Fair Winds and Following Seas

I celebrated my 30th birthday in October of 1995. I remember turning to my (then) 60 year old dad and saying, "Remember when you were my age, you had me." Without skipping a beat, he looked at me and said, "Don't remind me."

For some reason I took that as a joke about him having ME, and that might be right. But upon reflection, it may be that he went through the same "crisis" as I was going through when he turned 30.

Thirty. That was the only birthday that I've experienced, in my 49+ years going around the sun, that had an impact. The rest were just like any other day.

Thirty was not necessarily the beginning of a new era, but the ending of others. Twelve years of school were over. My teen years. Four years in the Navy. Hell, even "dating" was over (I was married to my ex at the time). I felt more the loss of life, than the excitement of what was to come. C'mon: I was too young to be having a mid-life crisis!

This weekend I attended the end of another 30 year "life". On Friday, January 30, the USS Elrod (FFG-55) was decommissioned. Twenty-three of us "Plankowners" (the ship's commissioning crew) were there to watch her last crew disembark, and to see the last watch secured. The same twenty-three (out of approximately 190 crew) who had the honor of being there to first man the rails at her commissioning ceremony.

(Note: there were actually twenty-four of us in attendance. One was there by proxy. He was on a deployment, and was in attendance via Skype.)

The USS Elrod had 19 captains. I had the pleasure of serving under the first two. During her career, she sailed around two million miles and had conducted 19 deployments. I was there for the first deployment to the Persian Gulf in 1987-1988. She had served the United States proudly, in true recognition of her namesake, Major Henry Tallmadge Elrod, who served valiantly during World War II on Wake Island.

"To all the former commanding officers and former crew members in the audience, we want you to know that all the way to the end, Elrod's radars detected and tracked aircraft, her sonars detected and tracked submarines, her communication equipment function[ed] as designed, her guns shot straight and her engines ran fast." - Commander Brad L. Stallings, the final Commanding Officer of the USS Elrod.

Video from U.S. Navy of USS Elrod Decommissioning

After the ceremony had ended, the twenty-three of us gathered around to have pictures taken, with the Elrod in the background. We were accompanied by Commander Stallings and guest speaker Brigadier General Raymond R. Descheneaux. General Descheneaux had "jockeyed" to be in attendance, and we were proud to have him there. As a Marine, he spoke passionately of Major Elrod and his team's actions on Wake Island. He said that, when telling the Chief of Naval Operations (CNO) of his opportunity to attend, that the CNO "beamed", knowing the sacrifices made of both Major Elrod and the ship that bore his name.

My wife noted so accurately, that what we were attending was in essence a funeral. And like most funerals, the tone was somber at the event, and nostalgically joyous during the gatherings that followed. During the decommissioning, there was not a dry eye among us (as mine are wet now, while I write this), and we hung onto the memories shared with laughter the common expression.



My wife Lisa and I on the flight deck

Thirty years. Unlike the Elrod, whose future is either the scrapyard, or hopefully a few more years serving in a foreign navy, I still have many more to go. Many more years to build upon the memories and friendships that have been made.

To you, the Plankowners and crews of the USS Elrod, I bid you Godspeed in all that you do. Fair winds, and following seas.

Former RM2 J.P. Wiegand.


Me - outside of Radio

-j.p.

© Emittravel 2015

A Moment of Realization - of Becoming

The following is from my personal journal:

 

July 13, 2011 - Starlight Café, Bath, ME - Had a crabmeat and spinach quiche. I know that "real men don't eat quiche", but I had the opportunity to have crabmeat in it. And everybody knows, crabmeat is the other, other white meat.

After a terrific tour of Bath Iron Works, via a trolley from the Maine Maritime Museum, we had about a half-hour conversation with the tour guide. The tour guide was a retired engineer who worked on my ship - USS Elrod, FFG-55 - back during my early naval career. We had about a half-hour conversation together after the tour. Later, while Lisa and I were in the gift shop, we could here him telling others that there is a plankowner from the Elrod here. Way cool!

We went to Café Crème to have something to drink and snack. Very tasty. From there we went to the Kennebec River and sat on a bench and absorbed the atmosphere. Then we went to the local IGA for some wine and cheese and watched as a rainstorm came through. I did a fast walk to the other side of town for the Jeep. We decided to go back to the hotel to clean up and change clothes.

Dinner was at the Osprey - delicious. Great clam "chowdah"! Lisa had a lobster roll and I had seafood fettuccini (lobster, mussels, scallops, shrimp - oh yeah!)

After dinner we went for a drive and enjoyed as the evening set in. We found ourselves at the "end" of Bath along the Kennebec as the sun set.

Lisa and I had a conversation while sitting alongside the Kennebec River and why a place like this for me, or for her Kent State University, has such meaning. The Kennebec is just a river. I'm no lifetime sailor. I have no connection to the sea as some do. And yet I'm drawn here.

My life completely changed when I got to Bath, ME back in 1985. I left San Diego, CA, went home for about two weeks on leave (vacation), and then met the ship in Bath. I arrived, met the ship, and immediately was sent to Norfolk, VA to meet the crew. You have to understand, the Elrod was a brand-new ship. We were the original (a.k.a. "plankowner") crew. There is something special about being the first crew to take a ship out to sea. But at the beginning, while she was still being prepared, living quarters on the ship weren't ready. The crew was gathering in Norfolk to prepare, and that is where I went.

After a couple of short weeks we flew back to Maine to meet the ship. Once we took possession of her we left Bath via the Kennebec River and met the outskirts of a hurricane. After being tossed around for awhile (it was such fun! I saw a chair lift off the deck and flew over against a bulkhead [wall]. In actuality, the ship dropped and leaned so quickly the chair was left in midair, where the bulkhead came to it. Someone immediately said, "Someone want to tie that thing down?") the ship went to New Jersey for our ammo, a quick stop in Brunswick, GA for the commissioning ceremony, and then to Charleston, SC - our home port.

You see, the Kennebec represents a transition for me. Traveling down the river on the Elrod was a symbolic moment where I left "childhood" and entered "adulthood". Leaving home and going to San Diego, CA was not the same. Sure, there was boot camp, Radioman "A" School, and Morse Code School, but it was still school. When I got to the Elrod I was told, "You just get out of school? Well, forget what you learned; we're going to teach you how to be a Radioman." I learned how to be independent yet part of a team/family. I moved on and became a man. The river represents that "becoming" to me. And coming back to it floods my personal banks with emotion - overwhelms me.

I've half-jokingly said that when I die I want to be cremated and have my ashes deposited in the Kennebec. I guess I find that river a symbol for another major transition as well.

© Emittravel 2011