STORY BEHIND THE PLAQUE
Service Reflections of STGC Gary E. Calvin, U.S. Navy (1960-1982)

I grew up in a Navy family. My dad was a career Boatswain’s Mate Chief. His brother, Roland, was a Chief Radioman who later became a Chief Warrant Officer. All my other uncles served during WWII – Jim and Harry, Army Air Corps, Mick, Navy, and Dick, USMC, WIA at Tarawa. I grew up listening to the stories and knew the military was the life for me. I also give credit to Hollywood, for I saw just about any picture that had to do with the service.

Things didn’t go quite as expected. As a boy, I was burned in a fire and was kept out of physical education classes. By the time I graduated from high school, I was too small to join the Marines, so I opted for the Air Force after visiting each recruiter. I became an ADMINISTRATIVE SPECIALIST and served with the Security Service and Air Training Command. The starting pay in 1960 was $78 a month, with $62 after deductions. It wasn’t much. It took a year and a half to make E-3. Such was their Kangaroo Court promotion system of the time.

After four years, mostly in TEXAS, I took my separation papers and headed home. After checking in with the Marines again, I joined the Naval Reserve unit in July 1964. In August, they asked for volunteers to attend sonar school on active duty. As it was one of the five ratings I had chosen for myself, I volunteered, and off I went in September to the US Fleet ASW School in San Diego. I graduated from A School as an honor man and was meritoriously promoted to STG3. I went on to C School on the MK 114 Underwater Fire Control System after a 14-week stint in Intermediate Electronics class.

Then sea duty on the USS Orleck, DD886, then with the 7th fleet. After some months of operating in Vietnam, we returned to the mainland, where I was sent back to ASW school for AN-SQS 23 Sonar Maintenance School. I was promoted to STG2 at this time and, shortly after graduation, was reassigned to the pre-commissioning crew of the USS SOMERS, DDG34. I made ST1 on this ship in 1968. I left the Navy late in 1970 and returned to my Naval Reserve unit, where I made Chief in 1971, just as I started college.

I served with both the USS Orleck (the Galloping Gray Ghost of the Vietnam Coast) in 1966. We fired more 5″ ammo in combat than any navy ship since WWII, over 10,000 rounds. We conducted numerous underway replenishments of food, ammunition, and oil, sometimes as many as four in a 24-hour period. It was a lot of work, but it gave a feeling of accomplishing something, however small in the grand scheme of things.

We were sweating in the heat and dark, passing the ammo along, and I dropped a 5″ round and thought we were goners. It was picked up, passed back up to the main deck, and tossed overboard. BE CAREFUL!

IN 1969-70, USS Somers DDG34 was the first one-gun destroyer to fight in Vietnam. Our after mount had been replaced by the Tartar Missile System. Obviously, we fired fewer rounds, and it was a lot less work. You find out at some point that if you work hard and study a lot, you can make rank (especially in a critical rating like sonar), which means more responsibility but less grunt work. Now you get to supervise grunge work.

The three types of duties we performed mostly were NGFS (naval gunfire support), usually of the Marines on shore, plane guard (following a carrier and picking up its downed pilots); search and rescue (going in close to shore and within artillery range of the enemy and picking up downed pilots). With one little gun, we mostly did the plane guard. We also practiced various drills like man overboard and abandon ship, over and over and over. For me, the basic lesson was: You can never know too much, even though some of the LTs thought they already did.

I figured going to Vietnam on two different ships could be risky, but we didn’t draw much really dangerous duty. As a nearly new DDG, I think the Navy did not want to risk one gun can when they had so many old World War II-era cans available.

It turns out that the high-risk and scariest job was following an aircraft carrier from southern Taiwan and up the Straits of Taiwan (between the Taiwan island and mainland China). Our dinky 2250-ton canned plane was guarding for a 100,000-ton carrier, which was taking heavy water at the O10 level – that is, ten stories above the flight deck, which in turn was about another ten stories above our little destroyer. We were “seat” belted into our racks, so we didn’t fall out on the rolls, and seat belted to our chairs in sonar, though, in that weather, we could have just as well turned off sonar and save the equipment a few hours of pitching and rolling to our maximum.

