Gunner's Mate (Guns) First Class Hugh Robert Harnlee begins his rise in the US navy following a turret fire on the USS Wilmington on the gun line off the coast of Vietnam in 1970. On the Gun Line charts the early phase of Harnlee's career, a period which includes changes in the navy itself. WWII ships are being replaced, so is the weaponry and the personnel. With anti-war sentiments rising ashore, together with racial tension and the introduction of female crew, it takes a special officer, the likes of Harnlee, to steer the service to calmer seas. From the brown waters off the coast of Vietnam to the undersea tension of the Cold War, On the Gun Line is an absorbing and technically faithful account of the US navy at war.
Gunner's Mate (Guns) First Class Hugh Robert Harnlee begins his rise in the US navy following a turret fire on the USS Wilmington on the gun line off the coast of Vietnam in 1970. On the Gun Line charts the early phase of Harnlee's career, a period which includes changes in the navy itself. WWII ships are being replaced, so is the weaponry and the personnel. With anti-war sentiments rising ashore, together with racial tension and the introduction of female crew, it takes a special officer, the likes of Harnlee, to steer the service to calmer seas. From the brown waters off the coast of Vietnam to the undersea tension of the Cold War, On the Gun Line is an absorbing and technically faithful account of the US navy at war.
Gunner's Mate (Guns) First Class Hugh Robert Harnlee begins his rise in the US navy following a turret fire on the USS Wilmington on the gun line off the coast of Vietnam in 1970. On the Gun Line charts the early phase of Harnlee's career, a period which includes changes in the navy itself. WWII ships are being replaced, so is the weaponry and the personnel. With anti-war sentiments rising ashore, together with racial tension and the introduction of female crew, it takes a special officer, the likes of Harnlee, to steer the service to calmer seas. From the brown waters off the coast of Vietnam to the undersea tension of the Cold War, On the Gun Line is an absorbing and technically faithful account of the US navy at war.
As a library administrator and college professor, Mr.
Boyer has reviewed books in maritime/naval history
for 27 years. With degrees from Rutgers, Drexel and Villanova Universities, he resides in Eastern Pennsylvania, USA. This is his first novel.
Dedication
To Audrey Joy Carroll Blossic,
A constant friend is a thing rare and hard to find
Plutarch
Copyright Harold N. Boyer
The right of Harold N. Boyer to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978 184963 805 0
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2014) Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd. 25 Canada Square Canary Wharf London E14 5LB
Printed and bound in Great Britain
Chapter One
The Warrant Gunner
The squawbox on the bulkhead came to life with its usual loud, irritating voice early this morning. Now hear this. Gunners Mate First Harnlee lay to the bridge that is Gunners Mate First Harnlee lay to the bridge! Gunners Mate (Guns) First Class Hugh Robert Harnlee looked at the box demanding his presence on the bridge and began at first to swear but thought better of it. Walking quickly across the mess deck towards the ladder leading topside he began to run through his mind all the possible reasons why he was being summoned. 1970 had been a crazy year for Harnlee with last Monday coming close to being his last day on earth. On that day the USS Wilmington had a turret fire while on the gun line off the coast of Vietnam and Harnlee was leading petty officer in the upper handling room directly below that turret. Des Moines class heavy cruisers like the USS Wilmington were being phased out of the fleet by 1970 but the need for gunfire support in Vietnam had given them a new lease on life. With their nine 8 guns arranged in three turrets they represented a serious threat to any target ashore. Additionally, their secondary battery of 5 guns could also engage shore targets. This was what the Wilmington was doing on that day when the God of War decreed that despite training and safety precautions men would die. As Harnlee moved topside towards the bridge he ran over in his mind the events of that day. What started out as a routine day of firing the main battery of 8 guns at selected targets ashore had, by 1018 turned into one of the major casualties suffered by the Navy in the war to date. What made
it all the more anguishing was that the turret fire was not caused by enemy action but through sheer chance! Harnlee found his thoughts rudely interrupted by Chief Gunners Mate Rudel placing himself squarely athwart a passageway that Harnlee had to use to get to the bridge. Harnlee saw trouble looking him in the eyes for he had run across Rudel before. Been called to the bridge, huh? What the hell do those frickin officers want with such a squirrelly-assed sailor and poor excuse for a gunners mate like you? Rudel demanded rather than asked. Generally, Navy chiefs respected and worked side-by-side with their men, especially first and second-class petty officers. Together they were responsible for the successful completion of the thousands of details necessary for the smooth operation of a ship. Rudel was the exception. He rarely had a good word for anyone and more times than not would curse and bully his men. Beats me, Chief. I thought maybe you would know. Harnlee replied hoping to make this encounter as short as possible. If I knew, asshole, would I waste my time asking a speck of fly-shit like you? Rudel retorted. Harnlee glanced nervously at his watch. It had been five minutes already since he was summoned to the bridge. The old man, Captain Woodrow, was a stickler for punctuality and more than one sailor suffered a withering blast of verbal abuse from him for being late. Harnlee knew that Rudel would deliberately delay him. Fortunately for Harnlee, at that moment Rudel saw Lt. Cdr. Higgins approaching. Higgins was the Wilmingtons gunnery officer and Rudel knew better than to tangle with him. Get your ass up to the bridge and make sure you report to me with the reason for your visit, got it? Right, Chief, Harnlee replied as he moved towards the bridge. In the moment or two before he arrived on the bridge, Harnlees thoughts returned to the day of the fire. Pure chance, he thought, or rather bad luck caused that fire. On the sixth salvo from turret two a faulty 8 projectile exploded
