By Ken Trujillo ETCM (SS)(RET)
 
 

 My time on the Rock was short in the scheme of things, but it being my first tour on a sea going command pretty well set the tone of the rest of my Naval career.  First, I have to say, because of CRS, some of the events I'm going to write about may be slightly out of sequence.  For instance, I'm not sure during the WESTPAC cruise if we went to Sasebo first or Kobe.  It doesn't really make much difference because I do remember the events that happened there.  That's what's important.  With very little exceptions, names also evade me.  If this gets on the web page maybe some of my old shipmates may fill in names.

That said, I reported on board the Rock while she was in the yards at Vallejo, Ca. in March 1956.  They had already installed the 30 some odd foot section to house all the radar repeaters forward of the control room.  There was some question as to the length of the section, but it was said that the section was 6 inches longer than other boats that had been modified in the same manner.  That made the Rock the longest submarine in the Navy at the time.  It became a qual question but no one really knows for sure.  I had just turned 18 the December before, as well as making RMSN, just a month before I reported in.  I had spent three months on the USS Nereus qualifying as a radioman watch stander so I thought I would immediately go to the radio gang for duties.  That idea was quickly quelled when the second night I was on board, I found myself in the crews mess grinding down the mess decks so new tile could be laid.  Things in the shipyard went down hill from there.  Being in the deck gang meant fire watches, chipping paint, and getting the boat ready to leave the shipyard.  This made the radio room seem like an unattainable dream.  Even so, the shipyard was somewhat uneventful but hectic, but soon enough we were out of the yard, doing sea trials and getting ready to go back to San Diego.

During the first sea trials out of the yards, we did have a problem when we tried to dive.  We opened the vents and the boat started a normal dive but we couldn't get much deeper than 40 feet.  The Diving officer started to flood every variable tank on the boat including fwd and aft trim, aux and of course Negative tank was full.  Still the boat would not go down.  Finally we flooded the sanitary tanks; it was enough to get us down so the dive would be successful.  Needless to say, when they put the ballast in the tanks they didn't put enough in.  The story that went around was the engineers had compensated for the weight of the newly installed bubble with the height finding radar installed aft of the sail, but they had not compensated for the displacement of the bubble.  Remember it was a hollow tank and it did displace water.  After installing more ballast, we never had another problem diving.  So soon there after we left Vallejo and headed for San Diego.  By the by, just for some of the readers that remember the Horse and Cow in Vallejo, it wasn't there at that time, but still in San Francisco.  I didn't get introduced to the H&C until I was on the USS Sea Devil (SS400) a few years later).  But I digress.  One last thing about leaving the yards; we received our issue of new lines.  They were the new nylon type.  I thought we would throw all the old lines away, you know the old thick manila type, but we didn't.  We stowed them as we would the nylon lines except they went into the line locker first and the nylon went on top.  I asked the chief of the boat "why are we keeping these old lines".  His only reply was "Mary Sue".  Not wanting to look like a complete idiot, I said "Oh."  Having no idea what he was talking about I let it go.  Mary Sue turns out to be quite an event in our WESTPAC run.

 For whatever reason, I stayed in the deck gang for about 6 months and never got mess cooking.  I stood all my watches in the control room as a planesman and lookout.  Underway it really wasn't bad; I got a lot of fresh air, and for the most part really enjoyed it.  However, being one of the youngest member of the crew, and almost the smallest (I weighed about 115lbs at the time).  I was subject to a lot of teasing from the old salts about being “tender stuff.”  Whenever I got off watch, it was like running a gauntlet going through the two engine rooms.  The two watch standers in each room would try and grab me with threats of "gonna getchya".  I didn't think they were serious but being so young, and all the stories you hear before going onboard submarines, I guess I really didn't know.  Any way, it was a fight after every watch getting to my bunk in the stern room.  Then one night they got me, threw me down on the deck and pulled my pants down just enough to expose my butt, and squirted oil out of a can all over it.  I really thought I had been had, but it was all over then.  The attackers got to laughing so hard they couldn't hold me.  I started laughing too, more from relief than thinking it was funny, but the joke was over and that was the last time I had to fight to get to my bunk.

Before we left for WESTPAC, I had to get a government driver's license.  I had all the paper work made out, but forgot to get it signed by the division officer.  I had taken a water taxi ashore when I realized it.  It was getting late and if I went back to the boat to get the signature, I didn't have time to get to the air station to get the license.  So, I did the next best thing.  I went across the street and went into the first bar I found, looking for some one with authority from the boat.  I found no one.  However, one of the rock sailors was there, blown out of his skull.  He asked what I was doing, so I told him.  He reached over grabbed the papers and scribbled "R.J. Stretch across the signature line.  He said, "nobody reads that stuff anyway".  I said what the hell; I'll try it.  It was one of the easiest licenses I ever received.  The request, as he said, raised no questions; all they wanted was a name on the line.

After some shake down training and drills, we got under way for WESTPAC.  If I remember correctly it was mid year, July, or August 1956 time frame.  Once we started overseas, qualification started in earnest.  About 30-35% of the crew was qualified, and most of them were WW2 submarine veterans.  To me they were grizzly salts, and it was fun to get one or more of them talking about some of the war patrols they had made.  Being 11 years after the war the number of WW2, veterans were thinning out in the sub service so I feel fortunate that I was able to sail with some of them.  In retrospect, I never realized just how safe we were with the knowledge of those guys.  Even with a green crew they knew just what to do and when to do it, to keep the boat, and us, out of trouble.  I only remember one under way casualty; it was in one of the engine rooms when a small fire broke out.  One of the non-quals was getting his engine room walk through when it happened.  He was almost through when the room started filling with smoke.  The watch standers got it under control and all was ok in just a few minutes.  The non-qual, however, just sat down on the bench and did nothing.  He finished his walk through a little later and I asked him why he didn't help, or do anything.  His response, "I wasn't qualified in the room yet".  I thought it odd, but thinking back, I'm sure you will all remember that we were taught if you didn't know what it was, "don't touch it", if you were not qualified in a watch station, then just take orders from some one that was.  I guess he did the right thing.  The watch-standers didn't tell him to do anything, so he just got out of the way.

Pearl Harbor was only two weeks away and that was my first port of call out of CONUS.  On the way in, each boat from the states fired a live fish at some cliff on the island.  We did too.  That was the second live fish I had ever seen explode (the first was when I was on the Nereus. and two submarines and the Nereus sank an old LST).  The fish ran Hot Straight and Normal, and hit the cliff.  I don't know if that is still the policy for boats coming from the states, but I know they never sank the cliff.

In 1956, the Hawaiian Armed Services Police (HASP) was still in control of all military ashore.  We were told all kinds of horror stories about them.  We were told not to just stand on a corner except to catch a bus.  If you did stand on a corner and didn't get on the next bus, we were told that they would pick you up and you would never see daylight again.  I believed them.  I guess that during the war they were bad.  They had let up somewhat in 56 but I was taking no chances.  I only went ashore once or twice during the week we were there.  I was too young to drink so I had no problem staying out of trouble.

There was a sea story going around that while we were in pearl, a couple of the officers got wasted and decided to see if they could sneak up on the boats topside watch.  The story goes they jumped into the water from another pier, clothes and all, and swam up to the boat.  I guess they came on board on the turtle back.  It was said that one of the officers was the Capt. Again, it is a sea story; it may or not be true, but it was talked about half way to Japan.

