Frankly Speaking, April 8 1972
Frankly Speaking
April 8, 1972
It was a Saturday. It should have been a rather uneventful day, but a lot of circumstances came together to create a major event in my life. First, the squadron to which I was assigned had just returned from a six week Operational Readiness Inspection (ORI) also known as a shakedown cruise. The plan was for us to spend a month or so at home then deploy (for 6 months) to the Mediterranean Sea aboard the USS Saratoga. As added background, having just returned to our homeport of Quonset Point, Rhode Island, we were in maximum stand down. Extended weekends or leave had been granted to everyone who had requested the time off. As it turned out that meant that the single guys escaped Quonset Point and the married guys staffed the squadron’s needs and duty roster. On that weekend guess who was the duty section leader? Oh yeah, Frank was the guy designated to supervise the squadron’s personnel tasked with manning the various watches.
As I recall three times daily I had to muster the duty section and report its status to the Officer of the Day. At 4:00pm I had driven to the hanger, mustered the troops and reported the results to the OOD (Officer of the Day). Once completed, I got back in my car and drove home.
I got home and within minutes the telephone rang. When I answered it was the Division Chief and his communication was simple. “Austin, pack your sea bag and report to the shop for muster and deployment tomorrow at 0800 hours.” Well, I’m no fool! I had just left the base and there was nothing going on. Simple solution, call the duty office and find out what was up. Maybe the Chief had just had a bit too much to drink and was having a little fun. I dialed and the phone was busy. I tried again with the same result. After a few minutes I decided that a trip into the base was warranted. I should have taken the Chief’s statement to heart but no, I had to find out what was going on.
When I arrived at the duty office there didn’t seem to be anything unusual going on in the hanger. I opened the door to find the OOD and the Junior OOD on the telephone with all the lines on the phones busy. I am not sure what my initial reaction was, but I imagine I just dropped my jaw in surprise. The OOD finished, hang up the phone, looked straight at me and asked, “What’s your clearance?” I responded with the facts and that was all he needed. “Austin, you’re now the JOOD; we’re going to Base Communications to pick up a priority message from DC. Get a 45.” What! I’m standing there in civilian clothes and a young, junior officer just told me to get a 45! He was adamant so being the good sailor I was I complied. We jumped in the duty truck and off we went.
There I was dressed in civilian clothes with a 45 strapped to my hip, driving a military vehicle to Base Communications. At least I had the OOD with me. When the Shore Patrol stops us and starts to ask questions at least I’ve got that on my side. We made it to communications without incident. Realizing that I might not be welcome adorned as I was, the OOD went in and retrieved the message himself. When the OOD got back in the truck he laid the message on the seat between us. I had seen lots of messages marked Confidential and read lots of Secret technical manuals. But that was the first Secret message I ever saw. Yep, something was up!
I don’t remember much of the next day. The only thing that is clear in my memory is calling my parents to tell them we were leaving. We hadn’t been told where we were going, it was Secret you know! But when mom got on the phone I made the decision that talking to dad was probably the right thing to do. Rather matter of factly I told dad that we were going to sea! His question was obvious, “Where you going”? “Turn on the news and you’ll figure it out”, I said.
In the next twenty four hours we managed to get all 135 members of our squadron, our 8 aircraft, all our supporting paraphernalia, and our personal effects transported from Quonset Point, Rhode Island to Mayport, Florida.
I do not remember the flight down (it was on either a DC-3 or a DC-6)! By the time we left Quonset I was a walking zombie. I slept from Quonset to Mayport.
April 8, 1972
It was a Saturday. It should have been a rather uneventful day, but a lot of circumstances came together to create a major event in my life. First, the squadron to which I was assigned had just returned from a six week Operational Readiness Inspection (ORI) also known as a shakedown cruise. The plan was for us to spend a month or so at home then deploy (for 6 months) to the Mediterranean Sea aboard the USS Saratoga. As added background, having just returned to our homeport of Quonset Point, Rhode Island, we were in maximum stand down. Extended weekends or leave had been granted to everyone who had requested the time off. As it turned out that meant that the single guys escaped Quonset Point and the married guys staffed the squadron’s needs and duty roster. On that weekend guess who was the duty section leader? Oh yeah, Frank was the guy designated to supervise the squadron’s personnel tasked with manning the various watches.
As I recall three times daily I had to muster the duty section and report its status to the Officer of the Day. At 4:00pm I had driven to the hanger, mustered the troops and reported the results to the OOD (Officer of the Day). Once completed, I got back in my car and drove home.
I got home and within minutes the telephone rang. When I answered it was the Division Chief and his communication was simple. “Austin, pack your sea bag and report to the shop for muster and deployment tomorrow at 0800 hours.” Well, I’m no fool! I had just left the base and there was nothing going on. Simple solution, call the duty office and find out what was up. Maybe the Chief had just had a bit too much to drink and was having a little fun. I dialed and the phone was busy. I tried again with the same result. After a few minutes I decided that a trip into the base was warranted. I should have taken the Chief’s statement to heart but no, I had to find out what was going on.
When I arrived at the duty office there didn’t seem to be anything unusual going on in the hanger. I opened the door to find the OOD and the Junior OOD on the telephone with all the lines on the phones busy. I am not sure what my initial reaction was, but I imagine I just dropped my jaw in surprise. The OOD finished, hang up the phone, looked straight at me and asked, “What’s your clearance?” I responded with the facts and that was all he needed. “Austin, you’re now the JOOD; we’re going to Base Communications to pick up a priority message from DC. Get a 45.” What! I’m standing there in civilian clothes and a young, junior officer just told me to get a 45! He was adamant so being the good sailor I was I complied. We jumped in the duty truck and off we went.
There I was dressed in civilian clothes with a 45 strapped to my hip, driving a military vehicle to Base Communications. At least I had the OOD with me. When the Shore Patrol stops us and starts to ask questions at least I’ve got that on my side. We made it to communications without incident. Realizing that I might not be welcome adorned as I was, the OOD went in and retrieved the message himself. When the OOD got back in the truck he laid the message on the seat between us. I had seen lots of messages marked Confidential and read lots of Secret technical manuals. But that was the first Secret message I ever saw. Yep, something was up!
I don’t remember much of the next day. The only thing that is clear in my memory is calling my parents to tell them we were leaving. We hadn’t been told where we were going, it was Secret you know! But when mom got on the phone I made the decision that talking to dad was probably the right thing to do. Rather matter of factly I told dad that we were going to sea! His question was obvious, “Where you going”? “Turn on the news and you’ll figure it out”, I said.
In the next twenty four hours we managed to get all 135 members of our squadron, our 8 aircraft, all our supporting paraphernalia, and our personal effects transported from Quonset Point, Rhode Island to Mayport, Florida.
I do not remember the flight down (it was on either a DC-3 or a DC-6)! By the time we left Quonset I was a walking zombie. I slept from Quonset to Mayport.
posted by Frank at 11:23 AM
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