prematurely in the barrel of the middle gun. This explosion in turn ignited the next projectile sitting in the center projectile hoist adding its explosive force to the expanding smoke and flame filling the turret. Within seconds all 16 men in the turret crew were consumed by explosive blast and fire. The smoke, which quickly filled the turret and blanketed the forward part of the ship almost to the bridge, killed four more men and injured 36. Harnlee had been trying to rid his memory of that day the incredible noise of the explosion the screams of men being burned alive and suffocated by smoke. As leading petty officer in the upper handling room directly below turret two he was as close to the explosion as possible without actually being inside the turret. Little details crept back into his memory of the moment watching the paint bubbling off the turret pan floor above his head and thinking it would have to be repainted the lights in the handling room flickering and finally going out leaving he and his crew in total darkness that ominous smell coming from above that even the rawest recruit knew spelt danger Gunners Mate First Harnlee requests permission to enter the bridge, Sir. Harnlee barked at the officer of the deck, or OOD as he was called. Harnlees eyes quickly scanned the bridge taking in all important information in a matter of seconds. The usual underway bridge watch was set. The OOD and junior officer of the watch (JOOD), helmsman, lee helmsman, quartermaster at the chart table, phone talker on the status board, messenger all were in place directing the movements of the ship. Harnlee noticed that Captain Woodrow was not in his usual place sitting in the bridge chair welded to the deck. Permission granted, replied the OOD Lt. Johns. Stand easy, Harnlee. Captain Woodrow wants to speak to you. Lt. Johns ordered the bridge messenger to inform the captain that Harnlee was on the bridge as ordered. Harnlee was always fascinated by the bridge. It was the center of activity where important decisions were made by officers. As a first-class petty officer he had little hope of entering the world of gold
braid and command. While he had advanced quickly to his present rank too quickly in the minds of some like Chief Rudel Harnlee knew that without finishing his college degree he had little chance of gaining an officers commission. The navy of the Vietnam War was strictly hierarchical and still very much bound by tradition and a social snobbery that seemed resistant to change. The Vietnam War had seen many recruits like Harnlee enter the navy with one or two years of college under their belts. But that counted for little in the eyes of the navys Bureau of Personnel. You either had a degree or not plain and simple. Many old navy chiefs like Rudel displayed open contempt for any efforts at furthering ones education and considered sailors with some college as inveterate draft-dodgers. Captain on the bridge. announced the JOOD Ens. Smythe as Captain Woodrow stepped onto the bridge from his sea cabin. An imposing man, this captain, thought Harnlee. I have the deck. Ensign Smythe has the conn. Course one double-oh degrees, turning forty revolutions, weather clear, normal underway watch set, Sir, reported Lt. Johns. Very good, Mr. Johns, carry on, replied the captain. Aye, aye, Sir, Lt. Johns matter-of-factly responded, adding and Gunners Mate First Harnlee has reported to the bridge as ordered, Sir. Harnlee had continued to study Captain Woodrow while the OOD made his report. If ever there was a man born to command, Woodrow was that man, thought Harnlee. Even something as routine as stepping onto the bridge gave evidence of that. The captains presence filled the bridge and infused every man with both a sense of purpose and loyalty towards him. This was what the navy called command presence. Harnlee felt both awe and no small amount of envy. The captain sat in his bridge chair and motioned Harnlee over to him. Sir, you wanted to speak to me? Harnlee asked. Yes, I do, Harnlee, Captain Woodrow replied. I have reviewed the after-action reports concerning the turret fire and I am particularly impressed with your performance during that
casualty. It seems obvious that your actions as leading petty officer in the upper handling room not only saved lives but possibly saved the Wilmington, also. Harnlee looked at Captain Woodrow for what seemed like an eternity but what was actually only a second or two. I dont quite follow you, Sir, Harnlee replied. No flying false colors, now, Harnlee, the captain said. Humility is fine to a point after which it becomes tedious and self-serving! Harnlees thoughts quickly returned to that moment when he made the decision without orders to remove his crew from the upper handling room. Looking back this decision seemed to be the correct one with smoke beginning to fill the handling room and the temperature steadily rising. Before leaving he had the crew strike below the remaining seven 8 projectiles thus removing the threat of detonation in the handling room. Considering the fact that this was done in the dark with fear gnawing at everyone was a tribute both to Harnlees courage and the confidence his crew had in his leadership. A lesser man would not have inspired such action. Once his crew had been removed from the handling room, Harnlee climbed down through the escape scuttle to the lower handling room to pass the word that he had removed both his crew and the projectiles from danger. By this time word had been passed to abandon and flood the 8 magazine for turret two. Understood, Sir, Harnlee replied as his thoughts returned to the bridge and Captain Woodrow. So he wants me here simply to give me a well done, thought Harnlee as a number of eyes, and ears for that matter, followed the conversation unfolding on the bridge. You have some college, dont you Harnlee? Captain Woodrow inquired. Two years at Wisconsin State University, Sir, Harnlee replied, adding, About sixty credits, Sir. What the hell did the old man want to know that for, thought Harnlee. He must have been reading my service record. Two years of college so
