USS Mullinnix DD-944

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26 March, 2009

50 Yrs Ago Today - Mullinnix Arrives in Mar del Plata, Argentina

(Excerpt from “The Last Gun Ship - History of USS Mullinnix DD-944” - A Historical Novel By Frank A. Wood)

The early light of 26 March sparkled off the ocean and shone through the portholes onto the mess deck tables like spotlights on a stage as Mullinnix passed Mar Chiquita light to enter the harbor of Mar del Plata, Argentina. She moored portside to a commercial in the company of USS Van Voorhis, USS Taussig, USS Hartley, USS Lester, and USS Spikefish.

With ozone from another storm building out over the ocean, the Commanding Officer of Mar del Plata Naval Base made an official call on Radm Stephan, COMSOLANT, Arriving with him were the Commander Destroyer Force Argentine Navy and his official party. As protocol dictated, Captain Anderson left later in the morning to return their official call followed by Radm Stephan who called officially on the Mayor of Mar del Plata.

The Mullinnix was the show ship in this small port known as “Ciudad Feliz”, hosting 3700 visitors during 2 days of visitation.

Located in the Province of Buenos Aires, it is the most important seaside resort in Argentina. Long beaches, dunes, cliffs and ravines help make it a water lover’s paradise. The nightlife in Mar del Plata was hard to beat, with pubs, dance clubs, casino and gaming saloons for those looking for everlasting noise and entertainment. This paradise had only been born a few years earlier.

The Revolución Libertadora, a combined military and civilian uprising, overthrew the Perón presidency on 16 September 1955. In Mar del Plata, as in other places of the country, the Navy supported the rebels and the Army remained loyal to the Government. The naval base outskirts and some points of the city were subjected to heavy shelling from the sea, before the loyalist forces could be dispersed. The action was executed by the cruiser ARA 9 de Julio, former USS Boise CL-47, and other ships.

The tango - the vertical expression of a horizontal desire, in a musically synthesized dance form, was the Argentinean samba. Couples dancing the tango meet in a close embrace and dance seemingly violently across the floor. In Mar del Plata, walkways were filled with tango dancers, artists exhibiting their work, and street merchants of all types. Clubs, with velvet-covered back rooms and sultry bars, oozed the tango rhythm. Historical alluring bars, founded by artists and musicians, pulse with the experience, the heartbeat, the very essence of tango.

Couples, having never met, would embrace at first sight, closer and more intimately than many lovers ever do. From somewhere the tender tones of a violin mix with the dramatic and yet soft touch of the bandaneon played, forming beautiful and lyrical songs that spoke of the ever lasting affection for the barrio and the pain of lost love, the two themes most essential in a tango. With names like Bar El Chiko, Tina’s Starfish, Ruby Bobby’s, and Bird On The Wing, tango was the erotic dance that men and women performed as foreplay.

They were quit the trio, seaman all three. Their mothers knew them as Trent Robert Longfellow, Albert Bosie Cramer, and Lloyd Justin West. Mullinnix knew them as “The Owl”, “Alphabet”, and “Beater”.

Longfellow was bread, born, and raised in western California, near Bakersfield. Third generation Okie, his grandparents having fled the dust bowl. He was bulky boyish-looking with piercing blue eyes hidden behind Navy-issued coke bottle glasses – owl-like. Crude even by Navy-standards - crude when crude wasn’t called for. His dungarees and boondockers going the way of disintegration. He gave off a smell of carelessness and hopelessness. His face usually hidden by a dirty white hat or ball cap. He was known for his ferocity when fighting. His accumulated rage, brought on by the broken home of his youth, burned inside him like the orange glow in the heart of a boiler.

Albert Bosey Cramer (ABC – e.g. Alphabet) on the other hand, was from the West Texas oilfield country around Midland. He had deep blue eyes and a mane of sandy blond hair. He looked like a future rock star. His words flowed out like oil from a can. A born bullshitter, the bullshit flowing like molasses on a hot sunny afternoon, sticking to anyone who would listen indiscriminately. He saved the best for the women. Cramer chased girls so hard the skin on his eyeballs would peal back.

Then there was West. Lloyd Justin West, from someplace in Missouri. He had IQ to burn, but what he needed bad was ChickQ. He’d spent his life hitting into double plays with women. He wore wire-rimmed glasses hooked lopsided over uneven ears and an ever-present Pall Mall drooping from corroding teeth and flakey-dry lips. His hair looked like it had been combed with an eggbeater, hence the nickname. He was the “before picture” in a body building advertisement. Some said he was one can sort of a six pack.

Individually they were a hand full. Together they were a Captain’s Mast waiting to happen.


To be continued...
Cheers,
Woody

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