STORY BEHIND THE PLAQUE
Service Reflections of JOC Arthur Frith, U.S. Navy (1970-1991)

Several things influenced my decision to join the Navy. Two other classmates and I at Lemoore High School were considering joining the Air Force. Being a “Navy Brat”, I was looking at being stationed someplace I’d not lived where my father had been stationed in the Navy. We completed the physical and paperwork and had a date in July to enlist and head for San Antonio. However, when the time arrived, I received a call from the Air Force recruiter saying that my date had been moved to October. Given the fact that I’d quit my job at Boy Scout summer camp, quit my jobs with the Fresno Bee and Lemoore Advance, and the fact that Dad was PCSing to NAS Memphis in September, I had very few options other than the Draft. I drove to Visalia, picked up my package from the Air Force recruiter, and walked down the hall to the Navy’s office. There was a Chief sitting at a desk. I put my folder in front of him and asked, “Chief, how soon can I enlist?” He looked it over, looked up at me, and said: “What about tomorrow? I asked him if I could use his phone. I called Dad at his office back on NAS Lemoore: “Hey. Do you have anything going on tomorrow?” He said, “Nope.” “Good. You’re taking me up to Fresno to swear me in the Navy.” It was off to RTC San Diego the following afternoon.

ON A SIDE NOTE: I kept it secret that I was a Navy Brat and the son of a CWO-2. However, that secret did not last long. During the first locker inspection, the Company Commander found my wallet in a drawer. That wasn’t an issue. What was in it was. Standing at attention at the foot of my bunk, he stood before me, holding my wallet in my face. “What the HELL is this, Recruit?” I don’t know if this was a set-up by my father or not, but my Dependent’s I.D. The card was STILL in my wallet. Whether or not Dad did that on purpose (knowing all Hell would come down on me) or he just forgot to take it before/after administering the Oath of Enlistment.

I was part of Company 319 at Recruit Training Command San Diego in July 1970. I graduated that October and moved over to the Naval Training Center and Radioman “A” School. From there, it was off to a new destroyer escort, the USS Elmer Montgomery (DE-1082). However, it was determined that too many RMs were assigned to Montgomery. So, it was off with a new set of orders, a new amphibious transport dock ship, the USS Trenton (LPD-14). During this assignment, I converted from a Radioman to a Journalist. I departed the Trenton in Jan. 1974 for the Defense Information School (DINFOS) at Fort Benjamin Harrison, IN (near Indianapolis) for Journalist “A” School. A master chief journalist at the school convinced me to take a set of orders to the Armed Forces Radio and Television Service (AFRTS) outlet at Naval Station Keflavik, Iceland. That was some great advice, as Keflavik remains in my mind THE BEST duty station of my career. An assignment to the staff followed two years at Kef (74-76), Commander Naval Surface Forces Atlantic Fleet in Norfolk. Rear Admiral Cooney and Jordan Rizer selected me to become the Petty Officer-in-Charge, U.S. Navy Broadcasting Service Detachment 23 at Elmendorf Air Force Base, Anchorage, Alaska, in June 1979. Toward the end of my tour in March 1983, I received a phone call from Mr. Rizer (at 0300 my time) telling me that he needed me to transfer early (and fast) to Naval Communications Station (NAVCOMMSTA) Nea Makri, Greece, and take over command of Navy Broadcasting Service Detachment 44 (later Det 4) as my soon to be predecessor was being Court-Martialed. “Fast” meant I had to be there by Monday (it was Wednesday morning). That meant packing up our household goods, getting my wife, son, and two dogs to Millington, TN, to stay with my parents, be in D.C. for a briefing on Friday morning, and on a plane to Athens Saturday night. WOW!! Heads were spinning on Elmendorf as this was unheard of by Air Force personnel. We made it happen, though. I advanced to Journalist Chief Petty Officer during this assignment. My next assignment was to Fleet Imaging Command-Atlantic in Norfolk, where I served as Combat Camera Group Leading Chief and Weapons Officer. My final assignment was Chief of Protocol at the NATO School (SHAPE) at Oberammergau, West Germany.