far had been more of a curse than a blessing, especially where superiors like Chief Rudel were concerned. Harnlee had graduated from Gloucester High School in 1963 and went to Wisconsin State University on an Army ROTC scholarship. Things had not worked out and he left the university after two years of desultory study. He enlisted in the navy as an alternative to dead-end civilian jobs. He chuckled to himself as he remembered the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Test that he took as part of the enlistment process. A grizzled, old navy chief told him that his mechanical aptitude was so low that if he picked up a wrench and tried to use it he would set the navy back a century and damned he was if the navy didnt place him in a mechanical specialty after all! The phrase needs of the service justified that decision. You also have ROTC training? Captain Woodrow asked. Yes, Sir, Harnlee replied, more puzzled than ever by now. Your record indicates not only ROTC training but designation as Outstanding Army ROTC Cadet two years running? Captain Woodrow inquired with one eyebrow slightly raised. Yes, Sir, Harnlee replied. Well, I probably should ask why you left the university and a promising career in the army but thats your business and history now. For my purposes I want to inform you that as a result of your actions during our casualty on the gun line I am recommending you for a commendation and, more importantly, offering you the opportunity to apply for designation as a gunnery warrant officer, Captain Woodrow announced. Harnlee could not believe his ears. He was being offered a chance at what he thought was impossible to attain a commission and eventually command. Are you interested in becoming a warrant officer, Harnlee? Captain Woodrow demanded rather than asked. All eyes and ears on the bridge were transfixed on Harnlee after the captain spoke. For what seemed like an eternity Harnlee tried to assimilate all that had just happened. Warrant officers in the
navy were specialists from the ranks, usually chiefs but occasionally first-class petty officers, who were directly promoted to W-1 and commissioned as officers at ranks W-2 through W-4. Harnlee had some experience working for warrant officers on his previous ship. Generally they were long-serving men with fifteen or twenty years of experience. Here he was being offered this opportunity with only six years of service. Josiah Mac McClernan joined Harnlee and Boiler Technician First-Class Brown in the first-class lounge, strolling over with his huge fist wrapped around a mug of hot, strong coffee. Whats happenin, man? Mac asked his good friend. Not much, Mac, Harnlee replied without looking up. Same ole shit. Harnlee and Mac were good friends and both from New Jersey the former from Gloucester City, a poor, white working-class town while Mac was from Camden a poor city offering little or no hope for a young, black teenager. The navy had brought them together and each had advanced quickly in their respective specialties Harnlee as a Gunners Mate and Mac as a Boatswains Mate. You know Mac, a couple of women on my last trip to the beach told me I should try out for the 72 Olympics, Brown stated with a straight face. Mac knew he was being set up and Harnlee simply rolled his eyes but both played the game. How so? Mac replied. Brown waited for a second or two for effect before replying. They say Im a world-class diver! Sheeee-it, yelled Mac. You white guys are sure strange about that. If I cant put a knife and fork on it I dont eat it! Guess not with that god-damned horse dick hangin between your legs, Brown replied knowing that this banter was a prelude to a more serious talk. Not my fault you gotta work with a needle-dick, man, retorted Mac. Listen, all bull-shittin aside scuttlebutt has it that our man Harnlee here is going to be made warrant.
No shit? Brown exclaimed. I tell you guys, there are no secrets on this showboat, replied Harnlee. The ole man only talked to me an hour ago! You know how it is, man, Mac proudly stated. First Division is tight and I know all the shit goin on. First Division on the Wilmington was the deck force responsible for seamanship and maintenance of all external hull, deck and bulkhead areas. It was a rough division made up of the less educated, some would say less fortunate, members of the crew. Mac had come up the ranks of such a division on a number of ships and commanded respect by virtue of his leadership qualities and his ability to manhandle almost anyone who chose to oppose him. Come on, Hugh, Brown pleaded. Give us the straight skinny here. You goin up for warrant? All right, already, Harnlee answered. Besides, if I dont tell you Ill get no slack until I do, right? Right on, man, Mac interjected. The ole man is giving me a commendation for getting my handling room crew and the ammo out during the turret fire, Harnlee replied. He also wants me to apply for gunnery warrant. And? asked Mac. I told him I needed time to think about it and he gave me 24 hours, said Harnlee. You are one sorry-assed excuse for a gunners mate, man, Mac exclaimed. How many times have we talked about our careers and you talkin bout becomin an officer? Yeah, so? Harnlee replied. What do you mean yeah, so as if I dont know already, Mac angrily retorted. Here is the man givin you your chance for gold and all you can say is Ill let you know? Yeah, that seems kind of lame, said Brown intruding on their conversation. Shut the fuck up, you lame-assed snipe, snapped Mac employing some of his renowned swearing that reputedly
could blister the paint off the bulkheads, This is between my man here and me! Lets go on main deck for some air, Harnlee suggested to Mac, wanting to have a serious conversation with his good friend. You know, sometimes I think Brown has spent too much time around boilers, Harnlee continued as he and Mac made their way topside. Brown stayed behind apparently taking the hint about the need for privacy. Thats for sure anyway, most snipes are fucked up to begin with, man, replied Mac. So whats it goin to be Chief or Mister Harnlee? Mac asked as they came out on main deck near the blackened turret two. The sea was a deep green with slight swells as the ship headed east to Subic Bay Naval Base on the island of Luzon in the Philippines. After the turret fire the Wilmington stayed on the gun line off the coast of North Vietnam until relieved by another cruiser and then headed for Subic Bay for repairs. The crew, while regretting the deaths of shipmates due to the fire, looked forward to liberty and the sensual delights of Subic Bay. Harnlee liked these quiet moments which afforded him the opportunity to feel the sea beneath his feet. You know Mac, weve talked about the navy and what we would make of ourselves more times than I can remember, Harnlee said while looking at the water as it met the ships bow and coursed back to become part of the wake. And now that I have an opportunity to become an officer Im not sure. Bout what? Mac asked knowing his good friend was in one of his more introspective and plagued moods. Mac also knew that Harnlee was not one of the most optimistic guys ever to pull on a pair of skivvies. Harnlee was known for walking around and exclaiming I feel plagued like Job whenever the mood overtook him and leaving sailors within earshot wondering who this guy named Job could be. Failure and not being good enough to measure up to men like Captain Woodrow, Harnlee replied. I mean look the ole mans a naval academy graduate, he has a masters degree