Chi Chi Jima was the next stop, but to get there we had to cross the International Date Line.  I had no idea what to expect, but I wanted to be one of those guys that earned the privilege of crossing the line on a sub.  Just before we got to the line, we stopped the boat and had a swim call.  We rigged the bow planes out and all jumped into the water.  I was not a real strong swimmer, so I stayed close to the boat.  When I tried to swim back to the bow planes, I realized the boat was drifting away from me.  Fortunately, I could swim just a little faster than the drift so I made it back ok.  Never went swimming off the boat again.  This includes when I got qualified.  (When I qualified we were in Yokosuka and no one went over the side in Yokosuka because the harbor was so dirty.  I did get thrown over the side later in San Diego in 1960).  After we got underway again for the “International Date Line”, an engineman named Gibson, (I think) somehow started an impromptu initiation for all who had never been across the line.  The initiation only consisted of cutting off all of your hair and some verbal harassment.  Gibson was the ships barber for this and he got quite a lot of pleasure from doing it.  The initiation was almost over when someone got the bright idea to check Gibson's record.  We found out that Gibson had never been across either, and he only started it to get out of being a victim.  He didn't get away with it.  He got his head shaved just like the rest of us.  Had he left things well enough alone, nothing would have probably happened.  One of the old salts told me later that he had never heard of an initiation when crossing the 180.  After all was said and done, the boat dived on the eastern side of the line and went under it to surface on the western side.  We continued our cruise to Chi Chi Jima.

Chi Chi Jima, for those of you that have never been there, was a small island about 400 miles from Japan, and was heavily fortified by the Japanese during the war.  Still in the harbor was a Japanese Maru half sunk from an American Torpedo.  It was hit and then had to limp its way into the harbor, only to settle on the bottom.  Most of the ship was still out of the water.  The harbor had a very narrow inlet and close to that inlet was a large mountain type of rock.  It may have been coral.  The Japanese had honeycombed it with gun emplacements to protect the harbor.  Once inside the harbor, it opened up into almost a complete circle.  On one side was a beach and as you looked around the circle you could see where comb caves had been made by the waves.  These caves were at water level and because the harbor was tidal, water went into these caves with quite a bit of force.  The water level would rise and fall like waves.  Chi Chi Jima, then, had a small contingency of Americans that maintained a small air base.  Their only recreation was any ship or sub that would come into the harbor.  They furnished the beer and we had a beer ball game.  I had the duty so I didn't get to attend.  We were told not to swim in the harbor because of sharks.  We were also told not to go into those caves I mentioned.  They were dangerous, one could get swept off the ledges, and chances of survival were slim.  Needless to say, some guys swam.  But no sharks appeared.  However, three guys didn't heed the warning about the caves.  They went in and sure enough two of them fell in, and couldn’t get back out.  One of them hung onto the side of the ledge and got cut up badly from the coral.  The other guy that fell in was able to grab hold of a pinnacle of coral and wrapped his arms and legs around it.  He almost died.  As the water continued to rise and fall like swells in the ocean, it would run him up the pinnacle, then down.  The pinnacle was pure coral.  The only guy that didn't fall in went back and got help.  The two that fell in were taken off the island by plane, and we never saw them again.  The corpsman told me the guy on the pinnacle was cut from head to foot with deep coral gashes.  The other one had his hands all chewed up.  These were the first and last casualties during this WESTPAC trip.  Next stop Yokosuka.

Yokosuka was only about two days run from Chi Chi Jima, and I don't think I slept one minute of the transit.  I had no idea what was wrong with me.  I didn't feel this way when we went to San Diego or even Hawaii.  All of a sudden, I was a nervous wreck.  It was my first experience with channel fever.  We came into Yokosuka in the early evening and when they passed the word for line handlers, I went topside to get the lines ready.  When I got topside, we were already passing some points of land and the first thing I saw was a very large billboard that said "Torys Whiskey".  There was nothing significant about the sign but some, how I expected something else, maybe fireworks.  I know they were going off inside me, but Tory's whiskey!  I didn't know what to expect but it wasn't a big sign advertising whiskey.  After being up for almost two days, I found I had the duty the first day in.  Topside watch the first day in a foreign port was not pleasant, especially as tired as I was.  I did get some sleep later that night, and was on the beach as soon as I could the next day.

One of the first things they did on the boat was take all of our American money and exchange it for MPC, Military Payment Certificates (I think that’s what the acronym is).  MPC was issued instead of American money to keep green backs out of the communist hands.  That was the party line.  I’ll go into that later.  For those that have seen MPC, it was paper money made out of the same material as American greenbacks but smaller.  MPC had every denomination; up to, I think $20.  But the MPC went down to 50, 25, 10, and 5 cents.  You could have a pocket full of change in paper money that would fill your wallet and still not have more than $10.  The only American money available was a penny.  Not used much, but it was there.  Legally you couldn’t spend MPC on the beach.  I was told that in some places in the city you could get a better exchange rate for MPC on the black market rather than at the normal money exchange.  I think who ever started that rumor was blowing smoke because I never saw it.  Any way, once issued MPC you had to exchange it for yen.  This was done either at the bank on base, at the EM club, or at club alliance, just outside the gate of the Naval Base.

 Club alliance was a building used as a Japanese officer's club during the war.  When we got there, it was a going concern as it was the only pure American establishment outside the gate.  The club had three floors, if I remember right, and each floor had at least one or two bars of some type.  There was a general bar for all rates, an Acy Ducy club, and another bar for dancing etc.  There was a restaurant where you could get a genuine American hamburger.  (In 1957, they built a bowling alley).  There was a gym and a booze locker where you could get a quart of hard stuff for $1.00, ($1.50 for good stuff).  There was a small exchange and other things I can't remember.  This was my first experience with money exchange.  You went to a booth in the middle of the club open area and gave the attendant the money you wanted to change.  This attendant broke out a stack of Yen and folded it between his middle and ring finger on his left hand.  He then used his thumb to move the top bill, like you would if you were dealing cards, he would grasp the top of the bill with his right thumb and fore finger on his right hand, then started to count by flipping the upper half.  Those bills went so fast that you couldn't see his fingers move.  They were just a blur.  When all was said and done, he would give you the Yen, took your money and was ready for the next guy.  All this took about 5 seconds.  No matter how much money he exchanged it took the same amount of time.  The first few times I exchanged money I was never sure if the count was accurate or not.  But who cared?  For $100, you got 36,000 Yen, all in 1,000 yen notes.  With that amount of Yen, + or – a couple of thousand, you had more personality than you ever had in your life.  Especially for a young lad of 18.

The money exchange was just a quick stop before you rounded the club and started the gauntlet of Japanese venders in "Thieves Alley" all trying to get that 36,000 Yen before you got to your first objective, The white hat club.  Some of you will remember the starlight club, right next door.  In 1956, the White hat club was "THE" submariners place to go.  The starlight club became popular about a year later.  Then the two went head to head for the submarine patronage.  Seldom did a skimmer sailor, or marine venture into the white hat.  Not that there was trouble very often, but they quickly realized it was a submarine bar and didn't want to stick around.  It was some times difficult for us non-quals to get in because the right of passage was your dolphins.  Usually there was someone off the boat that would let every body know you were ok.  Also, after a couple of visits the Mamasan, as well as most of the girls that worked there, would recognize you too.

