What
are the Odds? |
This is a story worth telling. It’s about the course of events in one’s life, and how without any forewarning or preplanning, they can become connected with others in a completely random, yet deeply touching way.
December. 1979. Apra Harbor, Agana, Guam.
During the past year, I completed U.S. Navy boot camp and various Radioman training schools, married my high school sweetheart, and had orders to report to U.S.S Paul F Foster, DD-964. The only thing I knew about the ship was that it was a destroyer, and I would be stationed aboard this vessel for 3 years. Once aboard, I quickly learned this vessel was the newest destroyer in the fleet, the second in the series of the Spruance class destroyers. It was called a “Star Wars” ship. 564 feet long, with a beam of 55 feet, it had 4 GE LM2500 gas turbine engines, and, relative to the older destroyers in the fleet, could fly. This ship could literally get underway in a matter of minutes, versus the hours it took to get the boilers going on the older ships. In the radio shack, it was all push buttons and switches, versus dials and patches. In short order I, and my shipmates, found myself very proud to be serving on this ship.
While not at war for some time, current events made this a very tense time for the country and military. We had been dealing for months with the Iran hostage crisis, and many of us aboard ship were wondering if this crisis would in any way affect us, as we were due to deploy in November on our 6 month WestPac cruise. I had very mixed emotions as we set sail. I had a fair amount of trepidation and sadness in leaving my new bride alone in a new and strange city, San Diego. All of our family was back in Texas. Yet, I was very excited to have the opportunity to see strange and exotic places. Our cruise was to have port visits in Hawaii, The Philippines, Hong Kong, and Pusan, Korea.
On our way, first stop Hawaii for a couple of days! Off duty during the second day at sea, sitting on the fantail of the ship with others enjoying the moment, we were very surprised to hear the rumble of the LM2500 engines grow ever louder. It was much like the sound of an aircraft revving up for takeoff. The ocean astern of the ship began to roil and boil up as the ship began its acceleration through the waves. Being a Radioman 3rd Class Petty Officer with a one notch above a Top Secret Clearance, I ran to the Radio Shack to see what was up. Turns out we had new orders to get to Hawaii quickly, refuel and get under way again in just 12 hours, and head to the Indian Ocean to participate in the now famous and aborted rescue attempt of the hostages! No leisurely two days on Oahu. We weren’t even going to be allowed to leave the ship. And no Pusan or Hong Kong visits, either!
Refueling and replenishment completed, we were again on our way. Next stop, Subic Bay, Philippines to again refuel and replenish, before heading to the Indian Ocean to join up with the Task Force for the Operation. Alas, not to be so. After two or three days of cruising at faster than normal speed, the unthinkable happened. Attached to the bow of the ship, 25 feet below the water line, was our Sonar Dome. It was a big bubble looking contraption. Well, it cracked. Our orders changed once again. We were ordered to limp along to Agana, Guam, there to enter dry dock for repairs, which were to take an estimated 7 weeks!
Some of us felt a bit like Mister Roberts of movie fame, wondering if the “war” would pass us by. Although not what we had anticipated or expected, Christmas in Guam was not too bad. Aside from missing the family and wife, the seven weeks in Guam, a beautiful island, were very leisurely and serene.
Thanksgiving. 2008. Charleston, SC.
Four or five years ago, Jennifer Davidson came to Charleston, and we had the opportunity to start working together. Jennifer is from Winston-Salem, with a very close-knit family. I’ve had the chance to meet her family, and her father Vic and I have established a pretty good rapport, and have fished together a couple of times. Every year, at Thanksgiving, Jennifer’s family would come down to Charleston, and they would have Thanksgiving dinner out at a restaurant. Early in 2008, Susan and I decided to invite the Davidson clan over to our house for Thanksgiving, for a home cooked, more traditional meal. To our delight, they accepted!
The special day was here. Susan and I fretted over the meal, would we have enough room, would every one get along, etc… The Davidson’s arrived, Jennifer, her mom Susan, Jen’s brother and his wife and two lovely young daughters, and her uncle, Greg Ellison. To my chagrin, Vic couldn’t make it, needing to tend to more family in North Carolina. We need not to have fretted at all. It was like we had known these folks for years. A better, more down to earth family would be hard to find.
Bellies full, football on the TV, guys on the couches, getting to know each other. Turns out Greg served in the Navy about the same time as me. When I told him I had been stationed on the U.S.S. Paul F Foster, I was amazed to find out he recognized the name! Greg knew it was a Spruance class, and said he had worked on it in Guam when it was in dry dock. As it was the newest style ship of the fleet, it was more widely known than I could have imagined. And a surface ship in dry dock in Guam was not a normal occurrence. What are the odds of that? Two complete strangers, brought together by chance, being in the same place, almost 30 years ago, thousands of miles from home at the same time?
Later that evening, as the Davidson’s were leaving, we discovered what a terrific day it had been for us, and invited them back next year. We hope they accept. Who knows? A new Tradition started?
January 7, 2009. Charleston, SC.
Today Jennifer handed me two photographs of a Navy ship in dry dock. She said Greg had given them to her to give to me. As I looked at them, it became clear that it was my ship, U.S.S. Paul F Foster, DD-964, in dry dock, in Guam. In faint red letters on the back of the photos, it read Dec 79. As I related the story to my wife and kids this evening, I was overcome with the depth of emotion and flood of memories I experienced. Really. What are the odds? Greg kept these photographs for 29 years? Why? Were they just thrown in a never looked at box of old photos, or a photo album, and he decided to look at his Navy memorabilia (we all have saved some), and found these? And they are in my hands now?
For this, I can only say to Greg: Thanks, fellow Swabbie! Hope to see you soon, but especially next Thanksgiving.
Submitted and written by permission from B. Morgan ©2009
