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Facts / Figures for
USS BLANDY DD943


LAUNCHED

19 DECEMBER 1956

COMMISSIONED

26 NOVEMBER 1957

DECOMMISSIONED

05 NOVEMBER 1982
NORFOLK, VA

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USS BLANDY DD943





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NAVY PHOTOS


Washington


Security Alert


Tidwell in Barbados


Blandy in Barbados


Going on liberty (Barbados)


Blandy in St Thomas


Aft mount at sea


Brasdif getting a tan


ASROC
Anti Sub ROCket

Yours truely


My home on the blandy


Towed array


Blandy in Djibouti


Cook out on deck
Burgers


and more burgers


Chips, fixins and soda


Smitty as the white whale


K.P.


Me in berthing compartment


Sunrise port side


How I arrived.


Dropped by line


The guys that grabbed me







I was working in Baltimore in a plant that made circuit boards. I spent my day standing over vats of acid testing them and I wasn't making enough money to live on. I was too lazy to get a second job so I decided the time was right to join the Navy.

It was something I always planned to do. RIGHT?
My dad and uncle Al told me the truth. RIGHT?

USS BLANDY DD943.


This was my first ship. I first heard the ships name in a classroom in San Diego. I believe they said your going to the USS Blandy its a destroyer out of Pearl Harbor. That seems so long ago now that the words trail off as in a dream. I was nervous as I saw it for the first time. I was more nervous because of my location as I was looking at it. The story actually starts weeks earlier. I just finished “C” school, having had a great time in California and now I'm going to Hawaii. The military transport plane I flew on was great and I was so excited it seemed as if I was there in no time. I remember being dropped at the gate and I asking the guard where I could find my ship. He said his list was never up to date and pointed to an office where I could check. I found the guy and he pulled out a book flipping quickly to a page with ship names and ran his finger down then up and down again then he picked up my transfer paper looked at it puzzlingly. Because of his raised eyebrow, I had a feeling there was something amiss. Finally he says “your ship isn’t here”. At first this didn’t bother me
“Your ship isn’t here”
but I would soon learn to find these word troubling. He said the name Blandy is not attached to the base. The number of the ship is for the Barry and that ship isn’t here either. He made a call and after some laughs and some “Oh Reallys” he hung up. I could see he was trying to look serious again and he said your ship is an east coast ship out of Norfolk, Virginia.
After a bit of waiting he said this could take a while and told me to come back in a hour. That hour was the entire time I was stationed in Hawaii. They didn't fix my orders to stay on a ship there they fix my orders to continue on to the Blandy no matter how much I pleaded. He did ask if I would like to stop off somewhere for the Christmas holiday before I go to my ship. I thought what the hell but it still didn't fix things. So after I stopped at home for the holiday I continued my trip. My orders stated that the ship was in Rota Spain. I took an early train from Baltimore to Philadelphia. I had to wait a couple hours in the nearly empty station for the first shuttle to take me to the airport. I was lightly packed, you know everything you own in one green bag and a small case. I should have known that I wasn’t going to be flying on a commercial airline. It was a more typical military transport plane then the one I took to Hawaii, no food, some water, and no stewardeses. I got to Rota and caught the van to the naval H.Q. building only to be told “Your ship isn’t here.” It was here weeks ago. Once again the guy told me to come back in an hour or so. I looked around for some chow while they planned what to do with me next. When I reported back to H.Q. I was told that the ship will be at the Sigonella Naval Station in Sicily. Sounds good, I missed it here so now it’s already time moved on. I got back to the airfield and waited again for who knows what, finally I got the word to load up. This plane was a small well worn and fully loaded cargo plane. It bucked and bumped down the runway and buzzed into the air slowly. I had a walkman with me but the props were so loud I couldn't hear a thing. In a few hours it stopped in Palermo Sicily before going on to the Sigonella Naval Station. I’ll let you in on a little secret I didn’t know at the time. On the map below you can see the location of the Sigonella Naval Station. Notice its location to the sea.


When I arrive I let out a big sigh. Finally, almost there! I drag my bag and case into the flight office and the clerk there gets a seaman with a jeep to take me across the base to see the person who tells me ”Theres no ship here.“ No NO this can’t keep happening. He tells me to get back on the plane and have the guys in Rota find the ship before sending me on. Great, great idea. With all my gear in hand I get back to the flight building to get back on the plane to Rota. “Sorry The plane unloaded and left”, the airman said. After staring at him for a minute I finally asked, “how am I going to get back to Rota?” Auh, Don’t know! “The next plane is in three days, I guess you’ll have to go back to the base”. In the jeep again the driver asked why I was sent to a Naval Air Station to catch a ship. I was asking that very same question myself.

