HEROES OF THE SEA
by Bob Reding
A tale of a something that many of us won’t admit existed…….
At first, being stationed on a
weather ship sounded great. All the stories of search and rescue were exciting and
the imagination could run wild with the prospects ahead.
The thought of being seasick had
never even occurred to me. After all I had been on just about every ride
imaginable at the State Fair of Texas, Coney Island and several other amusement
parks without having ever experienced the first hint of nausea. I had ridden
horses, played football, basketball, ran track and gone fishing. No activity I
had ever participated in made me sick of my stomach.
Now some have never had the first
hint of seasickness and some wouldn’t admit it if they had. However, for myself
I will admit to having been sick on my first trip to sea. My first Special Sea
Detail billet was in CIC with a set of earphones and a mike with which I was to
communicate to the bridge messenger targets reported by radar.
As the mooring lines were thrown off
the dock and we began to get underway it happened. I was watching out of a
porthole as we slowly started to back out of the mooring and the ship ever so
gently began to roll back and forth. The more I watched out of that porthole
the more I got the sense of that slow roll, back and forth, back and forth. I
would repeat instructions to the bridge as they were given me, but then glance
back out that porthole and watch as we made our way out of Boston harbor toward
the open sea, the ship ever rolling back and forth, back and forth, ever so
slowly, back and forth.
No sooner had we secured from Special
Sea Detail, I made a quick exit from CIC and out into the fresh air. Standing
there at the side rail for a moment, taking in all the wonders of being at sea
for the first time, I was in awe. I was also probably a little green as one of
my shipmates asked if I was o.k. “ I’m fine”, I assured him and headed to the
quarterdeck for muster and instructions. On the way to the quarterdeck I made a
brief stop at the head on the main deck and lost what I assumed to be my
breakfast. After washing my face and feeling a little better proceeded to
muster.
Being a boot, right out of basic
training I was going to be a mess cook for this trip which was a seven day
standby anchored off of Providence Town, Massachusetts, the farthermost tip of
Cape Cod. The thought of serving food, cleaning the mess deck, washing trays
and utensils etc. was not exactly what I had in mind for my sea going but
everyone has to start somewhere.
That first day steaming to the
anchorage and later after we anchored was uneventful, unless you count the many
trips I made to the head. Even at anchor I was constantly aware of the ship’s
movement, albeit ever so slight. Serving chow didn’t help the condition as the
smell and sight of food brought on more trips to the head. I managed to eat
from time to time but never a full meal and practically always with the same
result, a trip to the head.
After a couple of days I was
beginning to realize that my Coast Guard career was going to be little more
than nearly four years of commode hugging. All those visions of riding out the
storms at sea and numerous rescue operations I had heard about were literally
going down the toilet along with my previous meal. Saltine crackers became a
staple for me as they seem to calm my stomach somewhat and I was able to keep
them down. Hot tea, a new experience for me also had a calming effect. I was
really becoming frustrated by the third day. How long could one survive on hot
tea and crackers? My future seemed glum, my dreams and aspirations dim and my
very existence questionable.
After being awakened at 0400 for my
duties as mess cook on the fourth day I seemed to feel a little better and
after my shower, almost normal. For one thing I noticed that I was hungry, I
mean REALLY hungry. Now being very much apprehensive at this point I didn’t
just “pig-out” but was able to eat a decent breakfast and perform my duties
without a trip to the head that morning. It was as if a great weight had been
lifted from my shoulders. My bleak outlook changed, as I was able to think
clearly for the first time since that last mooring line was dropped back at
Constitution Wharf in Boston. No longer was I “chained” to that disgusting
metal object with which I had become so familiar, the toilet, hopper, john,
crapper, whatever, I was free and on my way to recovery.
It was a wonderfully misty and
overcast day as I stood on the main deck that morning. I watched as small
fishing boats moved among the many marker buoys, checking the lobster traps
attached. It was great to be alive! It was great to be a part of this grand
spectacle. It was great to know that I was where I wanted to be, at sea with
all those adventures ahead of me.
POSTSCRIPT:
“Dear Mom and Dad,
Well your son is officially a
seagoing sailor! I wish I could describe how it felt going to sea for the first
time. How exciting it was moving through the water as we sailed to our
anchorage off of Providence Town, Massachusetts. We will be here for seven days
on standby in case we have to go on a rescue….blah, blah, blah, etc. etc.”