in engineering and a Personnelman in the ships office told me he is one of the youngest captains in the whole navy! So? Mac quickly interjected. More reason to trust him givin you this break, right? I mean he wouldin do this for anybody so he must know you can cut it. This wasnt the first time Harnlee watched his good friend cut right to the importance of an issue. Despite Macs rough and tumble demeanor, just below the surface were to be found many of the qualities sailors wanted to see in their leaders. Maybebut I still feel plagued Harnlee responded just as a loud voice intruded itself into their conversation. Harnlee, get your ass to the gun shack and start PMS on the forward 5-inch, Chief Rudel screamed from the forward Mark 54 gun director. Harnlee knew that the weapons department was behind on its preventative maintenance system work, or PMS as it was called. He also knew much of the blame rested with Rudel because the more he drove the men the less work they did for him. It was a source of mystery to Harnlee how men such as Rudel could advance in rank. Some day someones gonna shove his redneck ass over the side at night, murmured Mac. And you, McClernan, turn to or Ill have a talk with Chief Bosun Bennett about your slackness, yelled Rudel as Harnlee turned to go to the gun shack. Mac just stood and transfixed Rudel with a piercing stare until the chief averted his gaze and climbed back into the gun director. Fuck you in the eye, Mac said to himself as he went forward to check the progress of some painting his men were doing on the anchor windlass on the focsle. As the time approached a day later to respond to Captain Woodrow, Harnlee had made up his mind to accept the offer to become a gunnery warrant officer. Two things had made up his mind for him a conversation with the captain and another run-in with Chief Rudel. Looking back on those two incidents Harnlee couldnt believe that these two men belonged in the same navy. The conversation with Captain Woodrow took place on the main deck while he was inspecting the center gun barrel on
turret two. The force of the explosion had blown the barrel completely clear of the turret leaving it connected only by the rifled gun liner. With the barrel weighing about 18 tons this presented an interesting engineering challenge which Captain Woodrow quickly undertook in concert with Lt. Cdr. Higgins and Lt. Cdr. Scott, chief engineer of the Wilmington. The barrel had to be quickly and adequately secured where it rested after the explosion. Once the Wilmington made Subic Bay it would be removed and replaced. Turrets one and two were fixed in train directly forward to prevent the barrel from shifting. No one wanted to contemplate the damage that would be done by an 18 ton barrel almost 37 feet in length breaking loose on the main deck. Captain Woodrow saw Harnlee approach and he motioned for him to join the three officers. Well, Harnlee, have you made a decision about joining the wardroom? he asked, referring to the fact that as a warrant officer Harnlee would eat, sleep and work with officers. I think so, Sir, replied Harnlee, thinking about his near fight with Rudel the day before. After going to the gun shack as ordered by Rudel he had started pulling the PMS cards for the forward 5 mount. These cards gave detailed instructions on required and recommended maintenance procedures to be done on the equipment for which weapons department was responsible. In theory PMS was an excellent system for maintenance in practice too much depended upon the cooperation of the men and their honesty in actually doing the work before it was recorded as done. A motivated division on the Wilmington such as first division kept up with their PMS paperwork and honestly did the work. In departments like weapons that had low morale and were driven by tyrants such as Rudel more times than not they gundecked the work which meant record it as done when it really wasnt. Harnlee pulled the PMS card for the firing mechanism of the left gun in the forward 5 mount. It was an important piece of equipment because the 5 38 calibre gun could be fired electrically or mechanically by percussion. Electrical firing was preferred because it involved no moving parts and was
faster. The card called for disassembling the firing mechanism and checking to insure that the firing lead was connected to the after end of the firing pin. This ensured that electrical current flowed between the firing pin and the primer which in turn ignited the powder which sent the projectile on its way. During gun actions against targets while the Wilmington was on the gun line the left gun had misfired a number of times leading Harnlee to suspect that the electrical circuit was being interrupted. He wanted to pull the firing mechanism to see if indeed this was the problem. Yet the PMS card indicated that this procedure had already been done. Harnlee decided to check to see if indeed it had been done. Harnlee found Chief Rudel back at the gun shack reading one of the latters endless supply of skin mags. Chief, we have a problem with the firing circuit on the forward 5, Harnlee stated. So? Rudel answered not looking up from his mag. And the PMS for the circuit has been gundecked, Harnlee replied. That caught Rudels attention as he knew it would. Thats a serious accusation to make, asshole! Rudel exclaimed rising from the stool he was sitting on. What proof have you? he asked. I pulled the firing circuit PMS card and saw that it was signed off by Jonesy, Harnlee matter-of-factly replied referring to Gunners Mate Third-Class Jones. Since the left gun had been misfiring I figured it had to be the firing circuit. When I checked the circuit the lead was almost burned through and the complete PMS procedure had not been finished. So that slacker Jones obviously didnt do his job, Rudel stated, an ominous softening of his voice coming on that warned Harnlee of imminent danger. Thats what I thought so I asked him if he did the job and he said he hadnt done any PMS for over a month replied Harnlee. What exactly are you saying here? Rudel demanded moving his face to within an inch of Harnlees nose.
