Fifty Shades of (Haze) Grey

Frigate USS Moinester at Anchor, Med 1981

THE U.S. NAVY IS BORING!

Now hold on...put away the Manual of Courts Martial, postpone the keel-hauling and give me a chance to explain...

The Military Sealift Command* is in the business of providing the Fleet and our allies' naval vessels with fuel, water, food, mail delivery, and just about every kind of logistical support. MSC does other jobs as well, but our bread and butter is the underway replenishment (UnRep) of warships, either by Connected Replenishment (ConRep) or Vertical Replenishment (VertRep). A look back through the photographs I've posted over the years will show both of these techniques in use; we practice a lot, and can transfer impressive amounts of fuel and cargo in short order to thirsty and hungry combatants.

Our major customer is, of course, the U.S. Navy; I'd estimate that at least 7 out of 10 Unreps we conduct out here in the Gulf of Aden (GOA) involves the transfer of fuel and stores to an American destroyer or frigate. These ships are notorious for having small bunkers and high-performance engines that gulp down DFM (Distillate Fuel Marine, essentially high-test diesel fuel) at astounding rates of consumption, and their helos drink plenty of JP5, or "jet" as well.

"DEJA VU" ALL OVER AGAIN

The problem with the USN ships is that they all look alike, or at least all the ships of each type look pretty much like their sister ships. When Arleigh Burke comes alongside, the only way to tell her from John Paul Jones is to check her "pennant", or hull number--otherwise these ships are virtual carbon copies of each other. Nearly sixty carbon copies. Likewise the frigate Taylor is pretty much indistinguishable from Elrod or Kauffman; ditto the cruisers Normandy and Leyte Gulf. A fleet of cookie-cutter warships, our surface combat force is divided into exactly one class of each type of ship...and the same rule applies in general to aircraft carriers and amphibious warfare vessels as well.

Yawn. The luster of being a ship enthusiast and photographer begins to dull when all of your "customers" look alike. I suppose I could just take one photo of a destroyer and "photoshop" different hull numbers on it...who could tell?

Guided-Missile Destroyer USS Charles F. Adams in Gitmo 1983

LOOKING BACK
It wasn't always this way. When I joined my first frigate, 'way back in 1981, the Navy's surface force consisted of a half-dozen different classes of guided-missile cruiser (both nuclear and conventional propulsion, or CG and CGN), at least as many 'makes' of destroyer and guided-missile destroyer (DD and DDG), and five distinct classes of frigate and guided-missile frigate (FF and FFG).

A walk along the Norfolk piers was a safari of ship classes, with quite a few variations in class and even unique hulls, one-off warships or survivors of elderly classes. In fact, it wasn't unusual even in that era to see ships alongside that dated back to World War II and the Korean War!

This began to change with the Reagan years. The President and Navy Secretary John Lehman were committed to updating and improving our naval forces across the board, and under their direction the Navy began to acquire newer and vastly more powerful ships and submarines. As the eighties wore on into the early nineties, the variety of cruisers and destroyers to be seen pierside and at sea began to decrease; the Fleet started to resemble the homogenous force that sails today. Half-a-dozen cruiser classes vanished to be replaced by the incredibly capable Ticonderoga/Bunker Hill class ships, and entire classes of DDs, DDGs, and frigates were decommissioned, sold off to other countries or "expended" as targets during naval wargames. Many of these ships were quite young as hulls go; the entire Spruance and Knox classes, capable ships with decades of useful service remaining, simply disappeared to make room (physically and financially) for the new Burke class DDGs, while the Virginia-class CGNs were little more than fifteen years old when they began to be decommissioned.

By the beginning of the 21st century the deed was done. Today we have one class each of the DDG, CG, and FF types...and the last of the frigates are soon to fade away, to be replaced in a very limited manner by the new Littoral Combat Ships (LCS).

{{Informed readers may note that I refer to the Perry-class frigates as FFs rather than FFGs. This is due to the removal of all the remaining FFGs' missile armament back in the early 2000s. A cost-saving measure but, in my opinion, a potentially expensive one -- the Perrys now deployed to hot-spots around the world now have NO anti-aircraft or anti-ship capability beyond their point-defense "Phalanx" mounts and 76mm guns. And our potential enemies know this. Our leaders might want to remember that Less Capable Does Not Mean In-Capable, and that some defense is better than none.}}


RATIONALE

Yes, I understand the advantages conferred by standardization of types and classes; the Navy's logistical juggernaut need only funnel a certain, fixed variety of components and their associated paraphernalia to the ships of the fleet. When we had five classes of destroyer on-line, there were five separate parts pipelines supplying them all, ditto the multiple cruiser and frigate classes--and the supply of ordnance to a dozen missile systems and five major calibres of gun armament required a tremendous and complicated logistical track. Additionally there is a great savings in manpower and facilities when you only need train Sailors to operate six weapons systems rather than seventeen. Building all of the cruisers, all of the destroyers to a couple of designs makes perfect sense in this context.

