LAUNCHED19 DECEMBER 1956COMMISSIONED26 NOVEMBER 1957DECOMMISSIONED05 NOVEMBER 1982NORFOLK, VA MORE DETAILSUSS BLANDY DD943 |
SEARCH FOR SOMEONE
YOU KNOW AT THE NAVY LOG
LINKS TO MY OTHER
NAVY PAGES
PHOTOS TAKEN WHILE ABOARD
THE USS AINSWORTH
USS AMERICA CV-66
USS ARKANSAS CGN-41
UNDERWAY FOR THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA
USS STUMP DD-978
OPEN OCEAN
ME BROOKLYN NAVAL YARD
SHIP IN DRYDOCK
FIXING THE FLAT
THE BROKEN PART
THE SCREW
JOSEPH SELBY
SH-2F "SEASPRITE" LAMPS MARK I
GUNNERY OFFICER
IN THER DIRECTOR
SURFACE ACTION STARBOARD
FIRE!
LOOK THERES A SUB
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS
ANCHORDED IN THE MALDIVES
GOING ON LIBERTY
VULCAN PHALANX
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Just before the decommissioning of the USS Blandy the crew received orders for their next assignments.
At the time, I couldn’t recall what type of ship a fast frigate was, but while talking about it with
Pettyofficer Washington on the foredeck that morning he quickly pointed one out two piers over.
I had nothing better to do at the time so I saluted off the ship and took a short walk to a long pier.
As I approached I could see the numbers on the side of the ship 1090.
Well that couldn’t have been more convenient.
USS AINSWORTH FF 1090.
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She was a much newer ship than the Blandy and it had a less traditional shape to it. All the masts were mounted to the
stack and for a small ship it had a flight deck. I reached the gangway at the stern and walked up to the duty officer. I asked if the gunnery officer or chief was available. He called over the ship’s com and told me to wait. In a few minutes a very cool looking Ensign went to the duty officer who pointed to me. He was tall with a heavy mustache and dark sunglasses. I explained that I was just cut orders to be part of the crew and pointed to the wreck I was coming from. He smiled and said “This ships not that new, I'll show you around.” I got the nickel tour and took note of all the things on the ship that were part of my rate. As we walked around the upper decks I noticed there were no 50 cals. (One of my favorite weapons) I asked the Ensign, Mr. Jones, if they had any, and his reply was a sad sounding “no”. I joked that maybe the Blandy’s would fit in my sea bag and his response caught me off guard. "Can you get them off your ship?" I had mentioned to him my ship was being scrapped. He paused and said come with me. I followed him to see the Captain. They talked at length about getting the Browning 50s and asked about how they were mounted. Here I am not even part of the crew yet and I am having a conference with the Captian. I told him I could get the answers. So after another short walk and a quick inventory I was able explain in detail what we had on the Blandy, welded mounts on the deck which I traced, 2 tripods, 2 shields, 2 weapons and 4 barrels, plus ammo and cleaning equipment. The Captain of Ainsworth turns out to be a big fan of weapons. On my final visit that day I learned that he had contacted the base, the Blandy, and set everything in motion for me to transfer the guns to his ship. My first day on the Ainsworth starts with my last day on the Blandy. I had to make my way around the ship to get my transfer papers signed by everyone from the Chief to the Captain. Then came the slower heart wrenching task of saying my goodbyes to the mates who I spent the last 18 months of my life with. This was the fourth time I had to leave a group of guys I made a close bond with. It was a little harder to do this time having spent a greater span of time with them. Adding to that, the fact I may never see them again. I went to the stern magazine with the Chief, Brasdif, and Mcgregor. With their help I got all the 50 cal. gear wrestled up to the aft deck. McGregor watched the gear while I got the jeep. We all loaded the stuff and said our last goodbyes. I drove up the pier and stopped just after I turned onto the road. I took one last long look back. I thought as I approached the Ainsworth that I was probably the first seaman to report to this ship bringing his own Browning 50 caliber machine guns and ammo. Even if I wasn't the first, it was unusual enough to confuse the duty officer. I tried to sound offical “Seaman Houk reporting aboard and requesting the duty Gunners mate and a four man working party.” Hey, things work in the confusion. With the help of the gun crew the gear stowed in a magazine and I was assigned a bottom bunk on the portside just under the launcher. I was talking with the guys when Ensign Jones showed up. He said he heard scuttle-butt going around that a new guy came aboard with a bunch of guns. He told me I could work with the HTs tomorrow to get the tripods mounted before we get underway..... This had a bad ring to it. Getting underway could mean anything from turning the ship around to an around the world tour. Get underway to where, I asked calmly. He smiled that kind of shit eating grin you get when you enjoy giving bad news.  