I don't remember much of the first week in Yokosuka; mostly I stayed drunk from liberty call until the bars closed.  Each night it seemed we went to a different part of the city.  Down the street from the White Hat was a strip of bars unlike any I had ever seen in the states; that includes Norfolk's east main, San Diego's Broadway, or Georgia Street in Vallejo.  All the bars were near the base, and just about anywhere you wanted to go by cab, .was about 100 Yen.  (About 25cents)  We went to an area called CHO, and some times ended up at the Kanko Hotel across town.  Normally, if somewhat careful with your money, $100 worth of Yen could last almost a week by buying your bottle from club alliance and not buying the girls too many champagne drinks.  The first week there for me, was: duty, liberty, liberty, liberty, wait for payday.

 After about the second week, we got underway again.  I was glad to get underway.  I needed some rest, let alone the need to completely sober up.  We were underway through another payday then pulled into Sasebo.  It started all over again.  Like all boats, there were moneylenders.  Slush funds were available, but mostly individuals loaned money.  They charged 10% interest per payday.  We would get paid in cash; a list was posted in the crew's mess letting us know how much money each person had available.  (Some guys would leave their pay on the books and only draw a little at a time).  Me, A young RMSN, with sea pay and hazardous duty pay, I only got $90 per payday, and I drew it all.  I never knew when I might need it.  At the end of the pay line were the moneylenders, each getting their due.  Some of they guys would only pay the interest, but that was ok because the moneylenders never lost a dime.  This was also the time when all gambling debts were paid too.

Speaking of liberty, getting ready for liberty was very personal.  Each person seemed to have a part of their uniform that they took especially good care of.  Some guys would spend hours shining their shoes.  Others would wash and roll their hat just so, and if the role didn't take, they would start all over again.  Pressing the blues wasn't easy and most of us just slept on them.  We would take a blanket and lay it on the springs of the bunk, neatly fold the blues on the blanket then put the mattress on top and sleep on the uniform.  Generally, if folded right they would come out looking much like they were pressed with an iron.  Me, my fetish was my neckerchief.  I loved the double rolled neckerchief.  To really accomplish this, the neckerchief had to be pressed to perfection, then taking one corner of the neckerchief rolling it to the center, very tightly, then go to the opposite corner and do the same.  The trick was to get a nice sharp point on each end of the neckerchief where the two rolls met.  If the rolls were uneven, you started again.  To press the neckerchief, first I would wash it, and get some one to hold one end while we twisted it to get all the water out.  Then take the damp neckerchief and rub it on the coffeepot in the crew's mess.  The coffeepot we had was larger than most and was in the shape of a cylinder.  You could almost reach half way around the pot.  By pressing the neckerchief on the pot the heat would steam the neckerchief, dry it, and take all the wrinkles out at the same time.

 Back to Sasebo.  Actually, it was just like Yokosuka except it had a large number of white Russian girls in the bars.  All of these girls were descendants of White Russians that had fled Russia when the communists took over.  They evidently came to Japan and were there through WW2.  What was strange, at least then, was they had no Japanese features, and could easily have passed for the girl next door in Podunk Iowa, except all they could speak was Japanese.  When they talked, you expected American or some other western language but not fluent Japanese.  Sasebo was the only port I ever saw them in.  Again, more liberty than money so we were glad to get underway again.

This time for Kobe.  The trip was short, and so was the money.  I was broke but being behind in quals, it didn't make any difference, as I couldn't go ashore anyway.  We only stayed a few days, maybe five.  The second day in Kobe, I was topside after dark just enjoying the night, when all of a sudden a couple of guys ran across the brow towards the head of the pier.  I stopped the next guy and asked what was going on.  He said there was a local girl at the head of the pier in a phone booth plying her wares.  Her being in a phone booth didn't allow for much except what ever she could achieve while on her knees.  The next guy that went over the brow I knew shouldn't be leaving the boat for medical reasons.  I yelled "Hey shipmate, where are you going?"  He said "to the head of the pier".  I said, "I thought you had the clap"!  He looked over his shoulder as he was heading down the pier and with a big grin said "YAH," and kept right on going.  I didn't have the duty, and I couldn't leave the boat, but after that exchange, another guy, and I went aft, almost to the turtle back, sat down and killed a bottle of Akadama wine.  On another night during our stay in Kobe, another shipmate brought a lady of the night to the boat and put her in the sail.  There is not much room in the sail because of all the masts but there was a spot big enough to put a couple of blankets down.  Then he went down below to pass the word she was up there.  There was a lot of coming and going noticed by the OOD; he was guessing there was a girl on board but had no idea where she was and it drove him crazy.  I served with the OOD at SUBSCOL a few years later and asked him if he ever knew what was going on.  I told him what really went on and I thought he would laugh, and laugh.  He didn't.  Oh well, I thought it was funny.  Anyway, to finish the story; the guy that brought her aboard went into the sail and while in the throws of passion, he found all the money she had earned lying near the top of her head.  While in the act, he stuffed the money in his jumper pocket.  He took her off the boat soon there after and he told me the full story the next day.  I believe he left her with about 1000 yen.  That part I didn't think was too funny.  Thank god, we got underway again.

We continued to operate with some American and Japanese ships in the local area and returned to Yokosuka.

During this stay, we had a ships party at the Kanko Hotel.  Usually these bashes lasted from Friday through Monday morning when all had to be back to the boat.  Again, I had the duty the first day of the party.  I had the 4-8 watch Saturday morning and was just about to get relieved when I looked up and on the pier was a taxi.  Out of the Taxi came a crew member, we called "Shorty", for obvious reasons.  Shorty had been to the ship's party and evidently woke up at the hotel, and found he had lost all of his clothes.  He lost his socks, hat, and everything in-between.  He started down the brow, and all he had on was a rather large sports coat that came to his knees and a bow tie; that’s all.  His bony knees and hairy calves stuck out under the coat and there was nothing under the bow tie except his neck.  He did have an ID card but it belonged to the owner of the coat.  It was an officer's ID card so when Shorty came through the gate the guard saluted him.  Shorty was a third class something.  All he wanted to do was to get back to the boat, get some new clothes and head back to the hotel, which he did.  His ID card was found at the hotel, so with new duds and his ID card back he was ready for another night.

I got some rest and hit the hotel later that night.  I partied with the best of them and then went back to the boat.  The next morning I went back to the Hotel rather early and was met at the lobby by a couple of crewmembers.  They said "Ken, quick give me your pants, Shorty has lost his again".  Sure enough, we went to the room where Shorty was, still in bed.  This time though, he was wearing his hat, undershirt, neckerchief, and jumper.  He had nothing below that.  He had no idea how he got there or what happened.  He only knew he had the duty and had to get back.  I was only slightly taller than he was so he could get by with my pants long enough to get back to the boat.  I wasn't qualified yet, so I didn't know if these guys were pulling my leg by getting my pants and never coming back as a joke.  After some pleading from Shorty, I let him use my pants and as it turned out it was not a joke on me.  About an hour later, the other guys brought my pants back as promised.  The party was an unequaled success.  Only about three rooms were trashed.  I know of one sink that was pulled off the wall because one of the sailors wanted to get a closer look at the light above the sink.  The boat took care of all the damage.  Every sailor, bar none, embarrassed either themselves or the American Navy at least once to the locals that were staying at the hotel.  My claim to fame, you ask?  I accidentally stumbled into a room where there was quite a number of Japanese sitting on the floor watching young ladies doing a traditional Japanese dance.  Somehow I endeared myself to the patrons and they asked me to join them.  Actually, I think they were as drunk as I was.  But the next thing I knew I was up on the stage with the dancing girls and they were teaching me how to dance what was called "tanko bushi", a traditional Japanese dance.  I must have looked really foolish, but I didn't care and evidently, the audience didn't care either.  I must have stayed there for over an hour.

