Jumping Ship

When I joined my crewmates on the LST 325, I had fully intended to post a blog article every day much as I did during the “Big Trip” this spring. What I didn’t know was that time serving on a WW2 warship isn’t measured in minutes, but by work and duty schedules. Free time is typically consumed with cleaning your living space, showering, laundry, eating, and sleeping. When the ship is docked and you’re not on duty, you are allowed to take “liberty” ashore, but doing so means forfeiting a much-needed 4-hour nap after the mid watch, or writing a blog article. Not that I didn’t try to do the latter, but anytime one of my crew mates found me sitting alone on one of the picnic tables on the main deck, they stopped by to chat. I can write anytime, but spending time with my brothers and sisters onboard is a gift that may never come again, and so rather than a daily journal, you’re getting a recap.

Duty Assignments: although volunteers, (yes all but a handful of the 45 souls on board are volunteers), may request to work in an area or duty station on board the ship, at the end of the day you serve where you’re needed. I served in three areas: engineering (what the Navy calls “Snipes”), or as a docent or roamer when the ship was open to the public. About half-way through the tour, I was asked to staff the “membership” table, signing visitors up as members and selling my book: “Heroes All.” By the way, I donate 100% of the proceeds from book sales to the LST 325 Memorial Museum in memory of my father, 2nd Class Donald Richard Hanson, a signalman on the LST 374. You can read more about that journey in my previous posts.

Engineering “Snipes”: I’m an "apprentice," and so tried hard to participate in the engine room without getting in the way. The crew was very patient with all of the newbies, encouraging us to actively participate in all facets of our areas. I crawled up in the chain area above the ramp and bow doors with two other crew mates to ensure nothing went off the rails as the doors and ramp transitioned. I changed light bulbs. I helped install a speed sensor on the port flywheel, maintenance on the generators, started the engines, and logged trends on a variety of equipment across the ship. Mostly, I tried to stay positive and stay awake.

Mates: For the first two days of my tour, (the ship left Evansville, Indiana about 2 weeks before I was asked to join her in Wheeling, West Virginia), we had 5 women on board: two were employees of the Museum and so stayed in a hotel after we closed to visitors each day, and three were volunteers who remained onboard and slept in the women’s birthing area. Two days after I arrived, the latter two disembarked and two new women joined the crew. A week later, they left and for a couple of days, I had women’s birthing to myself. This is only the second year that the ship has sailed with women in residence due to the lack of separate birthing areas. I would tell you that the current facilities are a good start, but we could use a good cleaning, paint, and better cots. Still, I’m excited for the future of young women interested in history, navigation, and engineering and the talents they bring to the table. As for the guys? I've received a lot of questions about this subject. My response is simple: when you step onboard the ship, you leave your gender ashore. It’s simply not needed. We’re all brothers and sisters with a passion for the history and community the ship serves. ‘Nuf about that.

Food: I probably gained 5 pounds. Someone once told me that the Navy ran on coffee. I would argue that the LST 325 runs on whatever galley Chief JJ’s got cooking. Roast, brats, omelets, freshly baked cinnamon rolls…suffice to say we ate well.

Standing Watch: Typically, there are three crew to a watch station. In Engineering, one is designated as a “roamer” meaning that after the trends are logged in the engine and generator rooms, and in “shaft alley” or the chambers housing the propeller shaft, they roam the ship looking for leaks: water where it shouldn’t be, oil where it shouldn’t be, fire where it shouldn’t be, and visitors where they shouldn’t be. A typical schedule is in the photo galley below. I was on the “B” team.

That Ship Smell: It’s a thing. About the second day I was aboard, my son asked in a text message if I smelled like the ship yet. He spent the lion’s share of his enlistment on the USS Abraham Lincoln. The answer is yes. Yes, I definitely smelled like the ship.

Delays and Sickness: The ship is a very large family. In our case, 45 crew, and during the time I was aboard, we had well over 10,000 visitors stroll through in close quarters. The average temperatures during the day on the ship were in the low to mid 90s. In the engine room, it was a tad warmer. Visitors and crew had good days and not so good days. Out of that throng of people, however, only a couple left the ship due to illness or exhaustion. While underway, we had delays going through the locks. I had anticipated delays and so brought an extra day’s worth of medicine to keep my heart in check, but yesterday we had a 2-hour delay going through the lock and then most of the day tied ashore waiting for a replacement crew member. Since I only had the one day’s extra medicine, my daughter called a pharmacist who looked at my medical records and suggested that I the disembark ship while I could; any further delays would mean missing a day or days without medication, and that would be bad. It was a really tough call as I knew that this opportunity may never come again--the opportunity and honor to serve on a WW2 warship.

We were tied up in a remote area of Melbourne, Kentucky, about 62 miles from my youngest daughter who lives in Dayton, Ohio. It made sense to have her come pick me up. The deck commander had contacted a pilot boat to bring the new crew member out to the ship, I could catch a ride with him back to his pier, and my daughter could meet me there. It took me about 15 minutes to pack and say my goodbyes to as many of the crew as I could, and just like that, my adventure was over.

I fly home in a couple of hours. The good news is that I was able to get time with my daughter, son-in-law, and grandsons, if just for the night. I do love Ohio and so it’s been nice to be “home” again, and to do a quick load of laundry so that the passengers on my flight home don’t raise an eye as I walk down the isles, because yes, I do smell like the ship.

Epilogue: To Jerry—I will miss strawberries on the main deck and JJ’s philosophy juice. To John L. and Bill—you two were the best watch crew I could have asked for. Thanks for the dad jokes, and for inspiring me to do better every day. To Ken: thanks for the zip ties. To Terry and John T.—diversity is the spice of life. We’re all odd little ducks—thank you for inviting me onboard. To my crew mates who were under the weather—you’re in my thoughts. And to Bob P.—you will always be my favorite. Without you, I’d have never finished the book. Big hugs. And to the entire crew and staff of the LST 325 Memorial Museum: never in my life would I have expected to have the opportunity to serve on a WW2 warship. It was an honor and one of the greatest joys of my life. Respect and love to you all.