And it IS true that these ships are orders of magnitude more capable than the older classes that they replaced; having experienced service in a cruiser and witnessed the power and precision of modern weapons and sensor systems I would look rather foolish if I were to claim that our force is not better-equipped as a result of the changes I've broadly outlined above (I do have one argument regarding this point, but will save it for a future post). In fact, I am quite pleased to concede that a single Bunker Hill- or Burke-class ship carries more firepower, and can apply it more flexibly, than any single hull has ever done before. They truly are magnificent fighting machines, and crewed by trained officers and Sailors they can effect control of an enormous area of the sea, air, electronic and space battlefield.

It is possible that I have exaggerated somewhat the potential for boredom experienced when a powerful USN warship is approaching our starboard side and preparing to connect, but it is true that I take fewer photos these days as American ships draw close to Unrep. I have literally thousands of images of the cookie-cutter Fleet on my hard drive, and the unless something unusually dramatic is happening I just don't feel the impulse I once did to capture Arleigh Burkes, Bunker Hills, and Perrys.

Perhaps I suffer from overkill. In any case it must be obvious that my complaint is purely based on personal aesthetic preferences. But not to despair; there IS an antidote to shipspotter's ennui...


OTHER PEOPLE'S NAVIES

You'll recall my estimate that 7 out of 10 Unreps we conduct are with American warships; the good news is that the other 3 involve combat ships of other nations. There are plenty of them out here in the GOA, involved in anti-piracy patrols either as part of the "Combined Maritime Force" or despatched independently by their governments for escort and protection of merchant ships. British, Dutch, Turkish,French, Spanish, Belgian, German, etc...I'd estimate that at any time there are twenty warships of Allied nations in this region, and at least a dozen "independents", such as Russian, Chinese and Iranian vessels. The independents tend to rely on their own logistical ships (I suspect the Iranian frigate begs for fuel from the ships they escort--oh, that's mean, Tom!), but all of the Allied warships, eventually, end up alongside an MSC oiler for fuel, fresh water and stores.

For the naval enthusiast with camera at the ready, this constitutes a target-rich environment.

Nuclear Guided-Missile Cruiser USS South Carolina in the Med, 1988

“BRIDGE, FORWARD LOOKOUT!”

I find that there is a special excitement in that first visual detection of an unidentified warship; when distant video on the radar screen resolves itself into a masthead just above the horizon, and examination through binoculars reveals its naval provenance. Sometimes our first indication that there is a foreign warship near comes when a strange helo flies by and we puzzle over its markings. Perhaps the "stranger" materializes full-blown from a fogbank or sandstorm, like a wraith from beyond in some monochrome film. But always there is the thrill of the unknown; there is someone else out there, a man-o-war with unknown intent, and it is a small part of my job to resolve the ambiguity and report to my Captain not only what type of vessel it is but a reasonable summary of its class and nation of origin.

I have to admit that I'm pretty proficient in this task; ever since my early years in the Fleet I've been fascinated by warship technology and design, and have spent a great deal of time and effort becoming familiar with the identification features and flags of most of the major classes of combatants world-wide. Recently I even wrote a small booklet on the subject of warship identification, a guide to the classes of ships one might encounter on patrol or transit in this region of the world. Strictly an amateur effort ("Warship ID for Dummies"?) but it has been well-received by bridge watchstanders and captains aboard several ships.

The major drive in my fascination with this topic is the sheer variety of approaches utilized by different countries in what one might expect to be a pretty standardized mission; the design and construction of a warship. While merchant ships worldwide are built to a half-dozen layouts, when it comes to combat ships the number of themes and variations thereof are staggering! As I am quite sure I have written at least once in the past year or so, we all do the same things but do them differently, and therein lies the nub of the matter--with a fairly constant international naval review in progress I can dismiss the cookie-cutter aspects of our own Fleet and concentrate on the amazing variety of men-o-war to be seen out here in the busy waters of the southern approaches to the Red Sea.


FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION...

I am attaching images of a few of Joshua Humphrey's most recent "customers" as evidence of the variety of warships to be found battling the Somali and Yemeni pirates in this area. We have two Spanish ladies, the frigate Reina Sofia and patrol ship Infanta Elena, two very different examples of the Armada Espanola. There is the powerful and very professionally-handled Portuguese frigate Corte Real, of the ubiquitous "Meko" hull and potent sensor and weapons fit, the French Nivose, a chunky patrol vessel with a hull reminiscent of a World War II corvette and impressive endurance (with a maximum cruising range of 10,000 nautical miles at 15 knots she could reach Rio de Janeiro before exhausting the DFM we provided the other day). All of these vessels are strikingly different from each other in both their designs and their capabilities; each bringing a unique set of strengths and weaknesses, doctrines and tactics, to the fight.

