There were two kinds of sailors serving aboard the Yorktown, us and them. Us being regular Navy and them being Reserve Navy. I was an us.

I have no idea how it was in other divisions but in OI we had a number of reserves during each Vietnam tour during the 60s. Some were college students, some were older then most of us, some were married with kids, some couldn't hack it in CIC and were flown off the ship heavily medicated or in restraints. I didn't ask nor did I care, if you can't cut it in CIC, you're in my way so shove off. Some of the reserves were good guys and fit in just fine. All of them knew they were only aboard for that one tour then their active duty time was up and they're out. Good by and good luck, I like the fact I'm here for four years. It's what I wanted to do, I'm doing it, I'm regular Navy.

I can remember some of those guys, see their faces, recall some odd or funny thing that happened, but most have faded from memory. I'll relate what I remember about three of them.

During the Pueblo action I was a senior E-4 in CIC and supervised a number of stations. During one long blizzard that lasted weeks I went up to the 010 level where the lookouts were stationed. That was a small enclosed steel space right under the radars. It had several small egg shaped openings where we could look outside and get plastered in the face by snow. Often you could see as far as the flight deck but that didn't matter. If you're on lookout duty by God you're going to look out.

We had fowl weather gear of course but being the Navy, it was designed for rain, not a blizzard. 1 inch steel bulkheads does not insolate when there's no heat source. We froze our asses off up there. Some nice Chief sent me up there to relive lookouts one at a time so they could come down for coffee and warm up for a hour. Now I'm wondering if he was just screwing with me? Anyway, back to the reserve up there.

All I remember about this guy is he looked like a wide eyed owl sitting in a pile of clothes on the deck. This guy never said a word. He looked like a deer in headlights all the time. I had been told he was an introvert so during my few hours on the 010 I tried to bring him out of his shell by telling him true war stories about some of my liberty in Westpac. This was his first month aboard, first tour and first combat action. Well I'm not a psychiatrist, I didn't know. I thought by telling him about things he could look forward to he would be happy, I was. After a short while he started melting into the deck and teared up. Maybe it was something I said, or maybe he just didn't like adventure, who knows. I wrote him off as fish food if we started shooting and left him alone after that. I far as I know the Chief kept him up on the 010 level the rest of my time aboard.

Another reserve was a guy from Minot in one of those Dakotas in the Midwest. He didn't have a name, he was just known as the rack rat. I've never seen anyone before or since who could spend every moment off watch just lying in his rack in skivvies. He would pay guys to go get him something to eat with "I'll buy if you'll fly". Nice guy but a little weird.

The other reserve was a challenge to me in so many ways. Erick Kelsow was not a born again Christian. He was born once at birth and just got holy-er by the day. He came aboard in 1966 in time for our second tour and the period when I became more sailor by the day. As he really tried to stand a good watch in CIC, as best as a nerd could, we hit it off pretty good while underway. When the Yorktown hit port Erick would go ashore to find a Christian church and spend all his time there singing and stuff like that. We parted company on the dock as I would seek out goodwill amongst the heathen class of natives found in less formal houses of worship, so to speak. Erick and I each did his duty as we saw it and would discuss the merits of each other's field of missionary work. Erick had a hard time grasping the concept there was more then the basic "missionary position" and I couldn't quite understand the notion of "saving" when ya got 'em in your grasp. We were friends none the less.

Once while at sea we decided to see who had the most righteous liberty the next time we hit a port. He would go with me the first day and I would go with him the next. Deal. When the time came, we went ashore and hit a bar nearby. After several drinks I noticed the cheater would only sip at the drink when I forced him too by reminding him he gave his word. Many drinks later we left to "go sin" as he put it. By then his glass still had all the booze in it but a half inch and he probably had spit that out when I wasn't looking, the cheater.

Somehow we shortly found a skivvy house and entered. Well I entered and saw I was alone. Erick was frozen in his tracks outside. I went back out to remind him of our deal but to no avail, he wouldn't budge. At that point I was in no mood to argue so I got even by making him wait outside a "long time". Later that night we returned to the ship each confident we upheld our honor as sailors but I knew he cheated.

The next day it was my turn to go with Erick and do those Christian things I've heard about. I was old enough and experienced enough not to be too worried ( but ya never know). He found a small church somehow and boy was I surprised. I didn't know there was any in Westpac. We entered, him boldly, me like the preverbal "ho in church". There wasn't a lot of action going on and I'm not sure just how long we were in there or what he did. I just stood quietly waiting to be struck down by lightning. After a hour or so I left and got laid. What the hell, he cheated the night before so I can too. Besides, I'm not going to waste a liberty, they're too rare. That and the fact I'm REGULAR NAVY and he was just a reserve.

