dialogue simple for me. I felt I could say anything in any form to them and they would be accepting of my thoughts. It didn’t take any courage on my part to confront the situation before me with them. DBF! Diesel Boats Forever!

Captain Frost is one of the most impressive skippers I ever sailed with. His command presence was outstanding and he was comfortable to be around. Whether on board or ashore at the “O” club he showed interest in his men and you knew he was listening to whomever he was engaged with. Captain Frost was a real gentleman. His tour of duty would end soon after we arrived in Guam. He would be relieved by Captain Clay within a few months. He was not going to have to put up with the discomfort of the forward deployment but I quickly sensed his total concern when I made my now familiar presentation to him.

“Skipper, you know how I behave at the “O” club. Even with my wife there to gently put her hand on my arm when needed I still get in trouble. Can you imagine what will happen in Guam without her at my side?”

The shift in the light of his eyes told me he was vividly imagining that scenario.

“All right, George. I have tried everything I know what to do without success. This situation is not good for the crew but there is nothing more I can say or do. The Bureau has stopped listening and we are stuck with the orders as is. But, there is something you can do and I will back you completely. You are in charge of the print shop. Write a letter describing your concerns as you have described them to me. Print up about 500 copies for the crew to sign and send to the Bureau of Naval Personnel. Maybe that will get some attention. You have my blessings to do this.”

My morale increased enormously at that speech from the Skipper.

“Great idea, Captain! Great idea! I’ll get something together tonight at home and pass out copies tomorrow.”

I was excited and relieved to know that perhaps there now was a path to follow that could end the insane plan that was in place from Washington.

“Dear Admiral…”

That night Barbara and I spent a few hours composing a letter that expressed the doubts and fears we had concerning the orders as they were written and gently suggested allowing the dependents to accompany the Hunley to Guam. We both felt much better to have an opportunity to be involved with this action to correct a huge wrong.

I took the finished letter to work the next morning and soon after morning quarters I pulled the LPO of the print shop aside and gave him his orders to print at least 500 copies. R-5 division, which included the non-destructive test lab, the mold shop, the photo shop, the tech library, the rubber and plastics shop, the print shop, and the QA Office, was abuzz with the news that we were initiating the letter to the Bureau.

We passed out more than 500 copies. Once word was out what we were up to more copies were needed to satisfy the demands of the crew members. Everyone, it seemed knew about the letter and people were showing up at the door of the office to pick up the letter. I told everyone to use the letter as a model to write their own letter if they wanted. I suspect some did though I know many copies of the original left the ship as is.

Within a few weeks the orders were changed. Hunley was directed to proceed to Guam with families. The families of the Orion would be moved to stateside to be with their loved ones as well. The Bureau would make this a permanent deployment in order to get funds for moving the families.

Relief

Nothing more was said from anyone about this. I suspect though that my conduct and demands became some sort of block to being promoted as fast as my peers. I have mixed feelings regarding that consequence. I just say, “So what?” It was worth it and it was a fun caper. I had quite a few more on Hunley before I left her.