“Sorry the airbase has two squadrons transferring now and there is no room on the base to put you up!” Yeoman Smith said, “you’ll need to go to the quartermaster to get an off base living assignment.” It was staggering to me that in an entire Navel Air Station there was not one open bunk. With my gear in tow I go see the quartermaster Chief Benson--keeping in mind I left Baltimore at 4:00am to get to the plane by 9:00am, leaving Rota Spain at about 5:30pm, arriving in Sicily at 9:30pm, it’s now about 11:30pm, Baltimore time, and the jeep is gone. The quartermaster must have been very busy since he wanted me to get a hair cut before he would talk to me. I tell him, I would, gladly, but it’s probably closed not knowing what the local time was. He said, “it closes at 5:00pm”, if I hurry and come back he can help me. After my trim I come on back and he said, "What can I do for you sailor?" I explained the whole thing to him and now he’s MAD at me! He said the dispersing office closes at 5:00pm and I need orders, money, a bus pass, and off base arrangements for three days and he has to get people back there to do it. After an hour of calling around and more bitching, he tells me where to go. This situation actually turned out to be a great thing. The military gives you money to live on and it’s the same amount no matter where you go. $45 a day Ooooo. At the exchange rate of about .67 in 1981 and tripled for the three days I got "WHAT" 200,000 lira. In reality this isn’t a lot of money but when the dispersing officer handed me all those bills I thought it had to be a mistake. That can’t be as you can see the Navy does not make mistakes. The clerk there looks at my chit and says ok here’s a bus pass, off-base papers and your money, the bus is across the street and leaves now! Hey wait a minute, where am I going? Where am I staying? How do I get back and when? He said, all that was explained to me at the transfer office when I got my orders this morning. I explain to him, “this morning I was in Baltimore MD” and I haven’t been to a transfer office because I’m not attached to the base. After a blank look, and more blank look, he asked “who are you attached to?”. The USS Blandy DD943, I answer. There’s no ships here he says. I know that but the flight office said I can’t get a plane for three days. Oh, he says and quickly explained that the bus stops in town at a hotel, just get a room there and I’ll send orders and instructions tomorrow, the money is for the room and food. Now get on the bus!!!
The bus turned out to be a small van. Out the gate up a mountain the van labored on very narrow roads winding through some very hilly terrain with no guard rails. It was mostly farmland with spots that had lots of steam coming out. After about 30 minutes we entered a small village, and the van stopped in front of the Hotel Bonaccorsi. I felt uneasy as I watched the van drive off. I walked up the steps to the door as my thoughts started coming into realization. I’m in Sicily, from the looks of it in a very small village (not the tourist spot). I don’t speak anything but English. Ah, is it time to worry? The hotel Bonaccorsi was a very old but elegant looking stone building with red doors and gilded trim. I steped inside to see a lobby straight out of a Bogart movie. Things seemed even worse as everyone turned to look at me, Oh by the way, I’m not in uniform. I haven’t been the whole trip. I had on, jeans, a concert tee shirt (most likely Pink Floyd) and sneakers. I took in the seen as I walked up to the desk. The clerk at the desk asked "Come mio li aiuto". ("would you like a room" I would imagine) I ask if he speaks English. Perdono! Crap! I try roomo, bungalow, abode, suite. “Ah suite.” I’m thinking oh no what have I done now? He holds out a sheet and I see on the counter next to the sheet he just picked up is a price list, for, I’m assuming the rooms. It goes from 9000 lira to 19000 lira. Well I had 200,000 lira so I can get a good room and I still had an awful lot of lira left. He sees the sheet I'm looking at, hands it to me and half smiles as he glances to the others in the lobby. I pointed at the 19000 lira room and this stirred something in the manager. What it was I wasn’t sure, yet. He nodded sharply, increased his smile by 50%, and switched papers to a registration slip. I filled it out as best as I could and I’m sure I had the name in the address block or something like that because he looked at me funny when I pushed it back to him. He snapped his fingers and a kid on a bench by the cage elevator darted over grabbed my bags and took them to the elevator as I followed. The bell hop took us up to the top. The door opens and it’s a room, not a hall. I look back at the bell hop and he gestures me to go into the room. It looks like the penthouse of the hotel and it's made for someone rich. Not me. I try to show the bell hop that I think something’s wrong and I think he thinks I don’t like the room so finally I let him put my stuff down and give him a 3000 lire tip, about $2.00 and he starts going, Grazie! Grazie! He wants to show me something, oh, it’s the key, oh the