DATE: Wednesday, October 8, 1997            TAG: 9710080063

SECTION: DAILY BREAK             PAGE: E9   EDITION: FINAL 

SOURCE: BY JOHN-HENRY DOUCETTE, STAFF WRITER 

                                            LENGTH:   70 lines

SHIPMATES AID DYING MAN'S CHILDREN

THE NEWS came a month before his twin boys were born. He was going to die.

Soon after a routine checkup this spring revealed terminal pancreatic cancer, the petty officer's shipmates knew. The submarine Baltimore has a tight-knit crew that rallied to their shipmate's side.

Saturday morning they continued their efforts to raise $3,000 in scholarship money for his twins. Baltimore sailors worked the corner of Virginia Beach Boulevard and Witchduck Road, asking for donations and washing cars.

``We can't give his name out,'' said Robert B. Endsley, a 29-year-old petty officer.

``Privacy,'' Endsley explained. ``That's how he wants it. His first name is Jack. His boys are Jacob and Peter. It's their scholarship fund we're raising funds for.''

Endsley waved a sign at cars traveling the boulevard.

This sort of thing isn't uncommon. For all the front-page Tailhooks and jet crashes, there are small acts of kindness between people in uniform. Many sailors get close when they're together for six months. Away from their legally designated loved ones, they become family.

``Especially on subs,'' Endsley said.

He and Jack were in the same division for about a year. They still talk on the phone and get together. Jack's hanging in there, Endsley said. Thanks to, or possibly despite, the chemotherapy.

About 40 sailors, including the captain, washed cars.

One of them was Jack's chief. Tom Light spent ``the better part of three years'' with Jack. They became friends. So did their wives.

``His kids are doing well,'' Light said. ``They're getting big. He's still hanging on. Fighting it. Doing real well with chemo. When they first diagnosed him they said he had maybe two months and it's been eight months.''

Light has seen efforts for fellow sailors before. When somebody lost a relative and his division chipped in to buy a plane ticket home. Another time when some folks bought a $300 car for another guy who was down on his luck.

``But nothing this dramatic,'' Light said.

William Washington, an officer from another ship, drove by and saw the signs. He had his Nissan Pathfinder washed by Lt. Roger G. Isom, Baltimore's navigator.

``I asked a guy on the street what it was for,'' Washington said. ``He said, `A guy in the Navy.' I said, `Sure.' ''

``He's the same age as me,'' Isom said of Jack. ``I'm 32.''

``Now everybody wants to go to the doctor,'' Washington said in a wry voice.

``It hit real close to home. It could have happened to me.''

``You never know,'' Williams said.

Frank R. Brunner, a 22-year-old petty officer, walked between rank-and-file gridlocked traffic on the boulevard. At the same intersection where a Nation of Islam member sold newspapers, Brunner waved a sign and called to anyone who actually stopped when yellow turned to red.

``I didn't really know him so well,'' Brunner said. ``But we've got his kids' pictures hanging in the passageway.''

Seeing Jacob and Peter on the wall is the kind of thing that moves you to help.

``I'm not sure what our goal is,'' Brunner said. ``I guess whatever we can get for them.'' MEMO: The Baltimore crew has set up a Jacob and Peter Scholarship Fund

at Central Fidelity Banks. It will remain open until Dec. 1. ILLUSTRATION: Photo

JOHN-HENRY DOUCETTE

Frank R. Brunner, a 22-year-old petty officer, lures Virginia Beach

drivers to a car wash/donation drive benefiting the children of a

shipmate who was diagnosed this year with terminal cancer.

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