USS BRADLEY
ASSOCIATION NEWSLETTER
Vol. 2 – No. 4
SOUTH
It
was October 1982 and I was making my first WESTPAC cruise as a deck Seaman. Enroute to the
It
grew into a full-fledged typhoon and was moving faster than we were, at 20
knots.
I
thought it was pretty strange how fast the storm enveloped us. The seas were glassy and smooth when I
got off the bridge watch at 1600, but by midwatch Our Lady of the Sea seemed
pretty pissed off. By sunrise, the
seas were cresting at 60 feet with sustained winds of 80 knots plus. Green water slammed into Mount 51
and five feet higher than the mount
itself. I don't mind saying this,
but I was scared out of my mind!
But fear isn't something you can keep at a high level for three days,
which is how long the storm lasted.
So I did the best I could to keep my footing and deal with the fact that
all meals consisted of hot-dogs because that was what the galley could put
together, and sleep as best I could.
All
none essential work was secured along with the weather decks. The only places to see the storm raging
outside were on the bridge and in the helo hanger control booth. Both places got a lot of visitors. It got so bad that Capt. Twardy allowed
the helo hanger door to be opened a bit so we could all watch the violence
unfold.
I
also learned that the term "Secured for Sea" could be fairly relative. If it wasn't bolted, chained, or welded
down it was loose and rolling around. But even welds didn't mean "Secured". The mooring line reel mounted to the
forward bulkhead of the helo hanger broke loose and was thrashing the
aft
gun
deck. Stanchions, lifelines, small
boat gearboxes, and ladders to the Stack Deck were being pummeled. It had to be either secured or tossed
overboard. BMC Hancock entered the
Boson locker where several of us had set up cargo nets to use as hammocks to
sleep in and asked for volunteers to wrestle a soaking wet, thousand pound line
reel tangled in lifelines and secure it.
The option of jettisoning it overboard was rejected when it was realized
that it would have to get down to the main deck and over
the
lines;
it was just too dangerous for men and equipment. So "Tie It Down" was the order. BM1 Ross, a huge Samoan (like there's
any other kind), myself and two other "apes" jumped at the chance to go topside
and battle the dual threat of Mother Nature and a mindless
steamroller.
We
geared up with Kapok's, safety harnesses, helo deck helmets and as much heavy
line as we could carry. We opened
the hatch onto the gun deck from the helo hanger mezzanine and stopped and
looked at each other. Wind
carried spray was breaching the stack and it was simply roaring. The Conning Officer had the ship dead
into the waves and most of the ship’s movement was limited to heavy pitching,
but every once in while there would be these smaller rouge waves, in the 20 to
30 foot range, that would hit us
on
the port quarter from about 3-0-0 degrees and roll us to starboard a good
one. This complicated the task by
making it more difficult to anticipate where the line reel was going to end up
next.
Luckily,
the line reel was forward of the mount when we opened the hatch. Ross and I had
our lifejackets and safety harnesses on.
The two other guys secured a line to the "D" ring on the back and BM1
lead the charge. He had about 75
feet of line with an eye in the end.
The line was passed through the eye to form a lasso of sorts. I was similarly equipped. We boldly walked around the gun mount
from the starboard side just as the line reel was rolling aft. It struck the gun just under the barrel
that was pointing
forward
when Ross jumped at it with total determination in his eyes. At this point I thought he had lost his
mind because he moved to stand right in front of the reel to get a loop over the
shaft running down the center of the reel on the opposite side from where we
approached. But he
hooked
the
shaft and ran back to my side of the mount letting out slack in the line as he
came. He wrapped the standing part
of the line to one of the projections on the front of the mount, a view port
hatch, I think, and told me to get over on the other side and secure the reel
from that side as best as I could.
To
make a long story short, the gun mount ended up looking like it had a large
growth coming out of it and that it was heavily bandaged. We must have used 2000 feet of line to
secure that reel to the mount! The
whole episode couldn't have lasted more than 10 or 15 minutes, but it seemed
like hours. The sea, the wind and
the danger involved created a fear and excitement that is permanently etched in
my memory.
As
we got back inside, our safety line handlers told us they just heard that a safe
had broken loose from a space just forward of the PN's office, but by the time
we got there others had mostly handled it.
It had
broken
right through the main deck passageway bulkhead and was caught in the
debris. We helped secure
it.
But
that was not the end of the drama.
The next day after lunch, I went up to the bridge to check out the latest
conditions. Sleep was difficult
because the only way you could stay in your rack was to lie on your stomach and
drape your arms over each side to help stabilize your position. Anyway, I stood
on the bridge right behind the helmsman with both hands hanging on to the cable
stretched across the overhead for just that purpose. The seas were bad, really
bad.
