Sea Stories

Seaman Posey: Part II

Posey also proved that his body needed more sleep very soon.  Under the relatively new Chief of Naval Operations, Admiral Elmo Zumwalt, many Navy rules were relaxed to improve the lot of the sailor.  Ships went to what was called “reduced bridge manning.”  Instead of having a helmsman, lee helmsman, boatswain’s mate of the watch, quartermaster of the watch, port lookout, starboard lookout, after lookout, and several officers, the ships dropped to about four people on the bridge and one or two lookouts.  REEVES had only a forward and after lookout for the open ocean part of the transit to the  Gulf of Tonkin.  One night Seaman Posey was our only forward lookout.

The ship had numerous high-powered radars, some lethal within as much as one thousand yards with microwave radiation, which heats tissue.  The radars had to be aimed at a person to do that.  Safety cutouts, as well as the fact that the radars were high above the ship, prevented any cooking of crewmembers.  Nevertheless, the one forward lookout had to be posted on the flying bridge above the bridge, where the officers stood watch.  As an extra precaution, we removed the lookout from the flying bridge prior to any radiation of the missile fire control radars.

During seaman Posey’s night watch as lookout, the officer of the deck (OOD) saw a light on the horizon.  It was a boat that had not been reported by the lookout.  The OOD picked up a sound-powered phone and called the lookout to scold him for his inattentiveness.  There was no response.  The OOD and the boatswain’s mate of the watch (BMOW) then climbed ladders to the flying bridge.  There, sleeping on the deck, was Seaman Posey.  They removed his phone headset, and he remained asleep.  They woke him and placed him on report for the serious offense of sleeping on watch.

This was an offense that could go to a court-martial, for this was wartime, and we were in the South China Sea approaching Vietnam.  After investigations by my subordinates, it was my turn to interview Seaman Posey.  He invoked his right to remain silent; therefore I referred the case to Captain’s Mast. 

Mast was a formal affair held on the bridge of the ship with everyone in Seaman Posey’s chain of command present, along with witnesses and any representative desired by the defendant.  After the OOD and the BMOW had testified, the Captain asked, “Posey, what were you doing sleeping on watch?”  Posey responded, “Captain, I wasn’t sleeping, I was just lying down to avoid being sterilized by that radar.”  The Captain directed his next question to me, “Commander Bell, were you radiating the fire control radars while Posey was on watch?”  I responded, “No sir.”  Posey jumped in, “But they was moving around!”  The Captain asked me, “Were the radars moving around?”  My response, “Yes sir. We conducted Daily Digital Systems Operability Tests while he was up there, but, as you know, the radars were tracking system-generated targets and no radiation was involved.  The radars move as they track the imaginary targets.”  The Captain pressed on, “Would Seaman Posey know whether the radars were radiating?”  My response was, “No sir.”  The Captain announced, “Case dismissed!”  It was clear to me that the Captain felt we were simply beating a dead horse.  He was looking for any reason to dismiss the case.  Seaman Posey already had enough restriction to last the rest of the deployment, and he had been reduced to the lowest pay grade, seaman recruit.  Keel hauling was not among the punishments available to the commanding officer under the UCMJ.

Seaman Posey continued to screw up as we endured our deployment.   Most of the time the ship was slowly patrolling just 25 miles southeast of the North Vietnamese port of Haiphong.  The ship’s main jobs were to carry a large helicopter that rescued downed aviators and to control the combat aircraft that patrolled the skies between us and the North Vietnamese mainland.  President Nixon was bombing the hell out of North Vietnam with Operation Linebacker II, the B-52 campaign against North Vietnam in December 1972.  We were still performing our mission in January of 1973, when the Paris peace treaty was finally signed, ending the war.  Our ship eventually returned to Pearl Harbor via Hong Kong, Taiwan and Japan.  Of course, Seaman Posey never went ashore in any of those lovely places. 

In March during our port visit to Sasebo, Japan, we received a message from American Red Cross saying that Seaman Posey’s mother had died.  We immediately sent him home on military flights for thirty days of emergency leave.