SPS Reina Sofia Unreps from USNS Joshua Humphreys

Reina Sofia Unreps from USNS Joshua Humphreys

SPS Infanta Elena

Infanta Elena Alongside USNS Joshua Humphreys

FS Nivose

IN CONCLUSION…

It is the study of these differences, and the array of technologies and techniques that they bring to the modern synergistic naval battle, that keeps me interested in these vessels and their officers and crews. It is the multiplicity of design elements, and the decisions made as they came together on the builder's ways, plus all the myriad changes and adaptations to a constantly changing battle environment, that draws my photographer's instinct to record them to best advantage. And it is my love of ships (some might say obsession), and of the kaleidoscope of types, classes, modifications and variations on the theme of the modern man-o-war, that keeps me glued to the eyepiece cups of my binoculars, waiting for that mast or wisp of stack gas on the razor's edge of the horizon; waiting for the slow appearance of yet another "stranger" to study, identify, understand and admire.


*This is the organization's old name, actually--NOW we are known as the Military Sealift Fleet Support Command--but that is WAY too many syllables for a common mariner like me! The new title appears on the letterhead, but not many of us are using it yet in casual conversation. The acronym--MSFSC--is even less popular with the rank and file. It's easier to say "I work for MSC"...

Ring of Fire

An Annular Eclipse of the Sun

I'd like to take this opportunity to invite everyone to enjoy a pair of impressive celestial events over the next few weeks. I would think that anyone would be interested in these visible demonstrations of the movements of the bodies of our solar system, and that children especially will be fascinated.

First, a brief caveat...

WARNING: Never look directly at the Sun! The Sun's light, either seen with the naked eye or with optical magnification, can do permanent and irreparable damage to your eyes, including partial or permanent blindness. Observe the Sun--or any event involving the Sun--ONLY through properly filtered and operated instruments.

Ring of Fire

The first--during the afternoon of the 20th of May--is an Annular/Partial eclipse of the Sun by the Moon. It will be visible from a large part of the USA and much of Asia (on the morning of the 21st), and should be quite a show.

An Annular eclipse is one in which the Moon passes before the Sun's disk, but the Moon is too distant in its orbit to cover the Sun completely. The result is a ring of Sun surrounding the blackness of the Moon's disk, as seen in the attached image--a spooky vista to be sure. The Annular eclipse will be visible along a narrow track that runs from Taiwan across the Pacific Ocean and the western states, ending in Texas. (See the the map--shamelessly filched from this month's Sky and Telescope magazine)

If you don't happen to live within that track, not to worry! You'll still have the dramatic view of the Moon's disk creeping across a large extent of the Sun's disk...certainly an unusual and unique way to spend a Sunday afternoon. Given the dangers of staring at the Sun with either naked eye or optical equipment, I recommend you check online to see what your area's local amateur astronomers are planning for the event, or call the nearest planetarium and ask about their eclipse activities. Chances are that there will be at least one observing event (a "Star Party") within easy driving distance. They will have properly filtered instruments that will allow you to observe the eclipse in safety and comfort available for public use. I can almost guarantee that there will be a LOT of astronomical attention for this eclipse!

Two and a half weeks later--on the 5th of June--there will be yet another opportunity for you to stare at the Sun! Just make sure you do it safely.

Transit of Venus

Step outside tonight about an hour after sunset; if the skies are fairly clear you'll see a dazzling white "star" dominating the western sky. This is Venus, next planet in from Earth toward the Sun. On the evening of 5 June this planet will cross the disk of the Sun in what is called a 'transit', quite a rare event. In fact, the next time this will occur will be the year 2117, so THIS apparition is literally a "once in a lifetime" event!

Again, the transit will be visible in the late afternoon hours of June 5, and there should be quite a bit of astronomical activity surrounding it's observation; use those stargazing "contacts" you made for the eclipse and take advantage of the opportunity to get the kids away from the TV or computer to experience first-hand the "music of the spheres". The sight of our sister planet slowly crossing the Sun's face will be amazing.

I won't be able to watch the solar eclipse--Joshua Humphreys is sailing in the wrong hemisphere--but weather permitting I WILL be observing the Transit of Venus with properly-filtered binoculars. I hope you'll all take advantage of these two sky-watching opportunities, and further that you'll write me with your observations and impressions. Let me know what you see and what you think about these visible demonstrations of planetary and lunar motion. Above all, enjoy the spectacle--and be SAFE!

