Travel, the Navy way - Guest post

This contribution comes from Jay Yurth (Amazon.com)

 

 

Transferring off an Aircraft carrier from the Indian Ocean.

 

When you first go in the Navy, you are usually young and probably have never been very far from home…alone. You have to quickly figure out that you can’t run to your mommy for help. You either deal with it or you are lost. If you stay in the service for a second, third or fourth “hitch” you get to move around a lot and you learn to improvise and roll with whatever comes your way. Acquiring these experiences can always help you later on down the road. Here is one example of how I persevered.

 So, here I was in the summer of 1989, married to a crazy 2^nd wife (really, she had issues) and preparing to transfer off an Aircraft Carrier. I just couldn’t wait to get home to get yelled at for causing all her personal problems while I was gone. (Hmm, maybe I had problems too, in wanting to come back to that) By this time I was an E-6. I had made 2 Mediterranean cruises where I saw many European countries and two North African countries, Egypt (back when you could BE an American there without being shot) and Tunisia. Saw the Pyramids , Mt. Vesuvius, Mt Etna, Pompeii, the leaning tower and Sicily. I saw the rock of Gibraltar as we passed into the Mediterranean from the Atlantic Ocean. I did 2 Indian/Western Pacific Ocean cruises, where I saw much of the Asian and Malaysian world. Saw Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Tokyo, etc. I did 1 Caribbean 30 day jaunt. Saw Gitmo on the end of Cuba (isn’t it weird that we have a base on the end of Cuba?) , saw Puerto Rico, Haiti and the Dominican Republic and all those Islands down there from the safety of the ship. We did port in Kingston, Jamaica (Oh mon, what a story Jamaica has) and St. Thomas, Virgin islands. I also made 1 north Pacific run to see Alaska from afar also, all while on just 2 different carriers. I had been to 20 countries, including city states like Hong Kong, before China took it back in 1997, Singapore and the Vatican (actually went inside, but I started to get real hot. No just kidding!) So, I had logged some major traveling under my belt during the many ports we pulled into. But getting from the U.S.S. Ranger, at the very beginning of what would be the 1^st gulf war, back to San Diego, was going to be a nightmare.

  You see in 1989 we were bombing gulf oil rigs in Iraq and they were shooting down passenger airplanes and stuff that most civilians hadn’t heard about yet, but I got medals and campaign ribbons to prove we were making a mess over there already in 1989 before a declared war was called in 1990. (I hope the NSA isn’t saving this)

My ship was in the North Indian Ocean closer to the Arabian Sea and it was headed to Perth in the South Indian Ocean shortly. I had a choice to fly off early, which I took.

First I got into a helicopter and flew to a smaller LHS ship. Landing a helicopter on a small rocking and rolling ship was, let’s say, an experience that I will not miss. I grabbed my sea-bag that held everything I owned and followed a guy to a berthing area to find a rack where I was going to sleep over for one night. I secured a rack and headed to the galley to eat. A small ship has much better food than an Aircraft Carrier, 200 sailors vs. 5000 sailors makes the cooks keep the crew happy with tasty food. I woofed something down and headed for the rack. After about 2 hours or more of more rolling than I was used to, a loud disturbance woke me. Seems I had been placed in the Boatswains berthing area and they were having a “hurricane party”. This is just when they all get together and yank everyone out of their racks just for the hell of it. Well, when a guy reached in to grab my leg, I yelled at him that I was just a transient and if he continued, I was going to kick his face in, oh and I’m an E-6 dude. The seaman slinked away to another rack. Conflict avoided.

In the morning after staying awake with all the noise and commotion while protecting my rack and sea-bag, I had another great breakfast and went to the staging area to fly off in another helicopter. We landed in Oman, of all places, after what seemed like an hour ride. As we were walking to the terminal, I looked around. Nothing but sand. Really. As far as I could see there were no trees or anything, just sand and some buildings. Whatever. Into the very cold terminal where we waited for the C-130 to get ready for us. We then had to walk, what seemed like a long way, to the aircraft and in the 103 degree weather. I started to sweat like a pig since I am carrying a 90 pound sea-bag in my dress whites. We (me and 3 other guys) got on the cargo plane that had seats, um…jump seats for us to sit in. Jump seats are cargo net slings pretending to be seats, attached to the side of the plane. OK, I plopped my butt in one and they started the engines and it got real cold in there. I mean I had icicles on my armpits now (a little exaggeration). We took off and eventually landed in Diego Garcia, British Indian Ocean Territory. (I would be stationed there later from 1994-1996) Funny thing, Diego Garcia is about 7 degrees south of the equator so I never understood why they didn’t let us helo off when the ship passed by there on its way to Australia. So I get to DG, as we call it, and wait there for 3 days to catch a contracted charter plane to Singapore. We stay on the plane there and pick up other folks and off to Thailand, then quickly onto another plane to the Philippines. I’m eating vending machine warmed ravioli, chips and soda for much of these terminal stops. Once on the US base in Subic Bay, I get told to find a bunk in the Warrant Officers berthing. OK, cool, nice area. Then I get told by the duty chief that I am 4 days early on my 10 transit time and he will be putting me on shore patrol for 3 days and it is 12 on and 12 off. Say WHAT?  He tells me that the military hops won’t be back until then and they can’t have sailors that are being paid salary doing nothing for 3 days, but if I wanted to take a commercial plane home all I had to do was go to SATO (The Navy’s ticket agents) get a ticket and fly on my own dime. Natch! That’s the ticket.