After a couple of weeks we received a message from the recruiting station in Houston, Texas, saying that Seaman Posey had come into their office to request a hardship discharge.  The basis was that the now-deceased mother had been the sole source of support of the family.  Reportedly, the father, a man in his forties, could not work due to a back injury.  While the request was being processed, Posey would remain in Houston.

On REEVES we were sympathetic to Posey’s plight, but delighted that we would never see him again.  He had required tons of administrative effort and hour upon hour of personal counseling.

The ship returned to Pearl Harbor and Posey was forgotten.  One day, months later, however, the ship’s second-in-command, the Executive Officer (XO), had me paged to come to his stateroom.  Knocking and entering the stateroom, I was surprised to see Seaman Posey sitting there with a sheepish look on his face.  Soundlessly, the serious-minded XO handed me a letter.  I could not believe my eyes.  The letter read as follows:

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:

Dear Sir:

            I Dr. John A. Dabney, M.D., did hereby on the 25th day of April, 1973, A.D. did hereby examine the said WARREN H. POSEY on this date and found the following symptoms.

            E-ray show that he has torn ligament in the right shoulder caused by over strain and awkward slip.  From the torn ligament its caused slight paralization in the right hand and caused somewhat constant cramps.

            Further x-ray show that from the fall, he has a slip disk in the lower part of his back.  One from the fall he had in this same accident.  This will cause constant pain and somewhat unusual spasement.

            Due to these findings I find it impossible for him to perform any labor or to do anything without constant pain.  

                                                                                  Your sincerely yours,

                                                                                  [signed John A. Dabney, M.D.]

                                                                                  1935 Copper Rd.

Houston, Texas

Notes written on the letter by the recruiters aiding Posey indicated that investigation showed there was no Dr. Dabney in Harris County, or anywhere in Texas.  City Planning had no 1935 Copper Road; Copper Road was a one-block street. 

I burst out laughing, but the XO was angry and told me in no uncertain terms not to laugh because this was a very serious matter.  I asked the XO for permission to step outside to regain my composure.  He allowed me to leave, so I ran as fast as I could to the Captain’s Cabin. 

I knocked and stepped in.  I asked the Captain if he knew that Seaman Posey was back.  Shocked, he said, “No!  Why?”  I said, “I’m not exactly certain why, but for some unknown reason the hardship discharge was not granted.”   I then handed him the letter.  His reaction was the same as mine.  He burst out laughing and said, “Al, make me some copies of this!” 

I made the copies.  He sent copies to his friends and fellow captains.  He kept one copy in his golf bag to show to fellow golfers just at the point when they were about to make critical drives or putts.  He even mailed a copy to my father, with whom he had played a round of golf during my father’s visit to Hawaii.  I still have the letter Posey had submitted to support his discharge application. 

The due diligence of the recruiters in investigating the incident was above and beyond the call of duty.  They had even arranged for Posey’s father, “the said Warren H. Posey,” to be examined at a VA hospital, since he was a veteran.  The examination revealed not only that Mr. Posey had no infirmity, but, more significantly, that he did not claim to have any.  Seaman Posey, it seems, had not brought his father in on his scheme.

The Captain’s handwritten letter to my father, which I also still have, says, “Dear Mr. Bell, Thought you might get a chuckle out of letter received to support hardship discharge application by one of Al’s ‘stars.’  Notes were written in by Navy Reps in Houston who investigated status of man’s family.  ‘Star’ is currently UA [unauthorized absentee]…”

Indeed, I don’t think I ever saw Seaman Posey again before my tour ended, and I was transferred to shore duty.  However, I remember him with great sympathy and wonder whatever happened to him.  As much trouble as he was in those days, I smile whenever I think of the entertainment value of having him around. 

Somehow, I don’t believe that he is a dot-com millionaire now.  He may be on welfare, in jail, or standing on a corner somewhere near you with a cardboard sign saying, “Disabled Vet, Please Help!”  One thing can be counted upon with absolute certainty: Wherever he is now, Posey is not working. 

 

Tags: Tin cans, sailors, sea stories, humor, jokes, fun,

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