If you have any questions about these events--or any astronomical matters--I would be pleased to assist.  Write me at my webmail address of navalgamer@afgimail.com.

Into the light!

"When you see the Southern Cross for the first time...You understand now why you came this way"
-- Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young

After long weeks under the umbrella of dust that cloaks the skies as seen from the Persian Gulf and Gulf of Oman, we have left that filter of fine orange silt behind as we head down the coast of Somalia en route our new mission; supporting anti-piracy operations in these waters of the Horn of Africa. For the first time since I came aboard Joshua Humphreys the horizon is a clear, sharp dividing line between sea and sky rather than thickening haze, the air is clear and the sun rises and sets instead of fading into or out of existence through the murk. The change in our surroundings is reflected clearly in our officers and crew as well; all hands seem to quietly (and some not so quietly) rejoice at the return to the open seas. Conversation is more animated, laughter rises from the decks, and even song is heard to accompany the days' work.

For myself, I find that the sight of a whale or flying fish, the curved prow of a dhow, or the brassy sunlight on the wind-ruffled water brings me a greater happiness here under a clear, open sky than I have felt in the constrained quarters of the dusty Gulfs; the change in our environment is reflected in my attitude of the past few days. I know that as we become accustomed to this area our joy will be tempered, but for now all hands seem happy to celebrate their liberation (if only a temporary one) from the oppressive atmosphere of those waters bound by Iran, Oman, the UAE and Iraq.

Of course, a large measure of my change of attitude is due to the night skies out here on the deep blue, and the new and exciting vistas revealed by our southerly passage.

The southern stars have always held a fascination for mariners. So different from those to be seen in northern latitudes, they represent the mysteries of another hemisphere, of lands and ways far from the familiar ones of our homes. As night watches pass and Polaris sinks slowly and gradually toward the horizon astern, fresh wonders rise off our bows; the shapes of odd constellations and asterisms framing alien stars and an unfamiliar Milky Way stretching across the sky and beckoning us onward to new discoveries, star clouds and lanes of inky darkness etching unusual contours across the night sky.

Even those amongst us who are not stargazers can recognize changes in the evening sky show. Stars that were only a few nights ago directly overhead now circle well to the north, while those that were once low over the horizon now climb high overhead. The sinuous curve of Scorpius' tail and Sagittarius' "teapot" now dominate the sky above us, and the contrasting yellow and blue sparks of Saturn and Spica stand high in the West at midnight. Our eyes are drawn to these changes, just as a land-dweller notes significant alterations in his home environs; we slowly approach the equator and the heavens' changes reflect our southerly course as clearly as a street sign indicates a new traffic pattern to an observant driver.

Last night was the first perfectly clear one since leaving the Strait of Hormuz a week ago...and what a night it was! Stepping from wheelhouse onto bridge wing I was struck motionless by the sight of the Milky Way, its star clouds and dark dust lanes in high relief, strewn with the familiar stars of Cygnus and Aquila and bordered by Lyra and Sagitta. Further to the south, past the Scorpion and the Archer, lay the somewhat less-intimate stars of Centaurus, dominated by the amber beacon of Alpha Centaurus, one of the the nearest stars to our solar system, and by the glowing ball of hazy starlight that comprises the huge globular cluster named Omega Centaurus. Just beautiful!

Even as I stared in wonder at this starry spectacle I could hear the splash of dolphins alongside and see the glow of bioluminescent plankton, excited by Joshua's passage through their uncountable multitudes, reflected on bridge wings awnings. My skin goose-pimpled to the touch of the warm equatorial breeze, and my inner ear registered the slow roll of our hull, its pitch and yaw in the gentle swell, the vibrations of powerful diesels many decks below my feet. And while I admired the view and soaked up the myriad sensations rendered by standing on the deck of a ship at sea under the vault of the heavens, I was already thinking ahead, drawing-up an audacious observing plan for the weeks to come; intending to take full advantage of the star-gazing opportunities inherent in our mission on these waters.

I have my portable star atlas, 10x50 binoculars, and a library of observing references and guides on my laptop, plus what looks a golden opportunity to explore in depth a region of the sky that I rarely get the chance to even glimpse. I think I am going to truly enjoy the next few months.

The Book of Joshua

Attention All Hands!

As of this evening I have been a member of Joshua Humphreys' crew for a month, and I am pleased to report that I've settled-in well to my new ship and duties. She seems a good vessel and well-founded; the crew is a happy one, the importance of which cannot be overstressed, especially in this operational theatre, and her officers and Captain are first rate.

