Navy
ships are
graded periodically on their readiness. This comes in the form of
an ORI, or Operational Readiness Inspection. It is a short term
(a
few days) exercise which demonstrates to observers the ship’s readiness
to carry out its mission. This inspection consists of the conduct
of battle problems and other operational exercises. Instead of
standard
drills which the crew would get in Refresher Training, or REFTRA, this
one has observers popping surprises on you. This comes in the
form
of simulated fires, flooding, enemy attack, to see if you can handle
it.
Fail your ORI and you may find yourself (the ship) back in REFTRA with
a new skipper. This story is about one such Operational Readiness
Inspection.
I
used to
think that a naval officer’s primary job was to drive ships. We
call
it “conning” a ship. Formally, it is called shiphandling.
From
the time I was 14 years old, that was my dream. When I became a
naval
officer, I thought shiphandling was what it was all about.
In
reality, naval
officers are department heads or division officers. The main
departments
in a ship are engineering, deck, operations, gunnery. Those
departments
are further broken down into divisions. In my Navy days
engineering
department consisted of the A&E Division, auxiliary and electrical,
as well as the B&R Division, boiler and repair division. Deck
department consisted of First and Second Divisions, and Weapons
Division.
First and Second Divisions were the deck seamen. Weapons Division
included gunnery and fire control personnel (aiming and tracking
guns).
Operations Department consisted of Communications and Navigation
Divisions.
On a fleet oiler of 650 feet, a department head had about 3 officers
and
75 men under him. A division officer had about 20 to 30 or so men
in a division.
The
officer’s were
responsible for the duties of their various departments and
divisions.
This included the maintenance of all the equipment their divisions were
responsible for. It also included the training of all the men
under
them.
In
addition to
these duties, there are collateral duties. Welfare and
Recreation,
Publications Control, Officer’s Mess, postage inventory, and medicines
inventory are some of the few additional duties of officers. Yes,
we were knee deep in paperwork.
Unless there is a war or other emergency, like the current war on terrorism, ships spend a lot of time in port. Not all officers get a lot of time conning ships. This means that shiphandling time is severely limited for many naval officers. My first
ship was
a barracks ship up the Mekong River during the Vietnam war. In
the
year I was aboard, I never got to conn the ship. When that ship
was
underway, we were always at general quarters (battle stations).
All ships
have
different shiphandling characteristics. My second ship was a
minesweeper.
It was one of the smallest of the Navy’s ships. I did get a lot
of
shiphandling at sea, but none while going in and out of port.
My third
ship was
a large fleet oiler. It was large and bulky. Not very agile
and not so easy to conn in tight places, like going in and out of
harbor.
It had a lot of mass. It did not speed up quickly and it didn’t
stop
quickly. From all ahead full (full speed), to a stop took about
two
miles. I got plenty of shiphandling time on this ship.
Handling
a ship
at sea with miles and miles of open ocean is fairly easy. There
is
no danger of running aground or hitting other ships….. most of the time.
I turned
out to
be a pretty good shiphandler. It was one of the few good things
my
captain said about me. I never got that much of a chance on my
first
two ships. I don’t know how it came about, but I wound up taking
the ship in and out of Pearl Harbor quite often.
Taking a
ship out
to sea and back in is a challenge in any harbor. My oiler had a
deep
draft, but Pearl Harbor had a deep enough channel. The problem
was
making that sharp turn between Ford Island and Hospital Point. If
I made a mistake, the ship would run aground or hit another ship.
Running an oiler aground risked the spilling of up to 10 million
gallons
of fuel in the harbor. Either way it would be a career killer.
As the
Officer
of the Deck, or OOD, I would take the ship into Pearl Harbor. You
can believe that the captain was right there on the bridge with me,
watching
every move. Each ship has its own turning characteristics.
When approaching Hospital Point, with Ford Island dead ahead, I would
stand
on the starboard wing of the bridge (right side). I would be
about
50 feet or so above the water.
