Pawcatuck (AO 108) - Naval Cruise Book

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A TYPICAL DAY UP IN RADIO I Ditta-Dot-Dit , says the code, Pawcatuck, Pawcatuck, this Oilcan, Oilcan, says the voice radio. Hurry and-type this for me, says Mr. Guertin. Get the Captain's Deck ready for topside inspection, says the Ex- ecutive Officer. See to it that the Engineering Officer sees all the Fueling reports, says Mr. Nichols. Copy all those messages solid, chants my supervisor. Ahhh, a typical day up in main radio, thank goodness it isn't one of those confusing ones! - Twenty-four hours a day it's the same hustling, bustling atmosphere. Luckily we all cooperate together. Someone else copy this code for awhile, says MacFadden. Nix, says Falkowski, your turn ! Can't do it right now Mac, says Benike, I have to get the football scores. Just about this time Moe fMorris RMU comes storming in and very sedately announces I need two or three men to clean emergency radio. This startling news almost caused Joe Miller to drop his harmonica and Russ Berglund immediately put away his viewer and colored slides. Stanley Sigel started for the door proudly stating I have to route the message board. I have to eat early chow and relieve the watch says Jerry Lysaght. I have to write a letter to Liz says Henry Morris Shore, Jr. I promised her in yesterday's letter I would. Move over Mac says Stanley Falkowski, My turn to copy ! By this time Dave Bone called up main radio and said he has finished cleaning emergency radio by himself. But there is always the Mid Watch to look forward to, you can sleep in the next day - that is of course if there are no general drills or you don't want chow or the noise in the compartment doesn't disturb you. That Mid-Watch, it seems like days before you get relieved, it's reveille now, one more hour left, .you can do it. Barely able to see, you hear a voice in the distance saying O, K., you can go to chow now. The reliefs, they finally came. As you leave the radio shack and drag your weary body back to the chow hall you see one of the crew coming along the cat-walk, you brace yourself, count to ten you say to yourself for you know already what his greetings will be. His voice cuts the air like a knife Hi rac- kets, he says. THE RADAR STORY Let's take a look in CIC during General Quarters. There's Sallee at the maneuvering board, grease pencil in hand, engaged in soloing some difficult - OH! I beg your pardon, that's not a tactical problem. H.e's beat- ing himself in a game of Tick Tack Toe. Rumor has it that he's in for twenty years. Good Lord! Look at that man sitting in front of the radar. He must have had a heart attack, he's sitting so stiff and rigid. I'll ask him if he's all ri - Oh, it's Nelson. Excuse me, I thought -- well never mind. There's Poskitt reading some sort of tactical publication no doubt. Let's take a look Death by Drowning or He Drinks Like a Fish Hmmmm. I wonder if that's regulation: Hey! Something must be wrong with the air search. Broyles Dowd, Disanto and Crockett are huddled around trying to fix it I'guess. See the Worried looks on their faces, I wonder if they - What's this? Cards? Whist no less. Who's a horse? O-h Hoss Sorry Bob. Bye the way Davey, my name isn't Mamy Jamy, it's -OH, oh, we better get out of here fast before that character over there asks us if - too late. No Collins, I don't have any cigarettes.