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Tag: Navy

“America’s First Fleet: How the Continental Navy Fought for Independence”

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On November 23, 2025

In History

The Continental Navy, established during the American Revolution, represented the colonies’ first organized attempt to challenge British naval supremacy. Though vastly outnumbered and outgunned by the Royal Navy, this fledgling force played a crucial role in securing American independence through daring raids, strategic disruption of British supply lines, and pivotal battles that helped turn the tide of war.

Congressional Acts and Political Support

The Continental Navy’s creation stemmed from military necessity rather than long-term naval planning. On October 13, 1775, the Continental Congress passed the first naval legislation, authorizing the fitting out of two vessels to intercept British supply ships carrying munitions to loyalist forces. This modest beginning expanded rapidly when Congress passed additional acts on October 30, 1775, calling for the construction of thirteen frigates and establishing the foundation of American naval power.

The Navy’s primary champions in Congress came from maritime colonies that understood sea power’s importance. John Adams of Massachusetts emerged as the Navy’s most vocal advocate, arguing that naval forces were essential for protecting American commerce and challenging British control of coastal waters. Recognizing that their states’ economic survival depended on maintaining sea access Samuel Chase of Maryland and Christopher Gadsden of South Carolina (designer of the Gadsden Flag) also provided crucial support. Rhode Island’s Stephen Hopkins, whose state had a rich maritime tradition, consistently voted for naval appropriations and expansion.

Opposition came primarily from other southern agricultural colonies that viewed naval expenditures as wasteful diversions from land-based military needs. Virginia’s delegates, despite their state’s extensive coastline, often questioned the wisdom of directly challenging Britain’s naval supremacy. These political divisions reflected deeper disagreements about military strategy and resource allocation during the war.

Ship Acquisition and Fleet Development

The Continental Navy acquired vessels through multiple methods, reflecting the revolution’s improvisational nature. Congress initially authorized the purchase and conversion of merchant ships, transforming trading vessels into warships through the addition of cannons and other military equipment. The frigates Cabot and Andrew Doria began as merchant vessels before receiving naval modifications.

New construction was the Navy’s most ambitious undertaking. The thirteen frigates authorized in 1775 were built in shipyards from New Hampshire to Georgia, spreading construction contracts across multiple colonies to ensure political support and reduce vulnerability to British attacks. These ships, including the Hancock and Randolph—named after prominent patriots to increase support—varied in size from 24 to 32 guns and represented state-of-the-art naval architecture.

Captured British vessels were also added to the fleet. American naval forces seized numerous enemy ships during the war, with some converted to Continental Navy service. The most famous capture occurred when John Paul Jones took HMS Serapis during his epic battle aboard Bonhomme Richard, though ironically, his own ship sank shortly after the victory.

Private vessels operating under letters of marque also supplemented the official navy. These privateers, while not technically part of the Continental Navy, operated under congressional authorization and contributed significantly to disrupting British commerce.  Although, many considered privateers to be little more than questionably legal piracy.

Officer and Sailor Recruitment

Recruiting qualified officers proved challenging for a nation lacking naval traditions. Congress appointed many officers based on political connections and regional representation rather than solely on maritime experience. However, several appointees possessed substantial seafaring backgrounds. John Paul Jones, a Scottish-born merchant captain, brought extensive seafaring experience. Esek Hopkins, the Navy’s first commander-in-chief, had commanded privateers during the French and Indian War.

Other members of the officer corps reflected colonial society’s diversity. Captains came from various backgrounds, including merchant marine service, privateering, and even some Royal Navy officers. Congress attempted to maintain geographic balance in appointments, ensuring that all colonies felt represented in the naval leadership.

Sailor recruitment proved more difficult. The Continental Navy competed with privateers, merchant ships, and the army for manpower. Privateering offered potentially greater financial rewards through prize money, making it difficult to attract sailors to regular naval service. The navy relied on bounties, promises of prize shares, and appeals to patriotism to fill crew rosters. 

Many sailors were drawn from coastal communities with maritime traditions. New England provided the largest contingent, given its extensive fishing and merchant fleets. However, the navy also recruited inland farmers, artisans, and even some former British naval personnel who had deserted or been captured.

The Continental Navy rarely resorted to impressment which was little more than kidnapping, though the few sailors who were impressed were paid and usually were released after completion of a single voyage.

Major Naval Battles and Strategic Impact

The Continental Navy’s most famous engagement occurred on September 23, 1779, when John Paul Jones commanding the Bonhomme Richard fought the HMS Serapis off the English coast. During this brutal three-and-a-half-hour battle the British called upon Jones to surrender and he reportedly replied, “I have not yet begun to fight!” His eventual victory provided a massive morale boost and international recognition of American naval capabilities.

