BOB and BARBARA HASTINGS of MAINE

NAVY DAYS REMEMBERED...GREAT TIMES

2012-01-27T22:18:00.002-05:00

"I Was a Sailor Once"I recall enjoying standing at sunrise on the wing of
The ship's bridge, salt ocean spray upon my face,
Feeling the cold clean ocean winds whipping in, from
The four compass quarters of the globe. The engine
Vibration beneath my feet on a destroyer like a
Living thing, and I knew the great power of her
Engines drove her through swiftly on the high sea.I enjoyed waking up to the sounds of Navy - the
Piercing trill of the boatswains pipe, the quarter
Deck syncopated clangor of the ship's bell, the harsh
Squawk of the 1MC, and strong language and loud
Laughter of sailors at work.I enjoyed Navy vessels -- Navops of destroyers
Nervous darting, plodding fleet auxiliaries and
Amphibs, sleek submarines and the steady solid center
Of aircraft carriers maneuvering at sea.I enjoyed hearing proud names of Navy ships a reminder
Of historical times: Midway, Lexington, Saratoga,
Coral Sea, Antietam, Valley Forge - - memorials of
Great battles won and tribulations overcome.I enjoyed the lean angular names of Navy "tin-cans"
And escorts: Barney, Dahlgren, Mullinix, McCloy,
Damato, Parks, Mills - - reminders and mementos of
Heroes who went to war before us. And the others
Named for our cities - - Providence, San Diego, Los
Angeles, St. Paul, and Chicago - -their names
Familiar across our nation.I enjoyed the music tempo of a Navy band blaring
Through the topside speakers as we pulled away from
The dock or coming home from a cruise, and after
Refueling or replenishing out at sea. At these times I
Also looked forward for the familiar "Mail Call" which
Was sure to come.I enjoyed liberty call at a foreign port: the spicy
Scent of people a reminder of their food and the rich
Soil of where it was grown and to see their
Environment and habits which are far different than
Ours.I even looked forward to the never ending paperwork
And all hands working parties as my ship filled
Herself with the multitude of supplies, both mundane
And to cut ties to the land and carry out her mission
Anywhere on the globe where there was water to set her
Afloat.I enjoyed my shipmates and it made no difference if
They were enlisted or officers because to me they're
Just sailors and shipmates too. They came together from
All parts of our land, farms of the Midwest, small
Towns of west coast and New England too, from cities
Across the United States and some from foreign
Countries too, 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 enjoyed the surge of adventure deep in my heart,
When the word was passed: "Now set 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 whose long wait was near its end at
Pier sideI enjoyed the prevailing companionship of robust Navy
Laughter, the hard work and danger too; at times the
Rough going; the parting from loved ones was painful
Too, but ever present in our minds was "Anchors
Aweigh" and the strong salutation of "all for one and
One for all" are indicative of the philosophy of the
Sea.I enjoyed the serenity of the shipboard life and sea
After a day of hard ship's work, as flying fish
Flitted across the wave tops and sunset gave way to
Night.I enjoyed the feel of the rolling deck of a Navy ship
In darkness to see the night shadows of the horizon
Up and down movement, 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. Most of all I enjoyed the drifting off
To sleep lulled by the myriad noises large and small
That told me that my ship was alive and well, and that
My shipmates on watch would keep me and my ship safe.I enjoyed quiet but serious mid-watches with the aroma
Of fresh strong coffee for the incoming watch injection
Of the fuel for a wake up-- the lifeblood of the Navy
Permeating everywhere. Take your position on the
Hectic watches when the exacting minuet of haze-gray
Shapes racing at flank speed kept all hands on a razor
Edge of alertness.I enjoyed 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, watchful, and alert.I enjoyed the sight of space-age equipment manned by
young men and women clad in dungarees and
sound-powered phones that their grandfathers could
still recognize. Again, not a playful matter and no
shortcuts. Know what you are doing and know why its
done the way its done.I enjoyed Navy traditions and the men and women who
made them. I enjoyed the proud names of Navy heroes:
Halsey, Nimitz, Perry, Farragut, John Paul Jones and
Areleigh Burke too. Yes, a strong Navy heritage to
follow.I enjoyed what a sailor found in the Navy:
comrades-in-arms, reverence to God, pride in yourself
and country, and mastery of the seaman's trade. It's
where adolescent turns to responsible adulthood.In years to come, a sailor remains a sailor, and
recalling when sailors come home from the sea, sailors
will remember and never forget the fondness and
respect of the ocean in all its moods - the
impossible shimmering mirror calm and the storm-tossed
green water surging over the bow. The memory will
immediately recall it's self with aroma of a faint
whiff of fuel oil or 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 or chief's quarters
and noises of the mess decks.When sailors make their last port of call then gone
ashore for good they will grow wistful about their
Navy days, when the seas are memories belonged to them
and new ports of call are never more. Those former
sailors keep looking evermore to the horizon wishing
for the call of the sea they once knew.They recall old memories at the sound of the bos'n
whistle or the music of Anchor Aweigh, they'll stand
taller and say, "I WAS A SAILOR ONCE." ---------
Writing by By VADM. Harold Koenig, U.S.N. Ret.and
submitted by Gene Peach - USS Floyd B. Parks DD884
Every so often I like to read the attachment....brings into focus a life time ago. Hope you enjoy and share the feeling...GO NAVY [Image][Image][Image]Go NAVY SEALS...They had a very good week!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY - OUR FATHER

2012-01-27T20:15:00.004-05:00

Our Father, Robert Murray Hastings, would be 98 years young on 27 January, b. 1914, d. 24 November 1974....Dad was a loving Husband, Father, and Grandfather to many in our Hastings Family....we know that he is in Heaven with our Mother, Peggy Hastings, nee McCarron, who is still trying to smooth out his beautiful rough edges.

He was our "Imperfect, Perfect" Father, who we love and miss this day.

Please feel free to resend to your family members, and offer a prayer of remembrance with love.

Loving Kids....Bob, Topsy, Tommy, Jimmy and Patty....

OUR HASTINGS FAMILY

2012-01-03T21:04:00.000-05:00

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FAMILY FOR US IS EVERYTHING...SHARE WITH CARE.

MY SEABAG - Fond Memories of my Navy Days

2011-11-26T12:11:00.000-05:00

MY SEABAG - Fond Memories of my Navy Days

My Seabag There was a time when everything you owned had to fit in your seabag. Remember those nasty rascals? Fully packed, one of the suckers weighed more than the poor devil hauling it. The damn things weighed a ton and some idiot with an off-center sense of humor sewed a carry handle on it to help you haul it. Hell, you could bolt a handle on a Greyhound bus, but it wouldn't make the damn thing portable. The Army, Marines, and Air Force got footlockers and WE got a big ole' canvas bag.
After you warped your spine jackassing the goofy thing through a bus or train station, sat on it waiting for connecting transportation and made folks mad because it was too damn big to fit in any overhead rack on any bus, train, and airplane ever made, the contents looked like hell. All your gear appeared to have come from bums who slept on park benches. Traveling with a seabag was something left over from the "Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum" sailing ship days. Sailors used to sleep in hammocks, so you stowed your issue in a big canvas bag and lashed your hammock to it, hoisted it on your shoulder and, in effect, moved your entire home from ship to ship.
I wouldn't say you traveled light because with ONE strap it was a one shoulder load that could torque your skeletal frame and bust your ankles. It was like hauling a dead Greenbay linebacker. They wasted a lot of time in boot camp telling you how to pack one of the suckers. There was an officially sanctioned method of organization that you forgot after ten minutes on the other side of the gate at Great Lakes' or San Diego's boot camp. You got rid of a lot of the 'issue' gear when you went to a SHIP. Did you EVER know a tin-can sailor who had a raincoat? A flat hat? One of those nut-hugger knit swimsuits? How bout those 'roll-your-own' neckerchiefs... The ones girls in a good Naval tailor shop would cut down & sew into a 'greasy snake' for two bucks?
Within six months, EVERY fleet sailor was down to ONE set of dress blues, port & starboard, undress blues, and whites, a couple of white hats, boots, shoes, a watch cap, assorted skivvies, a pea coat, and three sets of bleached-out dungarees. The rest of your original issue was either in the pea coat locker, lucky bag, or had been reduced to wipe-down rags in the paint locker. Underway ships were NOT ships that allowed vast accumulation of private gear. Hobos who lived in discarded refrigerator crates could amass greater loads of pack-rat crap than fleet sailors. The confines of a canvas-back rack, side locker, and a couple of bunk bags did NOT allow one to live a Donald Trump existence.
Space and the going pay scale combined to make us envy the lifestyle of a mud-hut Ethiopian. We were global equivalents of nomadic Mongols without ponies to haul our stuff. And after the rigid routine of boot camp, we learned the skill of random compression, known by mothers world-wide as 'cramming'. It is amazing what you can jam into a space no bigger than a bread-box if you pull a watch cap over a boot and push it with your foot.
Of course, it looks kinda weird when you pull it out, but they NEVER hold fashion shows at sea and wrinkles added character to a 'salty' appearance. There was a four-hundred mile gap between the images on recruiting posters and the ACTUAL appearance of sailors at sea. It was NOT without justifiable reason that we were called the tin-can Navy. We operated on the premise that if 'Cleanliness was next to Godliness' we must be next to the other end of that spectrum...
We looked like our clothing had been pressed with a waffle iron and packed by a bulldozer. But what in hell did they expect from a bunch of swabs that lived in a crew's hole of a 2100 Fletcher Class tin-can? After awhile you got used to it... You got used to everything you owned picking up and retaining that distinctive aroma... You got used to old ladies on busses taking a couple of wrinkled nose sniffs of your pea coat, then getting and finding another seat. Do they still issue seabags? Can you still make five bucks sitting up half the night drawing a ship's picture on the side of one of the damn things with black and white marking pens that drive the old master-at-arms into a 'rig for heart attack' frenzy? Make their faces red... The veins on their neck bulge out.... And yell, 'What in God's name is that all over your seabag???' 'Artwork, Chief... It's like the work of Michelangelo... MY ship... GREAT, huh?" "Looks like some damn comic book..." Here was a man with cobras tattooed on his arms... A skull with a dagger through one eye and a ribbon reading 'DEATH BEFORE SHORE DUTY' on his shoulder... Crossed anchors with 'Subic Bay-1945' on the other shoulder... An eagle on his chest and a full blown Chinese dragon peeking out between the cheeks of his butt... If ANYONE was an authority on stuff that looked like a comic book, it HAD to be the MAA...
Sometimes, I look at all the crap stacked in my garage and home, close my eyes and smile, remembering a time when EVERYTHING I owned could be crammed into a canvas bag.

