50 Yrs Ago Today - Mullinnix Heads to Montevideo, Uruguay
(Excerpt from “The Last Gun Ship - History of USS Mullinnix DD-944” - A Historical Novel By Frank A. Wood)
All good things must come to and end, so they say. Mullinnix, drenched in afternoon sunlight, was underway from Finger Pier at 1744 on 12 March. Destination Uruguay with four days of maneuvers standing between the crew and Montevideo.
Night was already showing itself on the main deck as the sun was nearly gone, but the mast was still burnished by the level sun. BM3 Jonathan Kramer hung over the lifeline starboard side of MT52, smoking. First he spat, then he expelled the remainder of the smoke from deep within his lungs and finally threw the tiny cigarette butt into the water, flicking it with his fingers.
“Hey John.” Said Holliday.
“Hey yourself Doc. Where you been hid’in?”
“We had some equipment problems in sonar. We’ve been pushin’ hard the last couple days.”
“Fix it?”
“Finally. Ran the last of the test about an hour ago.”
The sky above was somewhere between blue and black, it’s uniform density threatened here and there by the suggestion of stars.
“Well, did you say goodbye?” questioned Kramer as he lit another smoke.
“Ya, we did.” Said Doc. “You know John, I get out of this chicken shit outfit shortly after we get back to Norfolk.”
“So.”
Thinking. “John, Sophia is coming to Norfolk.”
His cigarette almost spent, he took one last pull on it then flicked the butt into the sea. “Doc. Sounds like a plan to me.”
Doc was relieved. He respected Kramer’s opinion. They had been through a lot together. Always together. “I wanted you to know. AND, I wanted to thank you.” Said Doc. “Thanks for being a good friend.”
Smiling, Kramer answered, “No Doc, thank you. You made all this bearable.”
Change isn’t looking for friends. Change calls the tune we all dance to.
To be continued...
BTW, the names were changed to protect the innocent
Cheers,
Woody
All good things must come to and end, so they say. Mullinnix, drenched in afternoon sunlight, was underway from Finger Pier at 1744 on 12 March. Destination Uruguay with four days of maneuvers standing between the crew and Montevideo.
Night was already showing itself on the main deck as the sun was nearly gone, but the mast was still burnished by the level sun. BM3 Jonathan Kramer hung over the lifeline starboard side of MT52, smoking. First he spat, then he expelled the remainder of the smoke from deep within his lungs and finally threw the tiny cigarette butt into the water, flicking it with his fingers.
“Hey John.” Said Holliday.
“Hey yourself Doc. Where you been hid’in?”
“We had some equipment problems in sonar. We’ve been pushin’ hard the last couple days.”
“Fix it?”
“Finally. Ran the last of the test about an hour ago.”
The sky above was somewhere between blue and black, it’s uniform density threatened here and there by the suggestion of stars.
“Well, did you say goodbye?” questioned Kramer as he lit another smoke.
“Ya, we did.” Said Doc. “You know John, I get out of this chicken shit outfit shortly after we get back to Norfolk.”
“So.”
Thinking. “John, Sophia is coming to Norfolk.”
His cigarette almost spent, he took one last pull on it then flicked the butt into the sea. “Doc. Sounds like a plan to me.”
Doc was relieved. He respected Kramer’s opinion. They had been through a lot together. Always together. “I wanted you to know. AND, I wanted to thank you.” Said Doc. “Thanks for being a good friend.”
Smiling, Kramer answered, “No Doc, thank you. You made all this bearable.”
Change isn’t looking for friends. Change calls the tune we all dance to.
To be continued...
BTW, the names were changed to protect the innocent
Cheers,
Woody
posted by Frank A. Wood at 10:50
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