For the first 12 years as a Navy journalist, I found myself in the usual assignments, such as public relations and broadcasting. However, that all changed in October 1986 when I reported to Fleet Imaging Command-Atlantic at NAS Norfolk, Virginia. My second duty assignment was as a Journalist Chief Petty Officer, and I am now the Combat Camera Group Leading CPO, Weapons Officer, and Television Production Division LCPO. MindI’du, I’d not picked up a weapon since the rifle range time at RTC San Diego back in 1970. However, I was fortunate to have some amazing personnel working with me whom I could trust and learn much about operating with a combat unit.

Working with two former Army members, PH1 Al Johnson and PHAN Henry J. Cleveland, we came up with an operations plan that would make ComCam a desired addition to any combat unit, not a hindrance to their mission. Keeping Command Master Chief PHCM Chuck Pederick in the loop, we came up with a doable and workable plan. We would go out training with Marines or members of the SEALs to prove our value to them. We caught the eye of Lieutenant General Gray, who found our methods of operating with HIS Marines interesting to the point he agreed to my request to take the Combat Camera teams to Camp Lejeune, NC, and go through Infantry Training School. We geared up and hit the road for Jacksonville, NC, in January 1987 and reported for duty. The Marines were very surprised, especially to find a Navy CPO going through the same infantry training as the young Marine private fresh out of basic training. We successfully completed the course and earned the respect of the Marines. This was a good thing as less than six months later, most of ComCam was loading up on C-5A aircraft and heading to Diego Garcia to meet up with the USS Guadalcanal (LPH-7) headed to the Persian Gulf.

The transit through the Gulf of Hormuz was the first time I had heard of a ship being called to General Quarters. It wasn’t a training exercise.

In the Persian Gulf, my teams were based on the Guadalcanal and USS Raleigh (LPD-1). Raleigh cruised the Persian Gulf as part of a mine countermeasures group headed by the Helicopter Mine Countermeasures Squadron (HM-14), flying the Sikorsky MH-53E Sea Dragon helicopter. During Operation Earnest Will, the Sikorsky MH-53E Sea Dragon helicopter. Our mission was to document U.S. Navy operations during the so-called “Tanker War” phase of the Iran War.

On September 21, Nightstalkers flying MH-6 and AH-6 Little Birds took off from the frigates USS Jarrett and USS Klakring to track an Iranian ship, Iran Ajr. The Nightstalkers watched Iran Ajr turn off its lights and begin laying mines. After receiving permission to attack, the helicopters fired guns and rockets, stopping the ship. Ajr’s crew continued to push mines over the side, and the aircraft resumed firing until the crew abandoned the ship.

At first light, PH3 Cleveland and I grabbed our gear, loaded up on a CH-46 helicopter, and headed out to meet up with a SEAL team at the location of the now-disabled Iran Ajr. I had the pilot circle the ship so that we could take still photographs and videotape footage. However, something was missing: the SEALs. I asked Henry if he saw them, and he replied, “No, Chief.” We continued circling the ship, and Henry tapped me on the shoulder and pointed behind me. There they were, the SEALs in an LCM (landing craft) headed out from USS Raleigh. Much to our surprise, we had arrived before them, which wasn’t the original plan. Fortunately for us, there were no Iranians alive to shoot at our helicopter.

As we continued to document the events below, assisted by Special Boat Teams, the SEALs boarded the vessel and discovered nine mines on the vessel’s deck. A logbook was found revealing areas where previous mines had been laid. USS Hawes towed the mine layer (a converted tank landing craft) to the Iran-Iraq war zone. Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) technicians from EOD Mobile Unit 5 scuttled the vessel the following day. The logbook also implicated Iran in mining international waters. Iranian Sailors, who abandoned the ship and were floating in lifeboats, were picked up and taken to USS Raleigh for medical treatment.

A Navy journalist or photographer serving during the Cold War never gave any thought to finding yourself in a situation where you could die. Had there been an Iranian armed with a rocket-propelled grenade launcher or other weapon, there is a good chance that both Henry Cleveland and I would not have returned home.

The only time this situation came about was during a deployment to the Persian Gulf in the summer of 1987. Flying above that body of water for hours at a time in either CH-46 or MH-53 helicopters posed challenges at times. As I told my Combat Camera teams: “Remember, we are going into a situation none of us have experienced before with equipment built for the U.S. military by the lowest bidder. Not a problem, right?” The morning of the Iran Ajr’s capture, PH3 Cleveland and I grabbed our gear and headed out in our assigned helicopter. We arrived at the disabled Iranian minelayer and began taking photos and shooting videos. As the chopper circled the ship, I noticed something odd. I turned to Henry and asked, “Hey, Henry. Do you see the SEALs anywhere on the ship?”