We would
be doing
about 5 knots. Pretty slow, but faster than you can walk. I
wouldn’t be doing any casual talking. I would stand there with a
pair of binoculars around my neck studying the approaching turn.
At just the right time I would order “Right 20 Degrees Rudder.”
Then
I would say “Steady up on ………” whatever the next course was. I
figure
there was about a 10 to fifteen second window of opportunity to make
that
turn. It took a lot of concentration.
We got a
new captain
aboard. The first time we went to sea with him, it was almost a
disaster.
I was taking the ship out of Pearl Harbor. We went the long way
around
Ford Island. We were approaching the turn at Hospital Point from
the opposite side. It would be a turn to the right. I
ignored
everything except making that turn. The new captain was anxious
about
that turn. He never said a word to me as we approached. All
of a sudden he paniced. He ordered “Right Full Rudder.” It
was too soon to make that turn. I was caught completely off
guard.
I stepped to the rail and looked down. When your ship draws 40
feet
of water on a ship that big, you should never be able to see sand on
the
bottom. I was looking down and I could see the bottom.
Fortunately,
the
captain quickly realized he had made a mistake and just barely avoided
running the ship aground. It could have been his last day on that
ship if he had beached it on the first day. He had thought that I
didn’t know what I was doing. I was pretty shook up myself.
That was
the only
close call I ever had as a shiphandler. For the rest of the time
I spent on that ship I would say that I probably took it in and out of
port more than any other officer. Taking the ship in and out of
port
was fairly routine.
Having
said that,
I need to clarify something. Saying that I was a pretty good
shiphandler
did not mean that I was in the same class of shiphandler as the skipper
of the Chipola. I had heard the rumors that he had been a
merchant
skipper at one time. I was to get a demonstration of that.
The USS Chipola was a fleet oiler of an older, smaller class than the
one
I was on.
I was on
deck one
day when the ship was tied up to “H”, or Hotel pier as we called it, in
Pearl Harbor. That is the fueling pier. Most of the ships
in
harbor are tanked up by small harbor tenders that go around, ship to
ship,
and fuel them. The big oilers tied up at Hotel pier. The
Chipola
was going to tie up at Hotel pier.
What
surprised
me was that the Chipola had gone the long way around Ford Island to get
to Hotel pier. When you come into Pearl Harbor, you take a right
at Hospital Point. Once you make that turn, you sail past what
was
“battleship row” and the Arizona Memorial straight to Hotel pier.
The pier points in that direction. You don’t even need to make a
turn to get to the mooring.
You would
think
that a straight shot to the pier meant going in alone and tieing
up.
Unfortunately, a ship as large as ours is not very handy to maneuver at
slow speeds. A slight miscalculation, or a nice breeze and you
can
envision a 37,000 ton ship at one knot hitting a concrete fuel
pier.
Not a pretty picture. On the other hand, it might wind up so far
from the pier that you are trying to pull the ship to the pier with the
mooring lines, sideways.
That is
why we
always picked up a pilot when we came in past Hospital Point. As
we approached the pier, the pilot would take over from the OOD and
direct
his two tugs to nudge us into the pier. We would then be moored
with
our bow towards the island and the stern pointed towards the harbor
entrance.
On this
occasion
the Chipola, having gone the long way around Ford Island, was
approaching
Hotel pier at a perpendicular angle. I could not figure what she
was doing. She had an enormous red lei (flower necklace) draped
around
her bow. She was coming home from a long deployment off the coast
of Vietnam. Hotel pier was full of family members waiting for
their
sailors to come home.
Right
away I noticed
that something was missing. Where were the tugs? They were
nowhere to be found. The Chipola came on, the bow pointed at the
middle of the pier. This was going to be interesting. I did
not know how much of an understatement that was.
As the
ship closed
to about a hundred and fifty yards, slowing down steadily, I heard a
sound.
