When I was a lad of six or seven years old, living in Portland, Oregon, my father would take me down to the "Sea Wall" on the Willamette River during the Rose Festival and tour the ships that came up there. My father had served in the Navy during World War Two and Korea. He knew a lot about the ships and what they did, or could do. He had also told me many stories about his time in the Navy.
At one such Rose Festival, we went down to tour the ships. There was one ship, a large, bulky thing with a large number "7" painted up on its bow. It had four guns, but it was so large and bulky looking, I thought, "This is more of a TARGET than a fighting ship." It just didn't look like it was something that could duke it out with battleships and destroyers.
The other ships that were there looked a heck of a lot more "lethal" than this big number "7" ship. I asked dad, "What kind of ship is that?" and indicated the big, fat, number "7" ship.
He said, "That is a Repair Ship. It has all kinds of workshops and machine shops to do repairs on other ships that are damaged in battle."
Then he said something that for some odd reason, burned itself into my brain: "YOU CAN MAKE ANYTHING YOU WANT ON A REPAIR SHIP, AND THE GUYS ON A REPAIR SHIP ARE VERY PROUD OF THEIR WORK BECAUSE THEY HAVE TO STAY IN THE BACKGOUND AND DON'T SEE MUCH FIGHTING." This was about 1959 or so.
Fast-forward to 1974. USS Hector(AR-7) was moored at Mare Island, California.
Down in the foundry, someone had brought a "Navy Exchange" magazine and it had all kinds of stuff one could buy. I looked through it, of course, as new reading material was scarce. There was this door-step plate advertised. It was a gaudy, disgusting thing with a blue eagle and red stars and had white trim and was all shiny chrome looking and was stamped from sheet metal. Certainly NOT made to any standards I would consider "good" and working in the foundry, we could sure as hell make a better one.
We were getting set to go to WESPAC once again. I was up on the 01 deck, starboard side, back by the pipe shop when I look out on the pier and I see our new Captain walking towards the ship. Up on his shoulder was one of these ugly-assed, door-step plates.
We sailed for Guam just after the first of the year, stopping for a short time at Pearl Harbor, then to Guam, where we had to move off the ship so the work on our berthing compartments and mess decks could be done. We also had to still commute to the ship daily to stand watches, do our daily work and assist in the overhaul.
Then the "Operation New Life" commenced and we had to process and feed and house several thousand Vietnamese refugees.
One night, I had the duty. I had drawn the mid-watch "Roving Security Patrol" and had to walk all over the ship checking for flooding, fire and other hazards to the ship, such as people doing nasty things. I had to check in at various places with the Latham Clock that had keys all over the ship and had to be clicked in the clock to prove the watch stander was going all the places he had to go.
Out on the 01 deck, portside forward is the door to the Captain's cabin. As I roam by, my eye spied something shining in the night: It was that damn door-step plate! My mind was roiling with the memories of what my dad had said, the lack of respect our captain was showing us, and my being short and not caring much about what was going on. By Golly, I was going to DO something about this!
I went down to the foundry and obtained a screwdriver suitable for the screws holding that thing to the deck, then back up topside I went.
Damn those screws were L-O-N-G! Had to be four, maybe five inches long. It took a long time to get them all out because of the length, and I had to still get all over the place to click those keys in the clock. But Mid-Watch lasted four hours. I got the job done.
The screws went over the side right there. The door-step plate was carried back aft and I threw it as hard as I could out into Apra Harbor, Guam, where, unless they dredged it up since then, it still lays on the bottom to this day.
I know it was "wrong" to do this, and I confess my sins here for all to see. I also have thought a bit about making a new one and replacing it, but I no longer have the means to do so. I came close to having a small foundry of my own where I could cast such a thing, and was going to have it sent to or given to the Captain at his home or maybe a reunion. But such is out of my control now.
But I also know how it felt to be insulted and disrespected by someone I felt should be a leader and have our respect. I did this not for just me, but the whole crew and the wonderful ship we all called home.
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