key opens the elevator to get me into the room. I go down with him back to the lobby. There’s a bar and lounge to one side in the lobby with a few people looking back over at me so I asked if anyone speaks English. I tall, puffy, pale gentlemen across the room stood up and came over to me and said, da, then laughed. I told him about the room and my worries, he smiled and walked with me to the front desk. He asked the clerk about the room for me, and said the clerk wants to know if there is a problem with the room. I said no and asked if the room is 19,000 lire. He tranlated and laughed again saying no no no! He shows me the price list again and I looked closer and notice it’s not a 1 it’s a 2 in bad handwriting, so I said it’s 29,000 lire. He knodded yes. I finally sighed at the realization that the most expensive room in the hotel is about $24.00. I thanked my translator and asked if I could buy him a drink. He winked and said Da.
I told him about my day, as he sat looking intrested and shaking his head. I finished the tale telling him I didn't even know where I was, other than in Sicily He gave me some very good information. He told me I was in Catania a village on the side of Mt Etna. That it was a very poor area and that is why I could afford the penthouse room and that I gave the bell hop about a 1/2 days wages as a tip. Well I was dead tired and had to go back up to the room. Before I did I ask him where he was from and he said he’s from the Ooo S S R, (U.S.S.R.) than smiled. Well ok then.
As I return to the room it hits me that the room is a suite taking up the entire 4th floor. So this ride up I was able to enjoy seeing the room without any panic, I had a new outlook. When I got back up to my room there was a big fruit basket on the table where the bell hop left my bags, and a card that said something. I go for a walk around the room, it’s huge, a sitting area on one side with a TV, a bedroom on the left, a bathroom with two toilets, you know, ones a bidet. I hit the bed and fall off to sleep wondering who they thought I was.
AGGHHH! There’s someone asking something, where am I? What’s going on? There’s a voice coming from somewhere, it’s a speaker, it’s morning, there’s light coming in from the balcony, bright light. I walk toward the voice and stab at the buttons on the panel, yes, what is it. More signore di buona mattina avete dormito bene?, then the elevator opens. It’s a different bell hop with a package. It’s my orders. “Yea” I tip this bell hop 2000 lire, Grazie! Grazie! I open my orders and it’s no help it’s just a typical military form with pickup date and time in front of the hotel in two days. I look at my watch, that’s no help, it’s still on Baltimore time. Food! I want food so I S.S.S. (Sh_t, Shower, and Shave) and leave. It’s off into the town and I have two days to explore (one hour later I’m done.) The whole town is just the square and a couple of side streets. At every edge there’s hills rolling off covered with farms and vineyards. I found a kind of cafe in the square. It was a scruffy looking place where time had not changed it for at least a century. I entered and had a look over a menu I couldn’t read. I hear a guy next to me order, espresso due, so I do to. I get two little shot glass size porcelain cups with a dark hot liquid. Of course everyone now a days knows what espresso is, but I almost choked when I drank it. It was pure straight concentrated coffee and I didn’t put in sugar or cream. My disgust was compounded by the fact that I don’t drink coffee. The place was old, very old, you could see it in the wood counter, the cracked tiles and in the faces of the men sitting around the room. The only things not coated in dust were the wet rings where cups and glasses had been placed. I was hungry but unable to figure out the menu. Do I dare try to order in English? I already look very out of place in jeans, a black ac/dc T-shirt and a fresh short hair cut, but the apathy in the cafe almost seemed deliberate. I raised my hand for the waiter and he came right over. I asked if it was too late for breakfast. Blank stare for a second. I ran my finger down the choices and stopped in the middle of the menu. What could be the harm, I don’t have any real dislikes when it comes to food. The waiter looked puzzled and said something to the guy next to me, then to me. I just said, sorry I only speak English and shrugged my shoulders. The man next to me grunted and pointed to a line on the menu just above my finger and said something to me and the waiter, then they both chuckled. I could only imagine that my finger landed on some line about tax or was a title in the menu like seafood or pasta. So I wearily moved my finger elsewhere and nodded. The waiter yelled the order to the back then left. I looked around and still no one seemed to change. It was about now, for the first time, I realized that you could be very lonely and still be around people. Not being able to talk to them or even listen in on someone else’s conversation. I wasn’t uncomfortable, just alone. Ah, chicken, that’s what I ordered. It was great! Cooked with diced