Navy Story #7
Bumper Ships
It was a dark and stormy night. Well, actually, it was a dark and clear night. It was warm, in late August, I think. Pensacola had just left the port of Rota, Spain, and was headed
west toward the United States. Everyone was pretty excited, because we were heading back home after a 6-month deployment in the Mediterranean. The year was 1975.
It really was dark. I was the conning officer, as Junior Officer of the Deck. After we had been underway just a short time, the Captain decided to go below deck, because things looked
pretty clear and safe.
But one thing about being near a port or a major coastal city at night is that the lights on land make it hard to spot other ships that happen to be between you and the coastal lights.
The other ship's lights tend to look like some lights on the coast. We were still pretty close to the coast, probably no more than a mile or so away, because the coast of Spain at that point runs from Rota, almost directly
west toward Portugal, so that part of the coast was on our starboard side as we sailed west. The lights on shore were very bright and numerous. CIC (Combat Information Center, used for normal maneuvering assistance when not
in combat) had seen on their radar, and reported to the bridge, a ship off the starboard side, a little aft of abeam (it was back a little bit from being directly beside us), but had indicated that it was not on a collision
course.
As we continued to sail along, I glanced out the starboard side of the bridge occasionally to make sure nothing was over there. The "rules of the road" at sea say that if
a ship is on your starboard side, you have to yield to that ship -- you are responsible to make sure the two ships don't collide. The way looked clear. There were still a lot of lights over there, but it was just lights
on shore, right?
Wrong. The Captain, making use of one of those uncanny things about Captains that makes them so valuable, had sensed something and had come back up to the bridge. He took one look
out the starboard side of the bridge, and immediately barked out "I have the conn!" which meant that he was now commanding the engine room and the helmsman. I looked at the bridge's radar scope and saw a blip
really close to us, then went over to the starboard side and saw the port-side lights of a ship really close to us. What a scare! The Captain gave orders to come up to flank (fastest) speed, and made a sharp turn to port,
then a sharp turn to starboard, and then ordered us back to the course and speed we had been doing prior to his coming up to the bridge. Then he called the Officer of the Deck (OOD) and me over to his chair and proceeded
to let us know how close we had come to colliding with that ship on the starboard side. He was understandably very angry, and the OOD and I were very embarrassed and sheepish and submissive and apologetic. The OOD got yelled
at more than I did, because it was his ultimate responsibility to look out for situations like that, but I also was supposed to keep an eye out for them, even as I took care of other items on the watch. And CIC got yelled
at because they hadn't given us updated course, speed, and closest approach information on that contact. We all learned a valuable lesson, and the Captain saved the day.
I wanted to tell you this story because it shows again how much it was a downright miracle that I even survived my 3-1/2 years in the Navy! The story of the NATO helicopter that I told
you a few days ago, and the pole-vaulting landing craft, are others that show the same thing. Even in peacetime, the folks who are in the armed forces face many dangers day after day. They are serving their country at the
risk of life & limb even in peacetime.