US NAVY SEABAG and other great memories of our Navy Days

2011-11-26T11:29:00.003-05:00

I love to hear your old sea stories....and gladly trade a few with you. Speaking of a junior getting out of line....I was making CPO in August 1969, reported into ROSEY ROSE PR to the Operations Department, as an AK1 (waiting for16 Sept for advance to AKC)...The AK1 that I reported in with, started to give me subtle hints that he might be senior to me since he was old as dirt....I let it all go, and settled in to go to work...fortunately, my old Division Officer worked in another part of the department. On the 2nd day, he stopped by to say Welcome Aboard...the other AK1 knew him, and told me to get coffee for both, sure, I said...glad to wait on you.

The D.O. Laughed, and announced to the other AK1 to enjoy the coffee because after 16 Sept he would be doing the serving...you could hear a pin. After the D.O departed, the AK1 who was really a decent guy, apologized, and told me that I should have said something...I guess he was right, but sometimes you just gotta let it run the course.

We did become long time friends and he did make Chief, but only after I made CWO...and became his D.O. For a brief period before leaving for Supply Corps School at Athens, Ga. Speaking of seabags, I switched to the aviator's parachute bag to replace my seabag, it was bigger, wide mouthed, and had handles.....everyone in the unit started to order the parachute bags until the supply department got wise....best days of our lives.

Keep smiling SHIPMATE

US NAVY SEABAG and other great memories of our Navy Days

2011-11-26T11:23:00.004-05:00

US NAVY SEABAG MEMORY....by Ray Holloway, St. Mel HS Classmate of 1957

Bob: You have a good memory. But, I remember one day in New York City when the uniform of the day was "Dress Blue Bravo", meaning you had to wear your "Donald Duck Hat". A lot of sailors did not even have one and ran around trying to either buy one in the ship's store or borrow one so they could go on liberty. I had 2 because a shipmate of mine who was getting discharged opened his locker and told me to take anything in there I wanted. I took his flat hat, his blue jumper and his pea coat. I traded the jumper to another guy who had one too big for himself but one that fit me perfectly. The one I acquired was a little too small for me. He only agreed to the trade when I offered to take the jumper to a naval tailor in Norfolk and have the seaman stripes replaced by a YN3 stripe and add a hash mark! I also left one of the pea coats behind when I got discharged as I had no way to stuff anything else in my sea bag...

When my buddy and I arrived at Midway Airport, we were wearing our whites, I hoisted my 1-ton sea bag up on my shoulder only to have the armpit seams in my jumper give way...! Too many washes in seawater had weakened the seams! Fortunately, I had another jumper stored in the top of the sea bag and quickly changed into it. That bag did weigh a ton though. When I got home one of my teenage nephews quickly put a claim in for my pea coat and I gave my white hats to my other little nephews so they could play sailor... I still owed the Navy Reserves a year and a half but was offered a spot on the 9th Naval District Admiral's staff. They wanted a YN2 and assigned me to an "Early Response Team" put together in the event of a National emergency. If I accepted it I did not have to attend any more Reserve meetings or report back to my old unit on the lakefront. I also had priority orders to bump anyone on a plane to get to my unit in the event of an emergency. The orders assigned me to the Navy Recruiting Office on Rush Street where I would be recalling and re-outfitting recalled personnel. I was never called to report and after my time was up I had to return my orders and priority air privileges.

But, after I got my Admiral's orders, I also got a letter from my old unit ordering me to report to my old Reserve Unit at Randolph Street and the lakefront. My new orders said I did not have to report but I did anyway as a courtesy. I took my Admiral's orders with me and wore a pair of wash pants and a tee shirt. As I walked into the office there I was met by a 3rd Class PN with a has mark and an attitude. He started to tell me I would be working for him, etc. etc. He had never been on active duty and I started to laugh at him. He got mad and I told him he had better look at my rate before he started giving me orders! He then noticed I outranked him as a 2nd Class PO. I told him if I did report he would be working for me and I would see what I could do to get him busted back to a Seaman! About that time a Reserve LCDR entered the office wanting to know what all the commotion was all about? I showed him or orders from the Admiral of the Ninth Navel District and he looked confused. Again, about that time, a YN1 walked into the office. There was an active duty tin can anchored outside the Naval Armory which is where he came from. I pulled him aside, told him I was a YN2, and that I had just come off active duty and showed him my orders. He looked at the BUPERS Manual references and asked the PN3 to hand him the manual. The kid hesitated and I reached over his desk and pulled down the book as he obviously did not know which one was it! The 1st Class looked up the references and told the LCDR that he had no claim on me whatsoever. He also told him that I did not even have to come down and report to my old unit and that I was just being nice enough to come in. The LCDR then told the PN3 to put my file in the dead file section and thanked me for coming down. That YN1 and I just laughed as we left... That ended my career in the reserves.

Ray HOLLOWAY, YN2, USN -

WEDDING OF THE YEAR 2011

2011-11-24T22:10:00.002-05:00

We want to share a wonderful moment and treasured event in the life of Lisa Hastings and Weston Woodhouse of Phoenix, Arizona.They exchanged wedding vows on 12 November 2011 at Our Lady Of Perpetual Help in Scotsdale, AZ.Lisa Ann Hastings is the beautiful daughter of Patrick and Loretta Hastings, my great brother.Enjoy and share.Love from Maine, Bob and Barbara Ann Hastings

PARKVIEW PRAYER PARTNERS 2011

2011-11-16T14:35:00.002-05:00

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PARKVIEW PRAYER PARTNERS 2011

MARGE COLBY has been an active member of the Parkview Prayer Partners for the past five years or longer, she is a devout Catholic, active in her Church at St. Mary's in Bath, Maine.

FAMILY GENEALOGY BLOG

2011-10-26T20:11:00.001-04:00

http://familytreemaker.genealogy.com/users/c/r/o/Bear-K-Hastings/

Please enjoy our Hastings/Crooker Family genealogy blog...we want to share our family and photos with you.

GAGE FAMILY GATHERING 2011

2011-10-22T16:39:00.001-04:00

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GAGE FAMILY GATHERING 2011

2011-10-22T16:37:00.001-04:00

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HAPPY NEW YEAR 2011

2011-09-28T20:12:00.001-04:00

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NEW PATIO - SUMMER 2011

2011-09-10T16:42:00.001-04:00

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CLOSING THE FAMILY POOL FOREVER....

2011-07-28T20:58:00.001-04:00

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After more than 20 years of service and loving care, we bid good bye to our swimming pool - structural damage from tough Maine winters, caused damage beyond repair and cost. Our Grandkids grew up with the pool, our two little "hot dog" puppies, named Kibbles and Bits learned to swim with me, and the pool gave us so much family gathering and growing time together. I may be sentimental and take small things very serious, but then I am a big huggable Bear - we want to share the moment with our Family and Friends.Like Barbara Ann says..."There's always the garden hose" Thanks for BEARING.

SUMMERTIME IN MAINE 2011 - LAUGHS, LOBSTER AND WINE

2011-07-09T20:39:00.002-04:00

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2011-07-07T16:46:00.003-04:00

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7 JULY 2011 - I want to share this story with only my closest and dearest Friends...For many years, I have purposely maintained a short, tight haircut in the Navy...after, my retirement old habits die hard so I continued to shave my head...Sailors have more Fun. One of my best SHIPMATES, BMC BOB GARCIA is a Master at weaving canvas into nautical works of art...He sent me several hand made weaved toupees which I am demonstrating only for my best Friends...I really do have all my own hair kept safely in a locked box - Please, no comments are necessary...hard to believe that I once had long blonde hair. LOVE FROM MAINE...NAVYBEAR

THE CIRCUS COMES TO TOWN

2011-06-18T11:26:00.001-04:00

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17 JUNE 2011 - COME ENJOY THE RIDES, GOOD FUN AND GREAT FOOD.

SUMMERTIME in MAINE 2011

2011-06-09T09:05:00.001-04:00

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45th WEDDING ANNIVERSARY - 22 MAY 1966-2011

2011-05-24T08:10:00.003-04:00

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BARBARA ANN and I celebrated our 45th wedding anniversary with a 3 day stay at the Captain Lord Mansion in Kennebunkport, ME...The visit was delightful, charming rooms, and wonderful menu with table service. The walks downtown were very interesting, the people were friendly and the sea food delicious. We renewed our marriage vows at the St. Anthony Monastery at the Franciscan retreat. We want to share our happiest moments with our Family and Friends.

AT HOME IN WOOLWICH, MAINE

2011-05-17T10:19:00.002-04:00

ENJOY OUR HOME VISIT WITH US, CLICK ON THE SWIMMING POOL VIDEO...HAVE A GREAT TOUR AND COME VISIT WITH US IN MAINE.

BOB AND BARBARA ANN

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WEDDING BELLS RINGING

2011-05-11T21:44:00.000-04:00

CONGRATS to my beautiful cousin, Kathleen Evans who married the love of her life, Tony in a beautiful Hawaiian beach side wedding ceremony. Here is a wedding photo to share:

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY 2011

2011-03-19T20:18:00.000-04:00

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2011-02-27T21:26:00.002-05:00

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WELCOM TO OUR WORLD, CAITLIN....GOD'S GREATEST GIFT TO OUR FAMILY
CAITLIN NEBERIEZA is the beautiful daughter of JENNY and DAN, and the Grand daughter of the proud Grandparents, Patrick and Loretta Hastings.

OUR NAVY REMEMBERED - CPO STANDARDS

2011-02-15T19:52:00.003-05:00

DEDICATED TO OUR SON.... OUR NAVY SEAL

THOUGHTS ON OUR NAVY... A Way of Life

THE US NAVY HAS A VERY SPECIAL AND DISTINCT RATE ....titled CHIEF PETTY OFFICER. The unwritten CPO By-law is a great Chief shall raise a new Officer to become a good Division Officer...the Chief may never recall all the Officers he helped form, but be assured, the Officer never forgets the Chief...it's in the DNA. Mine was AKC GARY V. CORNWELL, USN PROUDLY RETIRED....Thanks, Gary...I hope I made you proud serving at SUPPLY DEPT, NAS BRUNSWICK and again together at the PRECOM UNIT BATH, it is with my great appreciation and respect, signed:
LT BEAR HASTINGS, SC, LDO USN ... PROUDLY RETIRED (FORMER CPO and CWO4 )

Our son, Master Chief Gunners Mate (SEAL) George A. Parkhill, IV, retired in 2006 on 30 years service willing attest to this statement. Often, I spoke highly of Chief Gary when our son was growing up.
========================================
CPO Standards Words We Live By in Our Navy....
Never forget this, a Chief can become an Officer, but an Officer can never become a Chief. We have our standards!
Recollections of a WHITE HAT.

"One thing we weren't aware of at the time, but became evident as life wore on, was that we learned true leadership from the finest examples any lad was ever given, Chief Petty Officers. They were crusty old bastards who had done it all and had been forged into men who had been time tested over more years than a lot of us had time on the planet. The ones I remember wore hydraulic-oil-stained hats with scratched and dinged-up insignia, faded shirts, some with a Bull Durham tag dangling out of their right-hand pocket or a pipe and tobacco reloads in a worn leather pouch in their hip pockets, and a Zippo that had been everywhere. Some of them came with tattoos on their forearms that would force them to keep their cuffs buttoned at a Methodist picnic.

