(Excerpt from “The Last Gun Ship - History of USS Mullinnix DD-944” - A Historical Novel By Frank A. Wood)“If you’re done screwing around, how close are we getting to Norfolk?”
“We’re getting damn close. First light more than likely. I can’t wait. Kiss that no good bean-town goodbye for ever. Liberty there was only good for a bunch of schoolmarms. Norfolk is a sailor town, built for sailors by sailors.”
Time could be glacial on a tin-can at times. These short moments of personal relaxation and satisfaction were cherished dearly, making standing watch almost tolerable.
The fog bank played nautical tag until morning, 5 May. Barely visible through the morning haze 5 miles away, the Cape Henry Light was sighted at 0952. Johnson had been correct, only off by a couple hours.
The crew’s spirits rose as she slipped through Thimble Shoals Channel for the first time. They could taste home port. The ship entered Hampton Roads, slipping past the seven month old Hampton Roads Bridge-Tunnel which opened on 1 November 1957, at 1149 with smiles displayed on more faces than not.
"Hampton Roads" is the historic name for the five-mile wide, last ten miles or so of the James River before it empties into Chesapeake Bay. Chesapeake Bay is an ocean estuary, the lower end of which is about 15 miles wide, and Hampton Roads is about 15 miles from the Atlantic Ocean. A line from Old Point Comfort to the west end of Willoughby Spit, comes close to demarking the point where Hampton Roads becomes Chesapeake Bay; and the Hampton Roads Bridge-Tunnel also crosses close to that line.
The Captain assumed the conn as the ship and her crew entered the Elizabeth River Channel. At 1222 Mullinnix was moored starboard side to fellow Forrest Sherman USS Manley DD-940. Manley had just returned from repair work at the Naval Shipyard in Philadelphia on 29 April.
It had a ring to it. “Home Port”.
The crew had only a few short days to be introduced to their home port before heading to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba on the maiden shake-down cruise. On board time was spent in preparation of this cruise including a major inspection by COMDESRON 26 on 7 May that included general quarters, abandon ship, emergency assistance party, and duty damage control party drills.
Liberty, for the married members of the crew, was focused on finding suitable neighborhoods, housing, schools, transportation, and making arrangements for moving families to Norfolk. For the single sailors, it was time to develop relationships with the local taverns, strip clubs, and females of the species.
First stop, ‘The Strip’. That magical piece of real estate startling both sides of Hampton Boulevard between the D&S Piers entrance and the main gate of NOB. This 3 or 4 blocks of sailor-heaven provided virtually everything one could want or desire. One-stop shopping for cold beer to topless dancers to seamstress services. From whiskey to tequila to raunchy waitresses to the occasional 2nd fleet widow, sometimes in the same body. From TV rentals to gaudy clothes on credit to a variety of choke-and-pukes that served up marginally acceptable meals. Close enough to catch a cheap cab-fare back to D&S entrance or, as required, crawling-distance back to the ship.
This area of Norfolk was a stereotypical sailor town complete with seedy bars, tattoo parlors and strip joints. Joints with sing-song names such as Lovey's Krazy Kat, Bells Bar and Naval Tailors, The Big "O", The Victory, Old Bill's, and Little Italy.
For less than one crumbled Andrew Jackson you could get drunk, laid or an acceptable to both parties alternative, play pool until your lungs filled with chalk dust, fall in love, play jukebox standards until your head throbbed, fall out of love, beat a jukebox within an inch of its musical life, and pledge your undying devotion to ladies that would make the 3:10 to Yuma take a dirt road.
These establishments had only one class of clientele – sailors. The proprietors catered to sailors and they didn’t care if they ever had a civilian as a customer. Most preferred they didn’t, saying it would ruin their reputations. Riff raff from the seven seas passed, at one time or another, through these hallowed entrances. Places shipmates met, drank, fondled a woman or two, drank till drunk, and dragged themselves back to their ship.
Dark, smoky joints with yellowed photographs of ships that had been decommissioned and towed to the scrapper, places where big-busted, hard as nails peroxide blondes drew beer in chipped mostly clean mugs, tables with ship's names and hull numbers carved in them, barmaids that would let you pin your newly issued stripes on her panties and give you a kiss that would sucked the tonsils out of your throat. These were oasis for ship’s crews to hangout, all within walking distance of the mooring lines.
On E-3 pay you had to survive on living moment to moment. When with any given moment you may find your (next) true love by simply staggering into the head and find the clarion call, “"For a good time phone Debbie 623-3794 Ocean View" written in fading ink on the wall above the urinal.
To be continued...
See you in 9 days and a wake-up!
Cheers,Woody
