Stuff

Sorry for the inarticulate title, but this post deals with some of our activities, etc., that didn’t seem to fit into other categories.

Pass in review!

Each Saturday morning, we showed off(?) our precision marching skills and adept handling of a weapon. Maybe by the end we were more precise and adept, but not so much in our early efforts.

First, of course, came the uniform. White leggings for all, sword belts and swords for regimental officers, and white belts for the rest of us. If you weren’t carrying a sword or guidon, you carried a “vintage” rifle. The M1 Garand had been the standard service weapon for US forces in WWII and the Korean War.

The M1 was 43.5 inches long and weighed approximately 10 pounds. Those of us carrying the rifle were, while marching and in unison, to move it from shoulder to shoulder on command. That wasn’t that difficult. Harder was, when standing still, to hold it in the inspection arms position (extended slightly in front of you, with the butt down to your right and the barrel up to your left), slide the bolt back, and then release the bolt by pushing down on a part inside with your thumb. You had to make sure you made contact with the part and then get your thumb out before the bolt slid forward and caught your thumb. Don’t get “Garand thumb”!

The trap for potential Garand thumb.

The thumb action was particularly tricky because of the white gloves we had to wear. The glove surface was slippery handling the rifle and when you tried to release the bolt. The work-around was to wet your gloves beforehand, giving them more traction. Not a problem in October, early November. Standing outside the gym prior to entering in late November and into the winter with wet gloves on your hands was not pleasant. (Did we also wear peacoats, shucking them off just before entering the gym?)

Swords
At some point, we had been instructed to order a sword. I don’t believe I ever used mine at NAVOCS, but Don Cockrill did as company commander and Harvey Katz as assistant regimental commander. (I did wear mine at a few ceremonies on active duty. I also remember that a few years after active duty, alone at home and hearing a noise downstairs, I brandished it against a possible intruder. Nobody there.)

Cockrill’s sword was definitely memorable to the members of A6906, the class that entered when Don was company commander. In their Seachest, among their snippets of memory was this:

From 1862 Navy manual

Now, Don’s sword was particularly notable. Remember, we had to get a sword with the appropriate length, the length that would result in the tip of the sword being at the middle of our ear when we held it in the carry position (right). Don, being 6’6″, had a long sword. I, being a foot shorter than Don, had a sword that, to me, brought to mind the “sword” one might find in a club sandwich.

Still have my sword. It shows its 50 years. At least the gold braid does . . . salty! The blade has been kept pristine, with no runnings-through to its credit.

Abandon ship!
Not the words you want to hear. But good to know what to do, just in case.

For us, the learning exercise involved jumping off an elevated platform into the NAVOCS pool and treading water for some extended period of time.

Nearly all of us in A6903,  I would guess, had never dove or jumped from a location so high above the water. Looking at the photo, the platform doesn’t look terribly high. Maybe 15-18 feet? Lenny Borg remembers it as 10 meters.

“While addressing the physical challenges of OCS, our trip to the swimming pool should be mentioned. If on a sinking ship, we needed to be able to jump off before it became too late. To prove that we could, we had to jump from a 10-meter tower. As most of us probably would not have not have chosen to do that as a lark, there was considerable discussion about the upcoming jump on the day before it was required. We even speculated about whether everyone would be able to do it; however, in the end, all of us managed to leap from the tower.”

It sure looked like a long way down. You were looking not so much at the space between you and the surface of the water, but the space between you — your eyes another five-six feet above the platform — and the bottom of the pool — another six feet — for a total of maybe 20-30 feet.

I remember being somewhat reassured, though, by the efficacy of the method we were taught to stay afloat. Removing one’s pants, tying off the ends of the pants legs, and then filling it with air by bringing the pants from behind your head and over it, created a somewhat viable device. Same could be done with your shirt. That was under perfect conditions. I’m glad I never had to do it in real life.