Most of them were as tough as a boarding house steak. A quality required to survive the life they lived. They were, and always will be, a breed apart from all other residents of Mother Earth. They took eighteen year old idiots and hammered the stupid bastards into sailors.

You knew instinctively it had to be hell on earth to have been born a Chief's kid. God should have given all sons born to Chiefs a return option. A Chief didn't have to command respect. He got it because there was nothing else you could give them. They were God's designated hitters on earth.
We had Chiefs with fully loaded Submarine Combat Patrol Pins, and combat air crew wings in my day...hard-core bastards who remembered lost mates, and still cursed the cause of their loss...and they were expert at choosing descriptive adjectives and nouns, none of which their mothers would have endorsed.

At the rare times you saw a Chief topside in dress canvas, you saw rows of hard-earned, worn, and faded ribbons over his pocket. "Hey Chief, what's that one and that one?" "Oh hell, kid, I can't remember. There was a war on They gave them to us to keep track of the campaigns." "We didn't get a lot of news out where we were. To be honest, we just took their word for it. Hell son, you couldn't pronounce most of the names of the places we went. They're all depth charge survival geedunk." "Listen kid, ribbons don't make you a Sailor." We knew who the heroes were, and in the final analysis that's all that matters. Many nights, we sat in the after mess deck wrapping ourselves around cups of coffee and listening to their stories. They were light-hearted stories about warm beer shared with their running mates in corrugated metal sheds at resupply depots where the only furniture was a few packing crates and a couple of Coleman lamps. Standing in line at a Honolulu cathouse or spending three hours soaking in a tub in Freemantle, smoking cigars, and getting loaded. It was our history. And we dreamed of being just like them because they were our heroes. When they accepted you as their shipmate, it was the highest honor you would ever receive in your life. At least it was clearly that for me. They were not men given to the prerogatives of their position.
You would find them with their sleeves rolled up, shoulder-to-shoulder with you in a stores loading party. "Hey Chief, no need for you to be out here tossin' crates in the rain, we can get all this crap aboard." "Son, the term 'All hands' means all hands." "Yeah Chief, but you're no damn kid anymore, you old coot." "Horsefly, when I'm eighty-five parked in the stove up old bastards' home, I'll still be able to kick your worthless butt from here to fifty feet past the screw guards along with six of your closest friends." And he probably wasn't bullshitting.

They trained us. Not only us, but hundreds more just like us. If it wasn't for Chief Petty Officers, there wouldn't be any U.S. Navy. There wasn't any fairy godmother who lived in a hollow tree in the enchanted forest who could wave her magic wand and create a Chief Petty Officer.

They were born as hot-sacking seamen, and matured like good whiskey in steel hulls over many years. Nothing a nineteen year-old jay-bird could cook up was original to these old saltwater owls. They had seen E-3 jerks come and go for so many years, they could read you like a book. "Son, I know what you are thinking. Just one word of advice. DON'T. It won't be worth it."

"Aye, Chief."

Chiefs aren't the kind of guys you thank. Monkeys at the zoo don't spend a lot of time thanking the guy who makes them do tricks for peanuts.

Appreciation of what they did, and who they were, comes with long distance retrospect. No young lad takes time to recognize the worth of his leadership. That comes later when you have experienced poor leadership or let's say, when you have the maturity to recognize what leaders should be, you find that Chiefs are the standard by which you measure all others.
They had no Academy rings to get scratched up. They butchered the King's English. They had become educated at the other end of an anchor chain from Copenhagen to Singapore . They had given their entire lives to the U.S. Navy. In the progression of the nobility of employment, Chief Petty Officer heads the list. So, when we ultimately get our final duty station assignments and we get to wherever the big Chief of Naval Operations in the sky assigns us, if we are lucky, Marines will be guarding the streets. I don't know about that Marine propaganda bullshit, but there will be an old Chief in an oil-stained hat and a cigar stub clenched in his teeth standing at the brow to assign us our bunks and tell us where to stow our gear... and we will all be young again, and the damn coffee will float a rock.

Life fixes it so that by the time a stupid kid grows old enough and smart enough to recognize who he should have thanked along the way, he no longer can. If I could, I would thank my old Chiefs. If you only knew what you succeeded in pounding in this thick skull, you would be amazed. So, thanks you old casehardened, unsalvageable sons-of-bitches. Save me a rack in the berthing compartment."

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain.

Ending Note: When I joined our Navy in 1958, there were a few old Chiefs from World War II still on active duty, these were different breed from the so called "Tokyo Chiefs" because they had lost their war time rates, stayed with the Navy, and advanced to CPO in peace time...but they still had the war time discipline, rancor, and dislike for rules, officers, and shore duty....I loved the old Chiefs, and listened to every word they uttered...one Chief complimented me with a remark that I would someday make a great Chief, then I screwed it all up by accepting a commission in 1969 and becoming an Officer...How true words were spoken over 50 years ago. NAVYBEAR and thanks for listening Shipmates

I WAS A SAILOR ONCE UPON A TIME....

2011-01-22T22:46:00.002-05:00

The Navy, Remembered from a distance....

I liked the Navy. 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 - the ship beneath me feeling like a living thing as her engines drive her through the sea.

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, the harsh squawk of the 1MC, and the strong language and laughter of sailors at work. I liked Navy vessels - nervous darting destroyers, plodding fleet Auxiliaries, sleek submarines and steady solid carriers.

I liked the proud names of Navy ships: Midway, Lexington , Saratoga , Coral Sea - memorials of great battles won. I liked the lean angular names of Navy 'tin-cans': The Sullivans, Dahlgren, Mullinix, Cole, O'Hare, Frank E. Evans, McCaffery --- mementos of heroes who went before us. I liked as we pulled away from the oiler after refueling at sea. I liked the special names for the submarines: Pintado, Trutta, Sablefish, Gudgeon, Barbel, Skipjack, Nautilus, Queenfish, Bluefish, and the Blue and Gold Crews of our FBM fleet, with names like Teddy Roosevelt, Ethan Allen, Abe Lincoln and Patrick Henry.

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

I liked sailors, men and women from all parts of the land, farms of the Midwest, small towns of New England , from the 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 courage.

In a word, they are "shipmates." I liked 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 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 is ever present. I liked the serenity of the sea after a day of hard ship's work, a flying fish flit across the wave tops and sunset gives way to night.

I liked the feel of the Navy in darkness - the masthead lights, the red and green navigation lights and stern light, the pulsating phosphorescence of radar repeaters - they cut through the dusk. I liked drifting off to sleep lulled by the myriad noises large and small that tell me that my ship is alive and well, and that my shipmates on watch will keep me safe.

I liked quiet mid-watches with the aroma of strong
Coffee - the lifeblood of the Navy - permeating everywhere. And I liked hectic watches when the exacting minuet of haze-gray shapes racing at flank speed keeps 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 transforms herself in a few brief seconds from a peaceful workplace to a weapon of war - ready for anything.

And I liked the sight of space-age equipment manned by youngsters clad in dungarees and sound-powered phones that their grandfathers would still recognize.

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

A sailor can find much in the Navy:
a.. Comrades-in-arms,
b.. Pride in self and country,
c.. Mastery of the seaman's trade.
d.. 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 shimmering 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 wardroom and chief's quarters and mess decks. Gone ashore for good they will grow wistful about their Navy days when the seas belonged to them and a new port of call was ever over the horizon.

Remembering this, they will stand taller and say, "I WAS A SAILOR ONCE. I WAS PART OF THE US NAVY, AND THE NAVY WILL ALWAYS BE A PART OF ME."

HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART 1958

2010-12-29T20:07:00.002-05:00

Sailor Bob and Joan Marie Woods at Midway Airport in June, 1958...I was departing for Norman, OK to attend the Navy's Aviation Prep School for 8 weeks, then onto NAS JACKSONVILLE, for AK A School for 10 weeks. Joan Marie was my high school sweetheart, a wonderful young Lady, who would be married in June, 1964 a Saturday at Resurrection Church...I returned home from a tour of duty in Japan the same day that she and William Cunningham were married. God Bless and much happiness.

2010 THANKSGIVING DAY EVE

2010-11-25T20:22:00.000-05:00

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THE TIME IS NOW

2010-11-01T19:57:00.001-04:00

THE TIME IS NOW
If you are ever going to love me,
Love me now, while I can know
The sweet and tender feelings
Which from true affection flow.

Love me now, while I am living
Do not wait until I am gone
And then have it chiseled in marble
Sweet words on ice-cold stone.

If you have tenders thoughts of me,
Please tell me now, If you wait until
I am sleeping, Never to awaken,
Then there will be death between us
And I won't hear your words then.

So, if you love me, even a little bit,
Let me know it while I am living
So I can treasure your love, your words
And look into your eyes, and smile
When I say that I love you.....

The Author is ANYONE who has
Ever loved another person.

FALL HALLOWEEN 2010l

2010-10-12T12:15:00.001-04:00

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HALLOWEEN 2010

2010-10-10T17:27:00.002-04:00

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SMASHUP IN MAINE

2010-10-01T20:10:00.003-04:00

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WOOLWICH, MAINE - 29 SEPT 2010
These photos were taken at the Woolwich Fire Station were three autos were staged after a automobile accident involving the three cars, no one was killed, and the use of safety belts and air bags made the difference in lives saved. Wear your Seat Belts at all times while driving.

NEW CERAMIC TILES SET IN THE FAMILY ROOM

2010-09-25T01:24:00.000-04:00

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2010-06-26T14:52:00.000-04:00

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r home renovation, new media room...2010

LOBSTER AND SMILES

2010-06-13T21:34:00.000-04:00

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PET

2010-05-13T21:46:00.002-04:00

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We are getting a rare breed of dog ... Hope you like 'OTTO' and his smile is warm and engaging...I think he has Grannie's smile, and bit. ENJOY OTTO

DAR MAINE

2010-05-13T21:28:00.000-04:00

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2010-03-31T16:13:00.002-04:00

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NIGHT ON THE TOWN...Dinner at the Admiral's Steakhouse, Bath, Maine with noted naval artist Peter Hue of Washington, D.C. on 30 March 2010. Also, photos of our new Media Room home renovation completed 15 March 2010.
Enjoy and Share. Bob and Barbara Ann, Woolwich, ME

UNCLE HARRY GAGE and his daughter POLLY ANN

2010-01-23T17:09:00.003-05:00

The photo is of Harry William Gage and his daughter Polly Ann taken in February, 1969 at their home on Richfield Street, Dorchester, MA....photo was provided by Pauline Crooker.