It turned out to be too much even for the carrier, and we both turned around, got out of there, and went north on the Pacific side. To that, add trying to eat when you cannot walk straight and dealing with the many smells of sick sailors barfing all over the place. Thank goodness for saltine crackers, the heavy weather lifesaver that helps settle the poor old tummy. If reincarnated, I should go with the army to avoid heavy seas like that. We survived, though we might have rolled over any number of times with the probable loss of all hands. That would be my Closest to Death experience.

Hard Hats and Hard Duty: As an STG3 in Yokosuka, I got assigned to Shore Patrol in the area called the Jungle: two small white SPs and a few hundred dark skinned sailors. Now, most of them just wanted their drink and fun without the problems that they might have to face with drunken white sailors. We were told that if a problem, to go into a bar and call the hard hat SPs. I suspect these guys did this as their assignment in Yokosuka. Well, mostly it was quiet until a fight broke out in one bar and spilled out into the street. One very large man (6’4 250) saw us two white SPs and yelled at us. My partner, a PO2, asked him to calm down, after which he removed his jacket, threw it hard onto the hood of the car, and exclaimed No Damn SP’s Are Going to Take Me In. He was right about that. I headed for the bar to make the call while my partner tried to calm things down. By the time hard hats showed up to save the day, the excitement was over, and we were still alive and unbruised. At 5.2 120 ,I was not really built for SP duty. I had other SP duties, but this was the scariest.

Though we spent far too much time there, I loved JAPAN – the food, the beer, the ladies, the history. It was a deja vu kind of feeling, like I had lived there before in a past life and had loved it then. I became a fan of everything JAPANESE after that. It was a little strange thinking back to my dad and uncles talking about the war. Though many hated the Japanese, I never heard a negative comment about them. My dad fought on battleships and destroyers and was involved in campaign after campaign, including several kamikaze attacks. Still, he seemed to have more respect for their willingness to give their lives and fight like hell than any kind of hatred, and I pretty much felt the same way, though we lost a lot of boys to those Japanese, and it would have been a lot easier to understand hateful comments.

I also loved my student training years (1964-66) at the US Fleet ASW School in San Diego. I just took it like a duck to water, though I was certainly no great shakes as a high school student. I really just fell in love with the base and its location near Point Loma.

My least favorite experience was probably leaving Taiwan during a storm and following a carrier up the Straits of Taiwan. The carrier was taking water on its O-10 level (ten stories above the flight deck), and our little DD was getting the crap kicked out of it. Eventually, the carrier turned around, got out of there, and we happily followed. That was probably as close to death for all of us as we could have rolled over and sunk with one wrong move.

When I was in the Air Force, I had just returned from lunch and went to the squadron office to pick up our mail when I heard about the JFK assassination. Talk about knowing where you were when it happened. A later one at the same base was watching the news late one night and seeing the Beatles for the first time, with the crowd screaming and hearing they were coming to America.

The two accomplishments that stand out for me were making chief in seven years, four months after joining the Navy as an E-3; later, as a naval reserve, CPO, being the first in my family to receive a college degree (Bachelor of Science, Business Administration, Oregon State University, 1976). My uniform no longer fits, but I still have my CPO cover and class ring.

Joined the Navy in 64, meritorious promotion to PO3 in 65, PO2 in 66, PO1 in 68, and CPO in 71.

Besides promotions, especially as a chief, finishing over 70 weeks of schooling (at a school, C schools, plus others like EOD, ASROC, and Career Counseling). After completing my CPO training, I attended and graduated from Oregon State University while serving in the reserves, utilizing the GI Bill. I have the honor of being invited to attend the John F. Kennedy Graduate School of Business at Harvard University in Massachusetts, based on my GMAT scores, which qualify me for graduate school.

Since they were all for conduct, campaign, or marksmanship, I would say my first medal was the Air Force Good Conduct Medal, which was still in use at the time, although it was based on the old Army Good Conduct Medal. The Air Force was part of the Army until 1947, and they have been trying to do things their way ever since. It took until about ’63 or ’64 before the Air Force got its own medal.