As I mentioned at the beginning, sequence of events elude me at this time, but I know we got underway again and did some local ops, headed south to the Philippines and Hong Kong.  We didn't stay in Olongapo very long.  I found the heat unbearable and went ashore only once.  I did get introduced to “shit river” just outside the gate.  Shit River was aptly named; it was the city's sewer system.  I think every sewer in Olongapo emptied into the river and headed into the bay.  As you left the gate and crossed the bridge, you could look down on the river and see young Philippine girls in a small dug out canoe, I believe it was called a Banka boat.  The girls were dressed in evening gowns like they were either going to, or coming from a dress ball.  They held a cone shaped wire mesh basket in their hands.  The intent was to have sailors throw money from the bridge and they would catch the coins in the basket.  Also in the boat was a small boy.  His purpose was to dive into the river to retrieve any coins she missed.  Needless to say, the sailors would intentionally throw the coins wide forcing her to miss, just to watch the boys dive into that sewer saturated river.  We were told if we were to fall into the bay, let alone the river, we would not survive the number of shots we would have to get.  I often wondered what the life expectancy was of those boys.  Once across the bridge, the town of Olongapo was just as dirty.  Like I said, I only went over once but that was enough.  On to Hong Kong.  Remember the MPC they made us use in Japan because of the communists and black market may get our greenback dollars?  Before we got to Hong Kong, they made us change all of our MPC back into greenback dollars.  Hong Kong is just a stones throw from communist China.  They didn't need the greenbacks from the Japanese black market.  It was all over Hong Kong, gladly accepted by any merchant and not illegal to have.  I never did understand the logic in the MPC concept.

By this time I was falling behind in Quals and found myself restricted again.  Fortunately, the Qual officer took pity on us and said we may never get another chance to see Hong Kong, so he waived the restriction for the few days we were going to be there.  Hong Kong was like the rest of the ports we had been in.  Lots of bars, cheap booze, and the bars loaded with bar girls trying to get you to buy them champagne.  I went over with a second class RM that had been to Hong Kong before; he knew all there was to know.

I never thought there were any ugly oriental girls in the world.  Usually they were all made up, dressed to the nines, and after a couple of beers it didn't matter anyway.  But the first bar destroyed that myth.  The two girls that glommed onto us bordered on “Coyote Ugly”.  I don't believe they made enough booze to compensate.  If they did, I'm sure I would have passed out before I changed my mind.  We stayed for one drink, took the glass because we were warned to get a glass and hold on to it, don't drink the water and don't fall into the bay.  So we took our glass and told the girls we had to leave.  I'm not sure if they spoke English or not, but as we walked out of the door, they were getting their things and started for the door.  We got outside started walking down the street with them right behind us.  We went into another bar and didn't expect them to follow because each girl had their own bar they worked at.  Or so we thought, when in they come and sat with us again.  Again we begged off and left after one drink.  Again, they followed.  At the third Bar, they had to go to the bathroom.  This was our chance, and we took it.  Running outside we jumped into the first two rickshaws we found.  (Just like in the movies)  My buddy was doing everything he could to get the guy to go faster and mine was trying to keep up.  After a couple of blocks of this, we stopped in front of a pretty fancy hotel.  We got out and asked how much.  They said one dollar.  We thought they meant a Hong Kong dollar, but they meant an American dollar.  The rate was about 7 to 1 and my buddy, being an old salt, said no, and handed them a Hong Kong dollar.  In less than three or four microseconds the Rickshaw drivers protest, over an American or Hong Kong dollar, raised a crowd.  I felt like there were hundreds of Chinese around us.  I don't really know how many there were but I felt very vulnerable just then.  My buddy held his ground and continued to try and give them a Hong Kong dollar.  After about their third refusal my buddy called over a small boy that was attending the door of the Hotel, and He told him to call the Hong Kong Police.  I was more than willing to give up the American dollar before he started an international incident.  As soon as he said Hong Kong Police, the crowed knew that meant the British.  As fast as they had appeared, the crowed left, leaving the two drivers, my buddy, and me, alone in the street.  It was then the two drivers were happy to get their Hong Kong dollar.  They just wanted to get out of there before the British police showed up.  The rest of the evening was spent doing what sailors do best but we had Cinderella liberty so we went back to the boat.

My second liberty in Hong Kong wasn't as eventful, but I went on the beach with the person that would become one of my most unforgettable characters, as they say in reader's digest.  He was then, and still is.  H.L. Deneen, some called him Dexter.  Dex, was a WW2 sub sailor, and he became my mentor; and as time went on, we became close friends.  But I digress.  Dex and I left the boat and wanted to go to the china fleet club.  Not knowing where it was, we noticed a Chinese man talking to a British guard.  We walked up to the Brit and asked him how to get to the club.  He started pointing straight-ahead, then right, then left and all the time sounding like he had a mouth full of marbles.  We asked a second time and the response was the same.  Almost ready to give up and get a cab, the Chinese Man, in perfect English, translated for the British guard.  We found the club and Dex bought some trinkets for his wife while I had my heart set on a pair of genuine "NO SQUEAK" Boots.  Anybody that was anybody had a pair of ankle high boots with a zipper pocket inside the boot.  It seemed all of the American made boots squeaked when you walked, but these were genuine "NO SQUEAK"(brand name) and tailor made to your feet.  Measure today and pickup tomorrow.  My restriction waiver was over so someone else picked up the boots for me the next day.  As a proud new owner of these boots, I wanted to save them "for good".  I tried them on and they fit well.  I took them off and didn't wear them for a couple of weeks.  The first time I put them on again and started to walk, they squeaked worse than any American boot.  But that’s not the end of the boot story.

The second morning, I was topside and saw the Chief of the Boat talking to a Chinese lady in a small boat.  They finished talking so I went over and asked the COB who she was.  He looked at me as if I should already know, and said, "Mary Sue" and walked off.  I pretended to have a full understanding of what was going on and said Oh, that’s Mary Sue.  I was still completely in the dark as to who she was.  The next day Mary Sue came back with two additional girls in her boat.  Other boats followed her and each had two or three girls in it.  The COB met them and handed each boat a couple of buckets of paint.  Each girl in the boats grabbed a regulation swab, dunked it into the paint and started to paint the boat.  All they had were mops and rags.  They painted the boat in just a few hours.  The paint job was so great we had hardly any touch up painting to do for the rest of the WESTPAC cruise.  When they were done, the COB had the deck gang break out all of that manila line we had saved from the yard.  That was Mary Sue's payment.  She in turn sold it on the beach as scrap.  I finally found out Mary Sue was an "institution" in Hong Kong, and she bargained for anything she could use for scrap to sell.  The ship provided the paint, and she provided the labor.  (Labor was cheap then).  When the surface craft used her, she only painted the hull; but with us, it was the whole boat, sail and all.

We did operate with the British, or Australians, while in the area.  We would play the "I'm submerged, find me" game.  In the past with American Destroyers, they always had a hard time finding us, and we would have to blow bubbles to the surface to get their attention.  Not with the British.  They were using what was known as plaster headed hedgehogs when they made their runs.  These types of hedgehogs contained a small explosive that would do no harm when exploded, and to explode, they actually had to hit the boat.  If they missed, there would be no explosion.  The first time they made a run on us it sounded like the forth of July.  I thought they were still mad because we won the revolution.  Each run was the same, they would not miss.  When we did surface and offered congratulations to their expertise we found chunks of wooden decking missing and in one case a metal plate had been torn loose in the sail.  I was glad they were on our side.

