The Elephant in the Room, Part II

The Pens seen from the Harbor Mole

Yesterday's tour of the old German U-Boat pens in Brest was an amazing success! Our guide, a French Navy Commander, walked a dozen crew-members (including Captain Gray, Master of 'Leroy Grumman') through the complex, describing the fortresses' defenses and capabilities as we went. Wearing hard-hats to protect against any falling pieces of the ceiling, we heard the story of the first of Hitler's Western Wall sub pens, its construction which began in 1940 and took 500 days to complete using French labor, its support of two U-Boat flotillas during the Battle of the Atlantic, and the near-total destruction of the city of Brest by allied bombers attempting to neutralize this ugly structure and the submarines it maintained.

Our guide explains the problem of WWII ordnance disposal

I was professionally impressed by the workshop spaces, now used by French Navy EOD teams who spend most of their time locating and destroying ordnance left-over from World War II (and even WWI!), and drydocks currently in use maintaining minesweepers. The old monster which looms over Navbase Brest no longer repairs and re-arms Admiral Doenitz' U-Boats but still serves a purpose, supporting the ships and divers who locate and destroy the old ordnance in coastal French waters.

The main concourse, connecting workshops (right) with sub pens

One disturbing note (if walking through a decaying Nazi relic that supported the effort to destroy Britain by strangling the vital sea-links in the Atlantic isn't disturbing enough) was our guide's apparent pride in the base and even (if my read on his exposition and expression while describing the Battle of the Atlantic was anywhere near correct) in the accomplishments of the U-Boats based here.  I wish I could write here that I was the only one who left his presence with a queasy feeling inside, but later discussions with Shipmates who came on the tour confirmed that my impressions were shared ones.  Could it be that we spent the afternoon in the presence of a Third Reich apologist?

Damage caused by a British "Tallboy" bomb

In spite of our host's seemingly odd approach to his subject matter, I thoroughly enjoyed this rare opportunity to explore a relic of the German occupation, and to see for myself a major facility of Admiral Donitz's U-Boat force.  I have more photographs that I plan to post later, but want to get these impressions online before I get too busy with 'Leroy Grumman's upcoming operations.  I hope these images will give you some impression of the colossal and practical engineering achievement (with just a tinge of true and abiding evil) we were able to experience first-hand.

Exploring a U-Boat Drydock

It takes a village...the orange and green objects are training mines

The meter-thick walls--pocked by strafing aircraft fire

'Grumman's Captain Richard Gray (right) and our guide

The Belgian Frigate 'Louise-Marie'

BNS Louise-Marie, F931

 

 

'Louise-Marie' comes alongside

A quick post about a new friend of 'Leroy Grumman's... we've had occasion recently to work with a Belgian frigate (NOT words you probably hear everyday, but in fact they have a very nice Navy! Maybe the reason we don't hear much about them is that they have fewer sexual and/or political scandals...). Her name is 'Louise-Marie', and she and her crew are pretty darn sharp! Enjoy the photos; I suspect I'll have a few more soon.

The Elephant in the Room

The U-Boat Pens

Arrived in Brest, France this morning. Lucy and I visited this smallish city back in the early 1990s (aboard the QE2, no less!). Most of the crew has scattered for the bars and clubs in town but--being a very odd-ball kind of mariner (with no desire for alcohol--no tattoos, either!)--the objects of my interest are arrayed only a few hundred yards from our mooring!

Schoolships 'Leopard' and 'Lion'

The enormous concrete structure that dominates modern NavBase Brest is the face of the infamous U-Boat pens which supported and protected German U-Boats for most of World War II. Built by Nazi engineers in 1940, they were nearly impregnable with 7-meter-thick roofs and anti-aircraft batteries clustered on top.

The U-Boat pens were major targets for Allied bomber raids, as killing a submarine in port was a much better bet than fighting them at sea. (This, by the way, is still true today!). It wasn't until late in the war that the British developed their "Tallboy" bombs and actually began to penetrate these structures!

Destroyers  'Aquitaine' and 'Le Motte-Picquet'

In addition to the pens I am including a few photos of French naval vessels moored nearby; most impressive are the sleek 'Aquitaine'-class destroyers, which seem to dwarf earlier classes.

