Editor’s note: The speculation about what the Russian aggressiveness toward U.S. Naval ships in the Baltic has had many agog of late. The spike of interest in Russian interest brought memories back to some old Shipmates, including the irrepressible Point Loma. He contributes this account of life on the bounding waves- with Russians- to the annals of the Daily Socotra.
(USS Carl Vinson (CVN-70) underway on Fleet business. Photo USN).
When I was a Junior Officer of the Deck (JOOD) and conning officer on VINSON -back in ’83- we were being trailed by the duty Soviet intelligence collector- the AGI- in the Northern Arabian Sea (NAS). There was always one of them with us, to providing targeting data to the Soviet subs or bombers if the balloon went up. We were finally permitted to depart station and take a course southeast towards Perth, West Australia, for our scheduled port call.
There was a huge storm down south of Diego Garcia (DGAR) that was tossing at us a rhythmic series of 15-20 ft waves. We were done with flight ops when I assumed the 1600-2000 watch, and I noted we were a little bit behind PIM (Position of Intended Movement), which was 165 degrees at 14 knots Speed of Advance (SOA), and there were no night orders posted yet, so we had some flex room to catch up. After I assumed the watch, I took a look around to gain some situational awareness (SA) and noticed that our AGI escort was having a bit of trouble with the periodicity of the swells, which were of little worry to the carrier or our small boy escorts.
I did a little bit of study on the Mo Board and figured out that a subtle change in course and speed could make life a little more miserable for our Soviet pals, and maybe give us some viewing pleasure. So, I consulted with the OOD and since he was a bored SWO and interested in my idea, he told me to go ahead and make some course and speed changes as long as they weren’t too much so that the deck movement didn’t adversely impact the maintenance work on the flight deck, or get us too much off of PIM.
I started slowly, increasing speed to 15 kts, and ordered a five-degree course change to port – 160. I gave the order myself over Fleet Tactical – “MIKE CORPEN 160, MIKE SPEED 15”. it took the AGI about 10 minutes to figure out what we had done even though they were copying us, and when he corrected, he was now taking seas over his deck..fuck, I had figured it out correctly. The next order, cleared by the OOD was “MIKE SPEED 16.”
More misery for our poor AGI-mates. We were hanging out on the port bridge wind and laughing our asses off, watching the AGI valiantly trying to keep up with us, the seas now smashing them repeatedly over the bow. We let it run for a while, and I got back on the Mo Board to figure out a new way to punish our enemies. Since we were operating on only one reactor, we couldn’t exceed 17 kts, so why not? We were a little left of PIM at this point, well within limits, and the sun was going down.
My next maneuver, 155 degrees at 17 kts was duly transmitted. Now, the AGI was not only pounding through the swells, he was cork-screwing due to his only 200 ft. or so length. Their doughty crew was undoubtedly hurling, since the seas were relentless and punishing. We had the enlisted members on the watch team not only engaged, but also rolling on the floor as they took turns watching the AGI curving and swerving on an otherwise bright afternoon in clear air, smashing through the waves. They never would have believed that they could fuck with the Soviets like this until i showed them how to do it.
Morale on that watch team was sky high. I had been driving the boat for about six months at that point, and had good rapport with the troops. The sailors knew and respected me because i treated them and the watches that we stood together as something like a sacred trust and obligation to those who had gone before us, our duty. I used to get asked how long had I been an enlisted guy? I wasn’t, and instead was some sort of hybrid deck officer, having gone to OCS in Newport and now was an A-6 Intruder Bombardier/Navigator-qualified aviator. However, I acted like them at times, mostly on liberty. I used to say that it was a blessing for me to be an officer, because I would have never made a 27-year career as an enlisted guy. I guess I was just simpatico with their situation.
For example, on night watches, we would turn on Gertrude, our underwater communications system for subs, and listen to whale songs – i gave everyone a chance to listen to the harkening of the whales that surrounded us in the open ocean. We would go up to the 0-10 level and look through the Big Eyes to count the moons surrounding Jupiter and the rings on Saturn and plumb the depths of the Orion Nebula. No-one else did that for them. They knew that I would do the unexpected and bring them along, as a team.
So, when I showed them this trick, they were ready for it. when LTJG Point Loma requested permission to enter the bridge and assume the conn, that watch was going to get very interesting.
When I joined the Navy, I treated it as a by-God adventure and I was going to have all of it. Having gone to OCS in Newport, I learned how to drive big ships. Then I went to the Replacement Air Group (RAG) at VA-128 and then in VA-52 and learned how to fly jets. Since I was eye-sight challenged, I was told that I could do neither. Once I got to the Fleet, I was able to do both – go figure. So, I did. No one told me no, and I pushed it to the limits.
I was the only guy on the carrier who briefed and de-briefed, flew, and was on the watch bill to drive the boat. Yeah, it was hard, but young guys can do the impossible for a while. When I was named the interim CAG AI, I had to drop the ship’s watch commitment, which sucked. I wanted to say I had navigated around the world, but wound up being a passenger for the last half of it. I dare say that, to date and the best of my knowledge, I am the only Special Duty- Intelligence Officer (1630) who has ever done this.
At this point, the Soviet AGI had been bouncing about in our wake for about two hours puking their guts out. However, all good things must come to an end, and this was one of those times.
Vinson’s Gator (an S-3 aviator), having finished dinner in the wardroom, entered the bridge about 1930 towards the end of the watch. He went over to the quartermaster’s table, took notice of our position, course, and speed – the orders that had been given, and then confronted the OOD. Oh, shit.
“Why are we off course and speed?”
The OOD did what every good Shoe-boy does and pointed to me, in the process throwing me under the bus.
“Ask him, he’s the conning officer.”
He came over to where i was standing on the port side of the bridge and drew himself up to his full height.
“So Lieutenant, why are we left of PIM by five miles, and exceeding speed?”
I took off my binoculars, and handed them to him. I pointed aft to the laboring Soviet AGI.
“Look.”
He looked, and then delivered the buzz kill.
“Knock this shit off, and get back on PIM.”
He stalked off the bridge to his stateroom. The enlisted guys were pissed off beyond measure but orders are orders. I computed the course correction and transmitted it to the battle group. A little later, we were relieved from our watch duties, and I went below to the intel center before heading up to the dirty shirt wardroom for chow. Another watch completed. One more day underway.
Copyright 2016 Point Loma
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