Hong Kong was an unforgettable place.  As you walked onto the pier, there must have been a hundred taxi drivers with business cards.  Each card had a picture of a woman on it.  They would stuff the cards in our jumper pocket, in your hand, your hat, or any other place they thought you may look at the card later.  Each card also had the name of the bar as well as the picture.  We got to comparing the different cards and came to realize that most of the cards had the same girl on them.  There were about six or seven different girls, but no more than that for the hundred or so establishments advertised.  What I found out later, was those girls were Chinese movie stars, and of course had nothing to do with these, for the lack of better words, pimps.  One other thing neat about Hong Kong was the tailor shops.  As you walked into one of the many tailor establishments, the first thing they would do is put a beer in your hand.  The idea of course was the more beer they could ply you with, the more clothes you would buy.  Your whole liberty could be spent in the tailor shops getting drunker than hell.  We got under way again, and ended up back at Yokosuka for a two or three week upkeep.

I had made 3rd class sometime during this part of the trip and I finally started standing watches in the Radio room.  The Radio room was just outside the watertight door that went into the crew's mess.  I realized that when I got off watch, if I waited a few minutes, they would pass the call for the meal.  In my case, it was the evening meal.  The cook would put his head through the door, and yell into the control, "First Call".  In turn, the control room would pass the word "First call to the evening meal".  During that 5 or 6 second delay for the control room to pass the word, I would leap out of the radio room, grab the handrail above the door lift my legs, and swing like a monkey into the crew's mess.  I would be the first guy in the mess hall.  Of course, this was not kosher because the chow line actually started aft of the mess hall and everyone was waiting in line.  I really thought I had found a loophole in the system.  This went on for about three days.  On the fourth day, the cook stuck his head in the control room; at the same time he reached up and unlatched the watertight Door.  When he yelled, "first Call" I did my usual, jumped out of the radio room, grabbed the handrail, lifted my legs, and started to swing through the door.  Just then, the cook slammed the watertight door shut.  If I remember correctly, that thing weighed close to a ton and balanced for easy opening and closing, that door came at me like freight train.  There was nothing I could do to stop, and the door latched shut just about the time my knees hit it.  I was lying on the control room deck when the door opened again, and the cook looked at me and said something like "that will teach you".  Boy did it.  From that day to this, I get in line when I have to.  I never jump line, or in anyway circumvent the system.  You never know when another one ton door is going to slam shut on you.

On the way to Yokosuka, we did make a pit stop in Sasebo.  I was really getting frustrated about the Quals, so I thought I would visit a destroyer parked in front of us.  I had the duty and made a mail and traffic run to the destroyer.  I got to talking to the first class and asked him how the duty was.  As I said, I had made 3rd class not to long before.  (I never did get mess cooking).  I asked him if the petty officers had it pretty good on board.  He said for the most part duty was good, but he had his second class just outside the radio room chipping paint.  A second class petty officer chipping paint!!  And me just making third, what the heck would they do to me on a destroyer if a second class was chipping paint?  We left Sasebo and arrived in Yokosuka about 10 days later.  During that time I decided I never wanted to chip paint again.  I slept only a couple of hours a night, but I finished my quals in that 10-day period.

I stayed late the night we got in, to finish my walk through with the XO.  I didn't tell the quals officer I was doing that, so when I finished with the XO, I put on my dolphins and headed for the beach.  The first bar I went into I ran into the Quals officer.  He came over to me and told me to take the dolphins off.  I told him I had finished the XO walk through and I was legal.  He shook my hand, asked to see my dolphins, and like a fool I took them off and gave them to him.  He then marched me out to the middle of the dance floor, took a large tumbler from one of the tables, filled it to the top with whiskey, and dropped my dolphins into the glass.  He told me to drink the glass empty and end up with the dolphins in my teeth.  I'm not sure if it was Tory's whiskey or not but I did as I was told.  I drank the whole glass of whiskey in one stand, ending up with the dolphins in my teeth.  I put my dolphins back on, started to take a step, and that was all she wrote.  Two guys carried me back to the table.  That was the first drink I had that night, and I was wasted as bad as I had ever been.  The rest of the night was just a blur, but I did get back to the boat in one piece.  I think I slept for two days.

After a couple of days, the Div Officer asked if I would like to go to an R&R camp north of Tokyo for a 5-day stay.  To this day I don't know where it was, but go I did, with about 5 other guys.  We took a train to Tokyo, then a bus the rest of the way.  It took most of the day; and we got there about time for the evening meal.  After checking in, we all went to the dining room.  The dining room wasn't too crowded, but the patrons were spread all over.  The six of us found a table that would hold us all and we sat down.  The table was at the edge of the dinning room, and I could not see the people behind me.  I forgot to mention that we all left the boat in a hurry and never had a chance to clean up.  We had just enough time to get our blues on, comb our hair and get to the train.  We epitomized the term "sewer pipe sailors" when we left the boat.  As we sat there eating I happened to look to my left and realized the people that were there were gone.  I didn't think much about it until I looked to my right, and those people had left too.  I looked behind me and everyone that was left in the dining room had moved clear across the room.  There were the six of us at one end of the room and about twenty people crowded up at the other end.  Guess they couldn't take a joke.

We only got to stay a couple of days at the R&R camp.  On the second or third morning, we got a call from the Boat telling us to get back as soon as possible.  They were getting underway because of an international crisis, but didn't tell us what.  The only way to get back in time was to get taxis.  It took two taxis to get us all back at once.  Coming down off the mountain took a couple of hours to get to Tokyo then a train back to Yokosuka.  When we entered the outskirts of Tokyo, the drivers had to relieve themselves, so they stopped on the side of the street and started doing just that.  We had all been in those cabs all day, and there was no binjo in our immediate future.  So we all got out and did as the Romans.  There we were six sailors and two cab drivers, all looking like cherubs emitting water into a fountain; we must have been quite a sight for the locals.  After all was said and done, we made it back just before the first line was taken in and we got underway to do what the boat was designed to do; radar picket.

Apparently, the communist Chinese had shot down one of our surveillance planes off the coast of China, exactly where I don't know.  All I know is the whole seventh fleet was heading out to sit off the China coast, and look for the downed airmen.  We were stationed some miles between the fleet and the coast.  Our mission was to give early warning in case the Chinese put up some fighters and headed for the fleet.  Three solid weeks we bobbed around off the coast of China.  The time was un-eventful.  We listened to "Peking Polly" broadcast her propaganda, bad mouthing the United States, calling us "American War Mongers", “capitalist pigs”, etc.  Like Tokyo Rose during the War, she played up to date music.  For the most part all the news she broadcast was accurate if you could get through all the inane prater about how bad we were.  It was towards the end of the third week that the weather started to get rough.  We were ordered out of the area because of a typhoon heading our way.  They never found the downed airmen but as we started to leave the area, some kind of light was seen in the distance.  The look out reported it; it could have been a flare, but the weather was really kicking up and there was no way we could investigate it.  The direction would have taken us right into the storm and no one was sure if it was really a light or not.  The Captain elected to head north for Sasebo.  I can't remember why, but I was standing lookout watches again.  The sea was so rough there was no chance to dive so we had to withstand the high seas on the surface.  We were on the edge of the storm, but even at that, we were taking heavy rolls.  Outside commercial communication was almost gone, so the only type of entertainment we had was a 45RPM record player.  With the rolls we were taking, the needle wouldn't stay on the record.  Someone rigged up a platform to set the player on; using four pieces of string hung it from the overhead in the crew's mess.  The four pieces of string, one from each corner of the platform formed a pyramid shape so the record player was acting like a pendulum.  When the boat would roll, the player stayed in the center and never moved.  It was odd to watch because as the boat rolled, the player would swing, or appear to swing, almost hitting the hull.  As the boat swung the other way, the player appeared to sweep across the crew's mess to the other end of the pendulum swing.  In reality, the player was not moving and it worked fine no matter how bad the sea got.

