Farragut Stories3

Once I Was A Navyman

I like the Navy. I like standing on deck during a long voyage with sea spray in my face and ocean winds whipping in from everywhere - The feel of the giant steel ship beneath me, it's engines driving against the sea is almost beyond understanding - It’s immense power makes the Navyman feel so insignificant but yet proud to be a small part of this ship - A small part of Her mission. I like the Navy. I like the sound of taps over the ships announcing system, the ringing of the ships bell, the foghorns and strong laughter of Navy men at work. I like the ships of the Navy; Nervous darting Destroyers, sleek proud Cruisers, majestic Battle Ships, steady solid Carriers, the essential Fleet Auxiliaries and silent hidden Submarines - I like the workhorse tugboats with their proud Indian names: Iroquois, Apache, Kiawah and Sioux - Each stealthy powerful Tug safely guiding the warships to safe deep waters from all harbors.

I like the historic names of other proud Navy Ships: Midway, Hornet, Princeton, Saribachi and Saratoga. The Ozark, Hunley, William R. Rush and Turner, the Constitution, Missouri, Wichita, Iowa, Arizona and Manchester, as well as The Sullivans, Enterprise, Tecumseh, Cole, New Jersey and Nautilus too - all majestic ships of the line - Each ship commanding the respect of all Navymen that have known Her - or were privileged to be a part of Her crew.

I like the bounce of Navy music and the tempo of a Navy Band, "Liberty Whites", “13 Button Blues”, the rare 72 hour liberty and the spice scent of a foreign port - I like Shipmates I've sailed with, worked with, served with or have known: The Gunners Mate from the Iowa cornfields; a Sonarman from the Colorado mountain country; a pal from Cairo, Alabama; an Italian from near Boston; some boogie boarders of California; and of course, a drawling friendly Oklahoma lad that hailed from Muskogee; and a very congenial Engineman from the Tennessee hills. From all parts of the land they came - Farms of the Midwest, small towns of New England - The red clay area and small towns of the South - The mountain and high prairie towns of the West - The beachfront towns of the Atlantic, the Pacific and the Gulf - All are American; all are comrades in arms - All are men of the sea and all are men of honor.

I like the adventure in my heart when the ship puts out to sea, and I like the electric thrill of sailing home again, with the waving hands of welcome from family and friends, waiting on shore - The extended time at sea drags; the going is rough on occasion. But there's the companionship of robust Navy laughter, the devil-may-care philosophy of the sea. This helps the Navyman - The remembrances of past shipmates fill the mind and restore the memory with images of other ships, other ports, and other cruises long past - Some memories are good, some are not so good, but all are etched in the mind of the Navyman - And most will be there forever.

I like the sea, and after a day of work, there is the serenity of the sea at dusk. As white caps dance on the ocean waves, the sunset creates flaming clouds that float in folds over the horizon - As if painted there by a master. The darkness follows soon and is mysterious. The ship’s wake in darkness has a hypnotic effect, with foamy white froth and luminescence that forms never ending patterns in the turbulent waters - I like the lights of the ship in the dark of night - The masthead lights, the red and green sidelights and stern lights. They cut through the night and appear as a mirror of stars in darkness - There are rough stormy nights, and calm, quiet, still nights where the quiet of the mid-watch allows the ghosts of all the Sailors of the world to stand watch with you. They are abundant and unreachable, but ever apparent - And there is always the aroma of fresh coffee from the galley.

I like the legends of the Navy and the Navymen that created those legends - I like the proud names of Navy Heroes: Halsey, Nimitz, Beach, Farragut, Rickover and John Paul Jones. A man can find much in this Navy - Comrades in arms, pride in his country - A man can find himself and can revel in this experience. In years to come, when the Sailor is home from the sea, he will still recall with fondness the ocean spray on his face when the sea is angry - There will come a faint aroma of fresh paint in his nostrils, the echo of hearty laughter of the seafaring men who once were close companions - Now landlocked, he will grow wistful of his Navy days, when the seas were the largest part of him and a new port of call was always just over the horizon.