Simply that it was gundecked and someone forged Jonesys initials on the PMS card, said Harnlee. I dont like what you are sayin, boy, Rudel said continuing, and just what do you intend to do about it? Harnlee debated whether to push the issue with Rudel. Life could become awfully hard with Rudel as an enemy. Life was hard enough on board the Wilmington dealing with Rudels disdain and verbal abuse. An outright confrontation would result in only one of them as the winner and it didnt take much imagination to guess who that would be. Additionally, Lt. (jg) Winslow, Harnlees division officer, was thoroughly intimidated by Rudel and rarely ventured into the work spaces for which he was responsible. Yet Harnlee knew that men like Rudel placed shipmates in danger and compromised the good work that men like Captain Woodrow were trying to accomplish in the navy. It also occurred to Harnlee that Rudel had as yet not heard about the offer to make Harnlee a warrant officer. I think Mr. Higgins should be made aware of this problem, Harnlee stated bracing himself for Rudels response which was both quick and direct. You do, huh? screamed Rudel. Let me tell you somethin, asshole. You got nothin here but some confused paperwork that I will straightin out by morninthen where will you be? Harnlee knew that Rudel never signed PMS cards himself but always had his men sign or signed their initials himself. This way he could always cite confused paperwork or bully his men into silence. I think I can make it stick especially with the backing of some of the men, Harnlee calmly responded. Think so you half-educated little puke? Rudel again screamed while jabbing his forefinger into Harnlees chest. Do it! Well see who has the balls to go the distance and when Im through with you Im gonna tear your fuckin head off and shit into the hole!.. Harnlee, I dont want you to think you want this promotion you have to know you want it if you are to
succeed, Captain Woodrow stated looking directly into Harnlees eyes. Leadership is a quality in a man which enables him to motivate men to achievement by virtue of their willingness to follow through on a given mission or task. By accepting a commission you undertake a serious responsibility to provide leadership as an officer and a gentleman. By providing leadership you will motivate your men to follow you to hell and back if necessary. It is not an easy responsibility, nor one to be taken lightly. Commanders Higgins and Scott and I feel you have many of those qualities already. The decision, however, must be yours. I realize that, Captain, and I want to become a warrant officer, Harnlee replied watching as Captain Woodrow and Lt. Cdr. Higgins smiled to each other. Sweepers, sweepers, man your brooms. Give the ship a clean sweep down fore and aft. Sweep down all lower decks, ladder wells and passageways. Now, sweepers. Harnlee looked up from the book he was reading when the word was passed over the 1MC for sweepers. He had just begun reading Samuel Eliot Morisons Admiral of the Ocean Sea and was deeply engrossed in it. He had a small collection of books on naval history in his locker which he read while on deployment at sea. Before starting Morisons biography of Christopher Columbus he had finished Nicholas Monsarrats The Cruel Sea. As a serious reader Harnlee was set apart from the average sailor. Indeed, men such as Rudel were suspicious of shipmates with any intellectual inclinations. The most reading the average sailor did was rate training manuals necessary for promotion or perhaps correspondence courses for similar reasons. Men like Rudel were more interested in photos than words Harnlee was to report to the ships office at 0900 to begin the paperwork for his promotion to warrant officer. He was concerned because Rudel as his chief and Lt. (jg) Winslow as his division officer would have to sign off on his paperwork. The blow up with Rudel would come back to haunt him while Winslow would surely follow Rudels lead. Harnlee made up
his mind to talk this situation over with Mac as soon as possible. Chief Rudel leaned against the powder canisters stored deep in the powder magazine of turret three. This space sat almost directly on top of the Wilmingtons keel and smelled strongly of the ether used to preserve the powder. It was about as isolated a space as was possible to find on the ship and it suited his purposes exactly as he stared across at the 18-year old seaman who was with him to learn how to take the daily magazine temperatures. I suppose even you have heard about the captain promoting Harnlee to warrant? Rudel exclaimed. Yea, there was talk bout it last night while I was mess cookin, replied Seaman Perkowitz. Does that mean hell be an officer? An officer, you dumb shit, screamed Rudel, and yes, thats exactly what the fuck it means! Ive spent 18 years in this goddamned navy just to make chief and this peckerhead makes warrant in less than seven. Theres no justice in this damn world! Guess not, chief, Perkowitz replied while trying to figure out how to read the thermometer. Rudel looked at him and just slowly shook his head. You are one dumb fuckin pollock, Perkowitz. How many times have I showed you how to read a thermometer? Anyway, it doesnt matter about what the ring-knocker up on the bridge wants Harnlee has to go through me and that puke division officer Winslow to get signed off and my dick will grow ten more inches before Ill sign off Rudel said in a quick, quivering voice as he looked differently at Perkowitz The Wilmington approached Subic Bay early in the morning as the sun appeared as a blazing, red orb low on the horizon ahead of the ship. The weather was calm with little or no waves as the ocean took on a calm, greasy appearance that some among the crew believed due to conditions in Subic Bay. It was reputed to be able to smell Subic Bay twenty miles to sea if the wind was right. Established in 1901 in the aftermath of the Spanish-American War, the naval base had served the