Were going on a Med cruise with Desron 10. I looked around the room only to see the faces of the others as they realized I just learned of this information. Even they started getting grins. I finally replied, "I just returned from a Persian Gulf Tour". That makes it even funnier said someone in the group. Getting with the Haul Tech., he turned out two sets of mounting brackets in no time. We found Mr. Jones and we all headed to the captains quarters. He had the final decision on the location of the gun mounts. He wanted them on his bridge wings. Maybe he thought someone was after him? I stood a watch for the HT as he welded the plates to the deck. It was then that I realized I had only three days before the cruise and I was in short supply of everything. I ask for three days leave to get things done before the ship leaves. I got two. Mainly I wanted to see Sherry. She was my import girl. She was the neighbor of Bott a torpedo man from the Blandy. I met Sherry when she came over to Bott’s and asked for some help moving a fridge. I never made it back to Bott’s. She offered some beer in exchange for the help. The fridge was just inside the front door. It wasn’t a very large model and was easy to maneuver to the kitchen where it slid into its slot with no fuss. I looked forward to seeing her often, but things change. I told her about the Med cruise and she seemed unfazed. Well after all I only knew her for a a couple of weeks. I picked up all the things I wanted for the cruise. It was things I wanted and things I knew I could trade after a month out and suplies get low. I wanted new music more then anything. Spending several months at sea I was very tired of my current collection. I picked up about 12 new cassettes. I also wanted books and a seaman in the bookshop recommended, “The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy” I grabbed it and a couple others. with one more stop I got cigs., gum, cards, and the latest, lets say pinup magazines, which all made for good trading. I took my haul to the ship and stowed it. Being a gunners mate I had an air-conditioned compartment to work and it gave you added space to keep things in. Everyone seemed to be in their own little world during our last night in Norfolk. With so little time on the ship I didn't really know anyone to talk with, so I spent my last night in the lounge watching tv. It was a very strange morning when we left. The ominous sky foretold of some impending doom as all the ships in the fleet started to pull out. First a carrier, then a cruiser, then a destroyer, and us. All gliding down the Chesapeake Bay seemingly in silence. The bay I had just came up on a month earlier and at that time totally unaware that I would be traveling right back down again. We reached open water quickly and in no time the last glimpse of the coast was gone. I was topside when it happened. I don’t remember anything other then the ship coming to an abrupt stop. One thing you notice on the ship, no matter where you are, is the drone of the engines and the sounds of the ship in motion. after a time you just block it out. It's background noise you can forget about, until it's gone. Suddenly it stopped for some unknown reason. I noticed that change was a very loud quiet. I could hear the breeze and the waves slap the side of the ship. Crewman topside near me were all looking at each other for some answer when the ships com came alive, “All sonar men report to the sonar room immediately.” I was inspecting locker boxes by the signal shack, and thought, “good it doesn’t involve me.” After an hour or so the scuttlebutt was that the sonar dome flooded and was not pumping out. This is very bad. We had to return to base for an inspection. That resulted in a report that the rubber window on the sonar dome had a tear in it and had to be replaced. I’ve seen her before when I was in junior high school. We got there late and could only admire her from Battery Park, but now she was right there. The Statue of Liberty went by very quickly as we headed toward the Brooklyn Bridge. We passed the World Trade Center and lower Manhattan. I could make out other naval vessels ahead. The base was crammed into a corner of the East River where it turns north along Manhattan Island. With a little maneuvering the ship backed into the dry dock. It took hours to pump out enough water before the ship started to settle on the blocks. The work on the ship started immediately. Tons of equipment was ferried to the bottom of the dock by crane. My only real work there was to stand fire watch. A section of the haul had to be cut away to get to the broken part. Workers at the dry dock joked that we had a flat.  Taking off the part was the easy part of the job. Putting on the new one was quite a feat and was slow going. In the off time I would go to Dave’s, a bar just off Times Square. We usually sat in a nook in the front of the place where the window stuck out. Dave’s was a dark quiet hole in the wall that had enough hanging around on its walls to let you know its been there for several generations. A lot of the workers from the Times frequented the place. I spent the rest of my time in Chinatown and Little Italy. Granted it was December and rather cold but on more than one occasion I found I had walked to SoHo or Times Square. When the ship left it had to make that dreaded stop at the ammo dock again. It was harder to reload everything then it was to toss it off. Once done we headed back out to the open ocean. When your a sailor assigned to a ship it’s like being one of the fleas on a dog, your just there for the ride. I had no idea where we were going, why we were going there, when we would arrive, etc. I’m sure in the background somewhere in a little room in the pentagon, someone was guiding our destiny. I pictured a table just like those in a movie, you know the scene, in the war room where you see someone pushing a little plastic ship across the board. Well as we were being pushed down the board I went about my duties. I had fairly easy jobs as a gunners mate, mainly called P.M.S. (preventive maintenance service) There is for every item on a ship a schedule to