We couldn't move very fast, especially as the weather got worse.  We were on the edge of the storm but it still kept getting worse.  It came time for me to take the look out watch so I took my coffee and headed to the bridge.  I relieved the watch, attached myself to a lifeline, and was tethered to the starboard wing.  It wasn't long before the water was getting up to the bridge, sometimes filling the wings half full of water before it had a chance to drain.  Then out of a clear blue sky (pun intended), we were hit with a wave that covered the bridge, both lookout wings, and was deep enough that I was under water for at least 5 seconds.  The wave tore my grip from the wing and threw me around like a rag doll.  I know I floated out of the wing but the tether held me down until the water receded.  I was still in the wing, but totally soaking wet, and hanging on for dear life.  Water was pouring down the main induction with the deep swells, so they shut it and started taking air for the engines through the snorkel mast.  We secured the bridge because more and more water was coming over the bridge; not quite as bad as the first one, but bad enough that it was prudent we all go below.  It wasn't long before the waves were large enough that heavy spray was causing the snorkel valve to cycle.  As the frequency of the cycling snorkel valve increased, the officer of the deck decided to raise the snorkel mast.  All this time we were on the surface.  Before it was all over, heavy spray was still causing the snorkel valve to cycle, even in the raised position.  No one got sick but no one moved around a lot either.  The boat was slammed around so much it was hard to stand up.  The weather subsided in a couple of days and we pulled back into Sasebo.  One last thing about the storm, I was wearing my genuine "No Squeak Boots" when I was thrown around the starboard wing.  When I went below, the top of the boots started to come apart.  The material was two very thin pieces of leather laminated onto a piece of cardboard.  The whole boot came apart in my hands.  At least they didn't squeak any more.

While I was lamenting over my boots, one of the guys told me a story that happened to him in the recent past.  It seems he found a one night stand, and when he woke up in the morning his wallet was empty.  So, he went down and bought a set of boots; he made sure it had a zipper pocket in it to put his stash.  That is where he carried most of his cash while on liberty.  Later, he found another one night stand, but this time when he woke up, he still had the couple of bucks in his wallet, but his boots were gone.  He didn't tell me when and where it happened, only that he was attached to the Rock when it did.

The Number 2 engine developed a problem before we got in and was diagnosed to be a bad crankshaft.  After some discussion between the Boat and COMSUBGRUWESTPAC it was determined, we should remain in Sasebo and get the engine fixed.  There was no SS tender in Sasebo at the time, only a general repair ship.  The repair ships worked on all the surface craft in the seventh fleet but had very little experience with submarines.  The engineer was somewhat relieved when he saw a warrant officer hanging over the side with dolphins on.  The engineer thought there was at least one guy on board that had submarine experience and could be of great value.  All that went away when the warrant officer called down to the engineer and said, '"How do you want to take the shaft out?  Through the forward torpedo room hatch?"  We all wondered what boat he qualified on, but the engineer was nice and said no, he thought the after engine room was better.

I'm sure you can all imagine this was going to be a major undertaking.  We had only the repair ship for any rigging and crane support.  They provided a few mechanics to assist, but for the most part the engine gang did the whole job.  They worked 24 hours a day tearing the engine apart.  When they got the shaft ready to come out, they had to take the dinky engine, lift it off its mounts, and move it to one side.  Then they took the shaft out the after end of the engine room, swung it by the dinky to get the right angle to remove it through the after engine room hatch.  Interesting note here, remember the 2nd class RM I went ashore with in Hong Kong?  Deep inside he wanted to be an engineman, so he requested to help the engineers to repair the engine.  The Repair ship took our radio guard so he would be free from the RM gang if the chief would let him go.  Reluctantly, the Chief engineer said ok, because he really needed the manpower.  Of all the people that were given any kind of award for their work, the 2nd class got a letter of commendation from the Captain for the work he had done.  This letter was a recommendation from the Chief engineer; he was so impressed with his work.  These were the days when a letter of commendation was like the achievement medals are today.  The radioman was the only one that received any formal recognition that I know of.  The effort took three weeks and I'm not sure a shipyard could have done it any faster.  I know they couldn't have done it any better.  The engine was like brand new when they got finished.  Other than the engine, the boat came through the typhoon unscathed.  We did a kind of upkeep but really had very little to do, so liberty was given freely.  Even with the money we saved while out to sea, no one had enough to absorb three weeks liberty in Sasebo all at one stretch.  So, by the end of the three weeks we were all ready to get underway.

One last thing about Sasebo: We were docked in an area called "India Basin".  The basin was big enough to put some very large ships on the three walls that made up the basin and still anchor a couple more large ships in the center of the basin.  You could tell it was not a natural harbor with piers outlining the basin.  Each side was a wall and you entered the basin through a very large opening into the basin.  I found out later that India Basin was a dry dock at one time.  It was capable of putting in at least two carriers abreast or a couple of battle ships with a few destroyers thrown in., and work on them all at one time.  Toward the end of the war, the Japanese took the caisson, and towed it out to sea, flooded and sunk it.  They didn't want the Americans to have the use of the dry dock after the war.  As far as I know, even today the basin is just used to park the ships along side the walls.  I was amazed, because of the size, that it was once a dry dock.

The WESTPAC trip was coming to a close as we headed back to Yokosuka one last time.  In the mid 50's, it was hard to get a vasectomy in the states, or too expensive, not sure which.  Anyway, a lot of the married men wanted to get fixed in Yokosuka, so when they got back to the states all would be healed and they would be in commission.  The only problem was that Japan was famous for infections when a vasectomy was given, and sure enough about half of the guys got infections and their testicle got the size of a softball or bigger.  They were out of commission most of the trip back to Pearl Harbor.  One officer who didn't have that problem told me how he went to get verified that the operation was a success.  We pulled into pearl and he went to the dispensary to get a sperm count.  The corpsman gave him a small container and told him to go into a room and get a sample.  I'll not describe the method in getting that sample, but into the room he went to fulfill the requirement.  He said the room was dark and he couldn't see a thing.  In doing his maneuver, his eyes started to get used to the dark and things started to take shape in the room.  Off in a corner sat a young seaman trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.  I’ve always thought about that seaman; he had been in that room all along, and could see very well, when in comes a Naval Officer of the line doing what he had to do to get a sample.  What could the seaman do or say?  "Oh Excuse me" or "can you wait a minute, I'll get you some help", or just hope you're not noticed and he would finish and leave.  The officer said, when he realized he was not alone, that was it for the sample.  Very embarrassed he left the infirmary, put down the empty jar, and left without a word.  He waited until we got back to San Diego to be checked later.