Destroyer 'Provence'

I'm hoping to get over for a visit to one or two ships while we're here, but tomorrow I'm concentrating on trying to penetrate some Nazi fortifications...I have to wonder how it feels to serve in ships and oher naval commands on this base and to have this huge remnant of the Nazi monster that crushed France at the beginning of World War II looming over everything in sight.  Perhaps I'll find out tomorrow.

 'Tenace', 'Armen' and (on the right) an unidentifiable Tug

Star Party @ Sea

The past few days aboard 'Leroy Grumman' have been
quite remarkable for me. Ordinarily, you see, I find
myself a lone geek among the crew of whatever ship I
happen to sail in, the only Mariner aboard with the
particular passions that are so much a part of my
life. I refer of course to my love of
science, and of astronomy in particular.

Oh, there will normally be one or two members of a
crew with whom I can enjoy an occasional
conversation on some facet or another of the sky and
it's wonders. Oftentimes I find myself leaning on a
bridge-wing stanchion, chatting with the lookout or
Mate on Watch as we watch the stars wheel overhead to
the ship's pitch and roll, showing the Cadets how to
locate the Pole Star or planets as dawn approaches,
or convincing the ship's company to assemble on the
flight deck to enjoy a Lunar Eclipse--but to my
knowledge I've never sailed with anyone quite as
involved in the stars and constellations as I.

Until now.

A few weeks ago I met Xavier, one of our busy Deck
force, and in the course of discussion I discovered
in him a kindred spirit. Like me he spends much of
his free time stargazing and reading about the
Cosmos, but dissimilarly he hasn't yet made the leap
to telescopic astronomy. In fact, right now he is
carefully researching types and models of 'optik
tubes', looking forward to that first precision
instrument purchase. With his youth and enthusiasm, I
see in him a much younger ME, weighing equipment
options and eager to begin the great adventure.

I consider myself very fortunate to have a Shipmate
of similar cloth, with whom to exchange views on
recent discoveries and theories, to debate equipment
choices, and to enjoy the view from on-deck as
twilight fades and the night's display begins.

But it turns out that Xavier and I are not alone;
just a few days ago a third member joined our tiny
astronomy club @ sea. Our newest member is Victor
(not his real name), he brings to our group not only
interest and energy but a very impressive and
portable 80mm refractor telescope.

After so many years of being the Lone Ranger, I seem
to have fallen in with a Posse...

Last night was the first of what I hope to be a
frequent event in future; Victor set up his refractor
on the starboard side bridge wing while I toted my
Astroscan reflector topside to join him. It was a
mostly-cloudy night with a massive thunderstorm
flashing and booming in the north and west, a brisk
wind across the deck and a choppy sea, but all of
that didn't matter. A small crowd (including the
Captain) gathered to observe the ascending Moon
through our instruments; even the vibration of
engines and generators from below decks, making
Luna's image dance and leap, did little to dampen our
enjoyment of the evening.

Mars and Saturn never did emerge from the clouds to
the south, and eventually the party broke up as it
appeared that the heavens were intent not to be more
forthcoming in their splendors. But I think we might
try again, soon--and perhaps Xavier will join us in
bringing telescopes topside in a near-future Star
Party @ Sea.

I like the way this is going...

Movie Night...The Nautical & Naval Film Survey!

I'm pushing for some audience participation today; as research for a future Blog post I want to know your favorite Naval or Nautical films!  If you can list five beloved movies on a seafaring subject, tell me their names; if you can come up with ten, that's even better (obviously you are a real fan!).  You can rank them however you wish; I'll be doing a little statistical analysis and including results in a follow-up post.  So think about it and post your favorite ship/boat/submarine/whatever films under Comments!

I'll be waiting...

2001-2003: Under The Volcano

Under the Volcano I
Motta, Sicily
16 December 2001
I awoke on a bone-shakingly cold Saturday morning, my breath clouding the air as I struggled to burrow deeper into the too-thin bedclothes. I was wearing sweatpants, sweatshirt and even my navy-issue peacoat against the chill, but the creeping cold seemed an implacable foe, denying comfort to the weary traveler. Cursing in the dark, I arose to adjust the thermostat but its inexplicable notations and controls left me only more frustrated, as had the shower the evening before.

