Massachusetts Maritime Academy - Muster Yearbook (Buzzards Bay, MA)

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instated us as youngies of the old type. After the planning and the hope of shutoff. the meager advances that we had made toward regaining our self-respect were swept away in one fell swoop. We have never forgotten that near fatal act by the one person in the school who had stood foremost in our minds as a man against hazing and the old system. This style is called a Cool-Cut 25

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We were a homogeneous group who could not hide the smallest character trait from each other. Knowing this, for the first time in our lives we stood alone and realized our own capabilities for what they were. And we grew up a httle. Here was a group of men who shared an intense brotherhood, yet each was forced to think for himself and face the reali- ties of life. Looking back, we see how much the school and its system have changed since that time, and we realize that we were one of the last classes to have this opportunity to share this brotherhood of the youngie. Perhaps the changes are for the better, but we can ' t help but feel that future graduates of M M A Will be lacking the memories of life as we knew It. We feel that those memories are one of the most valuable facets of our education. The class of 1968 stood witness to the most important change that had ever taken place in the Academy ' s long history, but at the time we could not realize that significance of the event. The old gods were removed from their lofty roosts and their own private kingdoms were shattered as Dr. A. Sanford Limouze was inaugurated the Academy ' s first president We came under the jurisdiction of the Board of State Colleges. Dr. Limouze is a dynamic man, and his plans for the betterment and growth of our school were well on their way to completion as we graduated. Good things began to happen around Christ- mas. We had nearly two weeks of vacation coming, but better than that was the new lib- erty system which was started, in which only twenty-two men were required to remain aboard over a weekend. This meant liberty for us nearly every Friday. In our most ambi- tious dreams we had never dared hope for such a deal. Near the end of January a rumor began to spread. We all liked the idea, so on the evening of February the 2nd at 2045 the Class of 1968 held the earliest shut-off in his- tory We had known what the results would be beforehand, but we couldn ' t help but be amazed at the three page mast list which was posted the following day. Threats and over- tones of doom were heard from the upper- jobs constantly, but we all smiled inwardly and put our faith m the adage that in unity lies strength. But then, as if we had been stabbed in the back by our best friend, an or- der from the Commandant was posted that re- 24

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March came, bringing with it final exams (Whew!) and the beginning ot our first cruise. As expected, our numbers were greatly re- duced by the finals, and those that were forced to tread the year were replaced by oth- ers from the classes before us until, at the present time, only thirty nine of the original one hundred remain. The illogic of a system where you must repeat ten subjects because you failed one never failed to amaze us. We ' re not sure just how it came about, but we suddenly found ourselves on the cold grey- green ocean that tossed the Bay State around like the proverbial cork. No one spoke much that first day; we were all to busy hoping and praying that all the bad things we had heard about our ship weren ' t true. We bumped into bulkheads as we walked, were hit in the head by swinging locker doors and couldn ' t hold food on our trays nor in our stomachs. In spite of the initial miseries, we soon found that hfe at sea was wonderfully peaceful. As youngies we had very little responsibility on watch, and sixteen hours a day were our own in every sense of the word. We had time to read, or play cards, or get those extra hours of sleep that we had been missing all year. Sing-alongs sprang up on the fantail in the evening and there was a movie every night on the quarterdeck. We were still youngies and there was still work to be done, but the sheer joy of life at sea made our lot a happy one. Then the water changed from deep gray- green to bright cobalt blue and we were in the Gulf Stream. The air and the sea temper- ature rose thirty degrees in a half hour. The sun beat down on us warmly, and soon we noted another change in the color of the ever present sea, this time from luminescent bright blue to an almost pastel aqua. On the horizon we could see our first port of call; Bermuda. As we entered the harbor, we looked in awe at the pale sands of the shoreline, the rich foliage and the white-roofed houses that cov- ered the hillsides, and the small sailboats that danced their way along the surface of the sky-blue water. We thought that there could not be another place in the world as beautiful as this, and we were right. There was not an island anywhere as clean, as picturesque, as friendly, or as easily enjoyed. We rented mo- tor bikes and went on our own sightseeing tours; and what sights there were to see— the underground caverns, the fort of St. Cather- ine, Hamilton with its quaint shops, the town of St. George, and the countryside that abounded in flowers and beauty. It was col- lege week in Bermuda, and the beauty that rode the streets on motor bikes overshadowed all else for many of us. We let our mark on 26