When we got back to San Diego, we docked at Broadway pier.  All the boats that returned from extended tours docked at Broadway pier.  This was always a pleasure because we didn't have to worry about water taxis or the tender's liberty boats to go back and forth to the boat.  During the nine months in WESTPAC, there was never an altercation between crewmembers.  There were a few arguments and such, but nothing physical.  On the way back, two of the Auxiliary men did not see eye to eye and things got serious.  They would not talk to each other except in the line of duty, or when they had to work with each other, still, nothing physical.  When we got back to San Diego, they both left the ship immediately.  I was down below when they came back, both of them were out of breath, and each of their faces was red and bruised.  No cuts, or blood, but you could tell they had settled their differences and their relationship returned to what it was before their problem.  A civilian laundry man used to come to the boat each night to see if he could get business from the crew.  Each night he would get a load of laundry and just hang around talking to members of the crew.  It was obvious he was homosexual.  He was a nice guy and interesting to talk to, but late at night standing on the pier, some times we would relieve ourselves into the harbor.  When doing so, the laundry man would make excuses to have to lean way over the railing trying to get a little eyeball liberty at our expense.  After realizing this, we would make sure we were standing next to one of the uprights on the railing, and stand just as close to that as we could so you could not see anything except from directly in front of you.  He would spend hours on the pier, and everyone that talked to him did it the same way, next to the upright.  The laundry man would lean just as far over the rail as he could and damn near fell in at least two times that I know of.  We found out later that he was taking the boats laundry home to his mother for washing.  She would work all night doing the laundry for his delivery the next night.

After a week along side the pier, we went back to the tender.  San Diego used to have a tourist ship, about the size of a small ferryboat that would tour the harbor.  They would point out all of the interesting things that were in the harbor.  One of the most interesting items was the subs tied along side the tender.  They would go out of their way to come close to the nest of boats so the tourists would get a good look at Americas finest.  One day we were next to the last in the nest of submarines along the tender.  The outboard boat was in the process of testing their torpedo tubes when the tourist boat was approaching the nest for the picture-taking.  The top of the tourist boat was loaded with people and all of them were on the starboard side of the ship crowed against the rails.  Just as they got along side, the outboard boat shot a dummy torpedo out of the bow tube.  The dummy fish was just a hollow tube and would not travel more than 20 or40 feet from the boat, but for some reason the fish left the tube and made a sharp left turn then surfaced.  It was heading straight for the tourist ship, MOT.  I looked up just in time to see the faces on the crowd; it was real terror, everyone ran to the other side of the ship causing it to list to port.  I was surprised no one fell overboard but no one did.  I was laughing so hard though, I almost did.

After a little more R&R in San Diego, and a quick upkeep we headed for San Francisco to show the flag.  The Navy was having an open house and wanted a submarine to be there.  We cleaned the boat and painted what needed to be painted. (Which was very little because Mary Sue's paint job was really holding up).  There must have been a thousand people that went through the boat that day.  Everyone, that was not on duty, had to leave the boat when the open house was going on.  The visitors of course had a lot of questions, one person, I remember, asked one of the engine men how fast the boat could go.  He responded "we can do 12 knots on one engine, and we have four engines".  The response was true, but what he didn't tell the person was, electric motors drove each screw, and we couldn't do much better than 16 knots with all four engines and the dinky on the line.  He only said that to keep the line moving.  I'm sure that person thought the boat could do 48 knots.

We operated off the California coast for awhile then headed for Portland Or. for the rose festival.  Two subs went there, the Rasher (I think) and us.  We had to go up the river to Portland, against the current and it was a long arduous maneuvering watch.  We got along side the pier without much trouble but the Rasher had a lot of problems.  They couldn't keep the bow along side, and the current kept pushing it out into the stream.  The current almost turned the boat around because the stern line was tied but no other line could be made fast.  What I thought was a very large tug started to push the bow back towards the pier but the current was so strong it couldn't move it.  Along came something like a mike boat.  It was as small as I thought the tug was big.  The tug backed away and the mike boat started pushing.  That was the most powerful small boat I had ever seen.  It beat the current and pushed the bow against the pier in just a few minutes, That was much to our relief because her stern was tied just a few feet from our bow.  Had the current taken the boat and turned it around her bow would have crashed into ours.

Liberty was good in Portland.  The natives were friendly and glad to see us.  Along with the two boats, there was one destroyer.  The second night I had duty and was standing a radio watch.  We had to keep our own radio guard so we kept the watch 24 hours.  I was on the mid watch when about 0300 or so, I heard a bang in the crews mess.  I stuck my head out just in time to see one of our chiefs coming through the watertight Door.  He was drunk out of his skull and was holding his back.  He looked at me and said, "I think I hurt myself".  He then went on to the CPO Quarters and went to bed.  About ten the next morning I was getting ready for liberty when the COB saw me all dressed, and told me to go to the destroyer to get a corpsman.  That chief hurt himself pretty bad.  When he came back from the beach, he turned, as normal, to come down the after battery hatch backward.  He was so loaded, when he turned, that he lost his balance and fell backwards into the hatch.  He came all the way down from topside butt first.  His legs were straight up as was his back and head.  The noise I heard was him hitting the deck in the crew's mess.  I'm not sure what that distance is but I would guess the tube to be at least 6 to 8 feet.  At the bottom of the tube, which made up the access, there is a distance of about 5 or 6 feet opened up into the mess.  As he came down and got to that point, his body started to open up and finished the fall with his back hitting the deck first, and his head banging off various other obstacles.  He had no blood but I would not be surprised if he didn't break his back.  He was taken off the boat to never return.

We finished our visit to Portland and headed back to San Diego for another upkeep and local ops in the San Diego area.  During one of our short stays in San Diego, I came down with the "Hong Kong" flu.  This was a devastating illness; it came upon a person literally in just a coupe of hours.  I had the topside watch from 12-1600 and when I went on watch, I felt fine.  By the time the watch was over, I was so sick I could barely move.  All I wanted to do was lie down.  First, though, as after every watch, I had to relieve myself.  I went into the after battery head and shut the door to the stall looked down and saw the hopper was full of water.  I didn't care; had I not been sick I would have realized what was happening, but just then, I didn't even think about it.  After I was done, I went to flush the hopper.  The after battery head is a gravity drain.  All you had to do was open a flapper valve located by your foot, and the water would drain down.  This time, however, I couldn't dislodge the valve with my foot.  I thought because I was too sick.  So I reached down with one hand, tried to open it up, and again failed to budge it.  The unwritten rule is you have to flush the head, especially with the bowl so full I almost overflowed it.  On the next try, I reached down with both hands, my head directly over the hopper and was successful in opening the valve.  As the valve started to open the water in the hopper started to come out, but I had pulled so hard that I couldn't stop from opening the damn thing all the way.  By that time the water hit me full in the face and was coming out in a steady column about three inches thick.  The whole sanitary tank was trying to empty into this stall.  The geyser went straight up, hit the curvature of the hull, and came right back down on me.  I was covered with some of the most putrid, god-awful stuff you can imagine.  What was worse, I couldn't get the valve shut.  The water pressure from the below decks watches blowing sanitary, made shutting it as hard as it was to open.  Probably 30 or 40 gallons of this waste had emptied into the head, before I got it shut.  My whites were soaked and were now colors made up of green and brown stuff.  Now I was really sick.  In a case like that there is nothing one could do but to clean it up.  I opened the stall door just in time to hear the below decks watch say "stupid bastard, clean it up".  For the next two hours, I cleaned the head.  When that was clean, I was able to take a shower.  For once, the showers were not stuffed with life jackets and stuff.  I finally got to bed and slept through the night and almost all the next day.  I'm glad to say that I was not the only sub sailor that had ever had that kind of experience.  It didn't happen very often but every now and then you would hear of some one getting a face of sanitary tank; it usually happened on the boats with the expulsion head.  It was the weekend, and after all was said and done only two people knew it happened.  The below decks watch and me.  I'm surprised he never said a word.  Had the rest of the crew ever found out my life would have been a living hell until someone else made some kind of super boner.