It was then that I noticed the Chipola’s anchor being lowered to the
waterline.
What in the world…….. was all I could think at the time.
Then the
Chipola
started to swing to the right. I guessed it wasn’t going to be a
collision with the pier. The ship then lowered the anchor so it
just
touched the bottom of the harbor. All of a sudden, the ship
started
to pivot on that grounded anchor, and the stern swung around
slowly.
Before I knew what happened, the Chipola was swinging right up parallel
to the pier with the bow pointed towards the harbor entrance. The
mooring lines were over and she was tied up.
I have to
be honest
with you, that wasn’t shiphandling, that was magic. I was really
impressed. The shiphandling I had been doing was kids stuff in
comparison.
Even so, it was pretty good compared to most naval officers that I knew.
Back to
my experiences.
Sailing in and out of harbor had its special problems. The
lookouts
on the wings of the bridge would take bearings to known landmarks on
the
chart. They would then tell the navigator, using sound powered
phones.
They would wear headsets that had a microphone that hung around their
neck
and were right in front of their faces, just below their chins.
The
navigator could also take a range (or distance) to landmarks on the
radar.
The navigator would then plot the ship’s position on the chart.
He
would then say, “I have a good fix at this time.” He would also
say,
“The ship is 20 yards to the right of the center of the channel,” and
“It
is 300 yards to the next turn, the course will be 030.”
The
lookouts on
the wings of the bridge would take bearings to known landmarks on the
chart.
They would then tell the navigator, using sound powered phones.
They
would wear headsets that had a microphone that hung around their neck
and
were right in front of their faces, just below their chins. The
navigator
could also take a range (or distance) to landmarks on the radar.
The navigator would then plot the ship’s position on the chart.
He
would then say, “I have a good fix at this time.” He would also
say,
“The ship is 20 yards to the right of the center of the channel.” The
next
thing he would say was, “It is 300 yards to the next turn, the course
will
be 030.”
One of
the difficulties
with this is that you know there is a delay in the time it takes
between
getting the information and the time it is given to the OOD. The
person takes two or three bearings, and relays it to the
navigator.
The navigator takes the information and a radar range from Combat
Information
Center. He then plots the information and relays it to the OOD.
The OOD
is then
told where he, and the ship are. At least the OOD knew where the
ship was when the bearings were taken. Only the ship wasn’t there
any more. Another thing, as OOD you often have a better idea of
where
the ship is than the navigator. If you are in a channel marked by
navigational aids like bouys or marked pilings, you can see that you
are
exactly in the center of the channel when the navigator says you are to
the left or right of the center of the channel.
One of
the challenges
of shiphandling during an Operational Readiness Inspection is that the
inspectors tell you that the country is supposed to be in a state of
war
with an imaginary country. They also tell you that there is a
minefield
at the entrance to Pearl Harbor. This would be done to prevent
enemy
ships and/or submarines from entering the harbor. The ship is
expected
to navigate the imaginary minefield. It is a two leg zigzag
course
through the minefield. The minefield was even marked on the chart
for us.
There is
a slight
problem. The minefield started just past the last pair of
navigational
bouys, outside the harbor. At those outer bouys there was nothing
to visually show where the minefield was. There was no reference
points in the water at all to assist the Officer of the
Deck.
To make matters worse, the ship has never, and I mean never,
successfully
passed through the minefield during an ORI. This meant that if it
were in time of war, the ship would be sunk by our own mines.
The
Operational
Readiness Inspection arrived. For these exercises I was not the
OOD.
In fact my regular General Quarters station (Battle Station) at that
time
was in the after gun director. This sounds like an easy
job.