No, Chief.” We continued documenting things, and a few minutes later, Cleveland tapped me on my shoulder, pointing to the other side of the chopper. There, off in the distance, in an LCM, was the SEAL Team we were supposed to meet up with. All I could say was, “Holy Shit!” I put my gear down and walked to the cockpit to speak with the pilot and co-pilot. “You might want to back away just a tad bit, Lieutenant. This ship hasn’t been swept or cleared by the SEALs.” “Sure, it has, Chief.” I motioned for him to look (now) behind us. The look on his face was priceless. Given the fact that the disabled Iran Ajr had not been swept for survivors, possibly armed with RPGs or other weapons, put us all in a very serious, life-threatening situation. All that it would have taken was one heavily armed Iranian Sailor firing on the helicopter or exploding the mines on her deck to send us to Davy Jones’ Locker, probably. When we returned to the USS LaSalle and things wrapped up, we both looked at each other and said, “Wow!”

My fondest duty assignment memories all lead to one location: Keflavik, Iceland. This was a young Navy journalist’s dream duty station. At the time I was there, radio, TV, and newspaper (The White Falcon) were all under the same roof. I could be on the air on the radio, do “Live” weekend TV evening newscasts, and write stories/take photographs for the paper. There was so much going on around Naval Station Keflavik that it was difficult not to find something to do. Beyond the fence line, the beauty and wonder of the “Land of Fire and Ice” was at my fingertips. Though we had a curfew while I was there from 1974-1976, there were no overnight stays for junior enlisted, but that wasn’t a big deal to me. “Thank you, JOCM Dave Terry (LCPO of the Navy contingent at DINFOS), for pointing me in the right direction.”

POST NAVY LIFE: 1991 – I’m looking for a job at radio stations in Kalamazoo, Grand Rapids, Lansing, and Battle Creek. “Have you ever been a Morning Drive D.J.?” I would answer, “Why, yes, I have done that. I was the Morning D.J. at the No. 1 AM radio station in Iceland,” which was true. 1430 AM AFRS Keflavik was the ONLY AM station in Iceland. All of the Icelandic radio stations were FM. (HA) That line opened many doors for me, and I landed on-air jobs, too.

From your entire military service, describe any memories you still reflect back on to this day.

October 2025 makes 50 years since I did the Overseas Combined Federal Campaign Radiothon on Armed Forces Radio Keflavik, Iceland. 50-year?? Damn! I am old!! (Ha) Keflavik holds two particularly special and memorable moments. The AFRS Marathon and, earlier that year, my lifesaving MedEvac from a remote Air Force radar site at Hofn, some 250 miles away from Naval Station Keflavik. Long story short: I was in my second month of a 90-day TDY at H3. All Navy and Air Force broadcasters assigned to the station took turns with the assignment. We’d run the radio station and provide limited TV service (usually 1400-0000) with the 16mm films we’d bring in from AFRTS Keflavik.

One Sunday night, after I was sitting in my chair, I found that I could not cross my right leg over my left without some serious pain. I called the Air Force Medic, explained what was happening, and said I’d be over to Sick Bay after TV signed off. When I arrived, he had me lie on the exam table and did something called a “Rebound Test” on me. This involved pressing down on my lower right abdomen. He did, and I came off that table like a rocket. His face was ashen. I asked what was wrong. “Man, your appendix is ready to burst!” Three hours later, at 0330, a “Jolly Green Giant” landed at Hofn, and I was loaded up for the trip back to the base. I didn’t know that there was a severe winter storm front hitting Iceland, which could cause issues if the chopper could not make the flight. Well, we touched down at 0530, and the surgeon was operating on me before 0630. That was 50 years ago this month (now Feb 2025). Now, what I didn’t know was that all of the Navy surgeons were off on a TAD to London for a conference. The doctor operating on me: the OB-GYN! (a detail that was thankfully NOT mentioned in the base paper’s news article on the event.) AFRTS had this doctor all tied up. I was in one O-R, and a fellow JO2 was in the other O-R, ready to deliver her first baby!