 USNS Joshua Humphreys--a photo I took back in 2010

Joshua Humphreys is named for the Boston naval architect and shipbuilder who designed and oversaw the construction of the first six frigates built for the fledgling United States Navy (one of these fine ships, USS Constitution, is the oldest commissioned vessel still in service afloat, a testament to the skill of her creator). She is actually the second ship of the Fleet to bear the name; the first was a destroyer which served from 1920 through the end of World War II, even serving as a witness to the Japanese attack on Oahu in 1941.

The second of the 18-ship Henry J. Kaiser class of auxiliary replenishment oilers (AOs), Joshua is a bit of an anachronism. When she was finished in 1987 the Navy was surging toward the lofty goal of a 600-ship combat fleet set by President Ronald Reagan and Navy Secretary John Lehman, but with the radical reductions in the force brought about by the "peace dividend" of the early 1990s there were suddenly far fewer naval ships to support. As a consequence of this many older auxiliaries were scrapped; Humphreys was judged to be too young and potentially useful for this fate and was deactivated ("mothballed") in 1996.

And there, in the inactive ships facility in Philadelphia, she remained in suspended in-animation until in 2010 the call came for her services once again. Re-activated and with modernized power plant controls, she was then assigned to U.S. Central Command (CentCom) as the permanent duty oiler for the Persian Gulf, Arabian Sea and Horn of Africa region, where she continues to serve today providing fuel to U.S. and Allied units operating in these waters as a mainstay of Task Force 53, the logistical arm of 5th Fleet.

I wrote "anachronism" above; the mix of old and new in Joshua Humphreys is obvious and sometimes jarring. Her replenishment rigs are the current standard,with shiny titanium winch drums and controls that her original designers (back in the 1970s) could only have dreamed of, but her internal arrangements distinctly old-fashioned; I read and sleep in my own large, clean stateroom but work on a bridge which resembles a nautical museum exhibit; digital readouts and LCD displays are tucked clumsily between bulky, old-fashioned gyro- and magnetic compass repeaters and other instruments that even with my considerable experience made my first trick on the helm a real challenge!

Not to give a wrong impression, though...I feel quite confident on the helm today, and have had my qualification as Unrep Helmsman confirmed by Captain Christian, the ship's Master. This is a point of pride with me; to be trusted to "drive" the ship when aircraft carriers and destroyers come alongside, keeping within tenths of a degree of the ordered course, is a prestigious if stressful honor. Of course, the extra money helps too...

Back to the good ship Humphreys; given that I spent over six years sailing in Arctic, I'm afraid that some comparison with my last ship is inevitable. And there are many differences between the Supply-class Fast Combat Stores ships (AOEs) and the Henry J. Kaiser-class AOs, in both mission and design philosophy. Arctic with her low, almost reptilian profile, was designed and built to naval standards, with vital control and living spaces spread through her and positioned for maximum survivability in a combat environment, and with her gas-turbine propulsion she can keep up with most of the warships she supports, running with the wolves if you will. Humphreys and her sisters, on the other hand, were constructed to a mercantile motif; in profile they more resemble the commercial tankers they are based on, and are arranged more for operation by a smaller crew with much more centralized facilities--all of her staterooms, offices and engineering spaces are located in an apartment building-sized superstructure set well aft.

Both classes of ship carry roughly the same amounts of liquid cargo (Distillate Fuel-Marine/DFM for ships and JP-5 for aircraft) but while the AOEs can deliver massive cargoes of stores and ammunition (hence the "E" in their designations--for Explosive Cargo), AOs have smaller holds and no ordnance capacity to speak of.

There are many other differences, some of which I am still becoming accustomed to. Not being built for high speeds or sustained flight operations (they have helicopter flight decks and the ability to refuel visiting helos, but no hangar or maintenance facilities to support embarked aircraft), the Kaisers are intended to operate independently of the Fleet, meeting with warships on the high seas (and well away from the threat of battle) to supply fuel and limited amounts of cargo via connected replenishment (ConRep) and vertical replenishment (VertRep) using those warships' own "whirlybirds".

I guess you could say that the AOEs (such as Arctic and her three sisters) are the thoroughbreds of this business while the AOs play the vital but less glamorous wagon-team role of carrying fuel to ships at sea, and while I certainly understand the differences between these ships and their missions and am enjoying learning the ropes here aboard Joshua Humphreys I DO occasionally find myself missing the wonderful speed, maneuverability and elan of my "ammo boats". Oh, I have no problem serving in T-AO 188--she is quite comfortable and has a great cadre aboard but I learned my trade on faster, more flexible hulls and I'll probably request assignment to one of them when my tour here is done.

John Paul Jones said that he wished to have nothing to do with any ship that does not sail fast. For my part I guess I just feel the Need for Speed.

Ship Happens!

