Part 4

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=95 BGCOLOR="#999999" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="176005f0ermwup.gif"> <div> <B>I Didn't Do It Alone</B></div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=190 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <B><IMG SRC="05f60b40.gif" border=0 width="96" height="180" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></div> <div> <B>The Lone Sailor at</B></div> <div> <B>the Navy Memoria</B><FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#0000BF" FACE="Arial" ><B>l</B></FONT></div> </td> <td valign="top" height=385 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <bR> <div> <B>I Didn't Do It Alone</B></div> <div> <B>Part 4</B></div> <div> <B>Naval Air Station Memphis </B></div> <div> <B>Airman Fundamentals School </B></div> <div> <B>     For the life of me, I'm not sure how I got to the base. The base is located in the town of Millington not far from Memphis. I believe I caught a bus for the short ride to the base. I went to the barracks where the students were assigned, stowed my gear, and was immediately exposed to the barracks Master- at-Arms. He was a heavy set, I should say fat, Boatswain mate 2nd Class by the name of Willie with four hash marks on his arm. Each hash mark represents four years service so he had over 12 years in the Navy. He thought he owned the barracks. </B></div> <div> <B>"Sailor let me tell you somethin, This is my barracks and you better keep the damn place clean. Don't mess up or you'll belong to me." </B></div> <div> <B>Just being out of Boot Camp, I said "Yes sir." If I was ever to see this guy again, I would have told old fatso to stick his barracks where it hurts the most. Later, I found out from some of the other students that Willie had a pile of rocks outside the barracks, and made the student who displeased him throw the rocks under the barracks, and then throw them back to the pile. Harassment was quite common in the Navy at this time, and was tolerated. I did my best to keep Willie happy. </B></div> <div> <B>     I spent eight weeks in this school learning about Naval Aviation. We spent many hours in the class room, and then one week was spent going to all the shops to get exposed to the different rating fields. When we went to the Parachute Loft, I knew I found the field I wanted to get in. All the riggers were neat and clean. The rigger who gave the class a briefing told us that the school was in Lakehurst, New Jersey, and to graduate from PR School, you had to make a parachute jump. Wow, I never was in a plane before, and to make a parachute jump really excited me. </B></div> <div> <B>     After we finished the week of visiting all the rates (fields), we had three interviews with a classifier. This man was a civilian who placed each student in the field that best suited the needs of the Navy. My first visit was a bummer. He told me that I was best suited for electronics. All I knew about electronics was turning a radio on and off. I filled out the form, and put Parachute Rigger on all three choices. After spending about a half hour with me, he said that I could only put one choice down two times, and then pick a second choice. We were not getting anywhere. So then I picked PR twice, and my last choice was: "Send me to sea." The next two interviews were much the same except more pressure was applied for me to change my mind and apply for electronics. I didn't give in. </B></div> <div> <B>     Graduation day finally arrived. The class met in a large room, and in came the interviewer. He call each student and told what rate he was assigned, and where it was located. As he called the names and assignments a cheer went out. It seemed most of the guys got their first or second choice. No one got PR. Finally he called my name. "Scott, you are going to Lakehurst to the Parachute Rigger School." Most of the guys knew how much I wanted PR School. Everybody let out a yell. I was the only one to get it. Two days later, I was on a train heading for Philadelphia. </B></div> <div> <B>Naval Air Station Lakehurst, New Jersey </B></div> <div> <B>Parachute Rigger-A School </B></div> <div> <B>     I caught a bus from Philly to Lakehurst, and checked in at the Administration Building. I was told to go to Barracks-B. Barracks-A was on one side that housed the Aerographer Mate (weather guesser) students, and Parachute Rigger students in B on the other with a paved yard in between. The barracks was old with rooms that accommodated four with bunks on each side and a desk in the middle. The duty Master at Arms took me to a room that already had three in it so I was on the top bunk. I found out later that the barracks was full of bed bugs. When I woke up in the morning, I found a few sleeping with me. They sprayed the barracks, but never seemed to get rid of them. I checked in to the School on a Friday. This was early November 1949 - still the tender age of 17. </B></div> <div> <B>     Our class went to indoctrination. Lieutenant Ritter the officer in charge, Chief Lefty LeFever the leading chief, and a few instructors gave the new class a few words of advise. The Navy wanted mature, fleet sailors sent to PR School. I got the once over. They probably wondered how I ever got assigned to the school. A 17 year old sailor fresh out of boot camp was not desired in the school. At the time, I didn't realize that I was not wanted. The next morning we started class. </B></div> <div> <B>Our first phase was sewing machines. They were all Singer machines from the small 31-15 to the large harness machine the 47-10. We had to take the darn things apart, reassemble, and sew perfect