As
I stood there watching the weather, a huge rouge wave came out of nowhere and
slammed us hard in the port quarter.
It was a long roller and it pushed us to starboard so far that both of my
feet left the deck and
were
dangling toward the starboard side bridge wing. I looked down my legs and could see the
conning officer on the wing looking like he was getting ready to be swept over
the side as the ship rolled over on top of him.
A
couple of things happened very quickly at this point. First, I looked up at the inclinometer
and saw the bubble go all the way to 56 degrees! Then I looked at Mount 51. I wasn't a gunners mate, but I was part
of the gun crew and knew that the mount was pretty much held on by gravity with
a
couple
of free clamps attached to it to prevent it from rolling off the deck in high
seas. I don't remember the actual
rating, but the mount was only supposed to survive a 45-degree or so roll before
the clamps failed. I distinctly
remember hearing a deep boom when the clamps caught the turret ring as the gun
lifted, and an even louder bag once the ship righted it and the mount came
crashing back down. Had that mount
broke off it would have been the end of us for sure!
(Note: I figure that there may be someone out
there that will think this is just an exaggerated sea story but I'm still in
contact with Bill Everhart, the helmsman that day, and he can verify my
statements).
One
other point to mention, the reel-roping incident was quite the talk around the
mess decks. It was seen by the
senior petty officers in deck as a brave deed and scored me more than a few
"atta boys". But that kind of talk
only emboldened me to pull a stupid stunt.
My buddy "Scotty" and I were talking about how neat it was to be outside
on the weather decks, on a ship, during a typhoon and how much we wished we had
taken some pictures. So we hatched a plan to go topside and do just that. We geared up in the helo hanger and went
out on the fantail, cameras in hand.
Scotty tied himself off to a cleat near the stern and would jump up in
the air as the stern dropped when the ship was climbing the face of the next
oncoming crest. I've got a picture
of him 7 or 8 feet clear of the deck (I'll bring them to the reunion). The really weird thing about that trip
outside was as the ship would clear the top of a crest and start down the other
side, the prop would leave the water.
As the blades made contact again with the water, the only way I have been
able to describe that sound is - unholy! It was very
spooky!
Of
course, being stupid little deck-apes we forgot that the helo hanger control
tower was filled with looky-loos and we were only a few minutes on deck before
the MAA came and busted us for being topside, something we were ordered not to
do.
It's
true that one "ah shit" will erase a hundred ''atta boys'', but it was worth
it.
MIKE
MORAVEK
BM2
(SW) 1982-1986
RECRUITMENT
DRIVE
The
association has been in existence for nearly a year now. At present we have over 150 registered
members. Those involved with other ship associations tell me this is a good
number. But in reality, I think it a really ridiculous number when one considers
the thousand upon thousands of BRADLEY crewmembers who served aboard from
1965 to 1988. At any one time there were well over 300 men aboard.
What
I’d like to propose is that every association member makes a commitment to
finding and recruiting at least one former BRADLEY shipmate per year.
That would immediately double our ranks. Why not try calling that old telephone
number or dropping a line to that old address?
We
should all take a lesson from BRADLEY’S plank owners who have, by far,
done the best job of finding and recruiting their former shipmates.
I’ve
already checked numerous websites. They have provided information on many of our
present members. If anyone has any other suggestion please contact your editor.
Thanks for caring.
BRADLEY’S
“TIN” CREW
Thought
perhaps since we have gold, silver and bronze crews, we might be able to add a
lowly 'tin' crew. This crew went on a WESTPAC cruise in 1977 and was not engaged
in shore bombardment of the coast of
But
there were some comical incidents during the dry-dock period too. One I was
directly involved in. Now this is no sh-t!! One day I had gone to the paint locker
to get two five-gallon buckets of white paint to continue painting out the aft
ammo mags. I was in a hurry and hit the down ladder to the mess decks on my way
to the magazine.
Well,
just so you know, they had just finished the new floor on the mess deck and they
were very proud of the project. Now I'm at the top of the ladder leading down to
the mess deck. I slipped at the top of the ladder and slid down on my butt,
finally managing to get back on my feet by the time I made it to the
bottom.
Unfortunately,
I did not do a good job of controlling the paint that was in the two five gallon
buckets. I never let go of the buckets but since neither had a lid, about 10
gallons of paint came splashing down the ladder and all over the new mess deck
floor, which had just been installed. I was covered from head to toe in white
paint but there was another person who incidentally was involved in the
saga.