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POLICE STORY

2009-09-26T07:43:00.005-04:00

'TRIBUTE TO A FINE COP'
This is my 2nd Cousin, CAPTAIN JOE MCMAHON, Chicago Police Department, proudly retired after many years of faithful, and dedicated service to the City of
Chicago...enjoy and the family honors this fine Police Officer.
BOB HASTINGS
LT, USN, PROUDLY RETIRED

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MEMORIAL SERVICE at BAYVIEW CEMETERY

2009-09-08T20:25:00.003-04:00

The Gage,Willey,Crooker,Lamphier Families united together to honor the beloved memory of their maternal Grandmother, SYBIL ANGIE THOMPSON, GAGE, ADDISON who died in 1945. The strength in our families has always been our women, they are the backbone of the clan, and united us all in Love, Laughter, and Life...
Enjoy and share with your family and friends.
Love from Maine
Bob and Barbara Ann Crooker Hastings
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BAYVIEW CEMETERY MEMORIAL SERVICE on 8 SEPT 2009

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THANKS FOR SHARING THE DAY....

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HERITAGE VILLIAGE in MAINE

2009-06-18T21:18:00.003-04:00

On 16 June 2009 - Barbara Ann and I hosted Peter Hsu, the noted naval Artist for a lobster dinner at the Lobster Shack in the new Heritage Village recently opened on US 1 north of the Montsweag Inn Restaurant. A great place to visit and host family and friends.
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CHAPMAN and CROOKER FAMILY COOK OUT

2009-06-07T19:10:00.002-04:00

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JUNE 7, 2009 - The Chapman and Crooker families held a family cookout hosted by Carolyn and Robert Chapman of Dresden, Maine...Robert Chapman is a 2nd Cousin to Barbara Ann, Helen, and Marilyn Crooker. Great Food and Conversation was shared by all.

CHICAGO VISIT in 2004 with Family

2009-05-14T21:35:00.001-04:00

I was able to visit my family in Chicago in 2004, little did we know that year we would lose Topsy and Tommy, my Sister and Brother to cancer...they are missed everyday by everyone...
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Chicago Visit - October 2004

BOB PARKHILL

2009-04-21T18:07:00.002-04:00

CONGRATS, BOB PARKHILL...Attending Paramedical EMT Training School...class photos 21 April 2009. Our Grandson is in training to be a FIREFIGHTER/EMT with San Diego Fire Department...You gotta love him.
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SEASONS

2009-03-21T13:49:00.002-04:00

SPRINGTIME 2009 - HAPPY EASTER from MAINE
We wanted to share the joy of SPRINGTIME in Maine with our family and friends...Maine awaits the arrival of flowers, robins, and grass. Love from Maine, BOB AND BARBARA ANN
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HOME RENOVATION

2009-02-21T18:53:00.005-05:00

During 6-27 February 2009, we had a kitchen, bathroom, bedroom and family laundry room renovated completely, this extensive remodeling upgraded our home with a new, modern kitchen service island, wine cabinet, and plenty of storeage for applicances, canned goods, and pots/pans. We love it...many thanks to Hufstader Construction for a job well done...many thanks Mike, Scott and Randy as well as Bath Electrical, Mike Crocker,Master Plumber and our favorite George Walter, the tile guy. A great team and highly recommended for any home renovation. Bob and Barbara Ann Hastings
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NEW BLOG

2009-02-01T17:59:00.001-05:00

http://community.webshots.com/user/navybear

This is a blog where you can view more family photos and get to know us better. Enjoy and share your personal comments.

Warm Regards from Maine

BEAR and BARBARA ANN HASTINGS
WOOLWICH, MAINE, USA

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD

2009-01-26T12:21:00.003-05:00

TODAY, we celebrate our Father's 95th HAPPY BIRTHDY on 26 January 2009...

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he was born ROBERT MURRAY HASTINGS, in Regina,Canada, and married Margaret J. McCarron in September, 1937. He was a great Dad, loving, caring, and sharing..We miss him very much, and continue to share in his values of love, life and laughter all our days. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD...The Kids, Bobby, Topsy, Tommy, Jimmy and Patty.
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY BARBARA ANN

2009-01-16T08:33:00.002-05:00

GOOD MORNING, DARLING...HAPPY BIRTHDAY ON 25 JANUARY 2009.
Keep smiling, and you look as beautiful today as you did 43 years ago, the first time our eyes met, and our lips touched...seems like only yesterday, and by God it was when we did it all over again.
Love Always
Bob
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THE MARCO FAMILY 2008

2009-01-05T20:27:00.002-05:00

HELLO TO THE MARCO FAMILY - Wishing you all great memories of days gone bye, and hope you all had a wonderful, and spiritual Christmas and Blessed New Year in 2009.

We love you all dearly and thought this would be the best Christmas Card ever to you....save and share with family and friends.

LOVE ALWAYS FROM MAINE

UNCLE BOB and AUNT BARBARA ANN HASTINGS
WOOLWICH, MAINE, USA
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FAMILY PHOTOS of DAYS GONE BYE

2008-12-26T12:55:00.001-05:00

MERRY CHRISTMAS TOPSY...Love never ends while we are remembered.
These photos were provided by Jamie Sanford, her loving Grand Daughter.
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ST. MEL 50th REUNION - MERRY CHRISTMAS 2008

2008-12-19T20:22:00.004-05:00

MERRY CHRISTMAS 2008 to all the ST. MEL CLASS OF 1957 - The 50th Class Reunion held in Chicago June 1-3 2007 was a wonderful and warming experience for all of us. The memory of our departed classmates will remain with us until the last classmate says fairwell. Thanks Guys for making a wonderul and lasting gift to all of us...now, onto the 60th Reunion.
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CHRISTMAS GREETINGS

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FAMILY PHOTOS of DAYS GONE BYE

2008-12-15T21:01:00.007-05:00

During my Chicago visit in June 2007, I was able to meet with Jim and Aid Quinn with their Children, Irene and Jimmy...also, we met with Irene's kids and Jim's daughter. Pat and Loretta hosted the wonderful gathering with great food, and wonderful smiles.
Also, I visited with Bob and Melissa Sanford, and their family and friends at a home cookout. I have wonderful memories of good times.
Love from Maine BOB HASTINGS

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BOB and MELISSA SANFORD - Home COOKOUT PHOTOS

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FAMILY PHOTOS - Loretta and Pat Hastings Home Gathering

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GROWING OLD TOGETHER

2008-12-08T20:38:00.002-05:00

HI FOLKS....This clip is honoring our generation of senior citizens, many will have a 70th or 69th birthday this year so keep up the good work of staying in shape....We want to see you all at the 60th Class of 1957 Reunion in Chicago.
BOB and BARBARA ANN HASTINGS

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NAVY SEAL MEMORIAL

2008-12-07T23:36:00.004-05:00

This clip is dedicated to the UNITED STATES NAVY and our Navy Seal; also, featured is photos of my lovely wife, Barbara Ann and she is the Mother of a Navy Seal, our Son, GMGC George A. Parkhill, IV, USN - Proudly retired in June, 2004. You can refer to my Navy website at "TOGETHER WE SERVED.com" at:
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http://navy.togetherweserved.com/usn/servlet/tws.webapp.WebApp?cmd=Login
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SALUTE TO UNITED STATES NAVY AND OUR NAVY SEAL

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OUR TOPSY - A MEMORIAL

2008-11-21T00:10:00.002-05:00

Our Sister, Roberta Mae "Topsy" Sanford, nee Hastings was the Queen of our family, the only girl growing up with four brothers, Bob, Jim, Tom and Patty. We have so many wonderful memories of Topsy, too many to place in this Memorial, so we will save for another blog entry...this entry is to recall her in a day of Remembrance and Love.

You are never gone if still remembered...Love You Topsy

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FACEBOOK BLOG

2008-11-16T12:55:00.001-05:00

THE MCCARRON CLAN

2008-11-14T18:57:00.007-05:00

Our 1st Cousin, Patrick McCarron and his lovely wife Cathy have two sons, Brian and Sean McCarron. They are happily married, with children...Pat and Cathy are lovely and proud Grandparents. Please sit back, and enjoy the McCarron Family Album.

Patrick McCarron is the eldest son of Joseph William McCarron and Louise Willey..his Father is a brother to my Mother, Margaret Peggy McCarron Hastings of Chicago, IL.
June 2008

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ST. MEL 50th REUNION - BUS TOUR

2008-11-12T01:58:00.010-05:00

These are photos and a video of the Saint Mel High School, Class of 1957 at their 50th Class Reunion. A great time was had by all. Enjoy and share this website with other classmates.

See you all at our 60th Class Reunion - I am having a few body parts updated, some changed, and other parts replaced so I will be like a new man.

Warm Regards from Maine
BOB HASTINGS

Class 50th Reunion

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CHICAGO BUS TOUR

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CLASS SPIRIT - Same photos, better displays

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CHRISTMAS 2006 - Grandkids visit to Maine

2008-11-11T23:46:00.001-05:00

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DOROTHY and FRANK MILLIGAN VISIT

2008-11-10T22:34:00.000-05:00

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THE EDWARD and MARY EVANS FAMILY

2008-11-09T23:31:00.001-05:00

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OUR HOME in Woolwich, Maine

2008-11-09T23:23:00.000-05:00

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BOB HASTINGS - Celebrates 70th Birthday

2008-11-09T21:56:00.007-05:00

30 AUGUST 2008 - Woolwich, Maine

BOB HASTINGS celebrates his 70th birthday at his home in Woolwich, Maine this summer. Barbara Ann Hastings organized the festive party, and Family Guests in attendance were: Helen and Merle Lamphier (Barbara's Sister), Marilyn Willey (Sister) and her daughter Brenda Willey, and Pauline Crooker (Sister)... Great time was had by all.

WILLIAM D. TANNER - HONORED IN CANADA

2008-11-09T21:34:00.004-05:00

Bill Tanner has honored the Hastings/Tanner families with the announcement of the Canadian Minister of Veterans Affairs Commendation. Please review the attached newspaper article for details. Great Job, Bill Tanner.

Double Click on article with photo to open/view.

FAMILY COUSINS in Canada

2008-11-09T20:07:00.008-05:00

WILLIAM DUNCAN TANNER - 1st Cousin, son of Elizabeth "Lizzie" Hastings and Royden Tanner; Bill Tanner is the senior member of the HASTINGS CLAN. The Hastings Family is richer for locating a long, lost 1st Cousin, WILLIAM DUNCAN TANNER and his lovely wife, DARLENE...they reside in Peachland, British Columbia. Bill is 82 years young, a retired Vet of the Canadian Air Force, and a leading citizen in Canada for the recognition of disabled Canadian Forces from WWII. God Love You Both, and Cheers.
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DOROTHY ANNE HASTINGS - 2nd Cousin, Daughter of JAMES DUFF HASTINGS, a son of a James Duff Hastings, a Brother to our Grandfather, Thomas Hastings. Dorothy and Frank Milligan visited with us in 2007, we visited Bath City, had a delightful lunch in the Irish Pub downtown Bath, and had lobster and steak dinner at the Taste of Maine Restaurant. We will long remember the wonderful time we spent together, and hope to reunite again soon.

