Whenever I talk to sailors, particularly those assigned to aircraft carriers, the topic of “small boys” (Navy vessels such as frigates, destroyers and cruisers – which by nature, carry a downsized crew that in proportion comprises only hundreds of sailors who spend their time at sea feeling every pitch and roll of the open sea), never fails to bring an immediate, determined response accompanied by a defiant shake of the head.
“Are you crazy? I wouldn’t be caught dead on one of those boats,” they classically say, uttering the phrase “those boats” as if receiving orders to a Navy ship of this stature was a horrible thing, something to be avoided at all costs.
And yet, every “small boy” sailor I’ve ever known has felt so emotionally attached to his command, so bound by personal loyalty to his shipmates, a transfer to shore duty is almost a painful experience.
My son and I came to understand this bond well when we spent two full days at sea on one of the Navy’s frigates – the USS Kauffman.
As two of the six “tigers” taking the cruise – two adult males, two adult females, a youngster and my own teenage son – I can say unequivocally that we were treated no better or worse than any member of the 200-plus all-male crew assigned to this ship.
No special events were organized. No fanfare, no falderal specifically designed to impress and dazzle those of us constituting the small handful of civilian guests who had gathered onboard for this two-day cruise. What we witnessed from the moment this ship left the pier seemed to be routine shipboard business all the way.
We observed a general quarters exercise, including the firing of topside weapons. An impromptu fully dressed-out fire drill. Throughout both, Casey sat entranced. We slept in racks, took our meals with the crew, slowly achieved our “sea legs” as the ship traveled choppy white-capped seas, sunny, bouyant seas, moderately stormy seas replete with lashing rain and fog.
Seasickness? Yes, it happens on the “small boys.” Casey and the other female aboard spent a few hours the first day in their designated racks dealing with queasy stomachs, then felt fine for the remainder of the voyage.
By day, we sat and watched the fantail dramatically rise and fall with the rhythmic motion of the ocean as sailors went about their work, drifting aft for a smoke break or a brief after-lunch respite spent languishing in the sun.
By night, we watched movies on the ship’s TV and observed the crew as it went through its routine paces, lulled as we were by the relaxing, galloping forward motion of the ship, often to the point of momentarily falling asleep in the chairs we sat in.
Pitching and rolling? Both are a perpetual fact of life on the “small boys.” But, as Casey and I swiftly discovered, you grow accustomed to the ever-changing movement quicker than you think you might, learning to saunter evenly along passageways without staggering left and right, climbing up and down ladders without hesitation, stepping through hatches, sitting down to meals and even showering, as if it were second nature.
Did the 200-plus male sailors stationed aboard this ship care that there were two females aboard for this cruise? Not in the least. They didn’t give me or the other woman – an extremely attractive active-duty female – a second glance the entire time we were underway with them. Wives and girlfriends can believe what they want and worry like crazy when they send their sailors out to sea with women aboard. I can say without any hesitation that their fears are unfounded. These men were nothing but gentlemen and professionals every step of the way.
As for Casey, he walked back down the brow when we arrived in Norfolk two days later with brilliant stars in his eyes. Stars resulting from the hours we spent intermittently over the course of this cruise sitting in the Chiefs Mess. It wasn’t anything special that these CPO’s might have thought they did, playing computer games with my son, cracking a joke or two for his benefit, tostling his hair as they walked by.
Still, they managed to do a tremendous amount for a kid, especially this kid – in need of a real future. A future he just might find in the Navy.
Which he did, four years later.
To them, I say Thank You from the bottom of my heart.
Not only for giving my son something worthwhile to aspire to as he charted his own future course through the rough high seas of his teenage years. But also proving to me once again that sometimes the best teachers in our lives are those who never say a word and yet, manage to teach oceans – simply by leading through their own best example.
If you get a chance to take a Tiger Cruise, don’t pass it up. It will be an unforgettable experience.