It has been a very interesting two weeks since last I posted; from a hotel room in sunny-but-cool Norfolk to an oiler in the sunny-and-hot waters between Oman and Iran this has been quite a transition! As noted on my Blog, I got a phone call on the afternoon of the 14th that my assignment plan had been radically changed and that instead of a prolonged period of refresher training in New Jersey I was penciled-in to fly out of Dulles for Bahrain on Friday the 16th to join a new ship. There followed a day and a half of semi-frantic preparation; re-packing my seabag for warmer climes, arranging to check out of my room and drop off my car at long-term parking, and shopping for necessary items for a Long Sea Voyage.

Flew out as scheduled and had a very relaxing trip; I enjoyed a biopic about Admiral Yamamoto and then slept all the way across the Atlantic and most of Europe!--I guess all that running around on Thursday had me a little tuckered-out! Landed in Manama late on Saturday afternoon, checked thru customs and caught a ride to the port in the midst of a howling sandstorm.

And that was how I first saw my new ship; USNS Joshua Humphreys was a slightly darker silhouette in the driving yellow sand and dust, with the sun setting beyond her she looked almost unearthly with halos of dazzling yellow refracted by the particles blowing past her security lighting. I checked-in at the Gangway, greeted a few old Shipmates now serving in this ship, and carried my gear aboard.

From the beginning I had thought it interesting that I'd been assigned to Humphreys so abruptly, especially since my experience with MSC has been entirely in a different type of ship, the larger, faster AOEs, which deal with ammunition and combat ordnance far more than the fuel-providing oilers. When I met the Chief Mate and Captain the next morning I learned that my selection for this posting had been far from arbitrary, however. It seems that Humphreys has had the bad luck to lose no fewer than two of her Unrep Helmsmen in recent weeks, one of whom resigned and the other suffered an accident that required he return to the States for medical attention. Thus, Humphreys's Master and the detailers back in Norfolk were faced with a conundrum in that in order for the ship to perform her duties she needs at least three (and preferably more) personnel with this critical qualification on the watchbill. Given the currency of my quals and record aboard Arctic I was a natural for one of these vacant billets--and with a series of Unreps scheduled for the following week it was essential that I get over here fast!

And so here I am, "subject to requirements of the Service" as my Royal Navy friends would say! I'll be posting soon about life and work aboard my new ship, but I wanted to get a few photos out to represent my first two weeks aboard her...I think that one certainty is that I am unlikely to be bored here!

USN SH-60B Helos of the Golden Falcons Vertrep USS Abraham Lincoln from USNS Charles Drew

Dhow in the Persian Gulf

HMS Daring in the Persian Gulf

Iranian speedboats work hard to keep us on our toes!

USS Cape St George alongside USNS Drew

All Stop!

I've heard it said that life is what happens when you make other plans...

On Monday morning I reported off-leave at Military Sealift Command's "Customer Service Unit--East" (otherwise known as 'the Pool'--for more on this particular bureaucratic denizen see my post "Back to the Sea" of November 2011), checked in with my detailer and got the gouge on my immediate future; three-to-four weeks of refresher training at the MSC facility in New Jersey and then assignment to a ship out of Norfolk, probably the T-AOE Supply or one of the local oilers.

This, of course, won't happen.  Yesterday evening, as I was standing in-line for a showing of the Disney film 'John Carter' (I'm a lifelong fan of ERB's Barsoom tales) my cell rang; it was the detailer with news.  For the convenience of the Navy I was suddenly assigned to a ship--USNS Joshua Humphreys, currently working in the Persian Gulf.  Apparently I have some traveling to do...

USNS Joshua Humphreys, from a series of photos I took off Virginia in 2010

Oh, and one more little detail.  I have to be aboard ship by Sunday morning.  This ought to be fun!

Stay Tuned...

A Tour of USS California (SSN-781), Part One

THE INCIDENTAL TOURIST

I remember the cold January afternoon when--on a whim--I simply walked up to the pier sentry of a foreign ship and asked for a look aboard. The ship was the Spanish Oiler Teide, a small, ungainly-looking tanker based at the Armada Espana base in Rota, Spain.  Her watch, and subsequently her Captain, were a little surprised, I think, to have a Sailor from an American frigate choose their ship to visit, but I was welcomed aboard with enthusiasm and enjoyed a splendid afternoon's exploration and conversation with the ship's officers and crew.  After a delicious evening meal in the wardroom--and a few beers in the crew's mess--I departed the ship with some small souvenirs (All these years later I still have my Teide tie-clasp), a greater appreciation of an allied navy and it's Sailors, and a new interest and intent--to visit ships of our own and of foreign navies at every opportunity in future.