follow to maintain that thing, monthly, bimonthly, weekly, etc. You get a little card that has a list of tools and instructions needed for the chore. I had a few of which were actually fun to do. For example: Inspect and test the operation and clean the M60 machine guns. For every M60 we had on the ship (and each barrel) I was required to fire 50 rounds thus testing the operation of the weapon. During any of these p.m.s. schedules, the number of friends I had increased dramatically. The first thing I did was a little brown nosing, well sorta. I knew the Captain loved to shoot anything, so I would inform him we were shooting and the time I would be ready. As I'd head back down to the magazine I would always hear the message boom out of the ship's com “hold trash on station”. You see the Captain also liked having something to shoot at. The Ainsworth was a good ship to do these jobs, since it had a helo deck. I would lay out a work tarp and spread out the gear. It would bring everyone within eye shot right over and most would ask questions a few were content to just watch. The main question asked was “can I hold one?” I always laughed and hesitated a moment, that let them feel a little let down then I would come back with “if you help clean them I’ll let you shoot one. From the time I got in, to the time I left the navy no one ever turned down that deal. Homer Simpson explained this phenomenon very well: "It let’s you feel like God must feel when he’s holding a gun." I organized the shoot, gave the safety instructions, and trained crew on the weapon. The trash that was held on station was now tied shut and hurled over the side as the ship would make a slow turn to circle it. When the firing began crewmen from all over the ship came up to watch. When the Captain would show up I would hand him the M60 I had readied knowing he’d be there. He put the sling over his shoulder and pulled the trigger shooting with one hand and guiding the ammo belt with the other like a pro. With a short burst he got a reference then started hitting trash bags with every shot from then on. The Captian not only liked to shoot, he was very good at it. Some of the guys that shot always snuck away but many stayed and helped clean the weapons. Lots of the crew picked up shells as souvenirs. I admit I kept a few. The ship had many weapons; pistols, rifles, etc. and I repeated this procedure with each. Every week was another chance to break up the monotony. I preformed other duties, which included: Standing watch, line station during refueling, cleaning work areas, and of course the daily operation and maintenance of the 5” 54 cal mod 10 rapid fire cannon. One duty I barely got out of on the Ainsworth was a return to the galley for more K.P. The navy requires everyone e3 and below to serve k.p. once during their sea service. And a letter in my records proved I completed mine. The yeoman on the Blandy made me a card, explaining I would need it. My chief came to me one day while underway and said it was time for me to do my turn at k.p. I look at him sideways and said “It’s in my records that I served my turn already” He said, great he didn’t want to lose anyone for a month. Later that afternoon he came back and said there was nothing in my records showing that I had previously served. I laughed out loud as I thought to myself, that yeoman on the Blandy somehow he knew. The chief looked puzzled as I asked him to follow me as I laughed some more. I tore my bunk to pieces before finding the letter. It was very wrinkled and a bit torn but it was very legible. I told the chief to tell the powers that be “nice try” as I handed him the paper. A big smile appeared on his face as he walked away. We hit some pretty amazing ports while I was aboard. Some ports we only stopped long enough to refuel, others we stayed a couple of days. Our first stop was in Ponta Delgada, on the island of SAO MIGUEL in the Azores. The Azores is a small string of volcanic islands about 1000 miles west of Spain and Africa. I really wish we stayed there longer so I could have seen this jewel in the Atlantic, but the ship stopped long enough to refuel and get supplies before heading on to Rota, Spain. We spent the night in Rota and I was able to hit the sites right off since I was here searching for my ship the year before. Early the next morning the ship got underway and entered the Mediterranean. The Strait of Gibraltar is about 10 miles wide so it was easy to see Spain and Morocco. Everyone that wasn’t working was up on deck to watch the rock of Gibraltar drift quietly by. We motored around the Greek Islands stopping in Crete again just to refuel. We finally arrived at our destination and our mission was to lay off the shore of Beirut, Lebanon. Only our captain and a handfull of others knew why. This wasn’t so much scary as it was boring. We stayed on alert, we did drills, we kept track of targets on shore and in general, we watched the craziness-taking place in and around the city. It was a good size city that looked like any beach city should look except for the holes in all the buildings. After a few days of circling around and around we got the word that a few Marine Attack helicopters were going to do some target shooting. A C-46 Sea Knight helicopter Flew out about a hundred yards off the port side with an old car hanging from a cable. We could see it was full of barrels. The helicopter lowered the car to about ten feet off the water and released the cable. The car made a nice splash as it hit the water and the driver door popped opened. Slowly one by one the barrels floated out the