Columbia (CL 56) - Naval Cruise Book

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Back to the barracks. just try to get that oil off. Best way is to light a match and burn it off. But why bother-our hands are probably cleaner than the spoons anyhow. So we walk briskly over to the chow line-again, hurry up and wait. But we can take it, because we,re Ensigns, and they can take anything .... Once inside and seated, we immediately determine that there must be four cooks. This becomes intuitavely obvious in that the soup has just exactly four times the pepper in it that it should have. We are relieved to find that the peas have been salted by only two of the four, and finally decide that the meat dish had been assaulted by three. But anyhow, the ice cream is good, and with half a can of milk added, the coffee is drinkable. We may live, if nothing worse happens to us. Having eaten our fill, it's back to the pad till a few minutes after we're to muster-After all, the squad leader never comes in 'til then any- how. But when he does, it's, fall in and we march off on another mental conquest. We are amazed to find out that the models they have in the engineering building cost the Navy something over 825,000 each. But look at them: a perfect reproduction of the Columbia in every detail save perhaps for a lack of student officers running around for a hawser pipe with left- hand threads .... Maybe' sometime we will be able to explain how that DAT works. Water at 2180, 57.5 psi, steam from air ejectors and gland seal condensor at 5 psi and a million other dislocated figures running through our minds, making the ME blood boil .... 'gClose these valves in the right order, or you'll foul things up .... Remember, the larger the num- ber the smaller the burner . . . Well, that hour is up. What next-gunnery? We stop to silently praise', the magnificent organization of the classes. They are alternately from one end of the base to the other. Perhaps we took all those strength tests in V-12 just so that we could get callouses on our feet, huh .... Now remember, before you start to play with the joy-stick on those 4-0's, make sure everyone is on the mount .... When you handle those ammo loads, keep the shells in the clip. If she jams or you drop one, there'll be trouble. As our gun spins gayly around, we wonder who will have the honor of first shooting out the lights in the pilot house. Or how many seagulls will become widows at Casco Bay .... But now it's secure. Be it door, galley, head, or class, it's still secure! , In line with our usual policy of walking miles, the next period finds us in Navigation, doing a little brain-work over our plotting and giant economy sized stack of manuals, trying to look up the integrated havesin of the cosine of arc- secant of .780l2. Then back to the plotting board, the sextant, the DRT, and finally the paper of the man next to us, and we find that we are in the Grand Canyon sailing up the Colorado Riverq . . . Couldn't be us-impossible! Ensigns never foul up! Perhaps the compass was off, or the tables-or anything! But just wait till we try to hit Bermuda. Bali, here we come-but perhaps that wouldn't be so bad after alll Last class over, back to the barracks via the mail boxes. A letter from Mother, or perhaps the Little Womann! 'Oho, well, another day, another five dollars. It will be better, though, when we know that we are earning our pay. Just give us time, and we'll learn our stuff .... But tonight, let's go over to the rec hall and have a couple of beers and then see the show. Maybe tomorrow ....

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Qehzzfifwe ITH departure three days off, some of the more foresighted of our number spent ten minutes in buying some of the supplies necessary to life, while the rest slept. Two days from E-day, a few more patronized the ships service, a few went to town, and one man went to Providence, ostensibly to buy his mother a gift. The rest sleep. The day immediately preceding embarkation was spent in furious games of chance, with large sums of chips pass- ing from hand to hand. The more level headed and less nervous of our numbers spent the day in the arms of Morpheus. Then with startling suddeness, we realized that the time was now. We had, at the outside, thirteen hours, and the lights would be out for eight of those. In other words, it was time to get on the ball. Packing was one of the prime requisites of moving several cubic feet of gear from the barracks to the ship. And on hand, to accomplish this minor miracle of logistics, were a few old seabags, val- pacs, and suitcases . . . and Joe Basler had a gunny sack. Throughout the evening and early morning the cramming process went on in as- sembly line style . . . some made it, some didn't. As a result, the Duty Officer was accompanied by a wave of blackness that night . . . the lights went off in front of his illustrious personageg thirteen