REMEMBRANCE OF THE VIETNAM WAR

2008-10-23T23:49:00.010-04:00

LT ROBERT T. HASTINGS, SC, USNGROWING UP IN CHICAGO…The Early YearsI was born in 1938, grew up in Chicago, Illinois, raised in an Irish/Scottish family with loving parents, and three brothers with only one sister. I attended a Catholic Grade and High School, graduating in 1957. For me, the remembrance of war was World War II with victory over Germany and Japan, and Army Soldiers returning in the trains that wind through the Chicago neighborhoods. I recall some of the soldiers hanging out of the train windows would wave, cheer, and throw candy, war medals, and their hats to us kids as we lined the train tracks waving them home. The next remembrance of war was the Korean War in 1950 - I was walking to my grammar school class one morning when I heard the screams coming from a home. The Mother had received word that her only son was killed in combat; he was only in Korea for three months. I remember before he left for the Army, he would talk with us younger kids on the front steps of his home; he graduated in 1950 from the same high school that I would graduate from in 1957. Years later, I found an Internet website with his name, date of killed in action, and a memorial tribute. That was the very first time war had an impact on me - I have often thought of him, dying at such a young age, and so quickly in Korea. During World War II and again during the Korean War, every family home who had a member serving in the Armed Forces set a blue star flag in their window - and if the family had a member killed in action, they placed a gold star flag. Refer to website at http://www.bluestarmothers.org/flags.php. Also, at the end of each city block, there was a white post with the names of the servicemen/women from that block. I would stop and read the signs as I walked to school. Gone are all the posts and dedication signs from the city blocks, but back then it was a time we remembered and honored each individual by name, it was very personal at times.HIGH SCHOOL DAY...First School Sweetheart.During my freshman year 1953 in high school, I dated my first high school sweetheart, Mary Elizabeth Prasch - In 1958, she married Tom Weilandt, and has a wonderful family of 3 sons, and 3 daughters; she is a loving grandmother of 14 children with 1 great grandchild.She has become a dear Friend in our Golden Years. But back in the day, circa 1955, Mary taught me to how to dance with the latest moves, my first kiss and we shared our first beer in the back seat of Jim Heath's 1955 Ford Fairlane...She will always be a wonderful memory of days gone bye...but the years have been gentle and blessed for us both. Cheers to you, Liz. I was fortunate to date several wonderful young ladies, Carol DeBrocke is now happily married and resides in Arizona - we exchange emails every few months to keep each other updated. And then, there was a very special high school sweetheart, Joan Marie Woods - we dated during my Junior/Senior year, and for a year after I left for the U.S. Navy...she married a William Cunningham, and they had several children. Unfortunately, both Liz and Joan have lost their husbands at a all too young age...my heart is there for both.+