U.S. Asiatic Fleet since then with the exception of the occupation by Japan from January 1942 to January 1945 when it was retaken by U.S. forces. The bay, about seven miles long with a mouth divided by Small Grande Island, was home to a flourishing U.S. naval base. The Wilmington slowed to allow the pilot boat to approach on the port side. The transfer of the pilot would be easy today as there was little or no sea running. Unlike the merchant marine, pilots relieved the commanding officer of responsibility only in special circumstances such as traversing the Panama Canal or entering a dry dock. Captain Winslow had the conn as the pilot boat maneuvered away from the Wilmington, Mr. Higgins, pass the word to make all preparations for entering port. The Wilmington will anchor at 0900. Aye, Sir, Higgins replied as he was the OOD this morning. We have three things to do immediately, Lt. Barrell. First, ascertain the time for quarters for entering port from the XO, check the smartness of the ship, and get info on boating from the XO and pass it on to the First Lieutenant, got it? As JOOD Lt. Barrell was learning to stand underway bridge watches. His learning this was unusual since he was both black and the ships dental officer. Unusual or not, on the Wilmington Captain Woodrow encouraged initiative and cross-training. Barrell had approached him with this idea and he now found himself on the bridge as JOOD. Aye, Sir, Barrell replied to Higgins. Pass the word for all hands to shift into the uniform of the day, ordered Higgins. Aye Aye, Sir, replied the bosun mate of the watch. Mac and Harnlee were standing on the focsle talking while the anchor detail formed around them. Harnlee was fascinated by the details of deck seamanship and envied Macs extensive knowledge and apparent ease with which he performed his bosuns duties. Doin this anchor shit in whites makes no sense, man, Mac stated matter-of-factly to Harnlee. Ive ruined more uniforms than I can remember.
The point is that you arent supposed to be doing, Mac your detail should be doing the work, Harnlee replied, well knowing that Mac was right all the same. And I spose theyre working in their skivvies? Mac pointed out. Anyway, I want to run something by you Harnlee began to say but was interrupted by the order over the 1MC to set the special sea and anchor detail. Not now, man, Mac quickly said then added, Ignore the chain and youll feel the pain Ill catch you later! All hands to quarters for entering port. Now assemble on the quarterdeck the guard mail petty officer, mail clerk and shore patrol officer. Station the quarterdeck watch. Since Harnlee had the first quarterdeck petty officer watch he moved aft to be in position on time. The Wilmington slowed quickly as Captain Woodrow conned her to a popint just before where she was to anchor. Once there both bow anchors were let go in a tremendous rush of chain that assaulted the ears of the anchor detail. Word was passed that the OOD was shifting his watch to the quarterdeck while the First Lieutenant ordered boat booms and the accommodation ladder rigged. Harnlee busied himself with the seemingly thousand-and- one details to be logged in during the first quarterdeck watch at anchor. Fortunately, Lt. Cdr. Higgins was OOD and he let Harnlee handle much of the detail and taught him much more. Now that you have made your decision to become a warrant officer, Harnlee, the captain wants me to start teaching you, Higgins stated as he reviewed the orders for the day. Aye, aye, Sir Harnlee replied, feeling nervous even though he had stood these watches before. As OOD while at anchor there are a number of things you must know, Higgins continued, so we might as well begin your training now. The command duty officer (CDO) is Lt. Cdr. Scott. He has primary responsibility for the safety and security of the ship in the absence of the captain and executive officer. As OOD I make an entry in the quarterdeck log noting things such as our anchorage bearings, depth of water, position
of the ship, and other ships present and their locations. You, as petty officer of the watch, are responsible for the messenger- of-the-watch, sound and security patrol, and the master-at- arms. Since you have stood this watch before this should be old hat to you, right? Higgins asked. Right, Sir, Harnlee replied, thinking how excited he was at actually beginning his training for warrant officer. He also debated to himself whether or not to discuss the problem about Rudel with Higgins. He decided not to until he had a chance to talk with Mac. For some reason Mac had a way of making things crystal-clear. Mac was supervising the rigging of the accommodation ladder over the starboard side of the Wilmington when Senior Chief Bosuns Mate Bennett walked up to him. Almost finished rigging the ladder, Mac? Bennett asked while carefully standing out of the mens way while they worked. Almost, Senior Chief, Mac replied while keeping a sharp eye on the work. To have the ladder give way and go over the side to side to the bottom of Subic Bay would ruin the day for first division, not to mention place Mac in deep shit. I want to talk to you privately. Meet me in the chain locker in thirty minutes, Bennett said as he turned to walk away. Will do, Senior Chief, Mac replied, wondering what this was about. He could also not get out of his mind the fact that Harnlee tried to talk to him before the ship anchored. Knowing Harnlee as he did he knew that it was going to be a serious talk. Senior Chief Bennett was a man who commanded Macs unqualified respect. With twenty-one years in the navy Bennett had served in many ships, done a tour as a recruiter in New York City, trained recruits at Great Lakes Naval Training Center, and was a qualified underway watch JOOD. He had taught Mac many things during their service together on the Wilmington and Mac trusted him completely which made Mac all the more concerned about the private talk.
