history

Autobiography of Norm Chapter 5

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

Things in the sixth fleet were perking along pretty well. I was informed by my team that I was allowed to have an apartment in Naples as it was our home port. I found one through shipboard scuttlebutt and moved into a classy five story shopping center, the Galleria Umberto. The entire roof was glass and the view from the top floors was magnificent.

My landlady was very experienced with navy borders and gave me all the lowdown on her rules of the place and the lack of heat in this beautiful masterpiece of a building which is made of marble. The use of a gas space heater was available to me. It was winter in Naples and there is no snow but it was chilly. The galleria was built in 1887 and central heating was not part of the construction plan. It was, and is, a shopping center. Way ahead of the Mall of America.

Also as an advantage to having Naples as my home port I also wore ‘civies’ when I was ‘on the beach’ (civilian clothing and on land) We weren’t in Naples a whole lot of the time, but it was pleasant to buy clothing to wear in town and not be conspicuous as a military person.

I met a very pleasant English girl touring and dressed in my Harris tweeds looked respectable.

I invited her to join me on the local train to Pompeii to view the very old ruins from the eruption of Mount Vesuvius 79 AD. The town was buried in 9 feet of volcanic ash so there are a lot of body impressions and quite a few buildings there. I love history and so did she. Unfortunately all of the extremely pornographic frescoes also were preserved and the train ride back to Naples was pretty quiet and she left quickly at the station. She did not understand it was the first time for me to visit the ancient ruins as well. The brief friendship was nice but later on I lost all the nice clothes including the Harris tweed jacket. A total misunderstanding with the Navy.

Once I was out late and walking out of the elevator to get to my room, the iron gate to the extended walkway was locked. No problem. I just hopped up on the railing and twisted around to the other side. I did not look down to the marble floor five stories below. I was surprised that I would do this bold move but I wondered about the real sailors who climbed the rigging to the top gallant sails back before my enlistment. The elevator took a 10 lire coin to go up but the sailors who used them had a trick to avoid the coin slot. Press the call button and just a moment before the elevator stops, push the stop button, open the door and push the floor you want to go to. It hits bottom and then heads back up with out a stop nor complaint. 10 lire which was nicknamed the ‘deech’ worth about a penny or two. Old time game console just for fun.

I had an alarm clock in my cold apartment so I get back to fleet landing in time. It would have been interesting if it was built at this time so if I recorded a wake up sound of my own. “Reveille, reveille, all hands turn to and trice up. Sweepers, sweepers man your brooms. The smoking lamp is lit in all authorized spaces. Now reveille, reveille”

That greeting at 6 comes every morning on the 1MC speakers. (Except when we were in the war and everyone was standing 24/12 watches.) This wake up call was accompanied by a bosun’s whistle in the beginning which started out high and dropped about two octaves at the end. It was very akin to a locomotive steam whistle at RR crossings on the last of the letter Q. Long-long-short-long. I always liked that sound of the lonesome long end note. Sounds like a lonesome loon call. I Still like it. Not the reveille part though. Old navy stuff. Sweepers? Smoking lamps? Back again to the tall ship sailors who slept in hammocks. (that’s the trice up part) Another tradition that all military embrace. Comforting to be linked to the past. We did not sleep in hammocks but the bunks were tightly placed. Your head, next bunk beside you, his feet.

Rising up in the morning, getting my dress blues on and walking down to fleet landing to catch a ride on the liberty boat. There was a push cart vendor on the dock that sold hot sugar donuts that were big around. On those cold winter mornings in Naples those warm donuts were a saving grace to an espresso picked up on the walk down. Still like that morning sugar and caffeine blast. I use cinnamon and sugar on my toast now. Tradition.

As I reminisce and still see and hear those things of 60 years past, I also thank my Lord Jesus for the memories and the sharp recall of those times. Memories I can give to others and the stories found to be uplifting and reassuring in many ways. He has told me so.

Think upon your past as you also realize this miracle of life and a lot of the lessons learned. I must have a lot to learn as I realize I am still here and getting somewhat older. Or old period. He loves me, he loves you. As my favorite movie of all time, is titled “It’s a wonderful life” Indeed Clarence, it is.

Norm Jack Gator

Autobiography of Norm chapter 4

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

Things were going well for me, teaching code and basic radio operation in San Diego. Still at Camp Nimitz and then things changed. A lot. I got orders to report to Comservron 6 in Naples Italy. I thought this must be an embassy position! Just like my first job as a radio operator for the Boy scouts! I went back to Minneapolis and caught a commercial flight to Italy via Heathrow, Berlin airports. How exciting for me, the great unknown Naval job overseas. I connected with the base in Naples and was put in a landing craft and deposited on the quarter deck of an old WWII fleet oiler. The Missisinewa AO 144

I declared, “there must be some mistake. I am to report to comservron 6!” The OOD told me I was standing on the quarterdeck of comservron 6. I saluted him and turned and saluted the flag off the stern and stepped forward with my seabag. A sailor was there waiting for me and he seemed to know what it all was about. He too, had a radioman symbol on his right shoulder along with a rocker that stated the command.

He showed me my quarters below deck and I stowed my gear and claimed my bunk. He then said he would show me my duty station. We headed aft. Is this were the radio room is? No, this is where the mess deck is. He explained: Every division on board has to send it’s most junior man to work the mess deck and that is your duty station right now. Oh. “Where do you work?” He also stated he worked the mess deck until I showed up. He was Smiling. Relieved of duty.