Gosh, those were the days when we thought that we would live forever. One school day incident was when several of our school basketball team would use the gym located at the 33rd Division National Guard Armory, one night an Army Captain asked if we would like to join the National Guard and play on their Company team. Although underage, I asked my parents to let me sign up so I could play basketball. I would attend Guard Drill once a month, and attended a two Army training deployment to Camp Ripley in Minnesota - Being away from home for the first time on my own was a real experience. Playing the role of a soldier at the age of 16 years old was a real eye opener for a young high school student. I learned discipline, how to fire an M1 rifle and stand in long lines, I.e. The chow line, pay line, shot line, dental line, and even a line to use the latrine - Officers did not wait in line; they had head of the line privileges. Another new learning experience was I drank a can of beer...all the older men were protective of me, and when they all went to the local town on liberty, I was sent to the base movie and back in camp and bed by midnight. We never won the divisional basketball title, but it was a wonderful life learning experience for me. When I did enter the Armed Forces, I was surprised to find out that I was given three years National Guard service which gave me more pay each month.After graduating from high school, I went to college on a full scholarship playing football, but did not finish college....I did not realize that I had to study as well as play football. Only joking, but it was difficult to do both and my study time suffered. I left Saint Joseph's College in Indiana in November, 1958, returning to Chicago and the family home. Briefly, I worked at a Television Advertising Agency in downtown Chicago as a Technical Writer Apprentice that is learning to write TV commercials. Remember, television was very new in 1958, and many homes did not have TV sets, but art of creating TV commercials in high demand. Unfortunately, there was a draft in effect, and all males at the age of 18 years old had to register for military service. My Boss was hesitant to invest too much training or promotion in a young guy who could be drafted at any time. So, I decided to enter the Navy, get my military obligation over, and return to civilian life, but life is not always the way we plan.MY NAVY YEARS 1958-1983When I entered the US Navy in 1958, it really was the first time I was to be away from my family and home in Chicago for an extended period...this was a final goodbye, and now I was on my own. But really, I belonged to Uncle Sam now for four years. At the time, a four year enlistment seemed like an eternity for an 18 year old...I realized that I would turn 21 years old, the legal age while I was in the Navy, and that made me feel older just knowing that I was on my own now. Initially, I had joined the US Marine Corps in downtown Chicago, visiting the Marine Recruiter over my lunch hour from work in the Chicago's famed Loop district. The Armed Forces Recruiting Center was a joint military induction processing center, I.e. Marines, Navy, Army and Air Force...The Marines offered a two year enlistment which appealed to me. After setting up preliminary arrangements to join the Marines, I returned to the Advertising office where I was working only to hear from all the other guys who had previously served in the Navy or Coast Guard, and were older than I that the Marines would be a big mistake. One gent remarked that as a Marine, all I would be doing was saluting cars entering Marine Corps Center at Camp Pendleton http://www.cpp.usmc.mil/ and there was no future in that job for two years. So, I went to see the United States Navy Recruiter, a Chief Petty Officer asked only one question: "Did you raise your right hand, and enlist in the Marines?" Of course, my answer was not yet, and immediately he offered me not two years but a four year enlistment in the US Navy...like I should feel that I was getting a better deal? I have never regretted joining the Navy, and to this day, I have a deep, sincere respect for our Marines, a proud fighting force with a long history in our country. After my induction into the Navy, there was a waiting period of about 10 days in which I prepared my family and my work place that I would be leaving, everyone felt that the Navy was the right choice for me.In our family, we have always been either Navy or Marines - Uncle Joe, my Mother's kid brother joined the Navy at 17 years old following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, he served with the Navy's famed Seabees Construction Battalion in the Pacific Theater, fighting at New Guiana, and Okinawa. My Mother's Aunt Daisy lost her only son, a Marine killed in action at Iwo Jima early in the war. I recall during World War II, someone was always getting killed or wounded in the neighborhood, and to hear that 2,000 or 3,000 men were killed in a single battle was not unheard of, and everyone seemed to accept that war is war, and people die. Life in 1940s continued on - I remember collecting newspapers, tying the bundles with string, and weighing for a few pennies - tin cans were the real money maker getting 10 cents for a large bag. Everyone saved trash (now called recyclables) for the war effort - and rationing was set on gasoline, rubber tires, meat, certain food items like sugar, coffee, and shoes, woman's nylons were never available during the war. The ladies would run a black pen marker down the back of their legs to simulate a nylon seam. Funny how war changes so many things. Reason I am relating the wartime struggles and sacrifices of the civilian population back in WWII, when compared to Vietnam War, there was no hardship forced on the civilians, life continued during the 1960s, 1970s like there was no war, and for many it was the best of times in making money, buying a new home, new car, and just getting ahead life. Not unlike it is today with the war in Iraq - some fight, some die, but for the rest of us, life goes on without interruption. We may gripe about the price of gasoline, but no one relates the rising cost for fuel to the on going war - we are told that the oil refineries can not keep pace with demand, but no mention of any war being the shortage problem. Strange how each new generation must experience the horrors of war.I joined the US NAVY on February 15, 1958 for a four year tour of duty. After graduating from the Navy's eight week Boot Camp at Great Lakes, IL, and attending several Navy training schools, I was advanced to Airman (E3). I was assigned to the Navy's Aviation branch, and supported naval aircraft at shore bases and afloat units. I am getting off track now, so let me return to your question - I remember after graduating from Navy Boot camp, I had orders to proceed to the Naval Air Technical Training Center at Norman, Oklahoma (home of the University of Oklahoma) - this was to be my very first airplane ride. I was granted 10 days leave staying with my family in Chicago, but after only a few days home, I became very ill, I had contracted Lombard pneumonia in both lungs, and although deathly sick, I left Chicago for the plane ride onto my new duty station. I was so afraid of getting in trouble with the Navy if I were late or did not get to my duty station on time. The plane flight was exciting, everything was so new to me...the female Flight Attendant was very nice, especially to a young handsome guy in a Sailor suit for back then I had a lot of blond hair, and was in great physical shape. As I gazed out the plane window, I saw large black spots on the ground, and thought the must be oil stains because Oklahoma was rich in oil, but much to my embarrassment, I learned that the large black spots were really cloud shadows - remember this was my first flight. Upon landing at Oklahoma City, the Navy had a bus to transport arriving Sailors to the base for check in - I was so sick that while standing in a long line with my seabag in tow, my nose began to bleed from all the coughing, sneezing, and pressure buildup in my head. I was wearing a sailor white uniform, and the blood spots dotted my chest. Immediately, I was led away to Sickbay and as I entered the Infirmary doorway, I passed out completely. After two weeks in a coma, I finally awakened and was startled to find myself in a Naval Hospital recovering from the pneumonia - I was given penicillin shots twice daily in the butt cheeks - it was painful after so many shots, so the Hospital Corpsman would have the Sailors receiving shots to bend over, part the Johnnie gown, and he would slap our check, the sting of the slap eased the pain of the shot....but only sometimes. The Navy Doctor was upset with me for not turning myself in at the Great Lakes Navy Hospital, and asked why I came all the way to Oklahoma to be admitted...my only excuse was, I did not want to miss the airplane flight.Eight weeks later, I finished my navy school training on the introduction to Naval Aviation, and proceeded to my first real duty station at Naval Air Station, Sanford, Florida. What a great start for a young Sailor - the small base was located 20 miles from Daytona Beach, and the summer beach season was just starting when I arrived in July, 1958. The Navy chow as food is called was for the most part very good, realizing that the Navy Cook gets the finest meats available, and what he does with it afterwards the Lord only knows, but all joking aside the meals were tasty, portions ample and for a young guy making all three square meals was important to me. The pay was low, I made about $125. dollars every two weeks, the 1st and 15th were PAY CALL days when the Sailors would line up to get paid in cash by the Paymaster - first, you had to check the pay list to find out you amount, then fill out a pay chit and stand in line. The pay was in cash, and twenty dollar bills looked like a lot of money to a young Sailor, but within a week, I was usually broke along with most other Sailors living in the barracks for single men. We lived in a Quonset Hut style building with twenty Sailors to a wing, and double beds (bunk style) lined both sides of the wall...I was fortunate to have a lower bunk. Each morning we had to be up by 6:00am, bunks made, showered/shaved and ready for breakfast before reporting for work muster at 7:00am....all Sailors were assigned to a department and I was with the Supply Department on the base. We provided logistical support for the jet aircraft squadrons; over 40 planes require a lot of replacement parts, gasoline, tires, and engine repairs. I had four other Sailors that reported to me, and I was their Section Leader in turn reported to a Chief Petty Officer who was senior to all of us. One day, I had a disagreement with another more senior Sailor, and had to speak with the Chief...this was bad. The Chief gave me 15 days restriction aboard the base, and pulled my liberty card meaning no more going ashore or seeing the girls in town for two long weeks. After the first week, if finally sunk into my head that it would be easier to do the right thing, obey every order, and get my liberty card back so I became a model Sailor and soon was on my way to town again on liberty. The older Sailors, more seasoned in their military and professional manner were always willing to help the younger Sailors...I recall we always had weekly training sessions with many subjects on human development, health, moral and physical fitness being stressed. It was a wonderful experience for a young man to be able to be on his own, but yet, have the comfort and support of others who shared in a common goal, and mission. I have the greatest respect for our military men and woman who continue in a military career.Needless to say, I spent three great years at Sanford, Florida, learning from the old pros, like Merel Hyde, Gene Holland, Richard Mayo, and John McFarlane...I was advanced to Petty Officer Second Class (E5), and deciding to reenlist for six more years. My decision to stay Navy came as a shock to my Mother, and family. My Mother had sent me an application to join the Chicago Police Department in 1961, and since many in our family were either Policemen or Firemen, she had high hopes of my returning to Chicago, becoming a Police Officer, marrying a beautiful Irish girl named Joan Marie Cunningham, nee Woods, and have plenty of kids as a good Catholic boy. Sorry Mom, and dear Joannie, I will always have a speacial place in my heart for her, and what might have been, we went our separate ways in life...she married a wonderful guy in June, 1964, the day after I returned from a three year tour of duty in Japan. I went to Resurrection Church on the following Sunday morning for Mass, and saw Joan's sister, Maureen...she told me that Joan had married on Saturday, and away on her honeymoon in Canada (I believe)..Again, she has always been in my heart and I wish her well in life and God love you, Joan Marie. But life on the high seas seemed to call me to the Navy for a full thirty year career.MY FIRST OVERSEAS TOUR… 1961-1964I transferred overseas to Japan - the Naval Air Station at Atsugi, Japan was a three year tour of duty ashore. I was assigned to VR 21 squadron supporting the C1A Grumman aircraft, this twin engine small but powerful engine lift aircraft hauled mail, cargo, and passengers out to the aircraft carriers operating in the Pacific. When I arrived in 1961, life was at a slow pace, Vietnam was in the distant future, and the tempo of military involvement in the Pacific Ocean was relatively light with only three large aircraft carriers operating with the 7th Fleet. The task force would span the line running from the Philippines, to Okinawa, to Japan, and then swing down the coast of both North/South Korea and along the coast of Vietnam - usually two carriers covered the wide area while one carrier remained in port for overhaul, rest and replenishment.EAST MEETS WEST...Life in Japan was exciting and always active for a young Single Sailor - of course, we were not encouraged to "date" Japanese girls, and marriage was really frowned upon by higher command. Just outside of the naval station was a small town that the Sailors could go into for liberty, many bars and dance halls were lined along the dirt streets, sort of reminded me of an old western town with bar fonts and wooden sidewalks. No roads were paved so on rainy nights a lot of shoes got wet, there is a custom in Japan that calls for one to remove their shoes when entering a home....you could see all the sandals lined up along the home steps as you walked the road into town. The bars in town catered to the American Sailors with wine, woman and song....you could hear the blast of American western music coming from within a bar and the Japanese girls would stand at the door begging your entry....'Buy me drinkee, come dancee with meeee" was the cat call at the time. The military brass turned an eye with the Japanese police and politicians when prostitution was discussed in the many status of forces agreements....after all, the Japanese government had provided over 150,000 woman for the use of US Military men at the end of the war, and most Japanese felt it was better to have 'working girls' service the military rather than have the decent daughters of a Japanese household associate with an American...we were consider to be barbarians, and without culture.When visiting Yokohama I observed a Japanese tradition of the BLACK SHIPS a parade that recalls when Admiral Perry's ships entered Japan, and our American Ambassador Townsend Harris opened Japan to trade with the West...refer to website at http://www.answers.com/topic/harris-townsend. The Black Ships and the 'red haired devils' were demonized as the worst catastrophe to strike Japan since the plague which also was blamed on the American presence in Japan. Another memory is visiting the foreigners cemetery in the hills of Nageshi Heights surrounding the City of Yokohama....there is a well maintained grave site for about 8 to 10 American Sailors who perished in 1850 circa - there bodies washed ashore from shipwrecks or some died of disease to be interred in the cemetery set aside for only foreigners. The local Navy League and military base maintains upkeep and maintenance. The Japanese people respect Americans, and marvel at our accomplishments. Walking the streets of Tokyo, Yokohama or any other city at night was safe and secure, the crime rate in 1960s was very low, and murder, rape or robbery by Japanese was virtually unheard of at the time. It seemed as I walked amongst the Japanese people that they would give you the 'Asiatic Stare' meaning they would never look you directly in the eye, but seemed always to turn away their face as you might pass...some would even step aside, and bow in recognition, but not in submission, nor defeat. They are a very proud people, honorable, and trustworthy. I remember the young children, smiling and bowing in their brightly colored kimono dress, and platform shoes, with the obi wrapped around their waist. There is a special day in recognizing the male member of a Japanese family; they fly a cloth fish on a pole waving in the breeze from their home to signify having a son in the family household.My tour in Japan is memorable and brings back many wonderful days enjoying the country and the people. I dated a Japanese girl, Reiko Tada for several years; she worked at the US Navy Housing Facility Yokohama as a Secretary to the Supply Officer. She spoke perfect English, and could write, spell, and converse in English very well. We would visit Japanese and German restaurants in Yokohama, remembering the Germans were allied with Japan during the World War, and many Germans elected to migrate to Japan for business reasons in the years following the war. She even spoke a little German which I recall with surprise. A funny incident, many Japanese girls learned to speak English, actually American slang from our military....girls who learned from Southerns (Americans from the South) actually picked up the Southern accent - and one Japanese girl learned to speak English from an Australian so you can imagine how she pronounced "Gawg day". I did not marry Reiko, although I did love her, but not enough to span the separation between East and West. We said our good byes at the Tokyo International Airport in June, 1964, we both had tears in our eyes as we parted for life.AWAKING FROM THE LONG NIGHTMARE…My first experience with Vietnam was in 1963 while I was stationed at the Naval Air Station in Atsugi, Japan serving with VR 21 air transportation squadron - the mission was to provide air cargo, mail and passenger delivery to at sea aircraft carriers. At the time, the US had several aircraft carriers operating off the coast of North and South Vietnam.The ships would provide air support for ground forces, target hostile movements on the road, and attack enemy air and ground forces. During a deployment to Okinawa and the Philippines supporting the moving aircraft carriers, we landed aboard the Australian aircraft carrier HMAS MELBOURN for an overnight stay. It was strange to be on another country's ship, sharing food with their Sailors, and sleeping in a strange bed. The Aussies were friendly, and wanted to know everything about America. We took off early the next morning, and headed for the Navy aircraft carrier USS KITTY HAWK to deliver mail, cargo and passengers. The deck landing was a real thrill, going from 200 miles an hour to a sudden jerking stop in three seconds. The airplane has a tail hook which grabs/catches one of four steel cable wires - this is called an arrested landing. If I thought the landing was exciting, within the hour, our plan was launched from the deck by catapult shot - the ship's ground crew hooked our nose wheel up to a bridle and the steam catapult is pulled back until the tension is set for the weight of the aircraft, and within three seconds a standing aircraft with engines running at top speed is shot down the track and actually thrown into the air with tremendous force. Again, we went from zero to 180 mph - thank God for seat belts, and running engines to grab the air and get us airborne and heading safely back to home base. Not all launched aircraft or landings aboard our aircraft carriers are successful, but more about that later in the interview.I recall that in 1964, late one night there was a buzzing excitement aboard our air base, medial buses were assembled down at the runway to evacuate wounded Marines....I raced down to the flight line, and watched as over 50 wounded were removed from several MATS (Military Air Transport Service) C47 aircraft and reloaded aboard the medical buses for transport to the Naval Hospital at Yokosuka, Japan. I could see several Marines were bandaged with head, arm and leg wounds, virtually all were stretcher cases with plasma bottles dangling as they were gently lifted into the rear of each bus. The wounded would be evaluated at the Hospital for immediate life saving treatment, while less severe cases would be transported back to the United States for follow on treatment.My remembrances of the Vietnam War are mainly my first hand memory of what happened to other men, I was never wounded, nor fought the enemy in ground combat. In 1968, I had to have my right knee operated on for a torn medial meniscus from an old basketball injury; I was admitted into the US Naval Hospital at Jacksonville, FL - while awaiting surgery, one dark night, I heard a soft, crying sound coming from a room across the hall. I got up to check out the whimpering sounds and found a young black Marine who was covered with a raised white sheet so no contact was made to his burnt body. He had been wounded in Vietnam, burned with napalm over 60% of his upper body. He was in such terrible pain, but could not move. I sat next to him and gently touched the pillow, and told him he was not alone, and I would stay with him for awhile. He had tears falling from both eyes, slowly rolling down his cheeks. I knew the pain was intense, and he seemed so young. I found myself slowly tearing up, and for me that was the night I lost any racial prejudices I held in my heart - his pain, suffering and sacrifice was more than I could bare. I felt so ashamed for harboring any racial hatred in my life. I firmly believe that night was an awakening for both of us; he knew that someone cared, and I found myself caring, grieving and crying for someone I never knew. I hope he made it, and some where in America is retelling this same story to his Granddaughter.Upon my return from overseas tour in June, 1964 the Vietnam War was not a big newspaper headline grabber, many Americans did not even know where Vietnam was, and for many young men and women they would find out over the next 10 years. The Vietnam War was America's longest and most agonizing venture into war. Some feel we lost the Vietnam War, I do not. The Armed Forces had superior fire power, man/woman resources, and a will to win. What we lost over the first five years was the American Will to continue the war. When I got home in San Francisco - I was told not to wear my uniform at the airport, and I changed into civilian cloths to avoid any conflicts with 'Fellow Americans" who opposed the war. To this day, I feel ashamed that I did not take a strong stand, and wear my uniform with pride. The Vietnam War was not about Communism, nor the threat of the "Domino Effect" http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Domino_theory which portends that if Vietnam were to fall to the Communists, then all of Southeast Asia would follow in time. It is true that elements of Communism were at work in Vietnam, as well as North Korea and several other countries, but the real reason for the clash of forces between the North and South Vietnamese government was political, and in truth a Civil war. History repeats itself when we fail to listen.Just as we have today with Iraq, we are involved in the middle of a civil war, compounded by the acts of pure Terrorism that is a force separate and with distinct goals from the Secretarial violence clashes between the Sunnis and Shittites, and to lesser extent the Kurdish people in the North. This website provides insight into Iraq today refer