door and after the third one came out the car quickly sank. This didn’t stop the Cobras from buzzing by shooting rockets off two and three at a time, trailed by bright yellow-green flames as they slammed into the water. It was like throwing large rocks at corks in the water. The explosion tossed them around but they kept bobbing back up mocking the choppers. As fate would have it this turned in our favor. We were told to finish off the barrels with machine guns. I was up on the signal deck when McGregor walked by and asked if I heard the news. I don’t remember all the particulars but we were being called to the Indian Ocean to relieve a ship that had an accident, I never did find out if that story was true. We were less than 300 miles from the mouth of the Suez Canal and Port Sa’id. We arrived early in the morning and lined up with the other ships waiting to enter. It took about 14 hours to traverse the canal. There is a stop in the middle, a large lake “Great Bitter Lake” where the ships from the north pass the ships from the south. The canal is a bustling artery alive with life, from women washing clothes, small fishing boats and traders to the aircraft carrier USS America traveling just ahead of us. Along most of the Suez are dikes, which obstructed our view, but here and there we could see over the hot dusty desert plains with dry jagged mountains on the horizon. Soon we were entering the Gulf of Suez then the Red Sea. The mere sight of the Red Sea brought back memories of the movie “The Ten Commandments” and bible stories I’ve heard all my life. As I watched the sun set I tried to imagine all that took place here in the span of mans history.
Once again I found myself in the Indian Ocean. I liked it there, dry, hot like a desert but no sand to be seen. We had cookouts on deck on the Blandy while cruising there before but no such luck on the Ainsworth. We were heading to Diego Garcia, a British Indian Ocean Territory south of the Equator. Which meant we were going to be Bar-B-Qued. There was a change in the crew that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It was almost as if half the crew were walking around half hunched over rubbing their hands together salivating. It was Friday morning February 25, 1983 when I was dragged from my berth and given a subpoena to appear before the Royal High Court of the Raging Main. I’ve got to tell you right off that that day was the craziest fun day of my life. The ship ran up the Jolly Rogers and all the crew that had crossed the equator before (called Shellbacks) got to torture the crew that were crossing for the first time (called Pollywogs). It started right off with a breakfast of Sea witch hair, eyes of a serpent, piss from a mermaid, and my favorite brains of a sea monkey. All were food and drinks that were over salted or drenched in hot sauce. After our feast we were ordered to remove our cloths and turn them inside out and put them on backwards. From that point on we weren’t fit to stand and had to crawl our way for and aft the length of the ship to face our trial. While we crawled in line in the nonskid surface we were beat with fire hoses, had food thrown at us, smeared with grease, insulted, eggs smashed on our heads and backsides, hosed down by fire hoses all the while moving closer to our trial and punishment. While on trial I begged for mercy and I was given a light sentence, I had to kiss the Queen’s feet and spent five minutes in the coffin. The coffin was a box that was twice the size of a real coffin and once I was put in that shellbacks dumped bucket after bucket of dead fish and garbage on me then closed the lid. I could only think about how long the smell would stick to my skin once I got out. After a very non-regulation length shower, we had a real feast. The mess deck cooked up steak and lobster and there was enough for seconds. Our reward for crossing the Equator was Diego Garcia, a beautiful atoll that received a bit of rain just as we moored. There was little to do here except look at the ocean from a beach rather then a deck. I opted to hit the store. Even for a naval commissary the stuff there was expensive. The rest of my time was spent among the trees. The grass on the island was thick and spongy with the odd chickens poking at it here and there. We were there for such a short time I could only guess that the ship was there to refuel.
One of the greatest places a ship could get liberty and we were the first.
The Maldives in the Indian Ocean was giving the US Navy a chance to allow ships there for liberty. We were told to be on our best behavior but have fun. Can one do both?
This place, for lack of a better term, was Paradise. The Maldives is a country made up of hundreds of atolls in the Indian Ocean. Four of us from the ship rented one of the Islands,
(Leo Reed, myself, Richard Vantuyl, and John Kubricky) The island was about a 30-minute small boat ride from the ship. The Island had a bar and dining area, a few small bungalows, a few chickens and white coral beach that you could
follow for about 35 minutes before you were back to where you started. I spent most of my time underwater. Jacque Cousteau couldn’t find a better place to dive.
The waters around my little island had every kind of sea life I’d seen in the book. Scorpion fish, lion fish, sharks, giant clams, eels, etc. all leading from the beach to the dark blue
drop off. On the west end of the island was a pen, which I discovered was the holding pen for our meals. The big dinner was a beach bar-b-q of shark, tropical fruits, and rice.
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