This was part of an overall swimming test. It was the Navy. Duh. All Navy personnel have to pass what is now described as a “third-class” swimming test. The evolution described above — jumping from a high platform, using clothing as a flotation device — is part of it. We also had to swim 50 yards using any stroke or combination of strokes and float prone for five minutes.

More “stuff” to come.

Duty

There is the high-level concept of “duty” such as expressed in the phrase Duty, Honor, Country by General Douglas MacArthur at West Point. And then there was the mundane “duty” reflected in the appointed periods of time one performed it at NAVOCS.

There was duty on the “quarterdeck,” mess hall, parking lot, and more. Some of it taught us Navy ways, some might have considered it “cheap labor.” Not much of it was onerous, though standing outside at the parking lot in winter winds might not have been always pleasant.

Quarterdeck
Some could consider this duty as similar to that of a clerk at a hotel. This duty took place in the lobby, for us anyway, of Nimitz Hall. It was likely for four hours as were most Navy watches, but I believe it would have been only in the late afternoon and evening and maybe weekends, because we had class and other activities.

I stood such duty at least once and remember feeling nervous about what to do when an officer came in. There was so much protocol to follow and anything incorrect would be pointed out. Of course, that’s how one learned. One officer candidate was OOD (Officer of the Deck), another AOOD (Assistant Officer of the Deck), and there was a Yeoman.

Most often, I recall, our task was to connect visitors with the office or person they requested. (Did we also check identification?) I’m sure it all helped a little for later, when we stood many in-port Officer of the Deck watches. It was not really preparation for duties as OOD underway.

There was also paperwork — the log. And I believe we made announcements over the NAVOCS version of the “1MC (main circuit).”

Mess Hall
I vaguely remember doing at least one duty shift in the mess hall, back in the food preparation area. Did Officer Candidates also have duty bussing tables?

Parking Lot
If I did stand a watch at the parking lot, I may have suppressed the memory of that. Anyone remember that duty?

CHORES
In addition to “having the duty,” we also did chores . . . lots of chores. We had our own uniforms and rooms to maintain, but we also took care of communal areas, e.g., heads, passageways, etc. Some of these were daily and some periodic.

Some, such as snow removal, were as needed. “Call out the shoveling detail!”

 

From the frosh

A shipmate of mine on USS Biddle (DLG-34) had been a member of C6906 at NAVOCS. The cohort 6906 had been the class that started OCS on January 4, the day after 6902 had graduated and 6903 became “seniors.” He recently sent me a copy of the 6906 Seachest, which was more advanced as a yearbook than our edition. Besides more photos from their time in Newport, that edition was bigger. It had to be, because 6906 was bigger.

Each of the company cohorts of that class, e.g., A6906, B6906, C6906 . . . started out with 21-26 members, compared to the 14-15 of 6903. And 6906 was also more diverse. Maybe not “looking like America,” but the cohort had five African-Americans and at least two Asians.

They also started off the section of Seachest containing photos from all the companies with a set of terms and phrases culled from their experiences. Those experiences were essentially the same as ours, so I share them with you below. I bet quite a few of them will be familiar and will light up a neuron or two.


FORWARD MARCH!
Form up. Clothing issue. Working blues. Boonies. Boonie powder. Haircuts. Covers. Smiles. Reefers. Two-blocked. Inspections. Tucks. Loose material. Low quarters. PT. Square your corners. Shots. Eagles flying. Lockers. Small store. Steamers. Parallel rulers. OO-ahs. Gear adrift. Dust. Pelican hook. Pop quiz. Super jock. Masking tape. MOD. Column by files. 7-Bravo. Maneuvering board. Barber shop. Wind. Swimming tower. Jump! Snatch block. I and C interviews. RYBWG. Cotton balls. OTUs. Fitting. Squared away. OOD yeoman. Laundry trucks. First liberty. Viking. Section leader. On the gouge.