 My good friend and shipmate, John Charlton, and one other crewmember decided we would like to get a small snake ranch on the beach.  None of us could afford a real apartment so instead we rented a garage.  For $5.00 a month, you couldn't go wrong.  The owner realized what we were doing so she loaned us some furniture; at least we had a place to crash on the weekends.  It, of course, didn't have a head, so we used the gas station on the corner.  The first weekend we stayed there we decided to stay over Sunday and get up early to catch a bus back to the boat.  Late that night we realized we didn't have an alarm clock and it was too late to find one.  So, we had a choice, go back to the boat then or stand watches.  Poor John lost the straw pulling and took the mid watch.  He was going to wake me at 4 then I would get everyone up in time to get back to the boat.  About three in the morning, I woke up because john had turned the overhead light on and there he was with two policemen.  The cops mumbled something and left.  The next day I asked john what was going on.  John said, he was getting sleepy so he started to walk around the block.  We were in a residential district and the cops saw john, in blues, just walking around.  They pulled over and asked him what he was doing out that late.  John had a very dry sense of humor so he very honestly looked at the cops and said, with out explanation, "I got the watch".  The cops had no idea what he was talking about, so John tried to explain.  They of course wanted proof, so John brought them back to the garage.  For once no one was drunk or drinking so the cops just shook their heads and left.  I'm sure they didn't get back on the street for awhile from laughing so hard.  We maybe spent a couple of more weekends there but not many.  I do know that is where I left my half-empty sea bag, and pea coat.

We had received a message from Sublant requesting RM Volunteers for duty at COMSUBGRUWESTPAC (later known as Subron 7).  The ink was still wet when I gave my request chit to Joe Walsh (our leading chief).  Within a few days I had concurrence that I was accepted and my orders were soon to follow.  After I got my orders I borrowed one of my ship mates car.  Unfortunately, I didn't ask him where the registration was.  I had been cruising most of the day and was about to go back to the boat when a young lady came running across the street.  She ran up to the car and begged me to take her to Marine Corps recruit station.  She was stationed there and was late getting back.  I said sure, turned the car around, and went to the main gate of the base.  She immediately got out without a thank you or anything and left me at the gate.  I asked the guard where do I turn around and he said right here at the gate.  The day was hot, and the turn was sharp so as I turned the tires squealed a little.  The guard stopped me and said, you took that a little fast didn't you?  I said I didn't think so but I was sorry if I did.  He made me park the car over at the curb and asked for the registration.  Of course, I couldn't find it so they took me into the guardroom and started to give me a bunch of crap about stealing the car.  One marine said, "He looks like the guy that has been joy ridding on the base and they couldn't catch.  Having never been on that base before, I vehemently denied it.  As I was sitting there, they were writing me up on three charges, reckless driving, stolen car, and joy riding on the base.  About that time a marine officer came in and said, "we have to hold you hear until we can notify the boat".  I had no choice but to say ok.  The marine guard looked at me and said in a stern tone "SIR".  By this time, I was fed up.  I looked at the officer and said just as stern, "SIR".  The fourth charge was now disrespect to an officer.  Four charges in ten minutes and I had done nothing wrong.  They locked me up for four hours before my division officer showed up, with the guy that I borrowed the car from.  He was briefed on my charges, and when they called me out, he wanted to know what the heck was going on, so I told him the whole story.  He believed me and of course, the stolen car was dismissed.  But there were three other charges against me, and the marines wanted to keep me for disciplinary action, I may still be in jail had it not been for my division officer.  He finally talked the marine officer into letting me go in his custody and the boat would take care of the charges.  I was relieved when the marine let me go; I was more relieved when the division officer threw the paper work away.  He knew it was all bogus, especially the joy ridding charge.  We were at sea at the time they were having the problem.  I had reason to go on that base once again 45 years later and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.

 I believe Capt. Eaton was still the skipper at that time, and he was do to be relieved close to the time I was leaving.  We still had a couple of more local ops to do before then.  The last operation we went on was working with one of our destroyers.  It was the same game we played in Hong Kong with the British.  The skimmers were getting better and the exercise was going good.  During one of the destroyer's approach the Capt. looked through the scope and saw the destroyer making his approach.  He lowered the scope and ordered a relatively shallow depth.  If I remember right, he ordered a keel depth of 70 feet.  He was advised that that might be to shallow to let the destroyer pass over head.  The Capt. said it should be plenty of space.  What was not taken into consideration was the height of the BPS antenna on the aft end of the sail.  It stuck up at least three feet past the sail.  Another thing the Capt. didn't expect the destroyer to pass directly over the sail; he expected it would pass either forward or aft of the sail.  The third thing he didn't consider was the speed of the destroyer.  At a flank bell the destroyer was dug deep into the water and was considerably deeper aft than normal.  All of these things came into play as the destroyer came over us.  We all heard a metal to metal crunching noise.  The boat didn't list or move but the noise was loud so we knew something was not right.  When we surfaced half of the BPS antenna was gone.  The other half was just fine.  I went to the bridge and found the VLF football antenna lying on the starboard wing.  The destroyer's screw had hit the football almost dead center and ripped it off the sail.  The screw had gone about half way through the football with such a fine cut that it looked like it was cut with a razor blade.

The change of command, such as it was, was within two days.  It didn't have the ceremonious flare of a normal change of command.  That was my last underway period on the Rock.  I left within days taking a little leave then heading back to Yokosuka.  While in Yokosuka, the Rock made another WESTPAC run and I met the boat.  Only half of the crew I knew were left; Dexter went to the USS Segundo, and my leading chief, Joe Walsh went to the USS Triton.  I found out later that Joe went into the radio room one day, and found all the RMs putting in for the Triton.  As a joke Joe said, "If you are all putting in to the Triton I will too."  Joe was the only one that got it, and he only did it as a joke.

EPILOG

As I said in the beginning, the Rock set the tone of the rest of my Naval Career.  First, I learned to drink, Unfortunately, I didn't learn how to drink.  It took a lot of years before I realized there was more to life than trying to drink a bar dry.  At that time, that was the mark of a sailor.  Being drunk and hangovers were an accepted way of life, and was generally overlooked unless you got in trouble by getting arrested, and such.  But just hard liberties and hard work on the boat was the unwritten part of the "Plan of the day".  It is probably by just a hair that I didn't become a card-carrying member of the AA.  Of course, the Navy has had a complete turn around on this philosophy and I think the Navy is much better for it.  I learned a lot of other lessons on the Rock that have stuck with me over the years, first and foremost, how to wait my turn in line.  It was a hard lesson to learn but it has paid off.  I also learned to respect other people and their possessions.  Out of four boats, I only saw one time when there was a problem with a thief.  I learned to pretty much accept people the way they are, and to not expect them to think the way I think.  In other words, the ability to agree to disagree without physical confrontation.  Just as important, I learned to be alone in a crowd.  This has come very handy over the years.  I gained the ability to get 5-minute power catnaps and feel refreshed to continue working or standing watches.  I also paid a lot of dues in learning the most popular games played, normally for money; poker being my favorite.  Learning was expensive, but the returns over the years have been great.  Cribbage and Acy Ducy were two other games that cost me a bundle but again with good returns.  Gin Rummy was one I could never master.  Try as I may, I have lost more than I ever won in that game.  There is a time you have to admit that you can't master them all, so Gin Rummy has been taken off my "fun list".  Many duty stations and many boats followed for the next 20 years, but the rock was by far the best.  Given the chance I would not change a thing, with the possible exception of that damn head flapper valve.