I also received a badge as a military Career Counselor from an Army General after completing some training with the Army.

My A and C School instructors at Fleet ASW School in San Diego. All were First Class to Master Chief, and they seemed to enjoy their naval service and job immensely. At that time, Sonar Tech was a great rating for fast promotions. I think the result was some very happy campers, knowing that their intelligence, study, and hard work paid off in excellent promotional opportunities. It just showed through and gave us junior swabbies some real hope. Having served in the Air Force, where the promotions could be as slow as molasses, had I stayed, I would probably have been making E-5 at about the time I made E-7 in the Navy. I understand that in later years, the Air Force switched to the Navy promotion system, a good move!

USS Orleck:Ritenhour, Corbin, Maynard, Greene, Frantisak, Clark, McGrath, Robishaud; Ltjg Swan. The Senior Chief we nicknamed Yogi Bear, Ens Reppen.

USS Somers: Baize, Lee, Hatcher, Laplante, Dirkson, Halligan, our TMI Leading PO, Woolley. Mitchell. STGCS Roberts.

I know Mr. Reppen passed away in a car accident; we usually disliked ensigns and know-it-alls, but Mr. Reppen was a special officer and a good man.

STG1 Baize – passed away from cancer around 2012 – he was the best tech I ever met and smart as a whip. He could have easily made MASTER CHIEF had he stayed and had it all. He was my good friend, and I have missed him a lot.

Ritenhour was a clown, but a real worker when needed. We all had nicknames, and mine for him was Dicky Gross Pig; no more needs saying.

Maynard was known throughout the navy as the Fat Duck, whose daddy was a vice admiral, and his brothers were officers, and he ragged on officers every chance he got, then retired as an LT.

Greene: Though only STG2, he was the leading PO in our division and really good at his job.

Hatcher: Last I saw him, he was STG1 on a can. He was a personality plus a good worker; any lead PO would be more than happy to have HATCHER in his crew. EGG-CRACKER, where are you?

Roberts: The Senior Chief and WWII vet have to be gone by now. He was tough as nails, scary as hell, but really a good guy to work for. He treated us well.

WOOLLEY: WILD and WOOLLEY were just that. He was only a gunner’s mate, but he saw the light, reenlisted as a sonar technician, and was made chief. He was the best looking of all of us and had no problems with the ladies. Kind of a JOHNNY CASH look. One of the nicest guys I’ve ever known.

All the guys I mentioned were nice, but Ritenhour, Woolley, Hatcher, Mitchell (who invited me to his wedding), Baize, and Lee were my personal favorites. If you serve in the Navy, you could not do better than this gang – I was so lucky to have known them all.

In Air Force basic training, one of the things we did was get into our shorts and t-shirts to do physical training. On this particular day, we were doing three-person races where two men were positioned on either side of the third man, who faced in the opposite direction. Because I was the smallest (and slowest), a scheme was cooked up, whereas the two fastest runners matched me. As we took off, they instructed me to lift my feet off the ground and pretend to be running backward. Essentially, they carried me to the endpoint, at which time we headed back, with me facing the target and the other two facing away. Once again, they carried me while I pretended to run. I could see from the expression on the Tactical Instructor’s face that he knew exactly what was happening and was laughing along with everyone else. We won!

In the Navy, we STs had to drop the BT. There was a winch on the fantail that we attached to and dropped into the ocean, which measured the ocean’s temperature at different depths. Most of it is easy, but the most critical comes at the end. We were at sea doing trials, and the yard workers wanted to see it at work and asked the captain, who was right there, who told someone who told me the captain wanted to see a BT drop. It was broad daylight, the best time to do it. I did everything right, step for step, until I turned on the winch to pull it back up the 300 yards it was out. Because of the speed of the winch, the BT can come out of the water very fast, and you have to hit the brake at the right time. I didn’t. I was a little slow. The BT came out of the water before I thought it would, and I pulled the brake, but it was too late. Like a merry-go-round, it came from the bottom up to the right side of the winch, clear up to being on top of the winch when the speed dropped to zero, and the BT dropped straight down, hitting the winch, then towards the water which is fine as long as the metal wire holding it does not break – it broke.