DOUBLE TIME!
New class. Cum in. Liberty. EMI. Platoons. Cold. Sleet. Mess director. Captain’s inspection.  EI. Building 302. “Now hear this: Now. Now.” Brasso. Inflate. Float. Azimuth. Kool-aid. P-works. Hurley’s. Linen detail. Cliquot Club. Choir. Five laps. Wax. Code of Conduct. Reef. Current triangle. OCS Regulations. Duty company. Gyro error. True bearing. Pelorus. SLOD. Wardroom etiquette. Lubbers line. Cherry pickers. On the tree. Roll back. Ship’s tours. Late lights. Charlie formation. Dempster dinosaur. Running fix. JFK’s. Band. Sine curve. “Roger.”

RIGHT FACE!

6906 Seachest photo

Peel tape. Upperclassmen. PIR. Linseed oil. Chow. Muster. White nametags. Engineering. Officers Club. Gedunk. Parking lot watch. Buffer. White ball. Duty day. Colors. Gigs. Gross lint. Choice Charlie. “T-too, t-too.” Pork Chop. Shoring. “You have the conn.” Snow detail. Suction pump. Dream sheet. Buttercup. Cross gouge. Winter. Spiffy. 2.5 and survive. Snow Condition I. Corfams. Darts. Baby Batt Boards. Expedite. Preliminary orders. Seabee. Building 1801. CNO. Bupers Manual. 4.0. Admiral’s barge. Cotton balls. YP sentry. Friday athletics.

ABOUT FACE!
Company Commander. SWO. Loran. Bad gouge. Color girl. Regimental Ball. Batt staff. Cut out. Orders. DCA. Snipe. Comm School. Cooperate and graduate. Reg Comm. Settle accounts. Squad leader. Evolution. “Very well.” Bridge. OCOOD. Mile run. Yippies. BZ trainer. Baggage locker. UCMJ. Secured. Mail call. Payday? Alfa Avenue. Gross IPs. Say again. Tug team. Lunchshots. DR track. Attention to detail. Confidentials. Burpees. Over. Guidon. Reveille. O course. Quarterly exams. Word. Deck. Grinder. “Mill about smartly.” NWP-50-A. Chin straps. Charts. Graduation. ENSIGN!


There were 384 ensigns commissioned in 6906, compared to 221 in 6903.

February 1969

Happenings in the US and world during February 1969.

Yasser Arafat was elected chairman of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) at the Palestinian National Congress in Cairo, Egypt, on February 3. On the same day, Eastern Airlines Flight 7 (Newark-Miami) became the latest airliner to be hijacked and diverted to Havana. Among the passengers were Allen Funt, host of Candid Camera, and members of the show’s film crew. Their presence led some passengers to believe initially it all was part of a show.

A Boeing 747 was flown for the first time on February 9 at Boeing’s airfield in Everett, Washington.

Jennifer Aniston, perhaps best-known as a star of Friends, was born February 11 in Sherman Oaks, Calif.

The final stage of the Tet Offensive, coordinated attacks by North Vietnamese and Viet Cong forces, began on February 22 in multiple provinces.

Hey, it’s a short month.

Details, details

After a few weeks at OCS, we had begun to meet with “detailers” from BUPERS (Bureau of Personnel) whose role was to make the assignments we would undertake as ensigns. Some of those in A6903 already had a general idea, because of their “designators.”

The designators’ four-digit codes identified the Navy “community” in which an officer belonged, e.g., supply, aviation, etc. The single designator relevant to us that included the largest number of officers was 1105 — unrestricted line officer (Naval Reserve). While “unrestricted” implies something of a wide range, officers with this designator were more commonly “ship drivers.” Initial tours of duty were aboard ship where they could be assigned to any number of departments, but they also stood duty as Officer-of-the-Deck (OOD) Underway.

At least a few members of A6903 — Cosgrove, Jones, Webber — were assigned to the Civil Engineer Corps (CEC).