Spanish Oiler Teide underway in 1982

That Winter day in Spain was nearly 32 years ago.  Since then I have often shown the flag in my own fashion, visiting ships and submarines of most of the world's navies, walking their decks and meeting my "opposite numbers" from around the globe.  I suppose I COULD review my journals and provide a more precise figure, but at a guess I would say that I have toured nearly three hundred vessels of all types, from Australian coastal interdiction craft to Russian "rocket cruisers", Turkish frigates to Belgian minesweeps, British 100-gun ships of the line to American amphibious assault ships.

Seeing the ships, meeting their crews, spending time comparing experiences with them, has been--and continues to be--one of the most enjoyable parts of my naval career.  Rarely turned away from a quarterdeck, and often welcomed in the spirit of the shared adversity and comradeship of Sailors, I find the experience of nautical 'cultural exchange' to be immensely fulfilling; as Sailors and Mariners we all do the same things--standing watches, carrying out maintenance, dealing with the loneliness and separation of our chosen lifestyle, and of course representing our respective nations--BUT we all do them differently, with distinct traditions and cultures, and therein lies the true pleasure of this "hobby" of mine; the joy of discovery.

Every time I board another ship, greet a new shipmate, whether they sail beneath our own flag or that of another land, I gain a little more insight, a better understanding of the true, universal meaning of this vast brotherhood of the sea; a small glimpse of what the word "Sailor" really means.  And that makes it all worthwhile.

DAS BOOT

Submarines are a fascinating type of warship, submariners a unique breed of Sailor.  "Boats" that dive deep and cruise stealthily beneath the waves; officers and crewmembers who man them, to whom silence is the greatest of all virtues.  Certainly there is a mystique surrounding these undersea warships and warriors, and while I can honestly say that I have never entertained the first thought of serving in this field (the idea of having a thousand feet of water above me is a bit chilling) I have a high level of respect for those who do, and I never miss a chance to board and study a submarine, whatever the type or nation.

Such an opportunity presented itself only a few months ago; when Arctic returned to Naval Station Norfolk from a week at sea we found ourselves sharing a pier with the slim black cigar-shaped hull and art-deco "sail" of a 'Virginia'-class nuclear attack submarine (SSN).  Simply being in close proximity to such a craft is a rare event--submarines have their own enclave on the base and are rarely seen moored outside their heavily-guarded pier complex--but this particular boat was fully-dressed in patriotic bunting, and evidenced such an aura of newness that it was plain to all that she had only just been accepted from her builders and commissioned into the Navy.

Only brief inquiry was necessary; she was USS California, and only the day before she had been placed in commission.  Eighth of the Virginia class submarines, built just across Hampton Roads in my home town of Newport News, she represents the state-of-the-art of American undersea warship development and construction.  Of course, to me, that made her quite the irresistible target for my particular brand of tourism!

USS California on Pier 12; note USNS Arctic in BG

SILENCE IS GOLDEN—Motto of USS California

I presented my Navy Employee "CAC" card to the sentry, explained that I was a crewmember of the rather large gray ship moored across the pier, and asked if it would be possible to have a look around his submarine.  At the time I was not counting on getting aboard; I fully expected to have my request refused outright by the boat's Officer of the Deck (OOD).  Usually the "Silent Service" doesn't give tours.  Imagine my surprise and excitement, then, when permission to board was granted...

My volunteer guide was a fellow First Class Petty Officer (I MAY be retired, but I'll never stop being a Sailor), one of California's IT gang, responsible for maintaining and if necessary repairing the boat's sophisticated computers and communications systems.  As a former SSBN Sailor he wore a 'Patrol Pin' with four stars, denoting his completed patrols in our nations' Trident ballistic missile sub force; I suspect he knows what he is about!

We began our tour, naturally, with actually boarding California; this was accomplished with due ceremony.  My guide led the way across the gangway (a "brow" in navalese), pausing as he crossed his vessel's side to face aft toward the national Ensign and render a sharp salute.  He then turned toward the armed "topside" watch, saluted again, and then reported his return aboard.  I followed suit, but as a "civilian" I rendered honors by facing the flag and doffing my cap; then I requested permission of the watch to come aboard.  As is proper, he verified my CAC and authorization to before granting me permission, and I stepped onto the boat's outer hull, or casing.

Walking the curved deck, I had a quick introduction to that small part of a submarine that languishes above water when the boat is surfaced; the bulge of the towed-array sonar housing stretching from sail all the way aft along the starboard side which deploys a long cable festooned with incredibly-sensitive underwater microphones ("hydrophones") to act as her 'ears'; the sail itself, from which the boat is navigated on the surface, a vertical black tower curving forward into the hull with a graceful arc; the 12 vertical-launch missile hatches forward of the sail ready to salvo 'Tomahawk' cruise missiles from hidden launch positions undersea; the retractable mooring bitts and cleats that withdraw into the casing to reduce resistance and flow-noise as the vessel moves at speed through the depths.  And of course the three hatches abaft the sail to access the interior, only the second of which was open and covered from the weather by a black awning decorated with a drawing of a snarling ursid.

