Farewell, America

NOTE:  I'm traveling to Virginia Beach this weekend with my ex-wife.  No, no, it's not what you think.  That ship has sailed (no pun intended-you'll see what I mean below).  Rather than "Virginia Is For Lovers," it's "Virginia Is For Parents."  We're beginning the process of planning our daughter's wedding.  We'll be meeting with a few venues, evaluating menus, determining number of guests, figuring out how many thousands of dollars this will cost us, fish or chicken, etc.  You know.  Parent stuff.
    This means I won't have a lot of time to write a post.  But, that's okay, because this week marks a special anniversary.  On May 14, 2005, the first ship on which I served was sunk a few hundred miles off the coast of North Carolina.  On purpose.
    At the time I was writing for the Navy Times and wrote a column a few weeks before that event.  A column which I'll reprint here.  In these few words, I sought to "eulogize" the crucible upon which I became a man.  A little man, but a man.
    And so began a process which eventually lead me back to Virginia with an open wallet and soon-to-be-abused checkbook.  I'm convinced that all things in life affect our future in some way, great and small.

By the way, I've inserted "notes" to indicate the newest information that I have, as of 2019.  You're welcome.
 

Sure, it was big.  But, they make them bigger now.  

And, more importantly, afloat.

   On a frosty January morning in 1961, the keel was laid for a new supercarrier.  The ship was commissioned on January 23, 1965 as the fifth vessel to carry the name of the nation.  She was USS AMERICA (CV-66).

NOTE:  Incidentally, there's a sixth USS AMERICA.  She's an amphibious assault ship, homeported in California.

    Originally conceived of as nuclear-

Interestingly (for me, anyway...shut up), 

I was part of the turnover crew from 

USS GEORGE WASHINGTON who went aboard

 AMERICA as she departed the Mediterranean

 Sea following her final deployment.

powered, this conventional warship routinely found itself in the middle of history.  From the Arab-Israeli War to Desert Storm, the Gulf of Tonkin to the Gulf of Sidra, or the Mediterranean to the Arabian Sea, she was a big stick in a world roiled with strife.


   I served aboard AMERICA from 1977-1980, members of my family were part of the crew, and my ex-wife was even baptized by the ship’s chaplain.  In a sense, she was the “family ship.”       

I was an aviation electronics technician.  

Who also cleaned toilets.

A lot like today.

Irony.

   I left her in the summer of 1980 to continue an odyssey which carried me to many places and adventures.  I even served aboard another carrier.  But, in all that time, I looked back on my tour with AMERICA as the seminal event of my Navy career.

Cheesy moustache and untucked shirt not included.

    Sure, I was saddened when she was relegated to a spot on the Delaware River along with other grizzled vessels.  But, I took it for what it was worth; it gave me a glimpse into my own eventual "decommissioning.”  Although, instead of being herded with aged warships, I see myself gathered among flesh-and-blood veterans who, no doubt (I lie to myself), will be spellbound by countless “I was there” stories-including a few from CV-66.
NOTE:  I did "decommission" in March, 2005, when I retired from the Navy.  I can't convince anyone to listen to "I was there" stories, though.

    I was never bothered by seeing her permanently tied to a pier, because I knew she could still heed the nation’s call, if necessary.  Plus, it was a treat to fly over her when coming or going from Philadelphia and pointing out “Dad’s ship” to my kids.

By this time, I had lost the moustache.

 And gained thirty pounds.

HINT:  I'm the tall one (yeah, huh?)

    It was also a hoot to get a call from the wife of a friend who happened to be taking a river cruise.  She asked if I knew the name of the aircraft carrier tied up at the former naval shipyard.  Yep, I told her, I did.

    Like a set of Dress Blues (which are really black...but that's another story) still hanging in the closet (never mind if they still fit) or those platform shoes just itching to boogey again (FYI:  I dance like Frankenstein), it was good knowing she was there because “you never know.”

   So, it was a shock to learn my ship will soon be towed a few hundred miles into the Atlantic and used to evaluate what it takes to sink a ship that size.

    Over the course of several weeks, AMERICA

will be brutally battered by torpedoes, cruise missiles, and, maybe, a small boat attack like the one which crippled USS COLE.

   Eventually, she will be rocked by charges set throughout her hull and sink to the bottom.

Kinda sad.  

Good thing I took off all those socks 

I used to...mind your business.

    Don’t be misled, though, when you read “she will slip quietly beneath the waves.”  I witnessed the destruction of a derelict ship as part of a new torpedo test.  A mime-fest it was not.  The agonized groans of twisting metal and collapsing bulkheads persisted all the way to the ocean floor.

    If that ill-starred hulk went out with such a bang, I cannot imagine a ship nearly the size of the Eiffel Tower would give up the ghost any more timidly.

    That being said, what does it say about a Navy which treats the nation’s namesake in such a manner?  Isn’t this an inglorious end to one of the “horses” of the Cold War?  Is she like a family car which has outlived its usefulness and, so, must be discarded?

    I share the feelings of many past crewmembers who feel this is a shabby way to treat one of our own.  Surely, there must be a better way to treat a national treasure.    

Wrong National Treasure.

Although Sean Bean lived in this one.

So, there's that.

    But, the more I thought about it, the more I reconsidered.  Rather than being tossed on history’s scrap heap, Ex-AMERICA will, in the words of Admiral John Nathman, provide “one vital and final contribution to our national defense.”

   The knowledge gained through the trials she will endure will provide insight into the effects of modern weapons on modern warships.  Her sacrifice will provide crucial data to ensure our Sailors are more fully protected from the evil that other men do.

    While a gross analogy, AMERICA’s acrifice is similar to organ donors.  Through her death, others may live.

    What nobler way can you think of for a ship named “AMERICA” to take its final bow?

   I’m sad, but I’m proud.

   Fair winds and following seas.