I had a designator no OCS detailer had seen before. I learned some time after OCS that I and two other members of 6903 were the first officer candidates to enter OCS with the designator 1635 — Special Duty Officer (Intelligence). Prior to us, one first had to be a line officer before changing a designator to Intelligence. (This was also a time when there was a bifurcation — air and surface — in Intelligence. We were surface. The air intel types trained in Pensacola, along with Naval Aviators.)

So, when I showed up for my detailer appointment, the meeting was short. Essentially, he told me, “I have no idea what you’ll be doing. But I know it’ll be a desk job. Washington, Pearl Harbor, maybe Japan.” Well, if it meant anything, I told him, I would prefer those in reverse order.

“Knowing” I would be going to a desk job, I began to make remarks to my soon-to-be ship-driver colleagues when Victory at Sea showed destroyers being tossed about by violent seas. Smugness reigned in me.

My request regarding shore duty had been irrelevant. About halfway through OCS, I received a letter from my detailer, a Commander Demaris. After welcoming me “aboard” the Naval Intelligence community, he said I would be ordered upon commissioning to the Fleet Operational Intelligence Training Center in Norfolk, Va., for six weeks of intelligence schooling. After that, three weeks of “intensive” Combat Information Center training at the Fleet Training Center, Norfolk, and then “assignment aboard a ship for approximately 18 months.”

A ship? A ship? I wasn’t familiar with whiskey-tango-foxtrot in those terms then, but the unexpurgated version was pretty much my initial reaction. CDR Demaris also said that, after sea duty, I could expect assignment in Washington or to a major staff.

Well, maybe he meant an aircraft carrier. Those don’t get pushed around as much at sea as a destroyer or LST (Landing Ship, Tank). (As I soon learned and you will soon learn, I was not ordered to a carrier.)

Bob Hamilton was 1105. “I remember meeting with BUPERS and filling out a ‘dream sheet.’ You could pick three choices for location and three choices for type of duty.”

Don Cockrill, also 1105, remembers the “dream sheet” and the caveat that “the needs of the Navy were always the top priority. “How true,” he said. “I requested shore duty on the East Coast, which, of course, resulted in my assignment to a ship on the West Coast.”

Lenny Borg was 1105, as was Dennis Greenspon.

 

 

Moral equivalent of war?

Friday night at NAVOCS was for athletics. Don Cockrill remembers scenes like the one above. “I played something called ‘pushball,'” he said. “About eight guys on a team, with a huge inflated ball six-eight feet in circumference. Lots of bloody noses.”

There were less dangerous events, too. Among those we recall were mile run, basketball, tandem relays (in which you had to carry someone on your back), rope climbing, water polo, and tug-of-war.

Lenny Borg, who had some pretty good guns for upper arms, as I recall, was our ringer in the rope climb. “Each week, I had only the scantest of leads when reaching the top of the rope,” he recalled, “but somehow I could descend twice as fast as anybody else. Lucky I didn’t lose my grip and break my tailbone.”

Bob Hamilton said he “found the one event that required little effort.” He participated in pistol shooting. “We used a Colt 1911 with an ace conversion to .22. I would see others doing tug-of-war or running and was thankful for my event.” (Bob reported he later represented the Navy in an international shooting competition. We hope to learn more about that.)

(Speaking of handguns . . . I recall handling a firearm once during my entire time on active duty and it was at OCS. [I’m not talking about the neutered M-1’s we hoisted for pass-in-review. 🙂 We’ll talk about those later.]  During one class, a pistol, I expect a 1911 .45, was passed around. And I think that was it. Later, in the reserves, when I served in NCIS units, I had to qualify in both handgun and rifle [M-16], as well as shotgun.)

