Sure 'n Begora!

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

I looked for something to post to mark St. Patrick’s day, and this picture reminded me of some of my Navy days over 30 years ago.

When I was a young Navy officer, on my first ship, the salty Captain told us once of his exploits in the 1950’s on HIS first ship. The ship deployed to Europe for six months, and he and some cohorts decided to challenge the rigidity of the Captain and the Executive Officer (#2) by publishing an anonymous newsletter, poking fun at the more ridiculous orders as well as the antics of the crew.

I did not need to hear more. Our ship was USS O’CALLAHAN, and her radio call sign was Irish Song. So, I designed an anonymous newspaper named “The Shillelagh” – the right instrument, I wrote, with which to beat the administration about the head and the shoulders for silly, inane and harassing rules. I enlisted the aid of a Radioman both because he was discrete and because he had access to a mimeograph machine. I swore him to secrecy, and we proceeded to publish our underground newspaper.

It was 1969 – 1970, and we deployed to Vietnam for two six-month cruises in those years. The secret of the newspaper's authorship was very well kept, and the subject of some serious… well, not investigations, but serious snooping anyway. I had some anonymous reporters, whose names I knew but who didn’t know I was the author. I imposed self censorship, to avoid serious charges of sedition or mutiny; but I did not shy away from criticizing, with tongue firmly in cheek. The XO was a prime target: we took him down a few pegs from time to time. “Who appeared in the Pilot House (the command area where the Captain and the Officer of the Deck control the ship) in his skivvies (underwear) as we pulled alongside USS FORRESTAL last week?” Well, everyone knew it was the XO; and everyone got a good laugh at his expense.

Once, I heard from my sources that some folks were mailing the newspaper home. I launched a special edition, admonishing them NEVER to do so, since some of our articles spoke smugly of crew activities after hours in the bars and the hootchie-cootchie joints in the Philippines, Japan and Australia. I wrote that we would have to cancel the newspaper if it didn’t stop. And that stopped it.

On the night before we pulled back into home port, I published the final copy, and signed my name to it. I handed the Captain his copy after dinner, and I sat down in the wardroom as he read it. When he got to the end, he smiled smugly, said not a word, and left for his cabin. In about three weeks, I got the best annual performance review (fitness report) from him as I had ever received. The facts in the report were my own accomplishments in my job(s) on the ship; but the very positive tone, I think, came from his appreciation of The Shillelagh.