Life is Precious #8 - The Night I Almost Died, Yet Learned To Live...
A Fateful Night Aboard "The Quiet Warrior" (Part One)
Being a patriot and loving my country caused me to quit my job and join the United States Navy. I can still recall how incredulous my boss was when I told him about it. But I really wanted to give something back to a nation that had provided me with so much freedom and opportunity.
"Great Mistakes"
Boot Camp was at Great Lakes Illinois (actually, Waukegan) this place was known as "Great Mistakes" due to it being old and grinding people up. Of course I made the colossal mistake of joining up in the winter without knowing they would keep the windows open all night long. My "rate" or job was an OS, or Operations Specialist. We sat in front of computer screens in the CIC or Combat Information Center, tracking other ships, planes and any potential attacks on radar.
After "A School" I was advised to join a destroyer out of Norfolk, Virginia which was my second mistake. We were given a choice of coasts and I let them talk me into staying near home, instead of heading out to California. Who knew that this was the number one naval base on the east coast? I didn't. Instead of a much more desirable duty station out west, I was happy to be somewhat near my beloved Grandmother in our home State of Pennsylvania. Pleasant thoughts of crossing the mighty Atlantic ocean to Europe for the first time filled my imaginative mind.
I chose the Destroyer USS Spruance "The Quiet Warrior" after being tricked out of a duty station in Las Vegas. It was either that or a Carrier, a Frigate (basically a sub) or an actual sub, which was not happening. As a new Sailor, I was given lots of menial jobs such as mess duty (sort of like being a personal janitor and butler/server to the much-hated officers. This was done for a period of months before we were allowed to resume our trade fulltime.
However the job that would test my life was as the late night classified information disposal guy. Important papers were bagged and placed in a room and every night one of the lowest-ranked guys was selected to toss these out. We'd take the bags up to the fantail, slash holes in them with a knife, then toss them over the end of the ship to be ground up by the screws. Nobody else wanted to do it and since they all outranked me, it became my daily responsibility.
Underway
Out at sea late at night, the only light comes from spots aboard the ship, the moon and faraway stars. In other words, it's dark as hell, which is why I carried a flashlight with me so as not to stumble over anything. However, this job was important and my priority was to make sure it was completed. So night after night, I trudged up the ladder to the main deck and carried out my assignment.
On a regular basis we had drills during the day. We would watch as they threw a bright orange dummy overboard and then sound the alarm for the rescue team. This was a timed event and it was astounding how quickly that brightly colored body disappeared behind the waves. We'd watch it through binoculars and then, it was gone. The crew always found it, but usually well after the time was up. We were all told about the danger of falling overboard and I wondered "If it takes them this long to find that thing in broad daylight and calm seas, what possible chance would anyone have during rough seas, or in the dead of night?" Little did I know, I was about to find out...
So, we're partway across the North Atlantic on our way to Rota, Spain. The sea state was rough as we were in a huge storm. The lead OS, tells me to go take the classified trash out at the end of my shift. I asked him if It could wait until the morning when the storm had passed, but he was wedded to routine and insisted I go out in the dark...
Normally, this was not a problem as my shifts usually ended around say, 3PM and I would do it then. Or I might have a dog watch in the evening and would process the trash in-between watches. But this night conspired against me by having the "gung ho" lead on duty and a very late shift during a roaring storm.
Heading to the storage room, I equipped myself with the flashlight and the knife to slash the three bags sitting in front of me. Because it was so violent outside, i made a decision to tie the bags to my wrist as I was proud I'd never lost a bag. The last guy that did this had forgotten to cut a hole in them, forcing the ship to backtrack searching for them, before they were found floating on the surface. Exiting the room, I found the hallways mostly empty, as many sailors were in their bunks sound asleep.
It was close to midnight.
At this point, I'd still not gotten my "Sea Legs" and was taking Dramamine to avoid getting seasick. This was my first time leaving the United States or being at sea. In fact, I was the first person in my family to leave the country. The nearest hatch (door) was on the port (left) side of the ship, which was tilting with the waves causing me to adjust my stance to move forward.
That somber song by Gordon Lightfoot: The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, danced around in my head. Canada's favorite son sang about "the shores of Gitche Gumee." and I didn't know where they were and had no plans to find out via the ocean.
Reaching the ladder (stairs), I opened the locked hatch and that's when the shit hit the fan. Unfortunately I opened it when the ship was pitching sharply port, causing the door to fling open suddenly. I was propelled out of the doorway onto the slick deck. My flashlight caught a glimpse of huge waves that seemed to almost kiss the edge of the ship as they crashed against the sides. My feet slid on the soaking-wet deck and next thing you know I was airborne and watching my flashlight tumble over the side and into the waves.
Overboard!
At the edge of the ship were these flimsy, old fiberglass railings. Somehow I got tossed either over or under the railings (I can't remember). What I do recall is my ass being thrown up in the air in a most undignified manner. I can look back on it now, but at the time it was absolutely terrifying. Somehow, after being thrown over or through the railings in the fierce wind, I had the presence of mind to hold on. With the ship tilting to port in the rain and my drenched body suspended in the air hanging on for dear life, above an angry Atlantic Ocean in the dead of night.
With no one around to hear me scream...
NOTE: Here, I'm going to have to pause as I'm reliving this again moment-by-moment and knowing how close I came to not being here at all is terrifying. Every word of this is true and the crux of the story is that I almost gave up due to the circumstances. Part of what I lost in 2018 during the robbery while I was in Germany was my Navy yearbooks, uniforms, photos and documents. They looted my place knowing I was over 4,000 miles away. What I have left that the drug addicts didn't sell or throw out, is my Navy seabag and my dogtags, everything else is gone. The reason I'm sharing this snapshot of my life is in the hope that it may inspire someone else who's going through tough times. If the audience wants, I'll share part two in a future post.
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Wow! What an experience. Very well written too.
Thanks for that. I spent months slowly putting this post together bit by bit. In part two (which likely won't be written), I'd have gone into the feelings I went through once I realized the gravity of my situation and the realization that no one could hear me over the roaring storm.
I've just tried several times to thank you on your blog, but everytime I login and select the post, it hides the comments. When I refresh the page, it logs me out. So I'll thank you here. Thank you so much for your support @felt.buzz At least I know somebody read the post! :)
Wow! What a story. Glad you are still with us to share it with the world.
Wow man, that must have been a terrifying experience, fair play for managing to hang on. Did you have to hoist yourself back up, or did someone hear you in the end and come to help out? Also, after that, did you carry on that duty, or was someone else given it?
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That would be in the conclusion: Life is Precious #8 - The Night I Almost Died, Yet Learned To Live... (Part 2), which I wrote over a year after part 1. I have to warn you, part 2 is long, 35 paragraphs. But upon reading it, you'll discover just how close I came to giving up and letting go. But I didn't, and am glad to be here today. Thanks for being the 3rd person to read part 1. :)