Ensign
Goodman, the Deck Officer, was at the bottom of the ladder wearing what he
claimed was his only khaki uniform he owned which had not yet gotten any paint
on it. (You can imagine as Deck Officer it was almost impossible to keep
splatters of paint off his uniforms). Now, back to the story. Ensign Goodman
also was drenched from head to toe in the white paint including his new cover.
He realized immediately that this was an accident, but the look of desperation
and resignation on his face was priceless. I of course apologized but he seemed
to be in another world.
The
chiefs who were in charge of the mess deck floor were furious. They called a
muster of the entire Gunnery Dept immediately to the mess decks. I was sure
those guys were going to really be mad at me but when they saw Ensign Goodman
and me drenched in white paint all they could do was laugh. It took a couple
hours to clean up the mess but nobody got mad at me. The situation was so
comical it was hard to do anything but laugh.
Once
the dry-dock period was completed it was time to start steamin', ringing out the
problems and getting the ship ready for the upcoming WESTPAC tour. We went to
way
to
Captain
Lettington was able to get us prime berthing most of the time we were in a
Diego. We were usually tied portside to Pier 2. Of course, because we needed to
test the ship thoroughly, we generally got underway by
Pier
2 around
Believe
we would never see land again.
Back
out we went to Sea Steamin' Demon and Efficiency Testing. We scored E's for the
gun mount and the Director for shore bombardment. But we had a little problem
when we engaged the sleeve being towed by the tug. We locked on to the sleeve no
problem, as The RSPE had been tweaked to optimum. Unfortunately while the
decision was being made to fire on the sleeve, the RSPE started tracking up the
cable, as its relative speed was faster than the sleeve. The Director Officer
apparently did not use the big eyes to confirm the target before he gave the
word for salvos and the rounds got a little too close to the tug.
The
tug dropped the sleeve and returned to port. Needless to say we were required to
repeat the exercise at a later date.
Eventually
the time was coming and everyone was getting ready for the WESTPAC tour 77. We
got the word that we would be involved in operation RIMPAC 77 and that we would
not be stopping in
On
several occasions we were getting blue water over the flying bridge, which made
it particularly dangerous exiting and entering the director box during watch
changes. The seaman exiting the box had to time his exit in such a way that he
got out between the waves washing over the flying bridge. Then the
relieving
director operator had to get up on the director platform and up the ladder and
into the director box and get the hatch closed between two waves. That was
'great fun'. In addition, the waves hit the Director box so hard it would nearly
shutter and feel like it would fall off, but it never did. Obviously we didn't
have those seas all the time but it happened enough to make an impression on me.
I'll never forget it.
We
played war games for several weeks, which of course were taken quite seriously.
I think we won several exercises even though I don't remember receiving a
certificate or an entry in my service jacket for participating in this event and
sacrificing a chance for a short leave in
I
do remember a rather embarrassing event concerning an unauthorized radio
transmission, which supposedly came from our ship. I’ll not repeat the
transmission, as it would be hearsay. Perhaps someone else (i.e. RD) could
verify this transmission.
There
was one more somewhat humorous situation that happened during our underway
steaming. I don't know the exact date but I was on the midwatch in after
steering which was one of my underway assignments. It is common to change the
steering gear motors during the midwatch. One night I was given
the
order to change steering gear motors which of course are the motors that move
the rudder and hold it in place once the desired bearing is
achieved.
After
being given the order to change steering gear motors, I immediately informed the
OOD that it would take 3 to 5 minutes for the other steering gear motor to spin
up to speed before I would be able to successfully change over gear motors. The
OOD called down on the 'Bitch Box' and told me to
change
steering gear motors. Again I tied to explain but I was interrupted in
mid-sentence. The OOD said "I want that Starboard steering gear motor NOW,
Sailor!!!!. Aye, Aye Sir, I switched to the Starboard steering gear motor which
was not up to speed and the motor stalled. The rudder was moving
freely
and I believe we were steaming at approximately 20 knots. The rudder hit the
mechanical stop and stayed there. The ship lurched and made a hard turn and
rolled over probably 15 degrees or so. I grabbed the jacking arm and managed the
motor as it had time to spin up to speed while I was manually moving the
rudder
to zero.
Soon
afterwards I was relieved from my watch and informed my presence was requested
immediately on the bridge. I was told that the Captain was thrown from his rack
and fortunately we were not in close proximity with any other ships. The Captain
or XO, I don't remember which asked me to explain what had
happened.
I gave the same information I had given the OOD with the time it takes for these
motors to spin up and the direct order I was given by the OOD. I stood tall
before the man as the OOD who I will not name was given close order instructions
of a rather unpleasant nature. I was then allowed to go back to finish my
watch.
