NOTE NOTE NOTE NOTE NOTE

Please be aware that some idiot has been posting random "Comments" to these blog entries, which I am unable to remove. The apparent aim of these intrusions is to have you click on the name at which time you are taken to a sales-pitch.

Because there are several legitimate comments throughout, these bogus entries needlessly waste your time. These people are, in my humble opinion, several rungs below pond scum on the evolutionary ladder. I apologize for any inconvenience this might cause you when trying to check out legitimate comments.

IF YOU'RE JOINING US FOR THE FIRST TIME...AND WELCOME!...A BRIEF EXPLANATION IS DUE. THE TWO YEARS WORTH OF LETTERS THAT COMPRISE THIS BLOG WERE POSTED, NATURALLY, FROM FIRST TO LAST, WITH THE RESULT THAT TO START FROM THE BEGINNING, YOU MUST GO TO THE "ARCHIVES" ON THE BOTTOM RIGHT SECTION OF THIS PAGE AND CLICK ON JUNE 2006, SCROLLING DOWN TO THE VERY BOTTOM, WHICH IS THE FIRST OF THE LETTERS, AND WHICH IS FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE REPOSTED BELOW. I KNOW IT'S SOMETHING OF A BOTHER, BUT I HOPE YOU'LL FEEL IT WAS WORTH IT.

I'D LIKE TO MENTION THAT IN RESPONSE TO SEVERAL READERS WANTING TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO THIS YOUNG SAILOR SINCE AND BEFORE 1956, I HAVE BEGUN A NEW BLOG EFFECTIVE 02-05-07, TITLED DORIEN GREY AND ME, IN WHICH I['LL BE WANDERING UP AND DOWN THE HALLS OF MY MEMORY, LOOKING INTO ROOMS CONTAINING THE PEOPLE, PLACES, AND THOUGHTS OF MY LIFE. YOU CAN FIND IT AT: http://www.doriengreyandme.blogspot.com

I LOOK FORWARD TO HAVING YOU AS A TRAVELING COMPANION THROUGH BOTH THESE JOURNEYS. THANKS FOR BEING HERE.

ROGER/DORIEN

August 9, 1954

Having, in my sophomore year at Northern Illinois State Teachers College, studied with no little interest the Diary of Samuel Pepys (pronounced “Peeps” though I’ll never know why) and similar works, I have decided to write my own, somewhat modernized, journal. I differ from Mr. Pepys in many ways; one being that I am writing this journal, or diary, with the object of its eventual publication in mind.

I am, at the start of this modest work, twenty years old; the date is August 9th, 1954. On August 13, 1954, I shall, I hope, enter the United States Navy for 4 years, wherein I hope to become a pilot.

I plan to make this journal as revealing and honest as possible (it is far easier to make confessions to one’s future than to one’s present), and the reader must bear with my frequent ramblings. I intend to present, not to my own day, but to some future age, a complete picture of myself, my life, and my world. To the future this journal is hopefully dedicated.

Dear Reader:

Life aboard a warship is not always easy. Here is a log of some of the incidents which occurred during the 1955-1956 deployment of the U.S.S. Ticonderoga, CVA-14 while I was aboard.

THE CRUISE OF THE T I C O N D E R O G A

On the ten day cruise from Norfolk to Gibraltar, two died of a heart attack (one CPO and one Lt. Cdr.)

One AD (Ens. Barnes, VA35) noses over, pilot dies on way to sick bay.

One F9F lost landing gear, no one killed.

An F2H-3 on night flying crashed on landing, killing seven as the plane swept over the bow and fell into the sea.

One AD lost over the side on take-off; pilot saved.

F9F into the barrier; no one hurt.

F7U made a good landing, then hit Tillie with wing tip.

Another F9F into the barrier, same pilot as No. 6.

On landing, an F9F crashed into an F7U, pushing it into one AD and scraping another AD; one airman hit on the head with a jury strut.

AD on landing nosed up, fell back on tail wheel, and buckled the fuselage; same crew as No. 5.

F7U nose gear collapses on landing; pilot taken to Sick Bay on stretcher.

F2H-3 given a wave off; tail hook caught a small barrier, pulling the plane to the deck just aft of #2 elevator; plane skids across elevator, explodes, and falls into the sea with the pilot (Martin) Date 1/17/56.

Same date as No. 12, an F2H3 was shot off the catapult without permission; the pilot (Doane) was lost with the plane.

Pilot of F2H-3 shot off with a "dead" catapult saved (Jessie Miller, CAG-3).

AD lands, noses up; "struck" (complete loss).