Recalling those days and times, he will stand taller and say: "ONCE I WAS A NAVYMAN !”

A. Hughes, FTCM (SS), USN (Retired)

For some reason, I was nearly brought to tears while looking at the picture of Farragut's old anchor at the Tennessee high school, where that anchor now sits. I guess that for me, it represents both the mobility of the platform that we once rode and the stability of our memories that we still share. Then, I perused the online cruise book; the one with the pictures of my 'immediate' shipmates in it.
The memories were so brilliant that I could almost taste the salt spray of a wave breaking across the bow of the old girl, and I could feel my countenance rising and falling, and rising again with each familiar face, in each picture, in each division, that I saw; as if I were still upon Farragut's decks, with that crew, for one more cruise, riding the swells to some new adventure.

Then, I clicked through the subsequent cruise book and visited the smiling faces of the remnants of my old crew, and those so many fine sailors that replaced those of us who had moved on. I came to realize that I was not 'almost' brought to tears; neither did I really feel my 'countenance' rise and fall upon seas that were so far away in distance, and so far behind us in time; nor was riding to some new adventure in the security and the might of a great naval warship.

Instead, the salty taste was really there: embodied in a tear that said so much, when it drizzled down my cheek and guttered itself through a channel that time had etched in my aging face. And then it found its way on into the corner of a mouth that had so many idle words to say to so many for so long. That tear drowned out all of those words, and watered a million memories; so much so that I was nearly overcome and indeed reeling in my chair.
Because of the work that you all in the Farragut Association do, so many of us can renew those past adventures, and live them over and over again; in a way that too many of our fellow Americans can never understand.

The Association proved itself again with the commissioning of USS Farragut (DDG-99) in June 2006.
Not everyone who served in the Navy is a sailor. And few can understand the sadness that a real sailor feels during the decommissioning of the ship upon which the best concentrated experiences of his life occurred. It is like growing old and not losing only a high school sweetheart; but if children are the manifestations of our emotions, and the current fulfillment of our experiences, then it is also like losing the mother of those bounding youths. As sorrowful as any funeral, and its realization of finality; sadder still is when the vessel is sold for scrap and forever gone.

But rebirth is a wonderful thing. Because of the Association’s work, when DDG-99 was ordered "to life", the Ensign ordered broken, the ship's bell and whistle sounded, the band played, and the crew went galloping up the gangplank and manned the rails; and as life flooded that man o' war with vibrant youth, likewise the adrenaline flowed through my veins. I wanted, more than anything, to run up that gangplank with them, and to recapture the millions of memories that had gone before them, and to experience the avalanche of adventures that lay before them.

However, as with the memories and the adventures; as with the sailors who once served upon Farragut, and those who now serve; and as with those who will someday serve upon that vessel, and upon the decks of all of the Farraguts to follow: all of it, and all of them, will always have a haven in my heart, as you all now do. On that sunny day in June of 2006, my proper place was in that chair, on that pier, and under the scorching, Florida sun. My duty, then, was but one: to employ the only way that I could have possibly, physically discharged the adrenaline that flowed through every fiber of my soul: and that was by having my eyes convert that adrenaline into tears, and allowing it to evaporate into the warmth of the day. I found myself crying like a baby at that commissioning in Jacksonville.

I know that for the rest of my life that my feelings about Farragut would have come and gone as fleetingly as the Ole’ Girl herself was; and then, in my golden years, disappear over the silvery horizon of my memory, perhaps never to be thought of again.
But, because of the efforts of the Association, and that stable platform of their anchoring work, our memories will continue to have the mobility to always sail along with us. Because of these special sailors; one day, upon the decks of the fantastic Farragut, our spirits will all steam over that silvery horizon together, and on into the stars forever.

Thank you again, and God bless you all.
OS1 Ken “Ike ‘OS2-Good-2-B-True’” Hamilton
USS Farragut (DLG-6/DDG-37)1973-1977