Date: Fri, 30 Apr 1999 10:22:44 -0400 I had the great good fortune to spend a great deal of
time with them "out of their environment" back
in 1992. The enlisted crew of DALLAS gave up their
Holiday Weekend over Memorial Day (including a bunch
from the SubScol) and came up to Marblehead to march in
our Memorial Day Parade and spend the day. Once we got the COB drunk, everything eased up and it
was like watching a rerun of experiences from years gone
by, but not forgotten. The times have changed. The miliary is no longer an
environment unto itself. Too much social experimenting
and forgetting that these kids have volunteered to put
themselves in harm's way if necessary. The "raw
material" hasn't changed though. They just need to
be around a bunch of old foggies are awhile to realize
that what they are feeling "inside" is what
made us and our predesessors what we were (and probably
still are deep down). Even the officers are alright when
you get them out of the "career paths" long
enough to be submariners. My pleasure. I enjoyed the sharing. Come back to
CAUSS and keep the spirit alive.
DonReflections on the character of submariners
A dialog between Don Merrigan and Haines Brown
From: Don Merrigan
I recall my years on the boats with considerable
pleasure. Perhaps it was the cooperative teamwork in
relation to a machine completely under the team's
control and rather cut off from outside concerns. I
suspect there's some interesting psychological aspects
to this. I've had no contact whatsoever with any
submariners since I left the boats, and so have no
idea how others would characterize their experience.
Roughly the same ... Nostalgic warmth of being with
those who understand without going into the details they
wouldn't understand anyway.
I did attend here a ceremony for the crew of the USS
Hartford when it was put together and tried to
socialize a bit. But no one (I mean crew, rather than
officers) seemed to be relaxed or have any sense of
humor. Was that how we were, and I've only forgotten?
I doubt it.
No we weren't. We were those "rotten, uncouth,
crazy, smelly submariners." Today, the kids are
PC'd to death. HOWEVER ... I visited DALLAS and was able
to attend SEAWOLF's Commissioning and found that if
these kids are able to be by themselves and you can
spend some time with them, they really aren't much
different than ourselves.
We took great pride in our work and our boat, and
didn't feel at all insecure. A lot of horseplay. We
were having a good time and knew it. My history
department was a lot like that, but in recent years it
soured, and people began to feel insecure, loose the
joyful recklessness combined with a principled
attention to duty. Perhaps it's just that the times
have changed.
Thanks for allowing me to reflect a bit on these
things.
Green Board!
The U.S.
Submarine Service is the best The Silent
Service
"Only a submariner can understand another
submariner".
Frank E. Colucci EM2(SS) USN "We shall never forget it was our
submarines that held the lines against the enemy while our
fleets replaced losses and repaired wounds".
Fleet Admiral C.W. Nimitz USN
"I can assure you that they went down
fighting and that their brothers who survived them took a grim
toll of our savage enemy to avenge their deaths".
Vice Admiral C.A. Lockwood Jr. USN The Silent
Service
Pride Runs Deep
There are stories told about knights of old
and the shooting of Dan McGrew Now I won't boast so I'll drink a toast to the
boys who went down under, Those noble ships with sonar blips once fought
their way to Glory Pompano, you and Runner, too, were lost in
forty-three, So many more, subs by the score, went to their
watery grave, By Robert L. Harrison, October 16, 1997,
Greenfield, Indiana
They bear, in place of classic names Their feats, their fortunes and their fames 1916, by Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)
educated, trained and equipped in the world.
USS Cubera (SS347)
Commander Submarine Force
1943-1946
Submariners
And the classic tale of the great white whale still thrills us
through and through.
There's Farragut and John Paul but the saltiest of them all
Were the boys in blue from World War Two who answered Freedom's
Call.
With Navy pride they fought and died when their boats were
ripped asunder.
They learned their trade, our debt they paid in the world
beneath the sea
And there they sleep in waters deep, a part of history.
And the men inside, because they died, left none to tell their
story.
Proud Argonaut, you had your shot, you and the Amberjack,
'Twas near Rabaul you gave your all and never more came back.
Your gallant crew went down with you, defending liberty.
The Pickerel too, the sleek Wahoo, the Grampus, and the Herring,
The Albacore, all lost in war, have taken their last bearing.
In silence deep, they lie asleep, the young lads and the brave,
But this I know, somewhere below lie those who paid the price,
Our debt is paid because they made the final sacrifice.
The Trade
Letters and numbers on their skin.
They play their grisly blindfold games
In little boxes made of tin.
Sometimes they stalk the Zeppelin,
Sometimes they learn where mines are laid
Or where the Baltic ice is thin.
That is the custom of 'The Trade'.
Are hidden from their nearest kin;
No eager public backs or blames,
No journal prints the yarns they spin
(The Censor will not let them in!)
When they return from run or raid.
Unseen they work, unseen they win.
That is the custom of 'The Trade'.