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Speaking of painting reminds me of an experience I had with one of the
youngest strikers in FOX DIV. We had decided it was time to paint the gun director above
the bridge. The exterior paint job went pretty quickly but when it came time to paint the
interior, we had to be much more careful due to all the lenses, instruments, and
equipment. I told my striker to be careful about not getting any of that white paint on
any of the interior equipment and not to spill on the side of the director or the deck
below. Well, he worked
diligently all day. His final step was to come out the main hatch and paint the combing.
Of course he needed the paint can outside so he reached out the observer's hatch and put
the can on the main hatch. I got there just as he flipped the main hatch open and watched
in horror as the paint can - seemingly in slow motion - flew through the air spraying
white paint all over the deck, director, flag bridge, and forward stack.
Our return to the States was marked by another period in dry-dock. I remember returning to the ship after leave and realizing with a shock that the sleek look of the bow was gone. The plates covering the frames of the hull were caved in showing the stresses she'd had from storms, etc. She was no longer new to the sea but then neither was her crew.
Our involvement in fleet exercises was certainly not over just because we were "back in the States." I remember one exercise off San Francisco that lasted long enough that it seemed all we had left in the food locker was beans. I don't know about others but the FOX DIV bunch all lost weight from the long hours, the constant work on equipment1 and the fact a candy bar had become a "gourmet delight." The exercise was to test the Air Force's ability to interdict a naval invasion force - us - and our ability to defend ourselves against air attacks. All this was done with tosses of the dice under the watchful eyes of an umpire. From what I learned later, it was a very tidy operation. They sank all the ships and we shot down all the planes. Bring in the dust pan, please.
In April of 1962 we sailed to Seattle for the World's Fair. We arrived in
a helluva storm that made our passage through the Strait of Juan de Fuca a wet and wild
run. The size of the swells made a roller coaster ride seem tame. By this time I'd learned
the ship's responses to the helm and could avoid having green water come over the bow most
of the time. I also knew how to let her slide off a crest and bury her nose giving the
bridge wing watch a good dowsing. We put out additional lines fore and aft when we tied to
the pier as a precaution which, given the strength of the wind, was a wise one. I remember
the elevators outside the Space Needle
jammed in their tracks from the wind. It was April 27, 1962, Montana Day at the fair, the
cruiser USS Helena was in port, my mother came to visit the ship, and my birthday. Pretty
hard to beat that. Mom had always said that, if she had been born a male, she would have
joined the Navy so her visit to the ship was special for both of us. She brought a friend
of hers who got seasick because of all the moving around the Preble was doing tied to the
pier.
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Copyright 1997 - 2026 Tom Bateman
This page was last updated on 01/03/05.