"The Adventures of Travel2write" Travel2write's Profile

A quick snapshot from me and adelfa in Kauai

My Ship! USNS Guadalupe TAO-200

A great photo of an underway replenishment of US Military Ships.

Leyte Philippines

I have been traveling with the US Navy for almost 19 years now. Past years of travel included tours aboard the following ships and shore commands.
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1988-1988, Operations Specialist A School in Virgina
1988-1991, USS Germantown (LSD-42) in San Diego
1991-1993, USS Tripoli (LPH-10) in San Diego
1993-1996, Naval Recruiting Command at NRD Michigan
1997-1998, USS Comstock (LSD-45) in San Diego
1998-1998, USNS John Ericson (T-AO-104) In Pearl Harbor
1998-2000, USNS Pecos (T-AO-197) in San Diego
2001-2001, COMSUBPAC/COMASWFORPAC (CTF-12) in Pearl Harbor
2001-2002, COMNAVSUBFOR/COMSUBPAC in Pearl Harbor
2003-2005, USS Harpers Ferry (LSD-49) in Sasebo Japan
2005-2006, USNS Rappahannock(T-AO-204) in San Diego
2006-2007, USS Guadalupe (AO-200) in San Diego
2007-2010, NAVY RECRUITING COMMAND CHICAGO
2010 - PRESENT MV MATAJ KOCAK STATIONED IN DIEGO GARCIA, BRITISH INDIAN OCEAN TERRITORY.

Giving the tour to the Russians.

They were crusty old guys 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 them 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.
They were God's designated hitters on earth. We had Chiefs with fully loaded Combat Patrol Pins in my day... "Hey Chief, what's that one and that one?" "Oh Hell, kid, I think it was the time I fell out of a hookers bed; I can't remember. There was a war on. They gave them to us to keep track of the campaigns were in. They're all gee-dunk. Listen, kid, ribbons don't make you a Sailor.
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 fart." "Shipmate, when I'm eighty-five, parked in the old Sailors' Home in Gulfport, I'll still be able to kick your worthless ass from here to fifty feet past the screw guards along with six of your closest friends." And he probably wasn't ***ting. 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. Naval Force. 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 and steaming jungles over many years. Nothing a nineteen year-old jaybird could cook up was original to these old saltwater owls.
Appreciation of what the Chiefs 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, lets 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 United States Navy. In the progression of nobility of employment, CPO heads the list.

So thanks, you old casehardened, unsalvageable sons-of-***es. Save me a rack in the berthing compartment in the sky!

Southern California hike!

.......WATERFALLS.....

The serenity
The calmness at the waterfall
slowly moving downwards
see the water drifting downstream
water rippling
hear the roar as it bashes
against the rocks
beside the river walls
feel the power the struggle
for freedom.

Cheers

Happy New Years all!

Sunset

I like standing on deck during a long voyage with sea spray in my face and ocean winds whipping in from everywhere - the feel of the giant steel ship beneath me, it's engines driving against the sea is almost beyond understanding. It's immense power makes the Navyman feel so insignificant but yet proud to be a small part of this ship, a small part of her mission.

I like the Navy. I like the sound of taps over the ships announcing system, the ringing of the ships bell, the foghorns and strong laughter of Navy men at work. I like the ships of the Navy - nervous darting destroyers, sleek proud cruisers, majestic battle ships, steady solid carriers and silent hidden submarines.

I like the bounce of Navy music and the tempo of a Navy Band, "Liberty Whites" and the spice scent of a foreign port. I like shipmates I've sailed with, worked with, served with or have known: The Gunners Mate from the Iowa cornfields; a Sonarman from the Colorado mountain country; a pal from Cairo, Alabama; an Italian from near Boston; some boogie boarders of California; and of course a drawling friendly Oklahoma lad that hailed from Muskogee; and a very congenial Engineman from the Tennessee hills.

From all parts of the land they came - farms of the Midwest, small towns of New England - the red clay area and small towns of the South - the mountain and high prairie towns of the West - the beachfront towns of the Atlantic, the Pacific and the Gulf. All are American; all are comrades in arms. All are men of the sea and all are men of honor.

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

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

In years to come, when the Sailor is home from the sea, he will still recall with fondness the ocean spray on his face when the sea is angry. There will come a faint aroma of fresh paint in his nostrils, the echo of hearty laughter of the seafaring men who once were close companions. Now landlocked, he will grow wistful of his Navy days, when the seas were the largest part of him and a new port of call was always just over the horizon.

Recalling those days and times, he will stand taller and say: "Once I was a Navy man!."

Motto: First in Freedom