“There are men working aloft. Do not rotate, radiate, or energise any electrical equipment while men are working aloft.”
“There are divers working over the side. Do not rotate screws, cycle rudders, take suction from, or discharge to the sea while divers are working over the side.”
“Now set material condition “Yoke”. All damage control petty officers make reports to DC central. Now set material readiness condition Yoke.”
The thing is, for those who didn’t serve, these messages get said over the ships PA system (the “1MC”) several times a day.
Even now, almost twenty years after leaving the ship, these words are still seared into my brain.
We actually had a major which ran our MarDet of about 80 Marines on the Nimitz. By the time I reported aboard the Ike, MarDets had been eliminated from a carrier’s crew compliment. Today, the Marine squadron depicted in “Carrier” is an exception rather than the rule for most deployable air wings.
My dad served on a destroyer in the 50s (USS Benham DD-796) and he would tell us his sea stories all of which included that expression. I am still glad it remains part of Navy culture. I still have the Baby-san books from his trip to Hong Kong.
It’s also amazing that I can still sleep through a lot of noise, as well.
My berthing was under the number 2 wire, O3 level. The AIMD jet shop would do high power engine tests there. At sleepy time, naturally. Eventually got used to sleeping through that. (I think its because the engines start-ups are low, then build up slowly. They don’t “shock” you out of your sleep.)
It’s also funny how we can hear the change in the skill of the pilots during cruise. (Landing skill, that is.) Early on, those guys SLAM into the deck. (The arresting gear gives off a loud characteristic screech.) Later in the cruise, they land light as a feather. Usually.
The chiefs’ berthing on the Ike was located directly beneath the aft mess decks scullery. There were also three weapons elevators which ran through the space. I tell ya, we could hear every piece of silverware dropped and the near constant, incessant noise of the elevators’ hydraulics was enough to keep you awake. This, combined with the shudder that accompanied every cat shot, makes you wonder how we ever got a little shut eye.
But now turn on one little lamp that doesn’t have a red bulb and I snap awake.
I never slept on a carrier until I was out of the Navy. I then had to go to the John C. Stennis for some contract work and stay aboard for about twenty days.
They got us off on the C-2 and flew us to North Island. That was a memorable experience.
The rest of my sea time has been on a cruiser, an Arleigh Burke-class destroyer, a Spruance-class destroyer, and various ships from the naval forces of South American countries.
Ah. The showers. No hot water in port, no cold water at sea.
The nozzle was hand held, and you had to hold down a button on the nozzle to get water out. Washing yourself one-handed, while spraying the (very) hot water up into the air (to let it cool off before it lands back on you) is a skill I wish translated into a good paying job.
Smart Sailors would take a shower curtain hook and keep it in his ditty bag. With just a minute bend, you would be able to clip the ring around the shower head and it would depress the button. Did you ever notice that most shower curtains only had three rings and 12 grommets?
But then again, I may have more time on the shitter at sea, than some have at sea!
I am laughing to myself. I used to volunteer for a lot of night shift duty as it meant that far less Chiefs and Officers were around and I get more done without being bugged. Of course the drawback to my plan was the Jet Shop was over the E-Div berthing. The really loud jet engine roar wasn’t too bad, it was the dropping of tools and inspection plates and who knows what else that was deadly to sleeping. When I worked in the electrical safety shop, I had a sleeping area hidden behind some lockers. This was not to sleep on duty but simply because it was so much quieter in the shop than in my berthing. The same thing in #7 switchboard room, I would sleep behind the panel under the wire runs until a Chief caught me. He was going to write me up until I explained I was off duty and that it was much quieter here. He ordered me not to sleep there any more as a safety risk. He was of course correct.
When we first reported to the ship, they put us in a berthing directly under the arresting gear I believe. That is a really noisy introduction to carrier life.
mlees: We had hot and cold water in port and at sea. What helped was we were friends with the HT (Hull Techs) and they used our showers too. There were some few benefits to being a snipe. Our hours were the worst, but our equipment always worked.
The whole time I was going through the nuclear power/submarine training pipeline, I repeatedly heard the phrase from the old salts, “I’ve spent more time on the shitter at test depth than you’ve been in the Navy!”
Guess where I headed the first time my boat went to test depth?
[sub]Translation for non-Navy folks: test depth = maximum safe operating depth[/sub]
That’s another nice thing about a submarine. Once submerged and Patrol Quiet is set, nobody drops any tools or bangs anything, or there’s hell to pay. The guys in the sonar shack continuously monitor for this. On the other hand, we went months without seeing the sun or sky.
There’s just the constant white noise of the ventilation fans. Oh, and the alarms every afternoon during drill period.
“Moored. Shift colors. The Officer of the Deck has moved his watch from the wheelhouse to the quarterdeck. Liberty is authorized for top-side sections two, three, four, and five, and starboard engineering watch.”
ETA: Don’t forget, Robby there was also that whole question about whether the surface:dive ratio would ever be returned to 1:1.
Well I worked night crew a lot, I know there was at least one month where I only saw the sun once and that was because I made a point of visiting the fantail to get some fresh air and look at the sky. I was a snipe, not a fresh air sailor.
