As an Army brat my family moved around quite a bit when we were younger. Central California, Germany and then back home to Washington State. After my Dad’s service term ended it was the same situation. I grew up in the Portland Metro area. It got to be where us older kids could not go outside, or wear hockey jerseys because of the gangs. Then it was a town so small it didn’t get its own dot on the map. Eventually we settled in Hoquiam (ho-kwi-um), WA.
My first class in High School was Metal Shop. It was in that class I had my introduction to drafting; machining, welding, etc. Hoquiam is a city of around 9000 people. The type of city where some kids are friends the entire time from K through 12th grade. You’re also bound to share many classes with just about everyone in your year, and know who their siblings were. My last two years I would get approached randomly, “Hey, you’re (my sister’s) brother.”
I say all that to say this. Submarines were not my first choice. I started out as a Surface fleet weenie. I went through six months of that training before the year in the submarine tech pipeline. When it came time to pick orders for duty stations, there was mostly billets to stay in “Rotten” Groton, CT. Horror stories of how Norfolk was 30+ years ago had been one factor for me asking the Detailer, “What else ya got for me, Senior?” Those sea stories were nothing compared to what I encountered in Groton. So, the situation was clear – I joined the Navy only to end up back home. In my class of twelve I picked the last non-Groton orders.
Andy S. was a year ahead of me. I had several classes with his younger brother. I had heard he was in the Navy and in Washington but did not know where. I found him. At the bottom of the ladder the first time I stepped foot onboard. I can’t repeat what he said exactly, but what it amounted to was, “there goes the neighborhood.” That could have easily been the case. As an E5 Machinist Mate he was nearly a deity to junior sailors. There was a time I clogged the garbage disposal. He had a standing order with the rest of “A-Gang” to find him, even if it meant racking him out (waking him up), if I dorked something up. In front of the crew, he was boasting about how he was going to, “Let this dumb NUB have it.” Alone, in the scullery, I asked him to tell me how bad it was going to be, just so I knew what was coming. He just grinned and said, “I got you, bro.” And he did.
By the best estimations Submariners make up 0.0001 % of the population. Therefore, it was invaluable to have someone I already knew well my first few months onboard. He got a copy of Foreign & Domestic not knowing he was in the acknowledgments section. Below is a photo from him sharing it on social media.
He
continues to serve his community as a volunteer fire fighter and works
for the Vietnam Veterans of America. I am extremely fortunate to have
him a friend. I am even more proud to call him a Brother of the ‘Phin.