Undoubtedly, being advanced to Chief Petty Officer is at the top of the list. The journalist rating was relatively small, and competition was tight. The year before I made the list, I’d missed making the board by .00025 of a percentage point. The crew over at Personnel Support Detachment were scratching their heads. The PNC looked at me and said, “In all my years in the Navy, I have NEVER seen someone miss the CPO Screening Board by this number. It’s insane.” I’d heard for years from senior enlisted (CPO, SCPO, and MCPO) that I would never make Chief because I lacked an Enlisted Surface Warfare pin. The following year, I put on the anchors of a Navy CPO, my father’s anchors. BTW, 20 years to the day I advanced to JOC, so did Teresa, also without an ESW pin. An old JOCM friend (former Fifth Fleet Master Chief), Randy Kafka, and I pinned those same anchors on Teresa’s collar tips.

I was pinned with my father’s CPO anchors and proudly wore them for the final six years of active duty. Nuff said.

Outside of my father, I can say without a doubt that Jordan E “Buzz” Rizer served as the Director of the Navy Broadcasting Service at a pivotal time in my life and Navy career. Part of my job at COMNAVSURFLANT was to oversee the operation and recommend ship assignments of Navy Shipboard Information, Training, and Entertainment (SITE) systems. I was recently married to an Army gal and coming to the end of my enlistment. I was considering leaving the Navy at nine years, becoming a military dependent (again), and moving wherever Teresa would be stationed. The JO Detailer was only talking about shipboard duty assignments. Since I already had three years underway, that wasn’t what I was looking forward to. The same day, Mr. Rizer and (then) CHINFO Rear Admiral Cooney showed up at the PA office asking to speak with me. “what will it take to keep you in the Navy, Art?” I replied: “A duty assignment that will enable Teresa (who was stationed at Heilbronn, West Germany) and I to be stationed together.” They returned to D.C. the next day, and a set of orders transferred me to Elmendorf Air Force Base, Anchorage, Alaska, as Petty Officer-in-Charge, U.S. Navy Broadcasting Service Detachment 23. The phone rang, and it was Buzz on the other end. “Ok, Sailor. Do u have the orders in hand? Getting your wife stationed in Alaska is on you.” “Aye, Aye, Sir. Thank you!”

I drove to D.C. to speak with Army Command Sergeant Major Richardson. I explained our situation, that the Navy came through with a set of orders to put things in motion, and that I needed his assistance. We talked for about an hour, and before I left to head back to Norfolk, orders were being cut to transfer Teresa to Fort Greely. After reporting in, she’d be assigned to the public affairs office at Fort Richardson (which is adjacent to Elmendorf).

Not many civil service workers I know would have taken a personal interest and gone out of their way to make this happen for a Navy first-class petty officer, but Buzz did. His accomplishments with NBS, the Navy’s SITE systems, and innovations that made the Navy stand out within the AFRTS family resulted from an incredible vision and greatly improved the morale of our Sailors.

USS TRENTON (LPD-14) – fresh out of Bremerton, Washington. As this was my first ship, someone figured out that the USS Elmer Montgomery (DE-1082) had too many Radiomen, and new orders were cut. A young, inexperienced kid, all 18 years old, on his first assignment. I was pretty screwed up as I was still dealing with the death of my high school sweetheart six months earlier. RM2 John “Lumpy” Lambert, RM2 Fred Laws, RM2 Bill Gibson, that crazy Irishman from Boston Tony Sullivan, and RMC James Massey helped me out, professionally and personally, in many ways in adjusting to shipboard life. Chief Massey was the only other radioman in the OC Division who could copy/send Morse Code faster than me. We’d have a lot of fun copying code off the broadcast out of NAVCOMMSTA Norfolk. We were in our homeport at Naval Station Norfolk for a short time before we headed out for GITMO for our shakedown cruise. I enjoyed being underway in many ways, but the quiet of the sea standing outside Radio Central on the O-2 level was what I enjoyed the most. However, things changed suddenly for the crew, not in a good way.

While off the coast of Gitmo on June 28, 1971, a steam valve in TRENTON’s number two engine room ruptured, killing four Sailors instantly and severely injuring six others. The injured Sailors were “Medevacked” first to Guantanamo Bay and then on to the burn ward of the U.S. Army Hospital, Fort Sam Houston, TX. There two of the six subsequently died as a result of their injuries. TRENTON returned to Guantanamo Bay for interim repairs. Then, it made its way back to Norfolk on one engine, which arrived on July 6, where repairs were completed at the Norfolk Naval Shipyard.