Whats up, Senior Chief? Mac asked as he closed the hatch to the chain locker behind him. The space smelled of grease and paint while being dimly lit by the few lights available. I want to know whats going on between Rudel and GMG1 Harnlee? Bennett asked, Rudels makin noises all over the CPO lounge about blockin Harnlees promotion to warrant. I figure you two are tight so you would know and enlighten me. Senior Chief, you got me by the short hairs, replied Mac. I mean, I know theres bad blood between Rudel and Harnlee but thats the same for anyone who works for him. I am well aware of Chief Rudels shortcomings in the leadership department but this is different. He is out to do some serious damage to Harnlee and guys like Rudel can be dangerous, stated Bennett matter-of-factly. Mac began to think that Harnlees attempt to talk to him might be related to this conversation with Bennett. He tried to think quickly about possible reasons why Rudel would act this way other than his natural tendency to act like a petty tyrant and an asshole to boot. I dont know, Senior Chief, Mac replied. But if I can talk to Harnlee Ill find out damn quick and let you know ASAP. You do that, Mac, Bennett said adding quickly, I for one am not going to let Rudel get away with this and Im sure neither will Captain Woodrow. Harnlee was relieved by the next watch and was heading for his bunk to change when Mac caught up with him. We gotta talk, Mac said quickly, Get outta your whites and meet me in after steering. After steering was the station directly aft over the Wilmingtons twin rudders. It was used as an alternative steering station and was manned when underway. Both Harnlee and Mac had stood after steering watches and knew they could talk there without being interrupted. The massive steering engine for the rudders took up most of the space in the compartment. Just inside the hatch were located a wheel,
gyrocompass and compass repeater. While standing after steering watches one sat facing aft for hours at a time being essentially on-call in case of a steering malfunction on the bridge. Harnlee remembered his first after steering watch on his first ship as a newly reported-on-board seamen apprentice. He had been given no instruction or training other than being told how to engage the wheel to the steering engine and simply to match his pointer with that of the bridge pointer on the compass repeater. It was the midwatch from midnight to 4:00AM and the alarm, much to Harnlees consternation, went off at 3:40AM. Remembering never feeling so alone in his whole life, Harnlee engaged the wheel and tried to follow the bridge pointer. Instead of steering much like a car, the ship proceeded to careen as much as 30 degrees left and right of its base course as he vainly tried to keep his pointer aligned with that of the bridge. On top of this the bridge talker kept relaying the OODs frantic inquiries over the sound-powered telephone demanding to know who the hell was in after steering and if said person was capable of hearing thunder and seeing lightning! After carving a somewhat erratic course across miles of ocean the bridge finally, much to Harnlees relief, ended the drill and took back control of the rudders. As a result of this exercise the shit hit the fan when the captain found out that Harnlee had been standing this watch without training. Harnlee thereafter stood a bridge helm watch every day for two weeks after which he could steer with the best helmsman. Harnlee was quickly jolted from reminiscing by Mac opening the water-tight hatch leading to the compartment. After closing the hatch Mac turned to Harnlee saying Whats goin on tween you and Rudel? Hes makin noises bout blockin your promotion to warrant. So he knows, Harnlee replied. Damn straight. And a lot of other people are getting involved, too, Mac said.
We had another run-in. I found out, and more importantly, can prove he is gundecking PMS, Harnlee stated calmly. I brought it to him but didnt make any accusations. He asked me what I intended to do so I told him I was going to Mr. Higgins. Jesus H. Fuckin Christ, exclaimed Mac. Whyd you do that? You need his sign-off, and dont forget Lt. Winslows pen, too! I know, but Im tired of getting jerked around by him. The whole department is demoralized Winslow is afraid of him somebody has to make a stand and end this, Harnlee said, looking at Mac with an intensity that indicated his determination. Have you talked to anyone else? Mac asked. I was going to talk to Mr. Higgins this morning while on watch but I thought I would wait until you and I talked, Harnlee replied. At least theres still some sense left in that noggin of yours. You got friends in high places. Senior Chief Bennett talked to me and wants to know whats tween you two. Hes got no time for Rudel and neither does the ole man! Mac exclaimed while smiling. Sowhat do you think I should do next? Harnlee asked his good friend. You leave that to the man, here, Mac stated turning to leave the compartment. You lie low for the time being. No time was lost in arranging for the removal of the stricken gun barrel on turret two. The Wilmington nested alongside the USS Penobscot, a destroyer tender assigned to service destroyers returning from the gun line off Vietnam. The 30-ton capacity cranes amidships would easily handle the gun barrel. The problem was not the actual replacement of the barrel but how to find a barrel outside of the continental United States. Captain Woodrow was on the focsle with Captain James, the Subic Bay shipyard commanding officer, discussing options for the Wilmington.