stitches. They were very critical when we patched a parachute canopy. Becoming a seamstress was not my favorite class. </B></div> <div> <B>     Our weekends were free if we didn't have the duty. Our duty consisted of barracks fire watch or fire watch at night in the school buildings. The first time I stood watch at the school, several instructors came in and left with parachutes, and made parachute jumps somewhere in Pennsylvania. I don't know how the command found out about it, but I was placed on report for not stopping the instructors from taking the chutes out of the building. Now since these guys were my instructors, I wasn't about to stop them. I told the Executive Officer that these guys run the show as far as I was concerned, and they owned the building. I got out of it, and the instructors got a slap on the wrist. In the Navy, you can get into a situation -- Damn if you do and Damn if don't. There will be several such times in my career as you will see later. </B></div> <div> <B>     When we didn't have the duty on the weekends, we were free to go on liberty. New York was 72 miles to the north, and Philadelphia was 48 miles south. With a five dollar bill, I could catch a bus to NY, have a great time and still have pocket change when I returned. A big mug of draft beer cost fifteen cents. A classmate, Morrow, made money when he went to NY. If a homosexual approached him, he would beat the devil out of the queer (as they were called in those days), take his money, and have a free liberty. </B></div> <div> <B>     I almost lost my wallet in NY. Our pants didn't have pockets. The front had a flap with 13 buttons. I was sure glad that there wasn't 20 original Colonies as that's what the 13 buttons stood for. On liberty, I would just button the top 3 or 4. As the sailors used to say, that gave a girl 13 chances to say no. The sailors kept their bill folds stuck under their jumper in the front. A couple of girls came up to us and started to talk. As we walked down the street, I noticed my bill fold missing. I got excited and started to go back to look for it. As we were walking back, one of the girls picked up a wallet off the sidewalk and asked if that was my bill fold. It was. Now to this day, I can't figure how she got to my wallet without me knowing it. On one liberty, a group of the guys went to a tattoo parlor. We all got the same tattoo - a sailor boy with boxing gloves on. I get reminded of that liberty every time I look at my upper left arm. </B></div> <div> <B>     I enjoyed spending liberty in Philadelphia a bit more than NY.   Philly seemed to have more culture- museums, the Liberty Bell and such. The bus left me out at the city square. The Salvation Army was in a small building next to the walk. They had magazines to read, hot coffee, fresh donuts and good sandwiches at no cost. It sure felt good to get in out of the cold while waiting for the bus. A class mate, Spencer, and I went to Philly for the weekend. As we were walking down Broad Street, a couple of girls were walking ahead of us. One dropped her handkerchief. That was a signal that they wanted to meet us. Girls did that in those days. They were more suttle than the women of today. They showed us around the city - to the museum and other historical sites. Afterward, they took us to a good restaurant. We met them again on Sunday and walked in the park. They lived in Germantown, the north side of Philly. Several times they came to Lakehurst with baskets of goodies. It seemed my friend was getting serious so I quit seeing her. It was fun while it lasted. </B></div> <div> <B>     I feel a little embarrassed about this episode after all these years, but will tell it for what it's worth. Edna, the girl I dated back home, sent a package with boxer style underwear. She painted butterflies all over them. The skivvies were about three sizes too large. One night, I put on a pair and about midnight, I went to the rec room for a soda. I had to pass the Master at Arms shack. Two instructors were there checking the barracks. It was dark so I didn't see them, but they saw me drifting by. </B></div> <div> <B>"Sailor or what ever the hell you are - get over here." </B></div> <div> <B>My skivvies were hanging down to my knees. </B></div> <div> <B>"Where in creation did you get those rags?" </B></div> <div> <B>I told him that my girl friend sent them to me. He just stared at me. </B></div> <div> <B>"How many did your sweetie pie send you? </B></div> <div> <B>I told him I had two pair. </B></div> <div> <B>"Take those damn things off and bring both pair out here." </B></div> <div> <B>I gave him both pair. As I understand, they hung them in Lieutenant Ritter's office as a joke. I always wore Navy issue skivvies from that time forward. </B></div> <div> <B>     At the end of sewing phase, I was set back. I passed my final test, but the phase supervisor thought I needed a bit more experience sewing patches on the parachutes. It wasn't long till I could sew the perfect stitch. As I progressed though the different phases, I finally reached the parachute phase. Chief Betty Parsons was phase supervisor. She acted like a mother hen, and we all thought the world of her. (A few years later, she died of breast cancer.) At this time, a parachute had to be hung in the dry locker and packed ever 30 days. I don't think they use dry lockers anymore. In fact today, they don't open and look at a chute for over a year or more. Back then the chutes were primitive compared to the modern chutes now in use. High performance aircraft with the advent of the ejection seat caused safety equipment to evolve into a state of the art that we didn't know possible at the