Only a day before I had been in the company of my dear wife Lucy as we left our small house in Newport News; the weather had been almost balmy for mid-December as she said goodbye as we had done so many times in the course of my Navy career. Then, the long trans-atlantic flight, the confusing and anxious arrival, and finally being shuffled ignominiously to this icy room in a tiny village had taken their toll upon me; I was tired, cold, frustrated and angry.

It was still dark outside, but I could sit shivering in my cell no longer. I let myself out, making sure I had my key and passport, and stared out upon shadowy buildings bordering a barren, stone-paved street across which the chill breeze blew paper trash and carried a dozen unfamiliar and unpleasant odors. Picking a direction at random, I started to walk uphill. It didn't matter, after all, where I wandered in my misery.

It was my first morning in Sicily, and I desperately wanted to go home.

*****
The New Age
R/V Fairfield Explorer
11 September 2001
Everyone has a 9-11 story. Just as it was to our grandparents and parents with the Japanese attack on Oahu and the assasination of JFK, today we talk about where we were, what we were doing, and how we first learned of the events of 11 September 2001. My own 9-11 tale is pretty short; I slept through it. On that historic morning I was aboard the research vessel 'Fairfield Explorer', well out on the Gulf of Mexico, and having stood the eight-hour "midwatch" the night before I was blissfully unaware of the attacks on the Pentagon and World Trade Center until after I awoke at 1100 Central Time.

After rising I took a shower and returned to my small stateroom, then turned on CNN to catch up on the morning's news. As I dressed for lunch I thought that I had mistakenly tuned-in a horror film; my initial experience of the morning's madness was an image of a dust-shrouded street with zombie-like figures staggering toward the camera. There was also a recurrent image; footage of a commercial airliner plunging into the side of a skyscraper, but I was in a hurry and switched-off the TV.

By the time I wandered down to the mess deck for lunch, I could feel a difference in the atmosphere aboard ship. I ought to have noticed it even earlier--to awake at 1100 without the rattle of pneumatic tools or whine of winches on deck, or even the noise of steel-toe clad crew members pounding up or down the bridge ladder outside my room should have alerted me to a change in the vessel. Now, the shocked quiet belowdecks sent a clear signal that something was amiss.

The mess deck--where at that hour most of the crew could be expected to be gathered at the meal-hour--was empty, the ship's lounge however was filled standing-room-only with Shipmates and roustabouts, Deckies and Snipes together watching the same footage I had seen on my stateroom screen. Finally the reality, the enormity of images I had dismissed a few minutes earlier as world-class special effects dawned on me; I watched again and again as airliners collided with doomed buildings, as buildings I had once visited imploded on the screen. I listened in horror as a CNN talking head repeated the decade's most shocking headline, and realized that the world had changed whilst I slept, that nothing would ever be the same for any of us.

*****
A Rumor of War
Newport News, Virginia
04 December 2001
When the news came that the space shuttle 'Challenger' had exploded upon launch I was busily constructing a plastic model of that very spacecraft. Likewise, news of the suicide of Admiral Jeremy Michael Boorda came over the radio only minutes after I'd hung his eight-by-ten photo on the wall of my den. This is of course mere coincidence; I have no precognitive or prophetic powers. As proof I offer the following: when the telephone rang that morning I was in the middle of shaving.

"Hello?"

"Hullo! is this Tom Epps?"

"Yes it is..."

"Petty Officer Epps, YOU'VE been mobilized! Come on down!"

And that was that. With a verbal game-show flourish an overworked Petty Officer at the Little Creek Naval Reserve Center had officially informed me of my new status.

The transition came quickly and easily.  By the time I had copied my reporting instructions down and assured the PO that I understood and would carry them out my mind had completed the switch from "weekend warrior" to active duty Sailor.  It would be several days before I was issued a new seabag and uniform items, but mentally I was already in Dress Blues.  I was back in uniform. Even if I did need to finish shaving.

And so it came to be that in the third week of December 2001 I found myself bundled unceremoniously aboard a chartered airliner and on my way across the Atlantic Ocean; the aircraft was filled with mobilized Reservists like myself; drawn from the deck and shipped to wherever the Powers That Be perceived a need for our services.  Citizen Soldiers, Airmen, Marines and Sailors; enlisted and commissioned, young and...not so young.

