Reflections of a Blackshoe

[Mary, Proud Mom of Nick]

Reflections of a Blackshoe by VAdm Harold Koenig, USN
(Ret)

I like the Navy.

I like standing on the bridge wing at sunrise with salt
spray in my face and clean ocean winds whipping in from the four
quarters of the globe -the ship beneath me feeling like a living thing
as her engines drive her through the sea.


I like the sounds of the Navy - the pierc ing trill of the
boatswains pipe, the syncopated clangor of the ship's bell on the
quarterdeck, the harsh squawk of the 1MC and the strong language and
laughter of sailors at work.

I like the vessels of the Navy - nervous darting destroyers,
plodding fleet auxiliaries, sleek submarines and steady solid carriers.
I like the proud sonorous names of Navy capital ships: Midway, Lexington
, Saratoga , Coral Sea - memorials of great battles won. I like the lean
angular names of Navy 'tin-cans': Barney, Dahlgren, Mullinix, McCloy -
mementos of heroes who went before us.

I like the tempo of a Navy band blaring through the topside
speakers as we pull away from the oiler after refueling at sea. I like
liberty call and the spicy scent of a foreign port. I even like all
hands working parties as my ship fills herself with the multitude of
supplies both mundane and exotic which she needs to cut her ties to the
land and carry out her mission anywhere on the globe where there is
water to float her.

I like sailors, men from all parts of the land, farms of the
Midwest, small towns of New England , from the cities, the mountains and
the prairies, from all walks of life. I trust and depend on them as they
trust and depend on me - for professional competence, for comradeship,
for courage. In a word, they are "shipmates."

I like the surge of adventure in my heart when the word is
passed "Now station the special sea and anchor detail - all hands to
quarters for leaving port", and I like the infectious thrill of sighting
home again, with the waving hands of welcome from family and friends
waiting pierside. The work is hard and dangerous, the going rough at
times, the parting from loved ones painful, but the companionship of
robust Navy laughter, the "all for one and one for all" philosophy of
the sea is ever present.

I like the serenity of the sea after a day of hard ship's work,
as flying fish flit across the wave tops and sunset gives way to night.
I like the feel of the Navy in darkness - the masthead lights, the red
and green navigation lights and stern light, the pulsating
phosphorescence of radar repeaters - they cut through the dusk and join
with the mirror of stars overhead. And I like drifting off to sleep
lulled by the myriad noises large and small that tell me that my ship is
alive and well, and that my shipmates on watch will keep me safe.

I like quiet midwatches with the aroma of strong coffee - the
lifeblood of the Navy - permeating everywhere. And I like hectic watches
when the exacting minuet of haze -gray shapes racing at flank speed
keeps all hands on a razor edge of alertness. I like the sudden
electricity of "General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your
battle stations", followed by the hurried clamor of running feet on
ladders and the resounding thump of watertight doors as the ship
transforms herself in a few brief seconds from a peaceful workplace to a
weapon of war - ready for anything. And I like the sight of space-age
equipment manned by youngsters clad in dungarees and sound-powered
phones that their grandfathers would still recognize.

I like the traditions of the Navy and the men and women who made
them. I like the proud names of Navy heroes: Halsey, Nimitz, Perry,
Farragut, John Paul Jones. A sailor can find much in the Navy:
comrades-in-arms, pride in self and country, mastery of the seaman's
trade. An adolescent can find adulthood. And some find nothing but a
disappointing self.

In years to come, when sailors are home from the sea, they will
still remember with fondness and respect the ocean in all its moods -
the impossible shimmering mirror calm and the storm-tossed green water
surging over the bow. And then there will come again a faint whiff of
stack gas, a faint echo of engine and rudder orders, a vision of the
bright bunting of signal flags snapping at the yardarm, a refrain of
hearty laughter in the wardroom and chief's quarters and messdecks. Gone
ashore for good they will grow wistful about their Navy days, when the
seas belonged to them and a new port of call was ever over the horizon.

Remembering this, they will stand taller and say:

"I WAS A SAILOR ONCE. I WAS PART OF THE NAVY & THE NAVY WILL
ALWAYS BE PART OF ME."

[Mary, Proud Mom of Nick]

For anyone who is ex Navy, retired Navy or been in the Navy long enough to understand, I thought this was very well written and could be appreciated by many.

[Anti M]

Even those of us who were dry-land black shoes get it.