But
now on to the Good Stuff. We
finally got to the
We
went to
We
also had a little contest. We sat at a round table about 8 or 9 around the
table. A nice young lady was underneath the table distracting one person and
then another. If you could determine which person was being distracted that
person had to buy the next pitcher of beer. If you were wrong you bought the
next one.
On
a couple of occasions we loaded up a bus and went further into the farming
districts of the
do
best.
For
the first couple of innings the were ahead by 8 or 10 runs. But we called a
break at about
a
beer a hundred dollars buys a lot of beer. Anyway, we offered their team beer
and I think they felt it would be an insult to refuse.
After
a couple more innings and offering them refreshments each time they came in from
the field the score was much closer and they really loved to see some of us who
could really power the ball out of the park blast away. We would give the kids a
peso to go find the ball.
We
had a great time and of course even though we started to gain a definite
advantage once the Filipino men started drinking, which made the game very
closet we still made sure they won the game.
They
were very cordial and invited us to a carnival that they were holding in the
village that evening. For those who wanted to stay they made arrangements for
housing and transportation. The rest of the swabs went back on the bus. I'll
tell you that anybody who didn't stay for the carnival really missed out. After
that I made sure I took the bus out to play softball any time I was able. GREAT
FUN!!!
After
that it was on to Koushoung. It was quite different from the
I
went to many Buddhist temples and even though I think I went into one that I
don't believe was open to tourists they still seemed to be very interested in me
as I was wearing Whites. There were a couple of girls that spoke sufficient
English that we were able to communicate with.
I
found the prices for entertainment and refreshments were quite a bit higher than
in the
I
went to
I
returned to the
THOMAS
WIEDE,
FTGSN
1975-1977
MR.
CLIPPERS
When
I joined the Navy I was thinking about becoming a career sailor. However, after
10 weeks of boot camp and playing the role of Master at Arms it was a rude
awakening for me to become a "deck ape" on the BRADLEY. My new ‘weapons’ were a knuckle buster
and needle gun. Some days it would be hours before my hearing came back, several
men in a small area chipping paint for 10 or 12 hours with no hearing
protection. Then trying to sleep with a pillow over your head while the "yard
birds" chipped paint in the bilges all night long. We had been towed to
We
meet up with the USS Ranger for a non-stop trip to the gun line. We
refueled from the Ranger and I was on the bow with a sound powered phone
as the distance line handler. Shit! We were taking water over the bow and that
flat top, which looked pretty damn big to me, didn't even look like it was
rocking! After the evolution I was given a little bottle of brandy for getting
soaked on my line handling duty assignment and saved it until my 21'st birthday.
I celebrated it somewhere in the middle of the Pacific on a Saturday night no
less. Kent Grass and I split the brandy with a little 7-up and threw the glasses
in the fan room off the Barber Shop. Three months later my home State of
One
of my duty stations was as the BAR man in the whaleboat if we ever had to
investigate something away from the ship. I remember watching GMG1 McCoy shoot
the gun off of the side of the ship but I never shot that gun. Wow! Am I ever
glad we never put that whaleboat in the water!
We
were on the gun line at one point for over 30 days on port and starboard
watches. I wasn't at GQ and it was night so I went to the bridge to see what was
going on. We were running dark and silent and everyone on the bridge was very
quite. Out of nowhere a jet came screaming down and dropped Napalm on the
shoreline lighting up the beach and making us appear very close. Everyone on the
bridge starting cheering and jumping up and down including myself and then it
was like I stepped out of my body and I remember thinking "we just killed a
bunch of people with that air strike and I'm behaving like it's the Fourth of
July back in Minnesota”. I remember coming back into my body and going below
decks and mentally turning off my feelings wishing I was not here but still
knowing I must do my job as a crewmember.
I
grew up in a small town in
I
guess the pot had affected me more than I had realized.
It
didn't take to many months of paint chipping to change my mind about being a
career sailor. I started looking for a rate that would give me the most free
time to start taking college courses. One day while a deck ape I went to the
barbershop for a haircut. The barber, at that time, was Paul Green. Little did I
know that he was the "Klinger" of the Bradley and after cutting about
half my hair he would take his guitar out and start singing these God forsaken
songs to me about how the "stuffed animals had taken his wife's love away" and
another favorite " Dust on Mother's Bible". Shit! He'd ask you what you thought
of his singing and I lied my ass off hoping he'd finish my haircut!
Well
Green never got a section 8 so a month or so before we were going over sea's he
went over the hill. I went to the supply officer and told him I wanted the
barbering job, after all I had cut my horses manes back in
I
remember being in the barbershop with Phil Simonis when our "exchange" sailor
from
“Mr.
Clippers”
IRWIN
‘BUTCH’ SHATTUCK
SH2
(1971-1975)