THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, August 28, 1996 TAG: 9608280449
SECTION: MILITARY NEWS PAGE: A8 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: AT SEA
SOURCE: BY BRUCE T. MAURMEIER
LENGTH: 68 lines
It's the start of another day aboard the guided missile destroyer Mitscher.
Another day in the Adriatic Sea, another in the many we have spent, and have yet to spend, steaming off the coast of the former Yugoslavia on our ship's first major deployment.
The days run into each other out here, one filled with the same routine as the next. Differences live in the details, in subtleties.
And today, I can see as I arrive at the mess, is going to be memorable. Sticky buns await, covered with crushed walnuts - a special treat on which I practically lived during my deployment to the Arabian Gulf four years ago.
I plow through a pile of them, then embark on my rounds.
My first stop is the Central Control Station, where I check the status of the engineering plant. I see how the last 10 hours have gone, how the engines have performed, how much fresh water we have, whether we need to transfer fuel to different tanks.
Next, I stop by the Combat Information Center, where I get a quick briefing on the day's planned activities. I ask whether we'll be firing the guns, conducting drills, and whether there's any ship traffic near the Mitscher that I have to be concerned about.
Everything normal. I'm now ready to spend five hours as the junior officer of the deck. I head for the bridge.
The previous JOOD repeats what I learned from my rounds, then hands off the watch. I pull out the commanding officer's standing orders to the officer of the deck. No matter how many times I read the packet - and I read it at least monthly - I learn something new each time. It amazes me.
Halfway through my watch I encounter the day's second variation in the routine.
We begin a drill. The bridge gets a call from Engineering, where an officer reports a loss of lube oil pressure in main engine room number 2. The officer of the deck turns to the boatswain's mate of the watch.
``Boats, sound general quarters,'' he tells him. ``Reason for general quarters is major lube oil leak in main engine room number 2.''
Bells sound. A voice barks ``General quarters!'' over the public-address system. Moments later, the bridge ``voice box'' is squawking with another message from Engineering. ``Class Bravo fire out of control!'' an officer yells, adding that he's evacuating the space.
Pulses quicken. My relief arrives in one minute, and after speeding through the hand-off, I leave the watch and sprint to my general quarters station. These drills can get monotonous at times, but the crew knows that if the real McCoy ever happens, we'll be ready. Out here we don't call 911 - we are 911!
After a while the excitement passes. The imaginary fire extinguished, I head back up to the bridge, where I see that the morning is almost gone. After going through the hand-off procedure again with my regular relief, I head to the mess decks for lunch.
The day is made memorable a third time: The menu is steak sandwiches and french fries, with chocolate ice cream for dessert.
My work has just begun, however. I have messages to read, people to talk to, problems to solve, and paperwork to push. After a few hours it's time to go back on watch. I make the same rounds as nine hours before and report to the bridge.
The watch flies by. I'm off at 8 p.m., get in a 45-minute workout, then hit the shower. Today there's not too long a wait for the shower, and within a few minutes I'm relaxing in front of the TV, catching the last hour of a movie.
Finally, the program finished, I turn in. I say my prayers and think of home.
Seven hours later, the cycle will begin anew. MEMO: Petty Officer 1st Class Bruce T. Maurmeier is a radioman aboard
the guided missile destroyer Mitscher. by CNB