My event was the mile run, at least until the last quarter of our time at OCS. Bill Peeters and I ran as a pair, pretty much. We chatted, which tells you we were not exerting ourselves. I think we finished tied for last each time. I’m not so proud of that, but I remember the Alfa culture at the time, especially when we were in our third quarter, being not interested in athletic success. At the end of the evening, we would hear the results and I remember joining in on the laughter when we found out Alfa had finished last or near last. Not proud of that, either.

When A6903 became the senior cohort of the company, we also received a new group of Alfas, A6906. Among the newbies was a ringer of sorts, some recall.

As Lenny reports: “Each week, Bob Hamilton had been scoring  wins in pistol shooting and I had won the rope climb, but it wasn’t until an athletic new class was added that our overall performance in sports improved dramatically. Part of the reason was the addition of a ringer, a hulking Olympic volleyball player, from California, I believe. Unfortunately, he was only allowed to compete in one event. Each week, he insisted on competing in a different event. In several of the events, it was staggering how dominant he was. His performance helped inspire the rest of us to greater efforts.”

The California hulk wasn’t the only change. 🙂 I had switched from the mile run to the tandem relay. There were other Alfas about my size so two of us smaller guys were a pair in the relays.

I remember still another factor better, actually, in terms of our athletic turnaround. Don Cockrill had become company commander and he fostered a new attitude, a new culture in Alfa. I remember him encouraging us to do better. When I looked back later at those several weeks and the changes in our performances, individually and overall, I thought of it as one of the best examples of leadership I’d seen. It demonstrated, to me at least, that one could change a culture/mindset through example and exhortation.

 

Liberties

Remember the difference between “liberty” and “leave”? Liberty was authorized absence, for relatively short periods of time, whereas leave was for a longer period of time and was charged against your annual allocation. I expect we were granted liberty at OCS and not leave, even for the extended Christmas break.

Our usual liberty was maybe 30 hours, extending from our release around midday Saturdays until 1800 Sundays (it might have been a bit longer for “white-name-taggers,” who also had a weekday night).

On the first liberty we had, which was probably on the order of two weeks after we arrived (maybe longer), I wasn’t that surprised that the battery in my 1965 Sunbeam Tiger, which had sat in an outdoor parking area since arriving, was dead. I was probably surprised that the same thing happened a week later and, I believe, each Saturday I sought to leave OCS. By the second or third weekend liberty, the local AAA service station already knew I would be calling for a start and where the car was.

Finally on the road, I often drove up to Providence, R.I., where a BC classmate and friend lived while attending grad school at Brown. I think most often I simply crashed there for a brief nap, so I could then head up to Boston.

My hangout in Brookline.

I think most of my attention during those brief hours in the civilian world was aimed at food and drink, and probably mostly the latter. I “recall” being at the Tam O’Shanter Room in Brookline, Mass., the Boston College hangout and where I had had my first legal drink the year before, on a liberty Saturday night. I was wearing my uniform. We were supposed to. 🙂 As I left the bar that night, likely assisted by my companions, either I or the crowd at the bar began chanting, “Remember the Pueblo! Remember the Pueblo!” and I saluted them all by waving my cover.

Liberty also gave us a chance to spend some of that money burning a hole in our pockets. Heck, our lodgings, clothing, and food were free. What else were we going to do with that $226.20 we were paid each month as Officer Candidates? (I remember Harvey Katz looking at his first check in the Navy and exclaiming that the total was less than the deductions taken from his pay as a civilian.)

Memories from some other A6903ers

Lenny Borg: Besides a great Thanksgiving weekend, the only other liberty I can recall was a trip to a ski resort in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. It required such a long drive that, exhausted as we were at the end of a week, it began to seem that our destination was a bridge too far. It was soon so dark that none of the terrain was visible except for the shadowy silhouettes of mountains that finally began appearing on either side of the road. Nevertheless, it all seemed worthwhile when, on the next morning, I parted the curtains and gasped with wonder at the picturesque scene of skiers barreling down the mountain right at me. For a Georgia Cracker who had never set foot on skis, that sight was dazzling.