An F2H-3, coming in too low, hooked the edge of the flight deck instead of an arresting cable, sheared off the shoe, damaging the tail section of the plane. Pilot (Manfredi) unhurt; 3/15/56.
Same date as No. 16, another F2H-3 missed all arresting cables but was stopped by the barrier. The pilot (Werner) unhurt, the plane a total loss.

Plane giving demonstration of dog-fighting went into a dive and did not pull out; pilot lost.

April 4, 1956; AJ turning up, man walked into the propeller.

Same date as above, an AD coming in on a GCT (Ground Controlled Approach) missed the ship completely. Pilot (Melhorn) and crew picked up by Destroyer.

July 17, 1956; F2H-3, G.F. Haggquist pilot, landed so that the tail hook hit the gutter along the flight deck, forcing the tail hook back up into the tail section; the plane went on into the barrier. No one hurt.

F7U Cutlass pilot made a normal landing, when his tail hook snapped off; the plane went on into the barrier and the nose landing gear, ten feet tall, collapsed; as the plane fell forward, the landing gear went through the fuselage, killing the pilot. As a result of this crash, all F7Us were removed from the ship.

22 July 1956

Dear Folks

This will be the last letter from Europe, & possibly the last one until I get home. Tomorrow we arrive in Gibraltar, eight months & eight days since we first saw it. There the last mail will leave the ship.

In a way, it is almost impossible to think of going home. Just think—to be able to go anywhere & understand all that is around you, & be understood (to a greater or lesser degree) by everyone. It seems we have been away from America for eight years rather than eight months.

I have gone over my arrival home a countless number of times in my mind; all of it is, of course, glorified & will not be at all like that in reality. Still, it will be fun.

As for the presents—my all too few acquisitions in Europe—I plan to send you into the kitchen while I spread them all over the living room. Then you can come in & see them all at once. Unfortunately there are not nearly so many as I should have liked, but you will understand. If only we could have a Christmas tree!!

Last night I wrote a letter to Marc & Michel (in English) & one to Michel entirely in French, which is quite an accomplishment, if I do say so myself. It was done with a French-English dictionary, and I only hope Michel can understand it.

One night in Cannes, Marc asked us what we ate on our ship. When we told him, he seemed duly impressed, & then asked what we drank. Both he & Michel were astonished that we didn’t drink wine. When we told them no alcoholic beverages at all were allowed on board, they seemed downright disappointed—especially Michel, who drinks wine as if he were a fish in water. And when I told them about Prohibition in the States, I think they didn’t believe me.

The three major physical differences between America & Europe are: 1) Europe—or what I’ve seen of it.—has very few rivers—lot of river beds & streams, but none even the size of the Rock, not even the Seine. Secondly, the absence of green grass—it is almost nonexistent. Third is the absence of wooden buildings; only in Turkey did I see a wooden house.

Well, the day after tomorrow will be my last day in Europe. I hope, through my letters (infrequent as they may be) that you’ve gotten some idea of what Europe is like. When I return, with you, I hope, I shall have studied much more language, so that I wont seem quite so lost. As soon as I get home, let’s start a travel fund of quarters & half dollars--& every three or four years, we can take a nice long trip—to Europe, to Hawaii (first), & anyplace else we want to go. ($10 a week for three years is $1560.00)

Meanwhile, time is happily flying….

Today was quite busy, considering that I didn’t do anything of importance—went to the movie this afternoon, read a book (The Haploids), & wrote this letter. Had a wonderful sleep last night, & got up this morning around 0900.

Tomorrow I’m going to try to go ashore for some last-minute buying—mainly some good snuff for Grandpa if I can find any.

For the past few weeks I’ve been living completely in the future, dragging the present along behind me like a little red wagon.

No mail now for a God-awful time. I certainly hope there is some waiting for us in Gibraltar. How are you both? Fine, I hope.

Well, since I am now reduced to basic cordialities (the next question in line being: "How’s the weather up there?") I think it best .to close. If you hear nothing more from me for ten days, don’t worry—I’ll be at sea on my way home.

Love

Roge

P.S. In fact, at the moment you are reading this, I am somewhere in the Atlantic, bound for the New World & untold adventures….

19 - 20 July 1956

Dear Folks

The day got off to an oh-so-early start at 0352 this morning with the gentle tinkle of the General Quarters gong. All this is part of an exercise by the Sixth Fleet primarily to impress the Governor of Malta. I doubt very seriously that he was up at 0352 to join in the festivities. We can look forward to more of the same tomorrow, but that, thank God, is the very last day of flight operations for this ship. Oh frumcious day, calloo, callay, he chortled in his glee.