The capture of New Providence in the Bahamas during March 1776 marked the navy’s first major operation. Esek Hopkins led a fleet of eight vessels in this successful raid, seizing gunpowder and military supplies desperately needed by Washington’s army. This victory demonstrated the navy’s potential for strategic operations beyond American coastal waters.

Naval battles along the American coast proved equally significant. The Delaware River battles of 1777 saw Continental Navy vessels attempting to prevent British naval forces from supporting the occupation of Philadelphia. Though ultimately unsuccessful, these engagements delayed British operations and demonstrated American willingness to contest enemy naval movements.

The most strategically important naval operations involved disrupting British supply lines and commerce. Continental Navy vessels captured hundreds of British merchant ships, depriving the enemy of supplies while providing America with desperately needed materials. These operations forced Britain to divert warships from other duties to provide convoy protection, reducing pressure on American forces ashore.

The Continental Navy also operated in partnership with French forces after the 1778 alliance. Joint operations extended American reach and contributed to key turning points in the war. French naval victories, especially at the Battle of the Chesapeake in 1781, indirectly sealed the fate of Cornwallis’s army at Yorktown by cutting off British reinforcements. Although this victory was French, it fulfilled the strategic vision the Continental Congress had first imagined in 1775—a sea power capable of shaping the war’s outcome.

Great Lakes Naval Operations

During the Revolution, both sides recognized the Great Lakes’ strategic importance for controlling the northwestern frontier. The British maintained naval superiority on these waters through their base at Detroit and control of key shipbuilding facilities. American forces attempted to challenge this dominance through the construction of small naval vessels on Lake Champlain and other waterways.

The most significant Revolutionary War naval action on inland waters occurred on Lake Champlain in October 1776. Benedict Arnold, commanding a small American fleet built on site, engaged a superior British force in a desperate delaying action. Though Arnold’s fleet was largely destroyed, the battle forced the British to postpone their invasion plans until the following year, providing crucial time for Americans to consolidate defenses and contributing to the American victory at Saratoga.

Trials and Transformations

Despite its courage, the Continental Navy faced constant hardship. Its ships were outgunned, its officers underpaid, and its crews plagued by desertion and disease. Many vessels were captured or scuttled to avoid seizure. The Alfred, the Navy’s first flagship, was taken by the British in 1778; others, like the Reprisal and Lexington, were lost at sea.

After the Treaty of Paris (1783), Congress was burdened by debt and saw no need for a standing blue-water navy. The last remaining ship, USS Alliance, was sold on August 1, 1785, marking the formal end of the Continental Navy, two years after the Revolutionary War ended.

It was not long before increasing attacks on American merchant ships by Barbary corsairs pushed Congress to pass the 1794 Naval Act, authorizing construction of six frigates. This was the first step in rebuilding the naval force, though it wasn’t yet a fully independent service.

On April 30, 1798, Congress created the Department of the Navy, taking naval affairs out of the War Department and officially re-establishing the United States Navy as a separate, permanent institution.

Legacy and Impact on Revolutionary Success

The Continental Navy’s impact on the Revolutionary War extended far beyond what its modest size might suggest. By challenging British naval supremacy, even unsuccessfully at times, the Continental Navy forced Britain to maintain large fleet deployments in American waters, reducing British naval availability for operations elsewhere and increasing the war’s cost.

More importantly, Continental Navy operations helped secure the French alliance that proved decisive in achieving independence. French officials were impressed by American naval courage and potential, viewing the Navy as evidence of serious commitment to independence. Naval victories like Jones’s triumph over HMS Serapis provided powerful propaganda tools for American diplomats seeking European support.

The Continental Navy also established important precedents for American naval development. The officer corps trained during the Revolution provided leadership for subsequent naval expansion. Naval yards and facilities developed during the war became foundations for future fleet construction.

Despite its relatively small size and limited resources, the Continental Navy demonstrated that determined naval forces could challenge even the world’s most powerful fleet. Through courage, innovation, and strategic thinking, America’s first navy helped secure the independence that made possible the nation’s eventual emergence as a global naval power. The lessons learned and traditions established during these formative years continued to influence American naval development long after the Revolution’s end.

The Continental Marines: Birth of America’s Amphibious Warriors

By

On November 6, 2025

In History

When most people think of the American Revolution, they picture Continental soldiers marching across snowy battlefields or patriot militias defending their homes. But there’s another group that played a crucial role in securing American independence: the Continental Marines. These amphibious warriors served in America’s nascent naval force and proved their worth on both land and sea during the eight-year struggle for independence.