I converted to Journalist in 1974 and left the ship for the Defense Information School (DINFOS) at Fort Benjamin Harrison, Indiana.

The next time I would set foot on the TRENTON was January 17, 2007, in Norfolk, Va., when she was decommissioned and transferred to the Indian Navy. There were several Plank Owners on hand to send the old girl off into history.

Fred, Bill, and I remain in touch via Facebook today, some 54 years later.

After returning from a deployment to the Persian Gulf in 1987, it was learned that no Persian Gulf Campaign Medal was planned for awarding to personnel serving during Operation Ernest Will, Operation Nimble Archer, or Operation Praying Mantis. One day, while at a military uniform and tailor shop in Little Creek owned by a retired Navy storekeeper, I was talking to the owner, Tom Hise. He had a look on his face and told me, “I’ll get back with you.” About a month later, Tom called me and said to come over to the store. When I arrived, he placed a medal on the glass countertop. It looked great, but then I put it in my hand for a closer look. I said, “Wow,” and began laughing. “This is hilarious, Tom!” I asked how many Tom had and how much for each medal I bought, enough to give one to each PH or JO from Combat Camera. I showed them to our command master chief and told him, “I have an idea, if you’re game, Master Chief.” We set up an award presentation ceremony and presented one medal to each Sailor. One PH looked at it closely and busted out laughing! “OMG, this is a hoot!” It was clear that the medal was not real or official in any way. We emphasized that it is NOT an official medal nor to be worn on any uniform. The Flagship, Norfolk Naval Station, ran a story on the medal and what was done. I’d asked the reporter not to use the name of the command or any individual names in her story (The date for the ceremony: April Fool’s Day.) The word made it up to Washington, D.C. and caught the attention of the brass at the Department of the Navy. An ALNAV was sent out addressing the “unauthorized medal” and that it was not to be worn on any uniform. Tom Hise was asked to remove the medal from the sale, and he did. Today, if you look on eBay, you can find one of the few fake unauthorized Persian Gulf Campaign Medals for purchase.

MEANWHILE, OVER IN WEST GERMANY:

The time comes when every Sailor, Marine, Airman, and Coast Guardsman’s career comes to an end. It is a point in their life unlike any other. For the Navy, the retirement ceremony is one of many traditions fixed in naval history.

In June 1990, I was stationed in West Germany at the NATO School (SHAPE), Oberammergau. The Berlin Wall had come down, things were upended in West Germany because of events that followed, and the U.S. Army was starting to close facilities around the country, including the Department of Defense Schools in Garmisch. The closest school available would be Stuttgart, a nearly three-hour bus ride (each way) for students. This was unsatisfactory, and we decided to move Teresa and the kids to Nashville, where we would settle down.

I learned that a civilian at the Department of the Navy had disapproved my request for transfer to the Fleet Reserve. So, I picked up the phone and called the Bureau of Naval Personnel to speak with the deputy, a rear admiral who’d been a guest speaker at the school a few months earlier. I told him about the situation in West Germany, where I had the Master Chief of the Navy, Duane Bushey, in my office and asked him to find me a ship somewhere. Duane made a few calls and came up empty-handed. I asked to be assigned to Recruit Training Command at Great Lakes as a Company Commander….no billets are available. I explained that my family was now stateside, and I had 18 months remaining at Oberammergau. “Don’t worry, Chief. I’ll handle it. You will receive a letter shortly approving your transfer to the Fleet Reserve.” True to his word, the letter arrived a couple of weeks later with a date of February 1, 1991.

I was one of two U.S. Navy enlisted personnel assigned to the school. YN1 Russ Struebing was the other. Russ came over to my office, and I showed him the letter. All he could do was smile. We were talking about putting together everything for the ceremony. At the same time, the school’s commandant, an Air Force colonel (who was a real jerk), walked in saying, “NO enlisted member at my command will have a retirement ceremony, Chief. Is that clear?” and walked out. Russ and I looked at each other, shaking our heads in amazement. I got up and closed my office door. Russ looked at me and said: “Well, Chief. What are we going to do? I smiled at him and said, “I don’t know about the colonel, but I AM having a retirement ceremony.”