time. I finally finished my practical work, and now came the final exam. This was April 1950. </B></div> <div> <B>     There were 16 of us in the class. We were given a final test of 150 questions. Many were multiple choice, but others had to be answered from memory. We broke for lunch, and the results were posted for us to see when we returned. A 68 was passing. I looked down the list - at the bottom was Airman Scott - 65. I felt like my world had come to the end. My good classmate friends came over and tried to cheer me up. I was told that they were going to have a board on me within the hour. It looked like Chief LeFever and the other instructors finally succeeded in getting rid of a problem -- me. </B></div> <div> <B>     I walked into the room. Sitting behind the table was Chief LeFever and four other chiefs. Chief LeFever spoke up: "Scott, the board has decided to expel you from the school. We think you ought to spend some time in the fleet, and after a year you can reapply for the school. We will have Administration go out for a set of orders, and you should have them by the middle of next week." I asked to see my test papers but that request was denied. I often wondered whether they dropped my score to get rid of me. The test didn't seem that difficult. I left the room and went to the barracks to see my classmates for the last time. I felt so bad that I shed a few tears. I was defeated. </B></div> <div> <B>     A classmate, Boatswain's Mate Third Class Chamberlain, was changing over to Parachute Rigger and to do so, he had to go through the school, and make a parachute jump. He had a couple of years experience in the Navy, and knew different procedures that a green sailor like me was unaware of. He came over to me, and put his arm around my shoulder.   "Scott, let me give you some advise. Mary Redfern failed her test, and they passed her." (Redfern was the first Wave to go through the school and the first Wave to make a parachute jump. The news media out of New York were already scheduled to come down and film the event so they had no choice but to pass her.)   "Here's what you should do - Put in a request to see the Captain, and use personal reasons. They can't turn you down, and mention to the Captain what they did for Redfern." </B></div> <div> <B>     I hightailed it back to the school to put in my request. Chief LeFever asked me why I wanted to see the Captain. He looked concerned. I told him it was personal, and he approved the request. He had no other choice as he threw the request at me. I felt good as I walked out of his office. </B></div> <div> <B>     I was scheduled to see the Captain the next morning. This was on a Thursday, and the class was going to make their parachute jump the next day. I went to the Captain's office and lightly tapped on the door. My legs were shaking. I never met nor did I desire to come face to face with a Commanding Officer. Let's face it, I was scared. </B></div> <div> <B>"COME IN", came a loud, rough voice from within. Now my throat went dry, and everything seemed to be twitching. I went in, and from the sight of me, I'm sure the CO thought I was about ready to crap my pants. He had a ruddy, mean looking face. On his desk was a flask of whiskey. </B></div> <div> <B>"Sit down sailor, and tell me your problem." </B></div> <div> <B>For some reason, I spoke from my heart telling him why I wanted to be a Parachute Rigger. As Chamberlain told me, I mentioned Mary Redfern. I let it all out. The Captain placed his hand under his chin and didn't say anything for what seemed like eternity. </B></div> <div> <B>"Sailor go back to the school. Someone will be looking for you. You are excused." </B></div> <div> <B>I ran back to the school, and sure enough two instructors led me to a room, and gave me a retest. I couldn't fail this test as there was one instructor on each side of me. If I put down a wrong answer, they would bump me on the shoulder. I must admit - they didn't bump me very much - just enough to make sure I didn't fail. I was told to come back in an hour to see if I was going to graduate. I went back to the barracks and after giving Chamberlain a big hug, I told him the story. All the guys shook my hand and cheered me out the door as I headed back to the school.  I passed.  I was told to go back to the barrack and get some rest. The class will be jumping in the morning. </B></div> <div> <B>My First Parachute Jump </B></div> <div> <B>     I went to the barracks walking on cloud nine. Everyone was excited, and resting for the jump was out of the question. It was nearly two in the morning before I hit the sack. I finally went to sleep. I was in the top bunk. I remember dreaming that I was falling toward the ground. When I woke up, I was laying face down on the floor. I never fell out of a top bunk before nor did I anytime after. I couldn't get back to sleep so I talked with several other guys who were too excited to sleep. Morning came early. </B></div> <div> <B>     Most of the guys were so excited that we missed breakfast. We met at the school about seven thirty. We loaded into a bus at eight and was taken to the tarmac. Another bus had our parachutes with each one tagged with our name. We each had a main chute and a reserve that attached to the harness on the front. The airplane was a twin engine R4D. It was beginning to turn up. This was as close to an aircraft as I ever got. I never flew in a plane, and now I just realized that I wasn't going to land with it. All the guys were quiet as we put our rigs on. The instructors came by to see if we had our harness drawn tight. One yelled out: "Make sure your harness is tight at the crotch or you will