The Continental Marines, established in 1775, served as America’s first organized marine force during the Revolutionary War before being disbanded in 1783, laying the foundation for what would eventually become the modern U.S. Marine Corps.  Though short-lived, the original Marine Corps played a significant role in America’s fight for independence, setting precedents that the modern Marine Corps still honors today.

The Legislative Foundation

By the fall of 1775, the American colonies were no longer engaged in mere protest—they were in open rebellion against the British Empire. Battles had already been fought at Lexington, Concord, and Bunker Hill. The Continental Congress, led by figures like John Adams, had begun to organize a Continental Army under George Washington’s command. But many in the Congress, especially Adams, believed a navy was also essential to challenge British power at sea and disrupt its supply lines.

With a navy, it was reasoned, must come Marines—soldiers trained to serve aboard ships, conduct landings, enforce discipline, and fight in close quarters during boarding actions. This model was based on the British Royal Marines, a corps with a long and respected tradition.

The Continental Marines came into existence through a resolution passed by the Second Continental Congress on November 10, 1775. This date, which Marines still celebrate today as their birthday, marked a pivotal moment in American military history.

The Continental Marine Act of 1775 decreed: “That two battalions of Marines be raised consisting of one Colonel, two lieutenant-colonels, two majors and other officers, as usual in other regiments; that they consist of an equal number of privates as with other battalions, that particular care be taken that no persons be appointed to offices, or enlisted into said battalions, but such as are good seamen, or so acquainted with maritime affairs as to be able to serve for and during the present war with Great Britain and the Colonies.”

The legislation was part of Congress’s broader effort to create a Continental Navy capable of challenging British naval supremacy. The resolution was drafted by future U.S. president John Adams and adopted in Philadelphia. This wasn’t just about creating another military unit—Congress recognized that naval warfare required specialized troops who could fight effectively both on ships and on shore. The concept wasn’t entirely new—European navies had long employed marines for similar purposes—but the Continental Marines represented America’s first organized attempt to create a professional amphibious force, though the term amphibious didn’t come into use in a military setting until the 1930s—they would likely have been informally referred to as a naval landing force.

Recruitment: From Taverns to the Fleet

The recruitment of the Continental Marines has become the stuff of legend, particularly the story of their traditional birthplace at Tun Tavern in Philadelphia. Though legend places its first recruiting post at Tun Tavern, historian Edwin Simmons surmises that it may as likely have been the Conestoga Waggon [sic], a tavern owned by the Nicholas family. Regardless of which tavern served as the primary recruiting station, the Marines can claim the unique distinction of being the only military branch “born in a bar”.

The first Commandant of the Marine Corps was Captain Samuel Nicholas, and his first Captain and recruiter was Robert Mullan, the owner of Tun Tavern. Samuel Nicholas, a Quaker-born Philadelphia native and experience mariner, was commissioned on November 28, 1775, becoming the Continental Marines’ senior officer and only commandant throughout their existence. While his background as a Philadelphia tavern keeper may seem unusual for a military leader, his connections in the maritime community proved invaluable for recruiting. The requirement for maritime experience shaped the character of the force from its inception.

The Marines faced immediate recruitment challenges. Originally, Congress envisioned using the Marines for a planned invasion of Nova Scotia.  They expected the Marines to draw personnel from George Washington’s Continental Army.  However, Washington was reluctant to part with his soldiers, forcing the Marines to recruit independently, primarily from the maritime communities of Philadelphia and New York.

By December 1775, Nicholas had raised a battalion of approximately 300 men, organized into five companies, though this fell short of the original plan for two full battalions. Robert Mullan, helped to assemble the fledgling fighting force. Plans to form the second battalion were suspended indefinitely after several British regiments-of-foot and cavalry landed in Nova Scotia, making the planned naval assault impossible.

Organization for Dual Service

The Continental Marines were organized as a flexible force capable of serving both aboard ships and on land. For shipboard service, Marines were organized into small detachments that could be distributed across the Continental Navy’s vessels. Their organization reflected their multi-purpose mission: they served as security forces protecting ship officers, repelling boarders and joining boarding parties during naval engagements, and as assault troops for amphibious operations. Marksmanship received particular emphasis—a tradition that continues to this day—as Marines often served as sharpshooters in naval engagements, targeting enemy officers and sailors from the rigging and fighting tops of ships.