The mess deck lieutenant showed me where to go. The potato peeling compartment. I was to put a load of potatoes in a big stainless tub and turn it on. Water would spray in and the tub began to turn. It had notches much akin to a hand peeler all around the inside. It worked. The peels went over the side and the potatoes were quite smaller then. Dump them into a stainless bowl and repeat. I heard the bosuns pipe announce “Now arriving comservron 6” which meant our captain was aboard and we were getting underway.

I watched Naples slowly fade away and was pleased I had my very own porthole. Join the Navy and see the world though a porthole.

I peeled potatoes, went down to the freezer locker and brought up frozen chickens by the flock full. There was 324 men aboard plus staff which was my division. A lot of chickens and potatoes. There was always a lot of sliced bread for every meal. More on that later

I started to meet my fellow radiomen and began the process of friendship or not game. I felt very unfulfilled and gloomy. After a few months of scullery, frozen entrees and swabbing decks, I was informed that a new guy from our division was coming aboard! I was as happy as my 1st escort was and went to the quarterdeck when we anchored out in Malta. You know the drill.

The radio shack was on the 02 level above the main deck and I found it familiar. Same thing as I had at home a while ago. Dials and wires, guys with headphones on one ear and typewriters at every radio. Morse code keys too. I was relieved and assured by the undeniable smell of electronic power surging about the compartment. Just like my old bedroom without my bed next to my ‘rig’ I had faster code abilities then expected by the men and quickly move into the comm position of communicating with the big stations and ships we were tied to. I typed pretty well and when I got promoted when we were in Beirut, I began with my top secret clearance and a petty officers ‘crow’ on my uniforms. I was then trained in teletype in my own compartment and had to synchronize our deck to overhead transceiver with a signal from England every day. Eventually I ‘cut a tape’ at 80 words per minute. The tape was six holes across and every combination of the holes was a letter or a number. If I made a mistake, all I had to do was punch a special key and it would punch all the holes and no information would be put on the tape.

It was very good alone time because the only person allowed in besides me was our division officer, Lt Laird. A mustanger that achieved an officers rank the hard way. Work your way up from E2 to E8, master chief and move up the ladder a few more times. He was tough to say the least. Do not cross one of these guys, they can do anything they want and have all the respect due them. “Attention on deck!” “As you were men.” I had dreams of making it to chief, the brown shoe navy.

After six months at sea (one tour) the oiler was headed back to the states. Staff had to transfer all our gear, records and files to another fleet oiler next to us and begin another tour. The Neosho was my next ship. Almost all of the 300 plus ships company dreaded our arrival as it meant crowding, more work and new guys that were the command structure of the missions.

I was doing well with this life. We stopped at Izmir, Rhodes, Malta, Via France, Palma De Majorca, Gibraltar, Barcelona and a few other places I cannot remember. We always had to ‘anchor out’ because no government wanted us in port with 8 million gallons of various petroleum. I loved the bunker oil because it was stored below our deck quarters. It had to be heated to make it flow. As the ship slowly rocked, I heard the flow of oil slowly back and forth and it sounded like waves at the beach. I would be asleep easily. In the winter below the decks were warm. There were some perks to being on a big fleet oiler. To be continued chapter 5

Bullfighter

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

A saying I attribute to Sitting Bull. He spoke of the two wolves inside of us as well. I wondered about this wisdom this morning and ran across more wisdom from Michelle O’Rourke. The little bulls are the battle we have with the little deaths we all must experience in our lives.

The loss’ of physical strength or stability in using what I have left. The bull of my early times swinging spike malls and 16 pound sledge hammers. I agonize over that when I should just join that death with me being the matador and the bull, joined with that blade.

We all have them, those little bulls we embrace. The world inside that speaks failure and personal weakness or loss as the source. To rise up from the sand and brandish the blade and put that snorting thought to death. There are also the worlds many wolves that linger, just beyond the glow of our inner campfire. Eyes lit and eager to pounce upon our sense of worth and trample the fire.

That indeed is the leader of the wolf pack, sense of worth destroyer. I think I am worthless because of changes that come to us all. Physical strength, provision fears. What will become of me when those around me see this?

We indeed do change as we approach death. In old age or in disease or accident. All of us.

My favorite quote from Woody Allen: “I am not afraid of death, I just don’t want to be there when it happens” Why do I cling so hard to my little bulls when I know they must die with me as everyone knows. Playing games within that Jesus will return and I will just be caught up with Him. Maybe I am akin to Enoch and will just ‘leave’ (after a long life) or Elijah who ascends in a flamed out custom chariot with really fancy custom wheels.

Better to listen to our God with his Mighty hand and outstretched arm that delivers time after time and tells me how much He loves me and will never leave me. Loves me the way only He does.

Many times He has shown me my true worth. Small things that are even bigger than the wolves that whisper and howl. He says, “Go here and talk to someone I will show to you” A purpose and all I have got within me. The reason I have had things happen that I can’t explain as excellent and good. My life unfolding with a mystery of loss and gain. Not embracing my mind and the abilities that I have been given as my very own brilliance and creation.

Indeed, the blade must go deep and true to put to death all those thoughts of self importance.

Listen to the creator of all things brilliant. He will give you all the encouragement and worth you ever have needed. He will turn your losses, your grief, and sadness into joy as you dance in the light of His light. Sit at His campfire and the wolfs of the world will not dare approach. It’s pretty good. Jack Gator