to: http://servercc.oakton.edu/~wittman/chronol.htm.During the Vietnam era, American families were bitterly separated in viewpoints on the war, Fathers raised during the World War II era held the American flag and Patriotism as sacred symbols of our democracy - the image held by most Fathers was the "John Wayne Sands of Iwo Jima" dedication of the American Fighting Man, and not to serve your country when called was a shame no family could bear with others. Many young men by 1968 were disillusioned with the long duration of the war, and lost faith in the government's ability to win the war - some left for Canada rather than serve, and many families were broken beyond repair, torn by shame and pain between Fathers and Sons.I recall talking with my youngest Brother Patrick who at the age of 12 years old, asked if he would have to serve in Vietnam, and I remember jokingly stating that the war would be long over by his time to serve, little did I realize that was in 1969 and the war had five more years of death and destruction. Although, the first combat deaths in Vietnam were as early as 1959, two US Army soldiers were killed in combat operations providing field support for the Vietnamese Army - we called them "Technical Advisors" at the time. By 1964, the weekly death toll was increasing at an alarming rate. When Life Magazine, http://members.AOL.com/mraffin/memday69.htm, featured an pictorial on the faces of Americans killed in Action during one week in July, 1969, the whole Nation looked at each of the photos with surprising results - for the first time, I think we saw our Fathers, Sons, Uncles, Nephews in those faces silently staring back at us with dead eyes. Woman were not spared in combat deaths, over 60 woman gave their lives in the Vietnam War...refer to website http://www.mrfa.org/vnstats.htm for statistical breakdown.Before ending this session, please understand, I have no answers for what happen with Vietnam, our Country and their Fighting Forces went to Vietnam with the intention of helping a struggling nation resists Communist aggression and offered the Vietnamese people a ray of hope and chance at self government. The goals were noble, true and honorable - we felt that democracy was the best form of self government and should be shared with the world. Little did we realize that what works in America, may not be realistic, or welcomed in other Countries. Once a Country enters into a Civil War, it is extremely difficult for external governments not to take up sides of support.Our choice was to go with the South, and support the South Vietnamese government with men, material and treasure for over 10 long years. As I conclude this phase of the interview, I reaffirm that the United States Fighting Forces did not lose the war; we lost the people and their WILL TO FINISH the process. I think Vietnam as a country, and their people may well be better off now united as one country, rather than the separation of the two countries. Ending a war is so much more difficult, than entering a war. As a military man, career naval officer, I deplore war, it is destructive, and tears both sides apart with death, wounds that never heal, and young men and women who will never grow old gracefully. Recently, I walked through Arlington National Cemetery during a business trip to Washington, DC and viewed the rows upon rows of headstones, many set with Crosses, and the Star of David, separately identifying each by Religion, but uniting all in dedication and sacrifice - Many Gave Some, Some Gave All, but WE ALL FEEL THE LOSS.My return to the Pacific was aboard the aircraft carrier, USS RANGER (CVA 61) in 1968/69 - the Vietnam War was ramping up, over 500,000 ground forces were deployed and 150 ships with over 150,000 Sailors operating in the straits between Vietnam and the Philippines. USS RANGER had deployed several times to Vietnam in was is called a WESTPAC CRUISE, i.e. western pacific cruise....most deployments lasted about 9 to 10 months, with over 5,000 men aboard the ship, and over 90 aircraft of all types, both jet and rotor propeller planes were aboard. We had five different air squadrons aboard each flying a different model aircraft, the most remembered are the F4 PHANTOM aircraft which was a fighter plane carrying bombs, napalm and could attack MIG aircraft which was flown by both the North Vietnamese, Chinese and probably even Russian pilots. One day during a routine launch, a F4 aircraft tied to the bridle was racing down the catapult track and the weight for the aircraft was not set correctly, or the engine malfunctioned, but when the plane reached the halfway point, the nose wheel collapsed causing the plane's nose to dip down and reducing airspeed. The pilot tried to pull out, but no time before the plane edged over the ship's bow, immediately, the rear copilot ejected, pulling the canopy ring, and exploded over 100 into the air with his parachute deploying, unfortunately, the pilot did not have time to release his canopy and the plane fell into to the water while the ship ran over the craft. I was standing on the catwalk which is a metal walk area just beneath the flight deck, and watched in horror as the plane slide under the ship with the pilot still alert, and waving his hands against the clear plastic canopy. The copilot's chute opened, and he came dangling down along the right side (starboard) of the ship island. I could have reached out to touch him, he was so close. He landed in the sea and started to drift along the side of the ship, when in an instant a recovery helicopter was at the stern of the ship to pick him up. He was rushed aboard, sent to sickbay for a checkup and returned in a dry flight suit.....he came by to visit with the crew, thanking everyone who assisted in his recovery. When I spoke with him, his skin was dyed a greenish yellow from the shark repellant and his hands burnt with blisters from the parachute harness. He was still in shock, and seemed to want to talk with anyone, and everyone....guess he was just happy to be alive. His roommate, and best friend, the Pilot not survives, nor was his body recovered. USS RANGER lost six pilots and seven aircraft in 10 months at sea, while conducting combat operations in Vietnam. One of my squadron planes landed with 38 small caliber bullet holes along the aircraft's side - the Vietnamese would lay in wait along the side of a hill for an airplane to fly close, and then 20 or 30 rifle men would start fighting to strike the plane down. Here are the names of the lost flyers - it is important to remember the names as individuals, and not statistics... LT (JG) David P. Neisler was killed in action, recently married in 1968, left a Mother, Father, and young Bride.KILLED IN ACTION ABOARD USS RANGER1968 – 1969LCDR Michael DunnLCDR Gerald L. RamsdenLCDR Richard O’ConnellCDR John H. WeaverLT (jg) David P. NeislarLT Norman E. EidsmoeNote: USS RANGER website for your information - http://www.uss-ranger.org/ every cruise lost pilots and planes.1968/1969 years - Life at Sea and Home aboard Ship - This time period was probably the most remembered because of my tour aboard USS RANGER, everyday and night aircraft would launch for targets in-country as North/South Vietnam was termed. When you first come aboard the aircraft carrier, it seems immense in size, everything is big, and getting from one end of the ship to the other is a strenuous and physically demanding feat. The ship is constructed in frame units, starting at the bow with frame 001, and progresses to the stern with over 400 frames, or more....actually I never really got to the end of the ship. I lived in a compartment about 20 x 30 feet with over 50 bunks, folded to two high, with some three high. As my luck would have it, I was on the top bunk, climbing up two bunks to get to my penthouse...I had a large heated water pipe running lengthwise over my bunk, and at night, I could hear the passing of water through the pipe when the showers were in use. The heat from the pipe was uncomfortable at first when we operated off the coast of Hawaii conducting pre-deployment ops - this is the time for pilots, plans and flight deck crews to work together, and get ready for a full operational deployment. After three weeks, we headed for the Western Pacific and the Philippines to replenish food, fuel, and take on ammunition/bombs. The transit to the Philippines was uneventful, days seem to run into nights, and after a few weeks most of the crew removes their watches because time loses all purpose...the ship routine takes over, the ship crew is split into two working groups, 'day check and night check about 50 percent work either 12 hours daily or 12 hours nightly....air operations are conducted around the clock, and the ship routine is based on 24 hour schedule. I had a dental appointment at 0200am and it seemed normal. After about a month at sea, the crew's life is centered on working, sleeping, eating and waiting for mail call. Letters, audio tapes and photos from home are so very welcomed. I would get a tape from Barbara Ann, my wife, and with an ear plug play it all night in my bunk. Many nights, I would use up the batteries, and awake with a dead ear piece in my head. Our living space shared with 40 other Sailors is setup for sleeping, each bunk had a draw curtain to afford a measure of privacy, and your gear was stowed beneath your bed mattress, the lid lifted up to display all your worldly belongings - strange what value we place on things when space becomes tight. After the first week aboard, the trash accumulates as little valued treasures are given way to no stowage space. Honesty is paramount when living in close quarters....one could leave their wallet on their bunk, with a watch, ring or other valuables while showering, and never have a theft. The unspoken law was if you steal, we will throw you overboard at night...scary set of values, but not unlike the old law of the West when they hung cattle rustlers on the spot...quick justice rules. Fortunately, we never had a thief so no one left the ship at night.A SEA STORY WITH A FUNNY ENDING…After about 10 weeks transit to the Philippines, we anchored in the harbor at Subic Bay, Philippines for rest and relaxation for three days. I was allowed one day/night liberty, and prepared to go ashore with a fresh, white uniform....back then; all Sailors on liberty had to be in uniform, and could not remain off the ship overnight. Liberty expired onboard at midnight for all hands. As I was walking from the ship pier side to the main gate, the Sailors grouped as we walked and talked about what we would be doing while on liberty. I was wearing a brand new pair of black shoes, spit shined, with a sharp new sole edge....this would cause me trouble in a moment. As we walked over the Olongapo Bridge entering town, a slight crack in the pavement unnoticed caught my left shoe edge, and suddenly tripped me off balance. From an standing, upright position, I fell head first towards the bridge railing, I hit the lower round metal rung face first with my chin striking the steel with a force that drove my two front teeth completely trough my lower lip. There was little blood, but complete shock. I thought I had been struck with a baseball bat, but quickly realized that my lip was impaled on my front teeth and I could not pull away. The Sailor walking with me took one look as I rose to my feet, and upon seeing the injury and blood now trickling down my chin, suddenly collapsed and passed out cold - a crowd quickly gathered about him as he laid out on the ground with blood on this chest that dripped from my mouth. As the crowd gathered, I slipped away and continued towards town....I needed to have some liberty! Upon my return to the ship, I found out the Sailor was placed in Sick Bay for observation - they thought he had a heart attack. He never got to go on liberty in that port.I went to a bar that our squadron had talked about gathering at and found several of my shipmates dancing, and drinking with the bar girls...I motioned for our Master Chief to come with me into the head (washroom) and showed him my injury, but could not speak...he quickly grasped my mouth and chin with both hands and pulled my lower lip down to release my two teeth. The lip started to swell, and there were two neatly placed teeth punctures through the lip. Incidentally, I just checked the mirror and to this day I still have a scar both inside/outside of my lip after 45 years. Don't ask why I am relating this incident; it suddenly came to life as I started to recall my time aboard ship.Life at sea is constantly changing - the loud speaker from the bridge announces news events, bells ring out the time, and the evening prayer is rendered by the ship's three Chaplains, i.e. Catholic, Protestant and Jewish Rabbi, each taking a nightly turn at the mike. At night the ship grows quiet, and sleepy below decks, but above on the flight deck it is a hum of activity with planes turning up, revving engines, and the constant banging of steel chains on the deck. All the planes must be tied down when not in motion due to the rolling of the ship, so chains are linked, and set to a plane, while others are unchained and slammed to the deck. During the recovery of aircraft, the four arresting cables are raised about two feet off the deck and the pilot lowers the tail hook to grab either the number 2 or 3 cable which are preferred....the planes land at full throttle in case of missed cable grab, the plane will have sufficient power to lift off the deck and go around for another try...after four failed attempts to land, the pilot will be directed to a bingo base ashore to land, and try the next day. Too stressful for both the pilot and crew to push to hard with more than four attempts. The two most dangerous times aboard ship is the take offs and landings....that is when an accident will happen most often.AMERICA AT WAR… VIETNAM WIN, LOSE or DRAW?Early in 1964/65, Like most Americans, I fully supported our entry into Vietnam - the public read daily in the newspapers, and TV commentators that this was a war America had to undertake and Communism would be unstoppable unless we rushed to the aid and assistance of South Vietnam. In 1955, the US Government backed Ngo Dinh Diem as the new President of South Vietnam, and quickly the North and South Vietnamese forces were caught up in combat. The US ARMY provided field technical advisors to the South, and our first American deaths occurred as early as 1959 when the Viet Cong attacked Bien Hoa airbase and two American Soldiers were killed in combat. In 1961, President John F. Kennedy authorized the buildup of American Forces to train and assist the Vietnamese Forces, and we would return fire if fired upon. This was the turning point in America's acceptance of the war - we had a mission to assist a falling nation, and we felt our mission was noble and worthy. The fighting was not really newsworthy during the early 1960s, and with the death of President Kennedy the war in Vietnam took back page in our news and history but only for the moment. I recalled when President Kennedy was shot and killed in Dallas.....I had been out on the town the night before, and was awoken with the sad news by the Japanese houseboy in our barracks with his words...." A Cowboy killed Kennedy-San in Texas" I could not believe the words, and immediately put on the Armed Forces radio to hear the tragic event unfold with terrible details. The world was shocked and saddened as were the Japanese people....the world largely loved President Kennedy and for his time, he was a symbol of America, our hopes, our dreams and ambitions to bring the rest of the world closer to America. He told us we could go to the moon within the decade, and he was right! Most of the years between his death, the Presidency of Lyndon Johnson and his democratic administration is a blur, the one leader I recall at the time was Robert S. McNamara, Secretary of Defense - he promoted the escalation of America fighting forces, and guided the defense department throughout the Johnson administration, and until the war was lost in public opinion. What is the saddest of all, the Johnson Administration, specifically McNamara realized that the Vietnam War was not winnable as early as 1969, yet continued to foster troop buildup levels into the 1970s. This decision undoubtedly added 25,000 more names to the VIETNAM WALL in Washington DC. The nation was swept up with the Gulf of Tonkin incident on August 2, 1964 when it was reported that two US Navy ships, USS MADDOX was attacked by North Vietnamese gun boats....a second ship was reported attacked on 4 August. This incident was reported as fact in all the newspapers, but the facts were thinly veiled to promote a feeling of righteous indignation that an Asiatic country would have the gall to attack an American Man of War in the open waters of the Gulf of Tonkin. That was the battle cry heard daily on every TV channel and read in all the newspapers - North Vietnam government must be taught a lesson when dealing with the most powerful nation in the world. No one stopped to ask "Why not try Diplomacy as our first option?" But as Americans we are quick on the draw, and take no prisoners when dealing with either fact or fiction. Refer to website at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gulf_of_Tonkin_Incident for details on the incident.The Gulf of Tonkin Resolution Congress approved August 7, 1964, and placed into the hands of President Johnson the means by which the President is allowed to commit ground forces to repel further attacks, and broadens the power to send America to war without the consent of the US Congress....that is what is so dangerous with a weaken administration, and a powerful emotional event confronting a nation - no one stops to slow down the process, discuss the options and look to the Constitution for safeguards to protect a nation from overreaction. World events can be dramatic, but the reaction to those events is longer lasting, sometimes generational in cost both human and financial. The American people continued to fully support the Vietnam War through the 1960s, and partly into the 1970s....but as early as 1965, the Students for a Democratic Society demonstrated in Washington DC, and most of the American People held the war critics in disdain as either un-American, un-Patriotic or ill informed - it was not until 1969, that over 250,000 war protesters demonstrated against the war in Washington DC that the newspapers started to publish daily photos, articles and leaned towards Student support for an end to the war. At the same time, 1969 the first draft of Americans was conducted and more troops were pledged to Vietnam support. I recall the death toll of killed in action at one time to be 20,000 with about 100 deaths weekly, this was very difficult to accept in the face of mounting disagreement with the war....American families were ripped apart with division over the war....I had a dear Friend who told me that he would rather leave America, go to Canada and never return than go to fight in South Vietnam - this really hit home because this is a person I grew up with, attended high school, and was just like me except he did not support the war. I told him we can never choose which war to fight, it is the luck of the generation to get caught up in a war not of our choosing, and I would rather serve and not desert America in a time of need. The saying "Right or Wrong, my Country' still holds value for me - America is a wonderful, beautiful country with so many cherished values and so many good things to be proud of in the world...many other people come to our shores seeking a new life, an opportunity to just live in freedom, and the Statue of Liberty whisper that opportunity to each new arrival to our country. But, even a country with all the promise and hopes of America and lose it's way along the long road of history....the problem is we are given options, choices to chose a form of government, a type of leadership, a political party to lead us in both the good and bad times. That is the rub....we vote, we surrender our individual voice to support our government, and then we seem to go to 'mental sleep' and let the forces to be within the government lead us on in a direction that we may or may not agree. What happened during the Vietnam was both good and bad...the horror of war can be seen in the photo of a Vietnamese little girl running down a road naked and burnt from a napalm attack, or the anguish of Kent State killings of our young on May 4, 1970, and if that were not enough to gag your consciousness, when I read of the My Lai murders of innocent civilians by Captain William Calley and other American troops broke my heart, and my spirit for support of the war. How could such a noble and honorable venture into South Vietnam turn so ugly, and painfully wrong in time? Yet, the war was continued into the 1970s, more death names would be readied for the Vietnam Wall yet to be visualized, and planned. Life in America went on with only occasional rising support for the war or utter disgust for the deaths of young Americans and the running cost. But again, it seemed there were two separate Americas - one was making money, going to college, getting married, and side stepping the draft, and never serving in the Armed Forces... for the marginal American, the National Guard service or other voluntary alternative service was an option to sit of the fence and wait out the war. But for thousands of other Americans, who continued to volunteer to serve, go to Vietnam and endure the pain of battle, their commitment remained strong with allegiance to America not to the Vietnam War. Strange how we can separate our Country from what our Country does in the world scene. The policy of mass daily booming with B52 aircraft flying from Wake Island in 1972 had immediate impact on the North Vietnamese government, the booming drove the US and North Vietnamese to the peace table in Paris which started the negotiations to end the war, and bring home our POWs in Operation Homecoming on February 12-27 1973 with over 591 being released by April 1, 1973.SUMMARY and CONCLUSIONSThe long nightmare was coming to an end....the years to follow even until today, has caused our Nation, and the world to rethink Vietnam - the causes, the effects and the gains and losses. I feel Vietnam is far better off now even with a single form of government and be it without war, than if we continued fighting a no win situation. Once a country enters a civil war mentality, and opposing forces side against each other there is no middle ground for America ...we lose either way be it Vietnam or Iraq. The will of the American People is best tested when we are threatened as a Country, there was never a dagger held to the heart of America in Vietnam, and the terrorist attack on 911 has proven to be not related to our goals in Iraq. As a Nation, we went to Vietnam, as Iraq for one set of reasons, stayed for other reasons, and will leave for yet different reasons. Somewhere along the way, we have lost our vision of America’s role in the world stage. We are an honorable People with great pride in our Country, its purpose, and history, but when a Nation chooses to go to War - it will be a long road home again, and life for many will never be the same again.This interview session ends with my tours of duty in the Pacific, I was advanced to Chief Petty Officer while on the USS RANGER, and upon return to homeport, my wife for life, BARBARA ANN HASTINGS nee Parkhill and I were transferred to the Naval Station, Roosevelt Roads at San Juan Puerto Rico.Footnote: In 1969, I was promoted to Chief Warrant Officer, concurrently I was advanced to Master Chief Petty Officer (for pay purposes), and continued to advance in rank to full Lieutenant grade with selection to Lieutenant Commander, but elected to retire rather than commit to another sea tour aboard USS AMERICA...your Grandmother reminded me that now she had two Sailors at Sea...your Father, and myself, so I retired, and never looked back. In reality, I went on to work for the U.S. Navy for the next twenty years in a civilian capacity as the Director of Operations, Aegis New Construction Shipbuilding Program at Bath Iron Works Corporation, Bath, Maine.