be singing soprano before you hit the ground." They had us bend over as we tightened the straps. The main chute was 28 foot and the reserve 24 foot. I gained about 75 pounds. We lined up with an instructor first, then a student, then an instructor. The first man to go out was an instructor as was the last one out. Each student had an instructor in front and behind. I was beginning to feel weak in the knees. I felt like I was about to throw up. It was a good thing I missed breakfast. We boarded the aircraft. I was near the middle of the line up. </B></div> <div> <B>     The aircraft vibrated as the pilot revved up the engines. The next thing I knew, we were airborne. I realized that this was it. The buildings below kept getting smaller and smaller as the plane started to make a circle. The jump master had his head out the door giving the pilot a directional fix. He then threw out a weight with a long piece of webbing attach</B><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" ><HTML><META HTTP-EQUIV="content-type" CONTENT="text/html;charset=utf-8">bscott150@kc.rr.com</FONT><B>ed. This give him some idea as to wind drift. If it landed near the center of the jump circle, he knew where to drop us out. If it didn't, then he had to make an adjustment to get the jumpers in the circle. He smiled and gave a thumbs up. The next thing I heard was: "COMING ON THE RANGE." If I was Catholic, I would have been saying 10 Hail Marys. I thought I was dreaming. This can't be for real. </B></div> <div> <B>     Everyone stood up. We gripped the D-ring to the rip cord. The school didn't use static lines. We were told to wait a few seconds then pull the rip cord. The last man in the stick wanted out of the aircraft as soon as possible as the plane was moving and he didn't want to land in the trees. The instructor on the end was a big guy who wouldn't let anyone stand in his way. The jump master smacked the first instructor on the rump and yelled, "GO-GO- GO-GO". A student ahead popped his chute. The instructor behind grabbed his silk and followed him out the door. This was no time to hold up the jumpers. I started to run toward the door but it seemed like I was running in place. I could feel a hand on the seat of my pants as I flew out the door with my eyes closed.   I don't remember the prop blast nor do I remember pulling the rip cord. I do remember the opening shock. It seemed like every bone in my body was realigned. It woke me up to say the least. I thought, Hey, it worked like they said it would. </B></div> <div> <B>     The ride down was most enjoyable. I felt like I was suspended in mid air. I looked and saw some of the other jumpers. We waved and yelled at each other. As I approached the ground, I bent my legs to help cushion the landing. It was about the same as jumping out of a two story window. I hit the ground with my feet then my rear end. It hurt a bit, but I felt so elated that I forgot about it as soon as I stood up. If anyone lost their rip cord, they were to buy a round of beer at the graduation party. I didn't loose mine. In fact, it is hanging in my room, and I'm looking at it as I write this. </B></div> <div> <B>     We folded our chutes and a bus took us back to the school. As we were going back, we all said we were ready to try it again. This brought a smile on the instructors face. I was ready to go again, but it would be some time in the future before I was given another opportunity to do it. As we arrived at the school, we were told to have a great party and enjoy the weekend. We would get our orders to our next duty station on Monday. I was now a Parachute Rigger Airman. I could sew the PR emblem above my three green stripes. </B></div> <div> <B>     Our class party was at the Enlisted Men's Club on base. Five of the guys had to buy a round of beer for losing their ripcord. After five beers - it was Ballantine Ale 15 % alcohol, I was feeling little or no pain. The party lasted till the club closed around midnight. We went back to the barracks to recuperate. The weekend was uneventful. Everyone washed clothes, packed their sea bags, and just kibitzed about what orders they may get on Monday. </B></div> <div> <B>     On Monday, we were sent to a room topside to get or orders. When I entered the room, I saw a list of billets on the black board. Some were for fighter squadrons, two aircraft carriers, a couple of Naval stations over seas, and a blimp- lighter than air squadron in Weeksville, North Carolina. The first man in the class got to pick first. The instructor would then write his name after the billet. The second man in the class got the next pick and so on. I was last man in the class, so I just watched as the choice billets were being picked. At the end, the instructor said, "Scott it looks like you are heading to North Carolina." My billet read - Airship Squadron One ZP-1. Some of the guys teased me and said that blimp sailors were lighter than air and thicker than crap. That didn't bother me. I finished the school, and I was excited to get to the fleet and see what the Navy was all about. Chief Burns came up to me and said, "Scott you're a lucky sailor. You got the best assignment of the bunch. There is great fishing and Elizabeth City is a good liberty town. You will spend three years there, and it counts as sea duty." I thought: Wow, I'll never get to see a ship. What kind of deal is that?</B></div> <div> <A HREF="id25.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="_"><U><B><IMG SRC="05e251e0.gif" border=0 width="37" height="30" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></U></A><B>  Next Page</B></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>