Goodbye, BT, and right in front of our captain and shipyard workers. A bit embarrassing. I had just made the first class and was sure to be returning to the second class soon. The look on their faces I would not want to interpret here. It was the last time the BT and I had some bad run-ins. When I left the ship in NOVEMBER 70, the BT was being retired, and the winch was being removed from the ship. It was all replaced by a modern electronic version. I wonder how I might have screwed that one up!

After college, I decided between returning to active duty, getting an 8-5 job, and staying in the reserves. I entered the accounting field because it was wide open, at least at the accounting technician level. After several years of payables, receivables, petty cash, and the revolving fund, I moved on to the management analyst field, where my college work helped me pass the test at a high enough level to be hired right away.

The legislature wanted the Highway Division (later ODOT) to automate its system of purchasing vehicles, maintaining them, etc. For ten years, I worked as an equipment analyst, training in the field, fixing system problems, working with programmers, providing reports to management, and providing a lot of customer service. With 2000 approaching, the state was concerned about the shortage of programmers to handle the conversions (two-year date fields to four-year date fields). The result was to train employees to be computer programmers to help with the workload. ODOT was allowed one trainee spot of 48 who applied for it – I got it. After several months of school, I was promoted to Info Systems Tech 3 – Programmer/Software Development. On July 1, 2000, I retired with 23 years of state service.

I am a life member of the Veterans of Foreign Wars. I belong to the National Sonar Association (ex-ping jockeys) and the USS Orleck Association of former crewmen and officers.

Because I am generally in good health, I have not had to use the medical benefits offered by the VA. Though I am 71, my doctors keep me going without even one night in the hospital (knock on wood).

The benefit I enjoy the most is being able to find former shipmates. I still write to two fellow airmen I met in the Air Force, one in 1960 and the other in 1962. I have found a few shipmates, including a well-liked division officer, who later became an LT and is now a retired Captain. Another shipmate is from the A and C schools I attended – we studied together, and he remained in the Navy and retired as CWO. Still, another was my ship’s captain and a retired rear admiral (one of the few officers I thought really had it together).

I am still looking, but many left the Navy after their initial enlistment, and it can be hard to find unless they somehow managed to hook up with this kind of organization.

Many guys aren’t into keeping up acquaintances until they get older and wish they had done a better job – me, too! How many guys have I met in my life who have told me they wish they had stayed in the service. Over time, we forget the hateful things and remember the good things.

I saw firsthand, as an IBM worker, then a state worker, and now as a retiree living in hope with 70 others, the various kinds of workers hired. Some are just so good and dependable, and I wonder if they were in the service or had really great parents. However, few of the bad ones had much training of any worth. I don’t mean bad like a criminal, but the kind that drives bosses crazy – they don’t come to work, they are always late, they do not finish their work, they are poor at customer relations, and they often quit (before being fired) without notice, and so on. If any of these had military service, it probably ended with a less-than-honorable discharge.

You just had to meet certain requirements in the military or find someone’s boot in your fanny – right foot leadership. I think many employers look favorably upon ex-military just because of the work-related training they are given. On the other hand, kids 18 graduate from high school at 18 think they will start at 100 grand as president or vice president of some company. How often does it happen? I suppose the military has affected me in many ways, but how I dealt with the world of work was the most obvious.

Think before you act. Doing something stupid to impress your friends is not smart. Get as much schooling as you can, stand and study hard, and use the quiet wee hours of the morning. Keep your drinking down, and don’t drive if you are drinking -use the bus, taxi, or whatever. Make sure to salute officers when not on a ship; better to salute a chief that looks like an officer than not salute an officer who looks like a chief. Spend a good chunk of your off-duty time studying for promotion- they will not just hand you a crow. Everything must be earned step by step.

It gave me a forum to answer questions and to write about military-related subjects for others to view long after I have left this life. By writing about things, I remember I find myself remembering things I had forgotten.