USS Harry Truman (CVN 75) - Naval Cruise Book

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Navy. ke standing on the bridge wing at sunrise with salt spray in my face and dean ocean winds whipping in from the four corners of the globe - the ship beneath me feeUng like a living thing as her engines drive her through the sea. Ihke the sounds of the Navy - the piercing trill of the boatswain ' s pipe, the syncopated clangor of the ship ' s bell on the quarterdeck, the harsh squawk of the IMC and the strong language and laughter of Sailors at work. Hike Navy vessels - nervous darting destroyers, plodding fleet auxiliaries, sleek submarines and steady solid carriers. I like the proud names of Navy ships: MIDWAY, LEXINGTON, SARATOGA, CORAL SEA - memorials of great battles won. I like the lean angular names of Navy ' tin cans ' : BARNEY, DAHLGREN, MULLINEX, MCCLOY, - mementos of heroes who went before us. Hike the tempo of a Navy band blaring through the topside speakers as we pull away from an oiler after refueling at sea. I like liberty call and the spicy scent of a foreign port. I even like all hands working parties as my ship fills herself with the multitude of supplies both mundane and exotic which she needs to cut her ties to the land and carry out her mission anywhere on the globe where there is water to float her. Hike Sailors, men and women from all parts of the land, farms of the Mid- west, small towns of New England, from the cities, the mountains and the prairies, from all walks of life. I trust and depend on them as they trust and depend on me - for professional competence, for comrade- ship, for courage. In a word, they are shipmates. Hike the surge of adventure in my heart when the word is passed Now station the special sea and anchor detail - all hands to quarters for leaving port , and I like the infectious thrill of sighting home again, with the waving hands of welcome from family and friends waiting pierside. The work is hard and dangerous, the going rough at times, the parting from loved ones painful, but the companionship of ro- bust Navy laughter, the ' all for one and one for all ' philosophy of the sea is ever present. I like the serenity of the sea after a day of hard ship ' s work, as flying fish flit across the wave tops and sunset gives way to night. k keeps al ten, sent

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iiag ii i I like the feel of the Navy in darkness - the masthead hghts, the redandgreei and stern h ' ght, the pulsating phosphorescence of radar repeaters - they cut througt. and join with the mirror of stars overhead. And Hike drifting off to sleep lulled by the noises large and small that tell me that my ship is alive and well, and that my shipmates : watch will keep me safe. I like quiet midwatches with the aroma of strong coffee -the lifel of the Navy - permeating everywhere. And I like hectic watches when the exacting minuet of haze-gray shapes racing at flank speed keeps all hands on a razor edge of sharpness. I like the sudden electricity of General Quar- ters, general quarters, all hands man your battle stations , followed by the hurried clamor of running feet on ladders and the resounding thump of watertight doors as the ship transforms herself in a few brief seconds from a peaceful workplace to a weapon of war - ready for anything. And Hike the sight of space-age equipment manned by youngsters clad in dungarees and sound-powered phones that their grandfathers would still recognize. I like the traditions of the Navy and the men and women who made them. I like the proud names of Navy heroes: Halsey, Nimitz, Perry, Farragut, John PaulJones. A Sailor can find much in the Navy: comrades-in-arms, pride in self and country, mastery of the seaman ' s trade. An adolescent can find adulthood. In years to come, when Sailors are home from the sea, they will still remember with fondness and respect the ocean in all its moods - the impossible shimmer- ing mirror calm and the storm-tossed green water surging over the bow. And then there will come again a faint whiff of stack gas, a faint echo of engine and rudder orders, a vision of the bright bunting of signal flags snapping at the yardarm, a refrain of hearty laughter in the ward- room and chief ' s quarters and messdecks. Gone ashore for good they will grow wistful about their Navy days, when the sea belonged to them and a new port of call was ever on the horizon. Remembering this, they will stand taller and say, I WAS A SAILOR ONCE. I WAS PART OF THE NAVY AND THE NAVY WILL ALWAYS BE A PART OF ME. i lo)- pi n I ' - Reflections of a Blackshoe by VADM Harold Koenig,. USN (Re!)