MONKEY-BUSINESS

At this point I must admit to a weakness.  I have been aboard dozens of submarines during my career, and aboard each I have faced one particular challenge; getting inside the thing!   The hatches of these craft, massive circular structures that they are, conceal tiny, narrow vertical ladders that lead some ten feet to the deck below; since it would be impractical (and even dangerous) to block the rapid closure of the hatch, stepping down the gap and reaching the top of the ladder requires a bit of gymnastic skill and fine balance.  Unfortunately, I have neither of these in great measure, and am reduced to slowly groping down the trunk with one foot whilst desperately clutching the awning frame.  Of course, the sense of clumsiness can only be exacerbated by the sight of my guide's easy jump into the abyss, and by the queue of Sailors that builds up behind me as I defy gravity in my own rather less confident way!  I have no problem with heights—it’s ladders that get me every time...

Once through this trial, with feet safely on the deck below, I was allowed a moment to recover some dignity and then we continued our tour.

THAT NEW CAR SMELL

The first thing that struck me about SSN-781?  Head room.   After decades of stooping supplicant-like through the interiors of submarines, always on watch for the inevitable overhead projections--valve wheels, junction boxes, even canned goods stowed in rope netting--I was able to stroll through a sub without worrying for the safety of my close-cropped scalp.  Perhaps I exaggerate somewhat; I know that the past few U.S. Navy boats I've visited (USS Newport News, SSN-750, was the latest) were relatively roomy, but I'm equally certain that I spent a fair amount of time avoiding contact with overhead obstacles aboard them.  But aboard California?  Even with my 6'1" cranial altitude I cannot recall having to "duck" even once.

This is more than just a matter of personal comfort or convenience.  The fact that I was never menaced by "death from above" aboard during my time aboard California speaks volumes to me about her layout and design.  A conscious effort has been made by this class's architects to design a submarine that could perform her duties efficiently but also making her "user-friendly" and less of a safety threat to her own crew--especially during radical maneuvers ("30-30s"--thirty degrees of rudder whilst traveling at thirty knots--are an extreme example) when many shipboard injuries occur.  I certainly appreciated this consideration.

Commenting on the boat's cleanliness and good condition seems a waste of keyboard time.  California is a newly-commissioned warship in a Navy that raises the act of tidying-up to the level of fetish; had I seen a single dust-bunny or coffee-ring I'd have been truly shocked.  And she is far too young a ship to have accumulated the many nicks and scratches that add character to an older vessel--this patina of service will come only with time and hard voyaging in our nation’s service.

MOST ACCOMMODATING

Submarine living conditions are notorious; we've all seen photographs or scenes in war films wherein Sailors "hot-bunk", two men taking turns sleeping in a single uncomfortable-looking rack, or live and sleep atop the long cylinders of stowed torpedoes.  I'm happy to say that those days are long gone (at least in the nuclear subs of the U.S. Navy), and though one cannot by any measure refer to California's crew quarters as luxurious they are at least less Spartan than their "pigboat" forebears.  Glancing into a typical crew berthing compartment I could see stacks of three “racks”, much as I once slept in during my destroyer days, though submarine bunks appear to be somewhat less roomy than I remember aboard "tin cans".  Mattresses are thinner as well, and locker space negligible; each enlisted Sailor aboard stows all of his gear (shoes, uniforms, civilian clothes, and personal items) in approximately the space of a kitchen cabinet back home.  Nothing can be left un-stowed, of course—in an emergency such “gear adrift” could cause injury or even threaten the safety of the boat.

Junior Officers and Chief Petty Officers live in somewhat more comfort, but only relatively so; the Chief’s Mess and Wardroom each are about the size of a large walk-in closet!  The two roomiest and most comfortable living quarters, of course, belong to the Executive Officer and Captain; I got a brief look into the CO's stateroom (roughly the size of a large closet) as we headed aft into the "habitability" module.

My guide informed me that California's complement was, at that time, 135 officers and enlisted, but this number was expected to be reduced to roughly a hundred after a suitable "breaking-in" period.  On acceptance trials, only a few weeks before my visit, the boat had sailed with over 160 aboard, including inspectors and shipyard engineers--imagine trying to find a seat for dinner!

End of Part One

Evening Meal at 100 Fathoms; the Red "nonskid" arrows on the deck

indicate the locations of emergency breathing air manifolds in the overhead.