No barrels outside of Conus, John? Captain Woodrow asked his good friend and naval academy classmate. Not a one, Ed, replied James. There are barrels on the cruisers in the mothball fleet in Philadelphia. I contacted the CO of the shipyard there and he said a minimum of six weeks to get a barrel out here. I want to get back on the gun line ASAP, John. You know there are only four all-gun heavy cruisers left in the fleet and were needed every day! Captain Woodrow replied. Tell me about it Seventh-Fleet HQ has already alerted me to the desirability hell the necessity of getting the Wilmington back to sea, Captain James said, knowing his good friend was desperate for a solution. Work began the following day on removing the damaged gun barrel. The crane on the destroyer tender made short work of lifting it clear of the Wilmington. Captains Woodrow and James were standing on the focsle of the tender watching. I have an idea, Ed. Captain James said matter-of-factly. It might solve your problem. Im all ears, John lets hear it, Captain Woodrow replied while keeping a keen eye on the work being done on his ship. We could remove the center gun and plate over the turret face leaving two guns in that turret, Captain James said. That would get you back on the gun line in a week to ten days. Meanwhile I could have the new barrel shipped out and installed during your next rotation. I was thinking the same thing, John, although it would look like hell and reduce my main battery. We might have problems with stabilization of the turret, too. he replied. No argument on any of those points. The only other alternative is to fix the turret in train and not use it at all but Im sure thats not a viable solution from your point-of-view, Captain James replied with a huge grin. Damn straight! Better to lose a gun than a whole turret. I would think a four-stripe yardbird like you would know better than to suggest such a thing, Captain Woodrow replied with a smile.
Captain James laughed and looked at his good friend. Then I have my answer. Well start work tonight. Ill put two shifts on it to get you outta my hair and my good shipyard. You guys with salt water in your veins arent happy unless youre steaming in harms way! Thanks, John. I owe you one for this, Captain Woodrow replied while walking away. Lt. Winslow entered the gun shack to find Chief Rudel working on PMS cards. Of the maintaining of guns there is no end, right chief? he said trying to begin the conversation with some humor. And the making of dickhead lieutenants there is no end, thought Rudel before he acknowledged Winslows appearance with a tired If you say so, sir. I do chief, truly I do, replied Winslow. He was trying to summon the courage to broach the subject of Harnlees promotion to warrant. He knew that it was a sore subject with Rudel and that the latter had been making injudicious statements about Harnlee, the promotion and Captain Woodrow. As Rudels superior officer Winslow should have ended such behavior when it began but, as he admitted to himself in his more honest moments, he was thoroughly intimidated by Rudel. Of course, Rudel sensed this almost immediately and took advantage of it. As an Officer Candidate School graduate Winslow was on or near the bottom of the officer training pecking order. First came naval academy graduates like Captain Woodrow with the navys imprimatur firmly bestowed upon them as graduates of the school on the Servern. Next came Naval Reserve Officer Training Corps graduates. While these officers did not enjoy the panache usually associated with academy graduates they provided a sizable number of competent officers from colleges and universities around the country. Lastly came OCS graduates college graduates sent to a sixteen-week crash course designed to give then what an academy or ROTC grad received over a four-year period. Lt. Winslow, with his honors English degree from Swarthmore College, somehow managed to survive the rigors
of marine OCS drill sergeants only to find himself as a turret officer on the Wilmington in charge of one of the three main turrets. Chief Rudel summed up his value one day by saying in exasperation that Winslow was as useful as tits on a bull, which Winslow appreciated for its literary value but not necessarily as a measure of his manhood. I have the paperwork for Harnlees promotion to warrant, chief, Winslow stated matter-of-factly while awaiting the blast of invective that would pour from Rudels lips as freely as coffee from the gun shack coffeepot. So. Rudel replied without looking up from his PMS cards. The missing sir at the end of Rudels reply summed up his total disdain for the man standing before him. Winslow made the mistake of using this opportunity to try to reassert that which had long ago gone over the side. You will address me as sir when speaking to me, Chief Rudel, Winslow stated with as much conviction as he could muster. Rudel slowly placed his pen and PMS cards on the counter and turned to face Winslow. Bringing his face to within an inch of Winslows he slowly smiled and spoke in a low, menacing tone. You are nothing but some over-educated pussy who walks around reading poetry while not knowing your ass from your elbow about this division, Sir! Rudel replied emphasizing the sir at the end of the sentence. Ive been backstopping your worthless ass since you first stepped aboard this ship and Im not about to address you otherwise in private, Rudel continued. AS for that paperwork, you can shove it where the sun dont shine as far as Im concerned. Harnlees not makin warrant on this ship! Rudel said standing with his hands on his hips in utter contempt of the officer standing before him. Winslow felt uncontrollable anger within himself after being dressed down by Rudel. For a moment he considered a physical resolution to this incident but checked himself. Striking an enlisted man would land him in a courts-martial with a dishonorable discharge. He simply turned to leave the