Erick's time on active duty ended after that tour and he resumed college studies in southern California where he lived with his parents. We spoke a few times over the phone during the next couple years because we were friends but eventually lost touch. I'd like to contact him again someday. Maybe he'll come to this Yorktown site and read this and respond. That would be great. I have one burning question I'd like to ask him after all these years. And that is "Hey Erick, did ya ever get laid? HUH? HUH?" You would've had you been Regular Navy like us.

I can and do grind cheaters til The End.

Pat, your story about the religious reserve brings back memories of three PHAN's we had in 53-4. Two of them did not leave the ship except for ONE time. They walked around Yokosuka and were shocked at what they saw. One brought back a mattress, of all things! The third one, from Maryland, his name was Steve G..., well, he would hit the beach and get laid and get drunk as long and as often as he could. then, when we left, he would spend all his time reading the bible and crying. At night, you would hear him crying under his blanket, with a flashlight on, reading the bible ! The other two then spend the sea time "saving" Steve. It would work till we put into port again. But then, all of us were USN, not USNR.

I didn't know this but Captain Potts told me (then he was an Ensign) that officer candidates that wash out at Annapolis or something are put directly into the fleet as PO 2nd Class for the rest of their contract.
I challenged him and he stuck to the story saying, "they were there but you just didn't notice them."
who were they? The captain's "yeoman" (titless Wave as we called them) and other none essential pukes that had a superior attitude, were in their early twenties and didn't know shit from shinola. ("How did that asshole ever get to be a 2nd class?")
Looking back and having to 'interface' with several of them as I photographed the Captain in his cabin, inport on the quarterdeck I can see that those nearly worthless PO2s were actually doing their time after having washed out as officer candidates, and the Navy tried to give them some dignity. Or it was part of the deal with them, "try OSC and if you wash out, you're right to the fleet as a Petty Officer 2nd Class"!).

We all looked forward to hitting the beach in Europe to get laid by some nice white girls (if truth be told). Many of us had Dads who served in the Army in "the Big One" and we wanted to see what Europe was all about, since they all told us of the good times but left out the stories of their buddies getting blown to hell and facing the Nazi guns.
As most of my buddies were photographers, we wanted to scarf up some German camera gear or something at cheaper prices.
But one strange duck, a "white crow" as the Germans would call him, searched all over Kiel Germany and came back with his prize...A COO COO CLOCK! He was a PH3 from one of the squadrons. He was the type who could never take a joke, had a very brittle personality and felt deeply insulted with the usual male bonding/insulting that took place on a US Navy ship around the clock. You could put a wig on him and a dress and he would be the perfect, most extreme bitch. He thought his new purchase was splendid. He hung it up in the photo lab on the bulkhead and pulled down the weights and and sat there and marveled at this fine German craftsmanship. We all thought he was crazy.
But wait, there's more! (as they say in the info commercials).

 

2/3 of the division was at liberty in Germany leaving just one E3 to watch the photo-lab. I was in my dress blues and had to run up to the photo lab to get something before I hit the beach. I turned the door knob BUT THE PHOTOLAB WAS LOCKED.
In my 3 years plus on board aircraft carriers I don't remember the door to that photo lab ever being locked! As a PH2 I had a key and swiftly opened the door only to see the very quiet, very large muscular sailor E3 Bauer admiring himself in the mirror, wearing a Nazi German Army uniform, with a tiny little mustache drawn under his nose, his hair was combed at an angle across his forehead and he was holding a big stick that we used to stir our 20 gallon tank of developer.
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He looked at me very alarmed that I saw him like this. Apparently, when he had liberty earlier in our visit in Germany, he found a junk shop that sold him a Nazi uniform under the table, as I am sure such items were outlawed in Germany in the late sixties.
I got my shit and got the hell out of there. He had about 100 pounds on me and it was all muscle. He was the VERY QUIET TYPE who never said two words to you and today I see him dressed up like Der Fuehrer!
I didn't want to say anything to him or even look at him directly or make eye contact for fear he would mistake me for Poland for something and beat the living shit out of me with the chemical stirring rod.
Looking back...to think we all shared the same berthing spaces with these psychos and slept helplessly and innocently through the night.