 So, I go look for a taxi outside the barracks and find a long line of about 20 folks. I knew it was late in the day and figured SATO would close up soon so I walked up to the 1^st guy in line and said, I’ll give you $20 to let me ride with you.” He obliged. (That $20 was worth a whole lot more back in 1989) I get to SATO and secured a flight out of Manila. But I didn’t have my checkbook. It was in my sea-bag back in my room. The nice lady said if I hurry, she would have someone wait just one hour after closing time for me to get back. This sounded like enough time, but noooooo. I had to find another taxi stand. I finally got back to the barracks room and dumped my sea-bag on the floor and was trying to remember where it was. It felt like it took forever, but I finally found it and back to the long line for a taxi. Again I bribed the 1^st person in line with a $20 and back to SATO I went. The guy was locking the door when I arrived but I got my ticket to fly out of Manila. OK, how do I get to the Manila airport? Take the bus the SATO guy says. When does it leave I ask? Right now. But of course! Where does it leave from? The warrant officers barracks. Luckily I had told the taxi driver to stay and wait for me, this time. I get back to the barracks and I see the bus. It is loaded with military and civilian folks. Standing room only. I rush to my room and throw everything back into the sea-bag and run for the bus. It took off 5 minutes after I squeezed on it.

 Four hours later I arrive in Manila. Subic Bay was only about 90 miles away but it was rough terrain and this bus stopped for every town along the way. I head over to the airport doors and two short local military guys with machine guns ask me what I am doing as I shake the double doors, in pretty good broken English. I say I wanted to go into the terminal to lay down and wait for my 8 am flight. Noooo, they lock the doors at night, you will sleep somewhere else they said. Now, I know I could have probably went across the street and found a hotel but it was like midnight and I have stayed awake for days before and I figured they wouldn’t take my US check. You see, I was on a ship at sea what did I need a credit card for. No problem.

Well, around 4 am I am awoken by the sidewalk cleaner who wants to high pressure spray where I am sitting. OK, over to the wall across the street. Just as I was dozing off I feel something really weird. Seems I found a nice little ant transit area to sit on. They wanted the wall and I obliged then, after dancing around a bit to get them off me. I finally dozed off on another part of the wall but I was awoken this time by two different military guys with machine guns. They had come over to start a conversation. I guess they were bored at this time of the morning. Well, one of them asked me if I was a Navy SEAL and I was just delirious enough to say, “Yes, yes I am.” So I passed the next 2 hours making up some very interesting fake stories of my time in the SEALs killing people and what not. The guys liked it and we all bonded as the time flew by.

Finally the lights come on and the doors open and I go to look for my airline inside. I am in a long line for the international flights and I notice I am about a foot taller than everyone else in the place, except for one other white guy. He was behind me, so I moved backwards and we found out we were both headed for San Diego. He was a military guy but I don’t remember much about him. So, we get into the air and after a while a lady comes on the speaker and says that all the folks that are connecting to flight such and such need to get off first as they are holding the plane for them until this plane lands and of course me and my friend are on that flight. So, I know she said it like 3 times in many other languages but sure enough, when the plane landed, no one stayed seated like they were told. Everyone got up and de-boarded and of course I was closer to the back than the front of the plane. Well, after finally getting off, there was a Korean lady holding up a sign with our flight number on it by the terminal area and after she felt we were all corralled, a man with a machine gun started running and as he led the way, we all followed. It was kinda fun to run through the Seoul, South Korean airport like that. Makes ya feel special. So, our little crowd comes to a stop and we are outside another terminal. I figure we would board right away since we were late and all. Nope. We went into a waiting area and had some snacks for another hour. Then we boarded the plane to Hawaii. Pit stop in Hawaii and off to San Diego. So I am at 72 hours of being awake with only a few cat naps in there. I get there and to my chagrin, my 2^nd wife is NOT there waiting. I call her and say please come and get me and then I go look for my sea-bag. The wife finally arrives, but alas the sea-bag is missing. I don’t even care, I had my yellow manila folder with my transfer orders in it, I’m good to go. (A sailor never wants to lose sight of that folder. I did once and that is going to be another story) I only need a few things and sleep and a Big Mac are two of them. Got the sea-bag the next day much to my surprise. Couldn’t sleep for hours after getting home and into a shower though, way too wired.

A lesser traveled person may have just given up somewhere along the way and broken down, but not me. Been around the world as they say. Dealt with it. But, I shall use an immortal chorus line from the Grateful Dead, what a long strange trip it’s been!!