*****
Under the Volcano II
Motta, Sicily
16 December 2001
The road I wandered rose in a shallow incline.  The cold wind cut through my jeans like an icy blade; only my heavy peacoat and watch-cap served to dull it's edge.  Dawn was coming, its glow visible above the rooftops and in the reflections of wet cobblestones.  Though I had little idea of where I was, I had been walking eastward through Motta fpr perhaps half an hour; I'd passed through the center of town and was now approaching the high end of the promontory it stood upon.

Ahead of me loomed the shadow of a high wall, and as I approached I found that I'd reached the castle that in centuries past had protected this village. In the growing light I could see the stairs and walkway leading to the parapet; the discovery did nothing to change my mood but gave me yet another avenue to wander in my state of gloom.

As I came to the eastern edge of the battlements the wind rose; raising my collar and lowering my chin I was able to shield my face from the worst of the zephyr.  The cold, driving air made me squint and turn my head away to the left...

My eyes opened wide; there, only a few kilometers away, loomed the great cone of Mount Etna, dyed pink in the light of coming dawn, a wisp of steam blowing westward from the volcanos crater. The slope of the great mountain fell toward the sea in the east; I could see the lights of a distant city at its base and another cluster of lights far beyond them.  To my right the sun was--there!--emerging from the Ionian sea in a rush of brilliant light and roseate color, the waters of the Ionian Sea shone with reflected fire, and I suddenly understood where I was...

I was standing on the high parapet of a 13th-century fortress, perched on a precipitous cliff-face and looking out over distant hills and fields; within my gaze lay the ancient and the modern, wonders both human and natural from Etna to the Strait of Messina far to the north to Augusta Bay in the south, even the air base where I would soon work was within sight.  I wondered at the view, and at my good fortune on being assigned, of all the possible postings in those chaotic early days of the War on Terror, to this remarkable Mediterranean island.

That dawn changed everything.  My homesickness evaporated; my miseries fell away in the excitement of working in and exploring this amazing place, gloom shattered by the beauty and hope I had discovered.  I knew then that I would plunge into my assigned duties but also take every opportunity to travel this island; Sicily was my new assignment and my new playground as well.

*****
The Sun Also Rises
Motta and Sigonella, Sicily
2001-2003
Of course I had no idea, as I walked back down the slope of Motta toward my apartment, that at the end of my one-year mobilization to Naval Air Station Sigonella I would volunteer to extend for a SECOND year; that my Lucy would fly over twice in that time to explore the island of Sicily and the Italian mainland with me; that we would see the ancient cities of Selinunte and Segesta, and the temples of Agrigento, the ruins of Pompeii and the glories of Rome.  I also had no way of knowing that these two years would be not only the finale of my uniformed service but its apex, that I would never work harder, never lead better, and never be more proud of myself, the job I did, and of the active duty and reserve personnel on my team.

What better way to finish 24 years of service, what better climax to the roller-coaster ride of a long Navy career?  This "Lifer" certainly can't think of one!

The Temple of Juno in Agrigento

Lucy and myself in Taormina

Etna erupts!

Please Come to Boston...

Aboard USS Salem CA-139

Okay...I think I've overdosed on fun this weekend! First--on Saturday--I traveled to Quincy MA to explore the museum ship USS Salem and then cooled-off while wandering the Boston Museum of Science. The next day (Sunday) was all about USS Constitution and USS Cassin Young, followed by a long, leisurely stroll thru the city (no actual destination in mind).

USS Constitution in Drydock

The 'Fletcher'-class DD USS Cassin Young

On Sunday I had a special treat; my old Shipmate Stephen Godfroy invited me to come along as stowaway on the harbor tour boat he Captains. I had a great time kibitzing in the wheelhouse and talking old times with him and his crew. (Note: much as I enjoyed the experience and admired Stephen's handling of 'Majesty' I don't think I'll be trading-in my tankers for the coastal trade...I personally prefer to have a little more sea-room!!)

MV Majesty at Long Wharf

Captain Stephen Godfroy

At this stage I'm worn out after three days of hard-core tourism...It was a great weekend and certainly one of the most enjoyable port-visits I've had in a very long time.Yes, I could have worked all three days of the Holiday weekend and reaped a substantial amount of overtime pay, but I think that taking a little time off was a good idea, and sailing again with an old Shipmate was the best Birthday present I could have received!