Sit in a small turret that has a radar antenna attached, with a fire
control
technician right under my feet. All I had to do was search in the
part of the ocean, or sky that Combat Information Center (with the
search
radars) told me to. When I saw the target, I would swing all, or
some, of the guns around remotely towards the target. Then the
fire
control man sitting under me kept the guns on target with the radar we
had on our turret. We’re talking having control of eight, 3 inch
guns. A lot of firepower for a ship of our type. Of course,
one hit from any type of enemy plane or ship and we would go up like a
roman candle, a million times over. We were sitting on 10 million
gallons of fuel.
Unfortunately,
our gun director was right behind the huge smoke stack, at the rear of
the ship. As long as we were sailing against the wind, or
crosswise
to the wind, that was all right. The stack gas, or smoke, was
blown
away from us. When we were sailing with the wind, the smoke from
the funnel would stay with, and hang over, the stern of the ship.
In that gun director it was the equivalent of parking 20 busses in your
garage, closing the door, and let them keep the engines running.
We couldn’t breathe with that stack gas hanging over the rear of the
ship.
The
captain
decided to go out to sea two days before the ORI and do some exercises
for practice before we got graded. We left late in the day, right
before dark. We would be doing practice drills most of the
night.
Since he would be briefing the general quarters bridge crew on the way
out, I was designated as the OOD for leaving port.
The
captain
stayed on the bridge as we headed out of Pearl Harbor. We cleared
the entrance to the harbor and entered that straight stretch of marked
channel towards the outer bouys. The captain turned his back on
me
and got his team together off to one side. Some of the inspection
team members stood back and observed. They weren’t grading this
time.
I had the front of the bridge to myself. The navigator stayed put
at the chart table because we weren’t past the outer bouys yet.
Normally,
when the ship reached the outer bouys we kept going out a ways before
changing
course. About four hundred yards from the outer pair of bouys I
asked
the navigator for the course to the first leg of the minefield.
It
wasn’t going to count against us, so why not try and run it.
Since
the captain was busy with other things, he wouldn’t be pacing the
bridge.
It was a good thing, because what I did next defied all previous
practices.
The
first
leg of the course through the minefield this time was a sharp right
turn,
once past the outer bouys. An oiler does not make sharp turns…….
or at least it is not supposed to be able to. I was going to
gamble.
Well short of the bouys I ordered a “Right Full Rudder.” I also
gave
the helmsman a course to steady up on. It was going to be
close.
When the ship reached the outer bouys, we barely cleared the right bouy
with the bow of the ship. The stern barely cleared the bouy on
the
left. That put those bouys about 655 feet apart. Hitting
one
of those bouys would have been a disaster to my service record.
When
the
navigator gave me his next fix we were in the channel, on the first of
two legs through the minefield. I think he was a bit
surprised.
It was about a mile to the next turn. The next fix showed us
about
in the center of the channel. No channel bouys here to help
me.
I had to picture it in my mind.
When
I got
the fix from the navigator he told me that it was about 400 yards to
the
next
turn, a sharp turn to the left. By the time he gave me that
information,
the ship, doing about 7 knots, was already about 200 yards past that
point.
I looked at a place in the ocean about 200 yards in front of us.
I concentrated on that spot. When we got within 100 yards or so,
I ordered, “Left Full Rudder.” I also gave another course to
steady
up on.
By
this time,
the navigator was interested. We actually had a chance to
successfully
clear the minefield. When the quartermaster called in the next
set
of bearings to the landmarks, we were in the second leg of the
channel.
Fifteen minutes later we were clear of that imaginary minefield.
We had cleared it successfully. The record was there on that
chart.
It didn’t count because we weren’t being graded, but I didn’t even
care.
I felt pretty good. It was something that no one else had ever
been
able to do.
Two days
later
we left port again. This time, everything we did was
graded.
How did we do in the minefield? Don’t ask. It wasn’t even
close.
Where was I? I was at my regular General Quarters station, all
the
way aft. I was sitting up high, in my gun director with a big
grin
on my face. There are some things in life you savor for as long
as
you live, and that day I spent running the minefield is one of them.
Tom
Sparkman |