The first ship I served aboard in the U.S. Navy was the Aircraft Carrier USS Oriskany (CVA-34).
She served the Navy for many years during the Korean conflict and the Vietnam War...from the early
1950's until she was decommissioned in the 1970's.
She narrowly avoided the scrap heap several times. She was in "moth balls" (as they say in the Navy)
in Washington State for a while. She was, then, towed to Vallejo California where she sat tied to a pier
at Mare Island for many years. Eventually the city of Vallejo requested that the Navy move her from
their waterfront. I suppose they thought of her as an eyesore.
The Navy then had her towed AROUND THE TIP OF SOUTH AMERICA (your tax dollars
at work) to Texas. She sat there, rusting, for several more years.
After a long and valiant battle to stay alive, it was decided that she would be given an ending
fitting for the american naval hero that she was, a burial at sea. She was to be towed out into
the Gulf of Mexico and sunk as an artificial reef. Not exactly what I would have wished for her
but better than the scrap heap. The final deployment of EX-USS Oriskany, her last time
"underway" was completed on May 27, 2006. After careful cleaning and preparation
she was sunk and came to rest upright on the bottom of the gulf about 21 miles off the Naval
Air Station at Pensacola, FL.
This poem was written shortly after the completion of her sinking. It is, literally, (okay with a few
embellishments) the story of when I, as a 19 year old sailor fresh out of Navy Boot Camp and
Radioman school, reported aboard the ship. It's also the story of my growth as a Sailor and
the intense and unexpected feelings that I had at her sinking.
Underway
An early morn departure then her final time to sea. I’m lost for words to tell you, mate, just what that means to me. She wasn’t mother, wasn’t home, she was a thing to fear the first time that I saw her from that Alameda pier. The likes of Halsey, Doolittle, had graced the concrete where I stood in indecision, scared... half witless with despair. Though more than fifty years have passed I can recall it still as if it happened yesterday. It took near all my will to climb that ladder, step aboard and face that grizzled Chief who took my papers, sized me up and offered no relief. “Stand fast a minute son’, he said “does mom know you're about?” “I’ll call the watch in radio, we’ll sort this here s**t out.” “Come down to claim his ass”, he said into the duty phone, “Ya better hurry, mate, he looks to young to be alone.” A chief was near to God himself to this, my former self, but I’d survive, report aboard and find my rack, a shelf near to the ceiling (overhead) with “fondness”, I recall-- I slept in Sailor heaven twixt a steam pipe and a wall. A “bulkhead”, not a wall, I know, at least I know it now. I learned this fact and others but don’t ask me when or how. The days turned into months and years and salty sailor tales in ports of call I can’t recall-- or won’t. It never fails to fill me with amazement that the fearful lad I knew was turned into a salty swab, audacity in blue. But I digress, I lose my point, I only meant to say I’d give my all, my broken heart to join her-- underway.
She served the Navy for many years during the Korean conflict and the Vietnam War...from the early
1950's until she was decommissioned in the 1970's.
She narrowly avoided the scrap heap several times. She was in "moth balls" (as they say in the Navy)
in Washington State for a while. She was, then, towed to Vallejo California where she sat tied to a pier
at Mare Island for many years. Eventually the city of Vallejo requested that the Navy move her from
their waterfront. I suppose they thought of her as an eyesore.
The Navy then had her towed AROUND THE TIP OF SOUTH AMERICA (your tax dollars
at work) to Texas. She sat there, rusting, for several more years.
After a long and valiant battle to stay alive, it was decided that she would be given an ending
fitting for the american naval hero that she was, a burial at sea. She was to be towed out into
the Gulf of Mexico and sunk as an artificial reef. Not exactly what I would have wished for her
but better than the scrap heap. The final deployment of EX-USS Oriskany, her last time
"underway" was completed on May 27, 2006. After careful cleaning and preparation
she was sunk and came to rest upright on the bottom of the gulf about 21 miles off the Naval
Air Station at Pensacola, FL.
This poem was written shortly after the completion of her sinking. It is, literally, (okay with a few
embellishments) the story of when I, as a 19 year old sailor fresh out of Navy Boot Camp and
Radioman school, reported aboard the ship. It's also the story of my growth as a Sailor and
the intense and unexpected feelings that I had at her sinking.
Underway
An early morn departure then her final time to sea. I’m lost for words to tell you, mate, just what that means to me. She wasn’t mother, wasn’t home, she was a thing to fear the first time that I saw her from that Alameda pier. The likes of Halsey, Doolittle, had graced the concrete where I stood in indecision, scared... half witless with despair. Though more than fifty years have passed I can recall it still as if it happened yesterday. It took near all my will to climb that ladder, step aboard and face that grizzled Chief who took my papers, sized me up and offered no relief. “Stand fast a minute son’, he said “does mom know you're about?” “I’ll call the watch in radio, we’ll sort this here s**t out.” “Come down to claim his ass”, he said into the duty phone, “Ya better hurry, mate, he looks to young to be alone.” A chief was near to God himself to this, my former self, but I’d survive, report aboard and find my rack, a shelf near to the ceiling (overhead) with “fondness”, I recall-- I slept in Sailor heaven twixt a steam pipe and a wall. A “bulkhead”, not a wall, I know, at least I know it now. I learned this fact and others but don’t ask me when or how. The days turned into months and years and salty sailor tales in ports of call I can’t recall-- or won’t. It never fails to fill me with amazement that the fearful lad I knew was turned into a salty swab, audacity in blue. But I digress, I lose my point, I only meant to say I’d give my all, my broken heart to join her-- underway.
No comments:
Post a Comment