A Sea Story - The Naval Gunner
© 2007 Kevin Smith
Sea stories are just that, stories. True or false? Possibly either. Weather the sailor is an old salt (a seasoned long timer that has seen it all and then some), or a pollywog (usually a newbie sailor that hasn’t been lucky enough to be indoctrinated while traveling over the equator) sea stories are told by all men in blue. This one happens to be true.
By the time this event happened I had been in the U.S. Navy for about 2-1/2 years and the year was 1984 and we were not at war. Not considered an old salt, I had seen my share of far east travel and time at sea. Being a gunners mate on a carrier was a full time job, or at least a 12 hour a day job. While at sea we didn’t have the normal “in port” watches which secure the ship from any unforeseen on shore intruders or hindrances. So at sea a 12 hour work day was normal. Muster at 7 a.m., then head to our station for 12 hours of clean up and maintenance, usually preventative. Having served more than half of my first enlistment (which also ended up being my last), I had progressed through the ranks to E4 which is considered to be an entry level position of authority.
Did I mention being a gunners mate was a full time job? I guess I did. Gunners mates aboard my carrier did many things. Some ran the armory, storing, cleaning, and maintaining all ships small arms. I didn’t get that assignment and was lucky enough to be in Fox division, which was a division whose sole purpose was ships security. Now let me clear up what “ships security” meant to Fox division. This wasn’t guarding the quarterdeck while in port or any other in port security tasks. Our job was at sea. Fox Division manned and maintained port and starboard missile launchers that manually tracked any enemy aircraft that came within a mile and 1/2 of the ship. Come too close and you went swimming courtesy of a Sea Sparrow missile. Since a carriers main purpose is to launch offensives, then who is gonna stay and protect home while the fighters are off doing their job…..oh, Fox division! So that was my job…….well, part of it.
Like most military positions, soldiers and sailors usually have secondary or even multiple obligations. One of my main secondary obligations was manning on of the many .50 caliber machine guns that were securely mounted along the ships lower perimeter decks called sponsons. These hanger bay level side decks are below the flight deck at a more reasonable position for compatibility with other vessels and general at sea observation. It just so happens the sponsons make the perfect place to mount the .50 cals for close in ship protection against small enemy sea crafts. One thing I forgot to mention- the .50 caliber I manned wasn’t on the sponson……..but more later.
My carrier group was on the way to the Indian Ocean (or IO in abbreviated Navy speak) which sits wedged between Africa to the west, with the middle east and China to the north, and the South China Sea to the east with it’s cluster of small island countries through which we travel to get to the IO. Once there we were to spend 111 gloriously hot days and nights standing watch. Making way from Japan or the Philippines, I forget which, we headed south west over the South China Sea. As a final part of our journey, we had to maneuver through the Straits of Singapore which was tight squeeze known to be a high traffic area with possible security threats. And the good news……we were going through at night.
Early that evening we were to be briefed as to our plan of attack, or in this scenario, plan of defense while maneuvering through the straits. All the .50 calibers were to be manned during the trip and any small aircraft or boat that came within the security buffer zone of the ship were to be fired upon. Pretty serious action to be taken. After the briefing I got my assignment. .50 cal watch from midnight to 4 a.m. on the fantail. The fantail is at the same lower level as the sponsons, but at the very rear of the ship below the flight deck, located in the stern. Probably the most dangerous place to be due to the fact that enemies usually don’t sneak up in front of you. Don’t get me wrong, this was peacetime, but all military operations must be treated with full caution, so we were being cautious. I arrived on the fantail at 5 minutes to midnight, and it was pitch black……..
The ship was on full blackout except for port and starboard running lights to give small craft knowledge of our basic position while passing through the straights. Once fully suited up I took over the .50 cal and was ready for anything. Now to keep any overzealous, over-caffeinated sailor from accidentally or intentionally popping off a few rounds, we did not load these weapons unless a threat was detected. And even when there was one, we could not load without orders from the weps, or weapons officer on duty, who was on the other end of the line at all times. Our ammo was sealed up in the standard case with a lead seal securing the lid. This seal breaks right off when the case is opened and is only in place to indicate that the case was opened. So the watch on duty is responsible for that seal which is only to be opened in case of an extreme situation and under orders.
After hours of observing the dimly lit shoreline and myriads of lit fishing boats navigating through the mild waters, I began to feel comfortable on my watch. Big mistake. About 600 feet off the aft starboard side was a small blacked out fishing boat making a direct approach. I thought it might make a sharp turn after a hundred feet or so, but I stayed attentive. At 500 feet it continued closing in on the intended “buffer zone” the weapons officer had outlined. At this point I informed the weps officer of this possible danger. As the small craft closed in and got within 400 feet it turned on a large spot light and waved it back and forth over the fantail and directly into my eyes. Approaching quickly, it reached 300 feet. I requested permission to open and load my ammo and was ordered “not to load that weapon”. As the small boat came well within the buffer zone, I waited for an order to load as I communicated with weps updating him of the intruders position. As the craft came within 200 feet I was unsure of my fate and prepared to take the first hit if the approaching boat opened fire. My standing order remained “do not load”, and I knew I could not be the first to fire. Within the last 100 feet the unknown boat slowed, followed for what seemed like hours but was only minutes, then shut off the spotlight, turned and sped off into the night.
My relief was soaked with sweat and excitement. Was what seemed to be a viable threat simply an aggressively curious crew on a small fishing boat, or a group with more violent intensions that had second thoughts? I will never know, but am glad I’m here today to tell you about it.
Kevin Smith
GMG2
U.S. Navy 1981-85
- K.M. Smith