Hugh Neeld: The Curmudgeon Report

On Friday, Oct. 13, 1775, meeting in Philadelphia, the Continental Congress voted to outfit two sailing vessels, armed with 10 carriage guns, as well as swivel guns, and manned by crews of eighty, and to send them out on a cruise of three months to intercept transports carrying munitions and stores to the British army in America.

This was the original legislation out of which the Continental Navy grew and as such constitutes the birth day of the Navy.

Having served in that honorable branch of the military, I am aware of the many changes that it has seen, and became more so recently when I saw this story in the paper recently:

SAILORS GETTING SOLDIERS’ TRAINING FOR LAND-BASED COMBAT SKILLS
Fort Jackson, S.C. (AP) -- “Navy sailors,” the story started, “are trading their sea legs for dry land combat skills to help them survive in war zones, and the training is coming from an unusual place—the Army.”

Now this may sound like something new to those of you who weren’t around in the 1940’s, but to those who served in the Navy back then, it will sound familiar.

The day after enlisting, I and a hundred other recruits left Fort Worth by train for boot camp in San Diego. It was a two-day trip in boxcars that had been converted to transport troops. They had three-tiered wooden bunks and screened windows that did little to keep out the cold night air and blowing sand as we crossed the desert in New Mexico and Arizona.

In Arizona we picked up two more cars of recruits from the Midwest. We arrived in San Diego late at night and were loaded into buses for transport to the Naval Training Station. There, we were lined up under a brightly lit open air shed and a grizzled chief petty officer called roll. After that we took cold showers (no hot water available) and were assigned to barracks. For all the brave talk we had indulged in during the day, in the dark silence of the barracks, second thoughts about the wisdom of my actions emerged. Sleep was out of the question.

At 5 a.m., reveille sounded. Our company commander, another chief petty officer, had us line up in front of our bunks. That day, he walked us through what would be our routine for the next six weeks; reveille at 5, 10 minutes to dress, then fall into formation outside for roll call. This was followed by calisthenics and a march to the mess hall for breakfast. Drilling took up the rest of the morning. I’d learned all the marching maneuvers in R.O.T.C., so this was nothing new.

After lunch there was a lecture or instruction in various skills such as shipboard fire fighting, how to talk on battle phones, aircraft identification—things that sailors needed to know.

One day was spent at the Marine firing range at Camp Pendleton. We had to qualify on the M-1 rifle under Marine instructors (notoriously tough on sailors). I could achieve all the firing positions except one; the sitting position. For this you had to sit parallel to the target with your upper body positioned between your legs, elbows resting on your shins. I had a hard time achieving that position, and a harder time hitting the target while there.

In order to help, the instructor sat on my shoulders and bounced until the position was attained. I never understood why a sailor needed to know how to fire a rifle anyway, unless he was planning to mutiny.

Today, older and somewhat wiser, I can see the necessity of training sailors in combat skills. As Army senior drill instructor, Warren Brown, said in the newspaper story that got me started on this, “It’s not about being in the Army or Navy anymore. The name of the game is staying alive.”

---

A question to ponder:

How is it possible to have a civil war?

putterhugh@suddenlink.net

---

Hugh Neeld is a freelance columnist for TylerPaper.com.

Hugh Neeld is a freelance columnist for TylerPaper.com.
()