"I WAS A SAILOR ONCE"

I liked standing on the bridge wing at sunrise with salt spray in my
face and clean ocean winds whipping in from the four quarters of the
globe. I liked the sounds of the Navy - the piercing trill of the
boatswains pipe, the syncopated clangor of the ship's bell on the
quarterdeck, harsh, and the strong language and laughter of sailors at work.

I liked Navy vessels -- plodding fleet auxiliaries and amphibs, sleek
submarines and steady solid aircraft carriers. I liked the proud names
of Navy ships: Midway, Lexington , Saratoga , Coral Sea , Antietam ,
Valley Forge, Arizona , Kearsarge - - memorials of great battles won
and tribulations overcome.


I liked the lean angular names of Navy, "tin-cans" and escorts,
mementos of heroes who went before us. And the others - - San Jose ,
San Diego , Los Angeles, St.Paul, Chicago , Oklahoma City, named for our cities.

I liked the tempo of a Navy band. I liked liberty call and the spicy
scent of a foreign port.


I even liked the never ending paperwork and all hands working parties
as my ship filled herself with the multitude of supplies, and to cut
ties to the land and carry out her mission anywhere on the globe where
there was water to float her.


I liked sailors, officers and enlisted men, from all parts of the
land, farms of the Midwest, small towns of New England , from the big
cities, the mountains and the prairies, from all walks of life. I
trusted and depended on them as they trusted and depended on me -- for
professional competence, for comradeship, for strength and courage. In
a word, they were "shipmates"; then and forever.


I liked the surge of adventure in my heart, when the word was passed:
''Now Hear This: Now station the special sea and anchor detail - all
hands to quarters for leaving port," and I liked the infectious thrill
of sighting home again, with the waving hands of welcome from family
and friends waiting pier side.

The work was hard and dangerous; the going rough at times; the parting
from loved ones painful, but the companionship of robust Navy
laughter, the "all for one and one for all" philosophy of the sea was ever present.

I liked the fierce and dangerous activity on the flight deck of
aircraft carriers, earlier named for battles won but sadly now named
for
politicians: Enterprise , Independence , Boxer, Princeton and oh, so
many more, some lost in battle, and sadly, many scrapped.

I liked the names of the aircraft and helicopters; Intruder, Sea King,
Phantom, Skyhawk, Demon, Skywarrior, Corsair, my beloved Skyhawk, and
many more that bring to mind offensive and defensive orders of battle.

I liked the excitement of the almost daily at-sea replenishment as my
ship slid in alongside an Oiler and the cry of "Standby to receive shot lines"
prefaced the hard work of rigging span wires and fuel hoses echoed
across the narrow gap of water between the ships and welcomed the mail
and fresh milk, fruit and vegetables that sometimes accompanied the fuel.

I liked the serenity of the sea after a day of hard ship's work, as
flying fish flitted across the wave tops and sunset gave way to night.

I liked the feel of the Navy in darkness - the masthead and range
lights, the red and green navigation lights and stern light, the
pulsating phosphorescence of radar repeaters - they cut through the
dusk and joined with the mirror of stars overhead.

I liked drifting off to sleep lulled by the myriad noises large and
small that told me that my s hip was alive and well, and that my
shipmates on watch would keep me safe.

I liked quiet mid-watches with the aroma of strong coffee -- the
lifeblood of the Navy permeating everywhere. I liked hectic watches
when the exacting minuet of haze-gray shapes racing at flank speed
kept all hands on a razor edge of alertness.

I liked the sudden electricity of "General quarters, 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 transformed herself in a few brief seconds from a peaceful
workplace to a weapon of war -- ready for anything.


I liked the sight of space-age equipment manned by bright young
sailors clad in dungarees wearing sound-powered phones that their
grandfathers would still recognize.

I liked the traditions of the Navy and those who made
them. I liked the proud names of Navy heroes: Halsey, Nimitz, Perry,
Farragut, John Paul Jones and Burke.

A sailor could find much in the Navy: comrades-in-arms, pride in self
and country, mastery of the seaman's trade. An adolescent could find
adulthood. In years to come, when sailors are home from the sea, we
will still remember with fondness and respect the ocean in all its
moods the impossible shimmering mirror calm and the storm-tossed green
water surging over the bow. 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 wardroom and Chief's quarters and mess decks.

Once ashore for good we grow humble about our Navy days, when the seas
were a part of us and a new port of call was ever over the horizon.

Remembering this, WE stand taller and say, "I WAS A SAILOR ONCE."


AUTHOR UNKNOWN