potatoes, tomatoes, onions, and spinach, all fresh. That is when I raised some eyebrows in the place. I must have eaten the whole meal in about two minutes flat. When you don’t have anyone to talk to your food goes quickly. I paid for the meal and left to walk around the square again. It was filled with carts of vegetables and fruits and for a town this small it was getting crowded pretty fast. Women, all women in the square, buying goods, even selling goods. A few carts had men selling but the rest were women. I also noticed something I hadn’t noticed on my first walk around. Butcher shops were everywhere, for a town this small I counted seven. They too were doing a good bit of selling to the ladies. As fast as it all started, it went away. The whole market frenzy lasted about an hour. I walked through shop after shop, tailors, watches, cafe, shoes, hats, tools. Every shop was different and singular in its product, and now all starting to close. The streets cleared and the din of the days activities quieted down to the noise of a dog barking and a few children playing in yards out of sight. I walk throughout the quiet peaceful streets, back toward the hotel. Inside I stop at the bar for a drink that turns into several. Thank god the word Vodka is universal, although orange juice was going to be a little more difficult. I drew one, then the bartender pulled one out. I nodded yes and he said succo di arancia. I tried to repeat the words but from the pained look on the bartenders face I wasn’t real close. He squeezed two or three oranges and added Vodka and ice. I’ll tell you, a screwdriver is really good when you use fresh oranges. Feeling pretty good now I headed back out for dinner. This was interesting. I hadn’t noticed any restaurants during my previous walk and in the dark it took a while to find one. From the outside it looked like someone’s house. The inside did too except with more than one dining room table. A very pretty women brought me the menu. Here we go again. Hey, wait; I actually recognize some things on it, ravioli, lasagna, pasta, etc. I order a little more confidently this time. When it came to food here it tasted as though it were cooked by angels. I have never tasted anything before or since that was as good. I can only imagine that every ingredient was just picked and/or homemade I learned so much in this little village I could write a book. I came to the realization that the people in this area must not have refrigeration and buy their meats, as they need them. After being there for a few days it seemed that they bought most of their food, as they needed it, from the market everyday. When it was time to go back to the base I felt I would miss this village more than places I'd been back home. When I got back to the air field I headed straight for the flight building. As I approach I could see there was no plane and it wasn’t scheduled to arrive for two hours leaving me waiting again with nothing to do but walk around. I was headed back to the building when I distinctly heard the props of the cargo plane coming in low over the field. We arrived back at the Building about the same time. The pilot walked in an dropped a large bag on the counter saying “today’s mail” The clerk said I got one for you as he pointed over to me. The pilot answered full load. I said nice try, I been waiting half a day for a full plane. He Headed back to the tarmac and I followed, he turned saw me and repeated "full load." I must have had a Shocked look on my face because he added take a look. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't looked. This was plane was full. If I climbed on top of the pile and laid on my back my nose would be an inch from top. I looked at the pilot and said full load. He winked and climbed in. In life you rarely get to do experience something as unique as how I spent the last three day and here I got to do it all over again. I do have to say when I returned to the hotel desk the reception was noteworthy. I did finally make it to Rota. I enjoyed staying there long enough to hit the beach that trip. I’ve seen the sun go down on the ocean in San Diego but it did feel different this being the Atlantic knowing as it sank down below the horizon it was getting closer to home. This time it was official. They told me they received a report placing the Blandy in the Persian Gulf and I would catch a plane in the morning. This was a beautiful day, sunny, warm, with a light breeze coming off the ocean. On the van ride over to the air field I tried to imagine what crazy mix up I was headed for this time.
I walk through the double doors and through customs and they said up the ramp. It was a truck ramp and
inside the metal arched building was a helo and a couple of trucks. I’m thinking
great a new place to wait but the guy ahead was pointing up a ladder. As I look
up it hits me “I’M IN THE PLANE”. Up the ladder was a passenger cabin above the
