It was in February of 1965. I was a new Seaman and had just flunked the diving tank test at Sub School in Groton, Connecticut. I guess my assignment detailer figured the appropriate punishment for this unforgivable act was to give me orders to one of the oldest and most undesirable ships in the Navy – USS Taylor (DD 468), a Fletcher Class destroyer home ported in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii – the pineapple fleet. Actually, he did me a great favor. Old ships have more history and character (especially tin cans) and they’re lots more fun even if they had been “FRAM’ed”.

During the extensive FRAM (Fleet Rehabilitation and Modernization) overhaul the Taylor had all secondary armament removed, as well as one of its 5 inch gun mounts, which was replaced by Weapon Alpha (an Anti-submarine warfare weapon). Two Mk 32 triple torpedo tube launchers were added amidships. Two twin 3 inch 50 gun mounts and a Mk 56 Gun Fire Control System were added aft on the 01 and 02 levels. The superstructure was extensively rebuilt of aluminum, the bridge enclosed and a new CIC (Combat Information Center) was built between the pilothouse and the forward stack.

It was a common saying in the Navy at the time, “When you’re out of FRAM’s you’re out of cans.” I believe this was said to differentiate them from the newer destroyers, which were much larger and consequently in some people’s minds not real “tin cans”.

Before going to the Taylor I had three weeks of training at the Mark 56 Gun Fire Control System school at the 32nd Street Naval Station in San Diego, California. This was my first experience with real Navy equipment. After the training at San Diego I continued on to Subic Bay, Philippines, enroute to the Taylor, which was on WestPac (Western Pacific) deployment at the time.

I, along with a number of other transients, left Subic on a large ammunition and oiler ship, USS Sacramento (AO l). The Sacramento’s functions were to re-arm, refuel and replenish food stores for the U.S. Navy ships operating in the South China Sea. As we steamed out of Subic Bay to the right of Grande Island I entered the deep blue waters of the Pacific Ocean for the first time. The Sacramento began its slow roll in tune to the swells of the open ocean. It was not an unpleasant sensation and I enjoyed my few days onboard as we steamed ever closer to our rendezvous with the Taylor. Then the day came that I had been anticipating since my departure from the States. It was Taylor’s turn to come alongside the Sacramento for refueling, rearming and transfer of personnel. I was sent topside to await transfer. As the Taylor made its approach I could hear its topside IMC speakers clearly, “On the Taylor, all hands topside take cover! Stand by to receive shotline to port!” And later as I watched the first few personnel being high-lined across I was very excited and looking forward to my first ship. As my new home, the Taylor, steamed alongside I was struck by their differences. The Taylor was dwarfed by the huge replenishment ship. It was rolling and pitching wildly and taking green water over the bow — in stark contrast with the stately roll of the Sacramento. It looked like a corvette (a small ship, not the car) alongside a battleship. I was a little bit scared as I watched the first few personnel run across the deck and be strapped into the Boatswain’s (bosun’s) chair for the ride across to the Taylor. Is this safe? As they were pulled across the distance between the two ships I could hear the Bosun’s Mate shouting to the sailors on the span line as the ships rolled toward each other and the span and in-haul lines slackened, “Heave around, lay back!” And then more faintly, I heard the sailor’s response, “Dunk him!” as their boots skidded across the rolling deck. And then they beckoned to me. It was my turn. With kapok life jacket on and my heart in my throat I ran across the open deck, sat down in the bosun’s chair and was strapped in. Moments later I was airborne and over the water, first high in the air, then the next moment just a few feet above the churning sea between the two speeding ships. I hardly had enough time to become terrified before I was all the way across and being unstrapped and pulled out of the chair.

I soon found out that, unlike the Sacramento, the first few weeks of life on the USS Taylor before our first port call would be a nightmare of unending seasickness and new shipboard duties. No dog was ever this sick and miserable in those first few weeks until we pulled into our next port, Yokosuka, Japan. In the years to come, however, I learned to “get my sea legs” in the first few days at sea by studiously ignoring its symptoms until they went away. This was very difficult to do in the early years before I learned how to cope with it – as the bile was usually threatening to erupt from my throat at the slightest provocation. However, it was a matter of necessity in shipboard life, since I couldn’t just say to the Captain, “Pull into the next port right away, I’m not feeling so hot.” I can just imagine the Captain saying, “Sure thing, Seaman”, I guess you want your mommy too. We’ll have her waiting on the pier for you.”

I have indelible memories of those four years on the USS Taylor. I did a lot of growing up there and I learned the hundreds, if not thousands, of things I needed to be a real sailor.

I learned how to take a fresh water Navy shower (tum on and wet down – turn off – soap up – turn on and rinse off – turn off). Don’t waste water – unless you want to stand evaporator watches for a while! As we all remember, if the evaporators weren’t making enough fresh water you could use all the cold saltwater you wanted. All the shower stalls had extra saltwater shower heads for this purpose.

As a Gun Fire Control Technician I learned how to be responsible for, and to fix and operate gunfire control equipment. I can hear the “fire for effect” orders in my mind as if it were yesterday and I was at my station in the Plotting Room, “Right 100 – drop 50 – 10 rounds rapid salvo fire – commence fire!” Even today, all it takes is the smell of old electrical insulation and instrument oil to bring back vivid and nostalgic memories of those first shipboard years.

I learned how to stay relatively safe onboard ship. There was danger in many places – falling down steep inclined ladders – electrocution – slipping on wet decks – being washed overboard – getting fingers or hands caught in exposed machinery – explosive ammunition. Even so, bad accidents were not that common. However, I do remember one terrible accident in particular. It was straight out of a safety movie we all had seen, “115 Volts Your Deadly Shipmate”. You’ve probably seen it too. There was an SH3 who was working in the Ships Store one evening putting up shelves. He drilled through a metal bulkhead and right into the back of a 440 volt power panel! I guess he hadn’t seen the movie. The duty Electrician found him slumped on the deck about thirty minutes later, while investigating a complaint about all the lights being out in the aft berthing compartments.

Liberty in foreign ports also had its own special dangers, ranging from looking the wrong way before crossing a street to being unable to read warning signs. There were, as well, various and sundry other misfortunes of an unspecified nature which could befall the innocent young sailor out for a good time in an exotic land. Nevertheless, I learned how to stay out of trouble on liberty — most of the time. It only took a couple of bad experiences with the shore patrol for me to learn that even though it feels like you’re a kid in a candy store, there are limits. However, shipmates, we all remember those unforgettable characters who never learned. You weren’t one of them were you?

I also learned how it feels to be a foreigner. Before you talk about foreigners here at home, go overseas and experience how it feels to be a foreigner. This was, I believe, an invaluable lesson in perspective that everyone should learn early in life.

I will never forget the USS Taylor. It set the tone for all the ships that followed over the course of my Naval career. I think you’ll agree shipmates, your first ship is always the best.