I picked up my telephone and called Rear Admiral Baird at SHAPE in Belgium. The voice on the other end of the line sounded familiar. “YNC John Bishop. This is not a secure line. How may I help you, Sir or Ma’am? I said my rank and name. “Art!? Art from the Trenton? How the Hell are ya?” I explained the situation, what had just gone down in my office, and that I would like his boss to be my guest speaker. “Hold on. Admiral. I have an old friend on the line. He’s the Chief of Protocol at the NATO School and would like you to be his guest speaker. How’s that sound to you, Sir?” I could hear the admiral in the background: “A Navy Chief wants me to be the guest speaker at his retirement ceremony? Absolutely, I’m in.” I thanked John and said that he’d hear from me shortly. I hung up, shaking my head from side to side. “What did he say, Chief?” I smiled at him and said, “Well, the commandant isn’t going to be very happy.”

I contacted the Chief Petty Officers Mess up at Stuttgart and said I need eight chiefs in full dress blues as my sideboys. “To help piss off an Air Force colonel on your way out. Ohh, Hell yuh! We’ll be there.”

Invitations were printed, and I ensured that the Colonel received his according to military protocol. I knew when he’d opened the envelope because there was a scream coming from his office. I could hear him stomping on the floor as he headed to my office. As it happened, Russ was there on other business. The Colonel stormed into my office and yelled, “I told you you were not allowed to have a retirement ceremony, Chief. Did you not understand me?! “Yes, Sir, I heard you. With all due respect, you obviously have not had much experience with Navy chief petty officers.” “I will have you busted for disrespect to a senior officer!” “No, Sir. With all due respect, only a Navy admiral can take my anchors off my collar tips.” I had the telephone up to my right ear at the time. “By the way, Colonel. I have Admiral Baird on the line. Would you like to repeat what you just said to him, Sir?” His face was beet red when he turned around and left. I should mention that my friend, John, was on the phone listening. “WOW!! He’s pissed!” “Yup, sure is. January 11 arrived; the ceremony went off without a hitch. The Colonel sat there stewing in his own juices during the entire ceremony. (HA!) I’m sure that he NEVER wanted to see another Navy CPO for the rest of his career.

While on the TRENTON back in the early 70s, there was one event on the bridge that came to mind, which seems humorous all these years later. There was one PO2 who was a good guy and a Sailor who liked to party when out on Liberty. He’d been before the captain a few times and was let off with a slap on the hand, but the last time was different: “Sailor. If I see you in front of me again anytime soon, be prepared to put new crows on your uniforms.” Well, we were out on our first deployment, a Mediterranean Cruise in 1972-73. True to his nature, our intrepid Sailor went out on Liberty and got drunk. He was arrested by the Shore Patrol and brought back to the ship. When he woke up the following day, he knew what would happen. He pulled out his dress whites, removed the second-class crow, replaced it with a third-class crow, and then carefully taped the second-class crow over it with small pieces of masking tape. He marched out onto the bridge and stood in front of the captain’s podium at attention.

The charges were read. The Skipper looked at him and said, “Well, you know what’s next, right?” He replied, “Yes, Sir, Captain.” The Skipper announced: “Guilty as charged. Reduction in pay grade to E-4.” Normally, that would have been the end of it, but not this time. The (now former) PO2 took one step back, looked at his left sleeve, took a deep breath, and blew hard. The second-class crow dropped to the deck, revealing a third-class crow. The Skipper leaned over the top of the podium and said: “Blow again, Seaman.” OMG!! You could have heard a pin drop! (Charge: Disrespect to a Superior Commissioned Officer.)

Before I enlisted in 1970, I had said I wanted to be a journalist in the Navy. I retired as a JOC and pretty much continued with my rating’s training and experience. After a year of job searching and going to college on the G.I. Bill, I landed a job with WBCK in Battle Creek, Michigan, as the overnight guy. I worked there for six years when my wife (also a Navy journalist) converted from reservist to active duty, and we returned to the military lifestyle. Following her assignments as an RDC at Recruit Training Command Great Lakes and Naval Media Center Det at Keflavik, Iceland, she was assigned to Naval Personnel Command at NSA Mid-South, Millington, TN. I worked at WLRM 1380 until I was hired as the editor, reporter, and photographer for the base newspaper, The Bluejacket. When I returned home in 2007, I returned to WBCK. In addition to broadcasting duties, I took photos of our local high school football and basketball games broadcast on the station and posted them to a website for families to download for free. I’ve also worked as a stringer for the local newspaper, The Maple Valley News. In 2013, I was tapped to be the Chief Photographer of the National Amateur Baseball Federation Major Division World Series, which lasted 10 years. I’ve contributed to two books on the Civil War:” “Headquarters in the Brush: Blazer’s Independent Union Scouts” by Darl Stephenson and “The Unvanquished” by Patrick O’Donnell, released in 2024. In addition to local television stations, my photography has been used by several iconic Rock and Roll bands, including Paul Revere & The Raiders, The Buckinghams, and Herman’s Hermits. I’m retired now and enjoying every minute of post-Navy life. As we used to say: “Quill and Scroll. That show we roll.””

