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(continued from page 8) The port wing wall aft was a haven. Here, all ship’s The port wing wall aft was a haven. Here, all ship’s trash and garbage was dumped overboard. It was a steel platform that extended 90 degrees outboard of the wing wall with only loose chains attached to stanchions as life rails. Roughly it was about five feet long and three feet wide. Here was the only place aboard by which a view of the ship’s side could be seen. Airborne trash and debris dumped overboard trailed behind the ship in a slip-stream and finally settled into the sea. Jettisoned from any other location it would blow back aboard and land on deck. The deck crew was highly unappreciative of any trash on the deck and recrimination was expected for any party who failed to complete the walk to “empty all trash containers off the port wing wall aft.” As a haven, it was quiet and out of sight. It was not unusual to see two or three mess cooks gathered around the platform looking at the sea and enjoying a smoke. It was somewhat sacred because it was quiet and offered a peaceful rest station away from the din of the mess deck. Neither was it unusual to see another mess man on his way back to the platform to recall the resting shipmates back to station if they overstayed their absence. Once, when the ship was moored to an anchor buoy off Harbor Island in San Diego, mess men were sent aft to drop accumulated garbage into a waiting LCM-1 serving as a scow. There was a lot of garbage aboard. It was making its rounds through the ships in the anchorage and was down to its marks. Its crew appeared as scrufty as the ship crew looking down from the dump platform on that warm Sunday morning and exhibited a temperament that matched the odor rising to the deck level above. Both crews were vociferously carried away by the magnitude of their work. Uncomplimentary and salty remarks were being exchanged at a rate governed by distance between ship and scow. Then, slowly standing inbound to the harbor was USS Enterprise (CVAN-65), home of admirals, the majestic nuclear pride of the United States with a host of escorts. Bright new signal flags snapped from her halyards. Signal lamps were flashing. Fireboats were gushing great welcoming streams into the air. The flotilla had manned the sides and was attracting sightseers and idlers through out the harbor. Her sailors and officers were decked out in dress whites accompanied by a full company of marines in full dress uniform--a post card picture for a recruiter’s office. It was what people in the gator branch of the Navy called, “the real Navy.” Steaming past the anchorage, Enterprise was rendered honors. Bells clanged, whistles blew. 1MCs piped the trill, “Attention to starboard! and Attention to port!,” depending which way the moored ships were facing, “Attention! Attention!” The sounds repeated like an approaching echo, reaching crescendo from the line of white mooring buoys as the Big E drew abreast. Her royal highness was promenading up the channel and the peasants were bowing. It was kind of exciting. The platform crew and crew on the scow had a lot to say about the situation. Most of the comment was not printable in polite company, but the scow did dip its colors. Once, not long after taps, the dishwasher operator was summoned from his rack for an emergency cleaning of the dishwasher. While the external shell was cleaned to perfection--brass sparkling, stainless steel buffed and shining, compartment and machine dry and ready for action in all respects, the interior working parts hidden within the housing was not. |
The guts--consisting of pipes, nozzles, chains, moving rack carriers, slots, drains, carriages, and curtains, somehow had escaped field days for ages. It had been overlooked when the operation of the machine had been passed on in a succession of operators over a period of time. There was an admin inspection going on during fleet refresher training and the health officer was due that morning. The interior was totally deficient if not outrageously unacceptable. The job required crawling into the machine and working from stem to stern as never before. There, in the wet, metal cave colorful sponges were quietly growing like soft coral--the like never seen since. Dank moles, mushrooms, slime, mineral deposits, and accumulated crud were scraped, wire brushed, scrubbed, and removed. The inside was made clean before reveille was piped for the crew. It was like new. The number two scullery scored a 4.0. The First Class in charge was more than happy, he was thankful. Then there was the time the dishwasher motor had shorted out and repairs or replacement was not possible for about three days since the ship was underway off the coast of San Diego. Everything had to be cleaned by hand. An attempt was made to sanitize stainless steel food trays by boiling them in the galley’s steam caldrons. This didn’t work because the heat would bake grease and particles on the trays. Ship’s company was served off an emergency requisition of paper plates. Paper plates sure relieved a lot of work for the mess cooks, but almost bankrupted the Supply Officer’s budget. Thus was demonstrated the importance of how one piece of machinery could affect the entire ship, particularly since it was in the final stages of fleet refresher training. A more positive attribute of mess cooking was found in communications. The mess deck was a shipboard communication hub. Modern day news leaks are child’s-play compared to the efficiency of the Whetstone mess deck. If there was any scuttlebutt to be had or found, it could be found there, usually from a mess cook. If anybody wanted to know what was going on, he went to the mess deck. It was all knowing and all seeing, capable sometimes of getting information and broadcasting “hot skinny” even before the Captain got the word. Another advantage of the mess cook was there was always plenty of fresh water--water for cooking; water for washing; and water for cleaning-unrestricted water. So, there were occasions when the rest of the ship was on water hours or rationing, at least some time in the career of the mess-man’s life, envy was directed his way. At those times the importance of mess cook work could not have been more clearly explained. There was an unspoken shipboard rule followed by all hands regardless of rank toward the mess cook. The unspoken rule was exercised in the form of an empathetic kindness and a willingness to help him out if need arose. Being careful not to create extra work for the mess cook was part of this rule. Perhaps it was based on prior experience. Perhaps it was based on the future and the fact that positions could change. Anyone who crossed the line to the contrary had better watch out. There are many more stories that can be raised when the subject of mess cooking comes up, probably as many as there are mess cook veterans. There will be stories about coming back late from liberty, perhaps a bit “under the weather,” and making it to station just the same--long days when watches and clocks stood still or ran backwards.
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