BOB and BARBARA HASTINGS of MAINE

NAVY DAYS REMEMBERED...GREAT TIMES

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY - OUR FATHER

OUR HASTINGS FAMILY

MY SEABAG - Fond Memories of my Navy Days

MY SEABAG - Fond Memories of my Navy Days

US NAVY SEABAG and other great memories of our Navy Days

US NAVY SEABAG and other great memories of our Navy Days

WEDDING OF THE YEAR 2011

PARKVIEW PRAYER PARTNERS 2011

FAMILY GENEALOGY BLOG

GAGE FAMILY GATHERING 2011

GAGE FAMILY GATHERING 2011

HAPPY NEW YEAR 2011

NEW PATIO - SUMMER 2011

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SUMMERTIME IN MAINE 2011 - LAUGHS, LOBSTER AND WINE

THE CIRCUS COMES TO TOWN

SUMMERTIME in MAINE 2011

45th WEDDING ANNIVERSARY - 22 MAY 1966-2011

AT HOME IN WOOLWICH, MAINE

WEDDING BELLS RINGING

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY 2011

OUR NAVY REMEMBERED - CPO STANDARDS

I WAS A SAILOR ONCE UPON A TIME....

HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART 1958

2010 THANKSGIVING DAY EVE

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DAR MAINE

UNCLE HARRY GAGE and his daughter POLLY ANN

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MEMORIAL SERVICE at BAYVIEW CEMETERY

HERITAGE VILLIAGE in MAINE

CHAPMAN and CROOKER FAMILY COOK OUT

CHICAGO VISIT in 2004 with Family

BOB PARKHILL

SEASONS

HOME RENOVATION

NEW BLOG

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY BARBARA ANN

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OUR HOME in Woolwich, Maine

BOB HASTINGS - Celebrates 70th Birthday

WILLIAM D. TANNER - HONORED IN CANADA

FAMILY COUSINS in Canada

REMEMBRANCE OF THE VIETNAM WAR