I joined in 1990 and am a Lifetime Thorapple River VFW Post 8260 member here in Nashville (Michigan). There are plenty of retired Navy CPOs around town, but few are involved with either the VFW Post or the American Legion Post next door in Vermontville. There are so many posts around the country that we struggle to stay alive and viable. There are nearly 90 members on our roster, but the same handful show up for monthly meetings. They are either officers or trustees. We have many Veterans in our two villages. Those of us sitting around the table, except a recently retired Air Force master sergeant, are from the Vietnam Era. My being the only member who was in the Persian Gulf during the U.S. Navy’s oil tanker escort mission and the Iran-Iraq War, I’m the odd man out. We participate in as many local activities as possible, including the annual Memorial Day Parade and Veterans Day assembly at Maple Valley Junior-Senior High School.

Without the influx of younger veterans, the handwriting is on the wall. Soon, the post doors will be closed permanently.

I have been a Navy issue since the day I was born at NAS Pensacola Hospital. Raised in a Navy family, I learned always to arrive 15 minutes early, which made that part of active duty Navy life easy. It was nothing new to me, and it continues to this day. That habit was instilled in our son, who served eight years in the Air Force. At age 38-and-a-half, he returned to the military, this time the Army. “Grandpa,” as his company members called him, is now a sergeant and is coming up with a promotion to staff sergeant later this year.

What do I miss the most? Discipline, camaraderie, a sense of purpose at work, and the excitement of reporting to a new duty station every three or four years. I continue to train and pass along my writing, photography, and broadcasting knowledge to kids looking to pursue any of those areas as a career. I strongly recommend they enlist, preferably in the Navy, to figure out what they want to do in life, leave after one enlistment if they aren’t happy with the military lifestyle, and go to college on the G.I. Bill, thus avoiding the financial trap and burden of massive student loans.

Based on your own experiences, what advice would you give to those who have recently joined the Navy?

To those not from a military family background, be prepared for a culture and lifestyle shock. Much will be expected of you once you raise your right hand and take the Oath of Enlistment. You are part of a team whether you only do one hitch and leave or stay for a career. Learn the ropes and follow the regulations of whatever branch you select (Go, Navy!) Take all your rating schools (A-School, B-School, C-School). Shipboard-related training: Damage Control and Firefighting schools. If you have the opportunity, earn your Enlisted Warfare pin, whichever one applies to you. If you don’t, it’s NOT the end of the world or your advancement opportunity. My wife and I advanced to Chief Petty Officer without a warfare pin to our name, proving many “Know It Alls” wrong. There are many opportunities to earn college credits and/or a degree. However, remember: “Off-Duty Education” is just that: Off-Duty. Do not allow working toward a college degree to interfere with your primary purpose, being a Sailor in the United States Navy. When you leave the military, you will have years of practical experience under your belt. You will have a sense of direction you want to take in life when most of those in college don’t. The G.I. Bill is there for you to begin or finish a college degree. You will have a degree without the mountain of student debt your civilian contemporaries face when they graduate.

Finally, I recall Admiral William J. Crowe once telling a graduating class at Annapolis,” My advice to you is when you arrive at your first duty station, find yourself a good Chief Petty Officer or Gunnery Sergeant”. “Listen to them and learn.” I’ve been retired for 34 years, and that advice still rings true today, in 2025, whether you’re enlisted or an officer.

Remembering my time in the Navy, as a dependent through my father’s service time, my active duty service, post-active duty/retirement years, as a dependent (for a second time when my wife converted from reservist to active duty JO), and, finally here at home, as two retired Navy JOCs, it’s not too difficult to recall those days. I remain in touch with many fellow sailors and officers who have enlisted to this day. TWS gives a place to store these memories for future Sailors to read, reflect on, and even get a laugh or two. “Bravo, Zulu!”