Half a Century Later, Part IV: Cleaning up My Act

“Deck force” is a slang term for the division on a ship that mostly includes boatswain’s mates. Their responsibility is the maintenance of the ship, including upkeep of a ship's external structure, rigging, deck equipment, and boats, and, most memorably for me, holystoning the teak ceremonial decks. These are good hardworking men, and I don’t want to denigrate them in any way; still, one could hardly call them the intellectual giants on a ship. And me, being me, did not take well to manual labor.

After my captain’s mast, where I was removed from the administrative division and placed on the deck force, I had to endure some punishment: working in the engine room where the temperatures can reach well over 100 degrees; and a stint working in the paint locker, which was the only time I became seasick: the locker was in the bow and I was there during a storm. As the ship crashed up and down, the paint thinner fumes wafted up and I became violently ill. I left the paint locker so sick that I didn’t care if they keelhauled me; I just had to throw up and then lay down, preferably not at the same time. Nobody seemed to miss me, though, which was a good thing.

The most memorable event while on the deck force was holystoning. Look at the image: you bend over, broom stick inserted in a sandy brick, and you go back and forth 20 times on each of the teak boards (ships are metal, but the ceremonial decks have an overlay of teak). It’s brutal and backbreaking labor, it lasts for days, and I don’t remember ever working so hard and so painfully—and I was raised on a farm which required a lot of manual labor. I was miserable. If you’re interested, here’s a video on holystoning (on the USS Missouri, not my ship) which, for me, brings back painful memories:

Holystoning video: https://youtu.be/dktL8MdZWF8

I probably would have finished out my days in the Navy on the deck force had I not already taken the exam for advancement to personnelman 3^rd class before being kicked out of X Division. While on the deck force I found out I had passed the exam and would be made a PN3—X Division had to take me back. It was at that moment I accepted the fact that the Navy was going to win this battle; I became a model sailor, shoes always gleaming, uniforms crisp and clean, and my work, now in the personnel office, always perfect and on time. I became the perfect sailor.

And truthfully all that work at being shipshape made my life much easier. Mostly I worked in the office dealing with enlisted records (officer records were handled elsewhere). When we spent six months off the coast of Vietnam, using our six-inch guns to give support to troops ashore, we were at battle stations a lot of the time. For me that meant Damage Control Central. Since we were never damaged, that time was mostly spent reading. Occasionally I had duty on the bridge as either a watchman or as the man who transmitted messages on a sound-powered headset. War for me was more a battle against boredom than anything else.

After our tour in Vietnam we went on a goodwill tour. This took us down the Pacific coast, through the Panama Canal, up the east coast, and then on to the Mediterranean, with stops in Malta, Italy, Corsica, Spain, France, and Crete. “Join the Navy and see the world!” That turned out to be the case for me.

My four years ended while in Europe. Rather than having to fly back, I opted to extend my duty until the end of the cruise, which turned out to be another month. By then my commanding officers wanted very much for me to stay in the Navy. I had passed the exam for PN2. But I had had enough of the Navy. Within an hour of docking back in the United States, I was out of the Navy and headed home. It felt good.