Around ten thirty or so, the Captain spoke to his loyal but disgruntled crew, giving us some very happy news (which is quite a unique event around here). We will arrive in Norfolk at 1300, 2 August 1956!--only two months & ten days behind our original schedule. Oh, joy—oh, ecstasy! Well, that’s the Navy for you—you’ve got to take these little alterations cheerfully.

One of the guys from the Intrepid, who is riding back with us for discharge, says they can release you in one day now. This I find rather hard to believe, but am happily gullible enough to accept anything if it sounds good enough. Now I’m wondering when I will get to leave the ship—will it be the day we get in? Or must I wait till Monday? At any rate, I know I have only 24 days to go in the Navy, so I should care?

And here I am again, one day later (as you may have gathered by the different colored ink). It has just occurred to me that this will possibly be the last letter I’ll have a chance to write before we get home—in two days (three, really) we’ll be in Gibraltar, & then there will not be a mail call, nor will any leave the ship, until we arrive in the States.

As it is we haven’t had a mail call since two days ago, & I haven’t gotten any since before we left Cannes. So evidently you haven’t been writing too regularly either.

Today started with another GQ at 0400, though I woke up of my own accord about ten minutes before. From 0500 until 0930, I held a field day in the office—me being the only one up; the rest of them had gone back to bed.

The water situation is becoming rather acute, & they’ve taken to shutting it off completely at various times to conserve. Why is it you never get thirsty until the water is turned off?

It is now seven thirty, & they’ve just called away the changing of the watch (as they do every night at this time) including "the lifeboat crew of the watch on deck to muster." Just what the lifeboat crew of the watch does I don’t know, but I do know that, unless the ship sank very evenly, our four huge liberty launches, two officers’ boats, & various smaller barges & gigs would never be able to be launched, being all tied down securely on the hanger deck. Even if they all could, they could accommodate no more than 750 men—our crew now, with passengers, being around 3,000. However, there are two life jackets to every man, if you could ever find them. Oh, well….

Tomorrow I’m going to the library & get a French-English dictionary, & copy from it a letter to Michel & Marc.

The Foreign Merchandise Store here aboard ship is almost sold out—what little they have left when we reach Gibraltar will be transferred to the Randolph. I bought five rolls of movie film at $3.65 a roll, which should last for awhile.

It is now eight o’clock, & I think I’ll go to the second movie before going to bed.

23 days.

Love

Roge

17 July 1956

Dear Folks

Eight twenty, a warm night, a good movie, & here I am. The office, for a change, is very quiet—only Coutre, & he’s reading. Today passed by nonchalantly, & looking back on it I can’t recall if it went fast or slow. The main thing is that it is over now, & only 25 days stand between me & August 12.

Payday today, & I bought two rolls of movie film—I plan on stocking up before we get back; also bought four bath towels, two T-shirts, & 4 pair of shorts.

Yesterday afternoon I started packing my sea bag; put away all my blues, my peacoat, raincoat, & two T-shirts which I had folded carefully for my first inspection at Pensacola & never used. They & the shoes I’m wearing now are the only things I have left.

Just been sitting here thinking over the last two years—they seem like an eternity, & yet again everything seems like yesterday, if I try to pin it down.

I can see mother stepping off the airliner in a brown suit & little white hat, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. I remember asking her about the trip, & feeling more excited for her than she must have been herself.

I remember flying low over the road on the way back to Corry Field, listening to the steady roar of the engine & singing "Furl the Banner."

Los Angeles & Lief stalking down the sidewalk ahead of the band, & me wondering if he’d seen me or not.---The first sunrise over Gibraltar; Marc & Michel—all of it there, neatly laid out & waiting, crisp & brand new, only to be remembered to be relived.

Now that my European tour is almost at a close, I think I might like to come back for a short vacation—this time, though, I’d see the Northern countries; Germany, Switzerland, England, Norway, Denmark, etc.

If ever I should have any say in the matter, Foreign Languages would be taught—compulsory, in fact—in all American schools. You’d be amazed how it feels to be suddenly, for all practical purposes, struck dumb, & on the other hand, what a feeling of satisfaction you get from being able to speak even the rudiments of another language & make yourself understood.

As usual around this time of night, I’m hungry. Lately I’ve been getting up in time to catch the tail end of breakfast, & it helps, but not at night. I could stay up till late chow at 11:00, but then I’d be too tired to get up for breakfast. It’s a vicious circle.

We were talking the other day about certain almost-forgotten foods—bananas, milk, doughnuts, popcorn, & the like. Oh, well, soon…soon.

Day after tomorrow & Friday we’re going to play those idiotic 0430 G.Q. games. They pick that time very carefully, so that it is too late to go back to sleep when it’s over, & too early to do anything else.

Well, it’s now nine-fifteen, & I must to bed.

Love

Roge