Bob Hamilton: I was with you on the ski trip, Lenny. It was beautiful. I remember that we had to wear our OCS uniforms and, when we were on the elevator at the hotel, someone got on and thought I was the elevator boy. They told me the floor they wanted and I responded.

Dennis Greenspon: I remember being picked up in one of those local Newport bars by a girl going to school in Newport. I thought I was really cool and feeling quite “studly” and full of myself. Until the night I told her that I was taking my old college girlfriend to our graduation ball. She got up from the table, told me that the only reason she went out with me was so she could go to the ball. Apparently that was something the local girls wanted to do very badly.  They all knew we were there for only about four months, and they would never see us again.

Don Cockrill: One popular routine was to head for the main “O Club” (which was quite nice) for a world-class buffet, drink too much, go back to the dorm to sleep it off, arise, go into town, and repeat the entire process. The one popular watering hole I recall was “The Tavern” in downtown Newport. There was a nice hotel in town (name not recalled) where dances were held on Saturday night and the local working girls as well as the Salve Regina coeds would congregate to meet the OCS cadets of their dreams. A UVa law classmate of mine, who was a month ahead, actually met his future wife at one of those mixers.

Here’s a picture from the 1969 Salve Regina yearbook. Recognize anybody?

The Salve Regina school newspaper in 1969 mentioned The Tavern, The Surf Lounge, Viking Hotel, Sully’s Publick House, Surf Hotel, and Hurley’s Lounge. Expect each of these establishments saw some Officer Candidates on the weekends.

Over the hump

Morning formation. Seachest photo

Back from Christmas break in January 1969, we were then among the “veteran” officer candidates at NAVOCS. Indeed, we were only about a week short of becoming the “senior class” and five weeks short of commissioning. The end was almost in sight.

Our “routine” continued as routine . . . interrupted by the unusual. (We’ll post later about such activities as firefighting, abandoning ship drills, inoculations, etc.)

We arose, or we might say were rudely awakened, at 0530, which in January was zero-dark-thirty. My roommate, Lenny Borg, says he remembers steam coming into the heating system 15 minutes before reveille. “The darned pipes clanged so loudly they always awakened me.”

Then, as Lenny recalls, upperclassmen would bang on already opened doors to our rooms and gently exhort us. “FALL OUT! All out for ooh-ahs! On the gouge! ON THE GOUGE!” Morning calisthenics — pushups, situps, ooh-ahs (maybe something like a crunch?) — commenced in the passageway. (We had been taught that the physical elements of our “dorm” were to be called what that would be called on board a ship. Hallway=passageway, wall=bulkhead, ceiling=overhead, floor=deck, stairway=ladder, etc.)

Scrub-a-dub. Seachest photo

Chores, get into uniform, muster in formation at the chow hall, breakfast, class, drill, muster in formation at the chow hall, lunch, PT, class, drill, muster in formation at the chow hall, dinner, “free time,” study, taps. Over and over, except for the occasional variation (e.g., standing inspection), weekly event (athletic competition, pass in review, etc.), or periodic event (standing Officer of the Deck watch in/on the lobby=quarterdeck of our building).

With a fine-tooth comb. Seachest photo.

We had the hang of it about now. Refreshed by some time spent with families and friends in the civilian world, it seemed, to me at least, that we felt ready to assume our position as leaders of Alfa Company and almost ready to be Naval Officers.

January 1969

The trial of Sirhan Sirhan, accused of the murder of Senator Robert F. Kennedy the previous June, began in Los Angeles on January 7.

On the Thursday before Super Bowl III, New York Jets quarterback Joe Namath told the Miami Touchdown Club, “The Jets will win Sunday. I guarantee it.” On that Sunday, January 12, the Jets, champions of the American Football League, defeated the NFL Champion Baltimore Colts, 16-7. They were the first AFL team to win the championship. (You won’t be able to watch the video on this site, but, if you click “Super Bowl III: Jets vs. Colts Highlights” at upper left, you can see it on YouTube.)