cargo bay. It looked much like any commercial cabin but something wasn’t right. I quickly grabbed a window seat, one of only two that I could see. That was it, as I glared out the window I realized the seats were facing the rear of the plane. I asked the guy at the ladder what are we on? He replied your on a C-5A Galaxy the largest plane in the US Air Force. I buckled in and waited for the plane to move an inch let alone the 4000 mile to Bahrain. I was surprised to find from inside that behemoth it felt like any other plane taking off, although facing rear your pressed out of your seat rather than in. It was a dull flight and my walkman batteries died half way through the flight. We were given a box lunch, which consisted of a sandwich, apple, and chips. We landed with out any fuss and I was directed to a desk to report in. The kid at the desk looking to young to be in the military took my orders and checked his papers. I jokingly said, “don’t tell me, the ship isn’t here!” He looked up and said, your right! As my heart started to sink he added, “It’s in the gulf so your going to the Briscoe to ride it out to your ship.” He filled out a sheet and said to get in the van outside. The van ride was so short I didn't have time to realize I was in the middle East, or what it meant. Soon I was standing on a pier looking at the USS Briscoe DD 977. I thought I’m finally getting on a ship and a Destroyer just like mine. I walked up the gangway and saluted smartly. The duty officer called for someone to take me down to the mess deck to wait and told me to leave my gear there. The mess was serving so I got some chow. Just fried chicken and potatoes, but I was so hungry I wolfed it down quickly. With no one watching me I wondered around, a little at first then ventured out more. The intercom cut in “Underway” and started playing music, Willie Nelson’s On the road again. I found my way back up on deck to watch the ship leave port. I took it all in, the warm air, the breeze from the ships movement, and the smell of the sea air was intoxicating. As the ship entered open water I could feel it increase its speed. It was quick and sharp cutting through the water with purpose. I suddenly realized that the intercom was calling out my name, what did it say? It repeated itself. “Seamen Houk REPORT TO THE FLIGHT DECK!” Flight deck? I was near the bow so I headed aft, quickly. I passed a crewman and asked where to go. I climbed the ladder to the next deck and there it was. There were several guys pushing a helo out of a hanger near the rear of the ship. I identified myself and an officer motioned for me. He pointed to a pile of bags in the corner of the hanger and asked if any of it was my gear. I told him what was mine. He said it’s a perfect day for a flight. I just got it. I asked are they going to fly me to my ship? He nodded and said I’ll be flying you. I got to tell you, after all I’ve done this had me really excited. I get to fly in a helicopter. From the deck of a ship no less. I watched the crew unfolded the rotors and load it up. Once on board it came alive. It was noisy, really noisy, as the rotors gain speed I could feel us move and through the windshield I saw the ship drop out from under us. I felt relief as the blades cleared the ships superstructure. This was the adventure they advertised I thought as I felt a tap on my shoulder. The airman next to me pointed out the window, it was my ship the USS Blandy. I first heard the name in a classroom in San Diego. That seems so long ago now that the words trail off as in a dream. I was nervous as I saw it for the first time. I was also nervous because I was seeing it from a lamps helo and as the ship came more into view I could see there was no flight deck. I yelled to the airman, Where do we land? He smiled, he pointed his index finger at my chest and said you land. As the Ship continued to grow in the window he gave me instructions but all I heard was keep my arms folded. He opened the door and what was loud was now deafening. He poked a button and grabbed a cable pulling it in, he handed me a padded yellow ring and helped wrap it around my chest. He clipped the cable to the ring and pounded the floor at the open door. I knew what this meant my mind just needed to convence my body to to move. I slid down out of my seat and cautiously swung my legs out the door. He gave me a thumbs up and I nodded, Like they would take me back if I shook my head no. With that he hit the button and the cable tightened and pulled me out. I was doing something few people get to do and even fewer get to do in a non-rescue situation. I looked up at a helo with blade spinning drifting farther and farther away. I feel hands grabbing me as my feet find the deck. A man with wide goggles and a helmet unhooks me and pulls me off to the side. I look back to see my gear being lowered and its brought over to me. Things quiet down quickly as the helo departed and a sailor came up and said its good to see you. I said “really” he replied “no”. He pointed behind me and said you just came with the mail. It was the rest of the pile from the corner of the hanger on the Briscoe.







This photo is the USS Blandy at a dock in Djibouti a port near the southern mouth of the Red Sea.








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Last update Oct 05, 2006