The publishers of The Saturday Evening Post announced January 10 that it would cease publication in February after almost 148 years.

The first Led Zeppelin album, Led Zeppelin, was released in the United States on January 12.

An explosion onboard the aircraft carrier USS Enterprise, at sea near Hawaii, on January 14 killed 27 sailors and injured 314.

Richard M. Nixon was sworn in as the 37th President of the United States and our commander-in-chief on January 20.

On the third of nine consecutive days of heavy rainfall in Southern California, nine people were killed in their homes in mudslides north of Los Angeles January 25. Overall, the deaths of 95 people (most due to weather-related traffic accidents) were attributed to the effects of the weather and damage amounted to nearly $1 billion in today’s dollars.

Christmas 1968

December 21 in 1968 was a Saturday. It may have been our last day at NAVOCS until the new year of 1969. Hope everyone had the chance to get back home then for family, friends, etc.

To get a flavor of the times, here is a video of the Dean Martin Christmas show of 1968. You got Dean, Dom, Bob . . . and more! 🙂 Back when they wore tuxes.

Speaking of uniforms . . . . Technically, we were supposed to wear our uniforms when “out in public,” even on liberty. I was wearing mine when I met two friends — Connie and Bob, soon to be married — for drinks during the holiday break. And I think my uniform helped me out later that night, when I drove home.

I was in Western Massachusetts and it was late on a cold night. Duh, December. It was also a night for black ice. For whatever reason, I was not driving my car, but my family’s car — a 1965 Plymouth convertible, I believe.

I remember coming down a long hill toward an intersection, with traffic lights. The lights turned yellow and I pressed on the brakes. That begat a long slide. I remember looking and hoping no cars were approaching the intersection from left or right, and I saw there were none.

Went through the intersection and ran into the traffic divider on the other side. Car had turned around. I remember sitting there, engine off, very quiet. No seeming damage. But when I grabbed the wheel, it just turned loosely. No connection to the wheels.

Of course, this is pre-cell phones. Who to contact? How?

Don’t remember how long it took, but a police officer showed up. I think I explained what happened, best I could. Might have been slurring a bit.  Maybe a lot. Ultimately, I remember sitting in the police station. I, or they, had called my father and he showed up to bring me home. No charges, no nothing. I know times were different then about DUI, but I also think being in uniform, in those times, with police officers then as now often being veterans, gave me a bit of a holiday gift.

Anyone else have stories from that Christmas break?

UPDATE: We were on leave for Christmas . . . enlisted leave. Below is my leave chit from that time. (I know, it’s probably weird that I have it.) We were due back on Friday, January 3, no later than 0730. I showed up at 0137 that morning, perhaps disturbing the quiet repose of YNSA Jennings. My repose, I’m pretty sure, was disturbed only about four hours later, at reveille. 

UPDATE: Don Cockrill had a feverish holiday. “In 1968 there was a global ‘Hong Kong flu’ pandemic that struck the USA in early December — including OCS. Onset of the flu was rapid and debilitating. I caught it and spent 90 percent of the next two-three weeks in my bed, but did manage to return home to northern Va./D.C. for the break.

“I lost at least 15-20 pounds and my parents, especially my Mom, were horrified. I was 6’6”, 220 lbs., before the flu, but even so the Navy topcoat issued me was already too long and way too big — with the sudden weight loss it made me look like a cadaver.”

The Hong Kong pandemic killed between one and four million people worldwide, 1968-70, and was the third pandemic of the century, following the Asian flu of 1957 and the pandemic of 1918-19. The Hong Kong variety was considered highly contagious and its spread to the US was facilitated by the number of American servicemen returning with it from Vietnam.

Wishing all a merry Christmas, happy holidays, and happy new year!