During the Revolutionary War, the Continental Marines uniform directives specified a green jacket with white facings and cuffs.   However, when the first sets of uniforms were actually ordered and delivered, red facings were substituted for white. The likely reason was supply availability: red cloth was easier to obtain from Continental or captured British stores. The most authoritative description comes from Captain Samuel Nicholas, who wrote from Philadelphia in 1776 that Marines were outfitted in “green coats faced with red, and lined with white”

The uniform also included a high leather collar, or stock, to ostensibly protect the neck against sword slashes, although there is some evidence that may actually have been intended to improve posture. This distinctive uniform item helped establish their identity as an elite force and eventually lead to their treasured nickname “leathernecks”.

Shipboard Service and Naval Operations

The Continental Marines’ role aboard ship was multifaceted and crucial to naval operations. Their most important duty was to serve as onboard security forces, protecting the captain of a ship and his officers. During naval engagements, in addition to manning the cannons along with the crew of the ship, Marine sharp shooters were stationed in the fighting tops of a ship’s masts specifically to shoot the opponent’s officers and crew. These duties reflected centuries of naval tradition and drew on the example of the British Marines.

The Marines’ first major naval operation came in early 1776 when five companies joined Commodore Esek Hopkins’ Continental Navy  squadron, on its first cruise in the Caribbean. This deployment demonstrated their value as both shipboard security and assault troops, setting the pattern for their service throughout the war.

Major Land-Based Actions

Despite their naval origins, the Continental Marines proved equally effective in land combat. Their most famous early action was the landing at Nassau on the Island of New Providence in the Bahamas in March 1776. The landing was the first by Marines on a hostile shore.  It was led by Captain Nicholas and consisted of 250 marines and sailors. After 13 Days the Marines had captured two forts, the Government House, occupied Nassau and captured cannons and large stores of supplies. While they missed capturing the gunpowder stores (which had been evacuated before their arrival), the raid demonstrated American capability to strike British positions anywhere.

Though modest in scale, this operation had a major symbolic weight and established the Marines as America’s premier amphibious force. The operation did not decisively alter the balance of the war, but it foreshadowed the Marines’ enduring identity as a seafaring, expeditionary force. Today, the Battle of Nassau is remembered less for the supplies seized than for what it represented: the moment the Continental Marines stepped onto the world stage.

Other notable operations included raids on British soil itself. In April of 1778, Marines under the command of John Paul Jones made two daring raids, one at the port of Whitehaven, in northwest England, and the second later that day at St. Mary’s Isle. These operations brought the war directly to British territory, demonstrating American reach and resolve.  While the battles had no strategic impact on the outcome of the war, they were a great moral booster when reports, though largely exaggerated, reached the rebellious colonies

Official Marine Corps history also acknowledges Marine participation in the Battle of Princeton, though it wasn’t a major Marine engagement. Marines from Captain William Shippen’s company, who had been serving aboard Continental Navy ships, participated in this battle as a part of Cadwalader’s Brigade on Washington’s flank.  Some Marines were detached to augment the artillery, with a few eventually transferring to the army.  However, the Marines’ role was relatively minor compared to their more significant naval actions during this period.

The Gradual Decline

As the Revolutionary War progressed, the Continental Marines faced increasing challenges. Financial constraints plagued the Continental forces throughout the war, and the Marines were no exception. The Continental Congress struggled to fund and supply all military branches, and the relatively small Marine force often found itself at a disadvantage competing for resources with the larger Continental Army and Navy.

Recruitment became increasingly difficult as the war dragged on. After the early campaigns, Nicholas’s four-company battalion discontinued independent service, and remaining Marines were reassigned to shipboard detachments.  Their number had been reduced by transfers, desertion, and the loss of eighty Marines through disease.

The Continental Navy also faced severe challenges that directly impacted the Marines. Many ships were captured, destroyed, or sold, leaving Marines without their primary operational platform. As the naval war shifted toward privateering and smaller-scale operations, the need for organized Marine units diminished.

Beginning in February 1777 two companies of Marines either transferred to Morristown to assume the roles in the Continental artillery batteries or left the service altogether. This transfer of Marines to army artillery units reflected the practical reality that their specialized skills were needed elsewhere as the Continental forces adapted to changing circumstances.

Disbanded at War’s End

The end of the Revolutionary War marked the end of the Continental Marines as an organized force. Both the Continental Navy and Marines were disbanded in April 1783. Although a few individual Marines briefly stayed on to provide security for the remaining U.S. Navy vessels, the last Continental Marine was discharged in September 1783.

The last official act of the Continental Marines was escorting a stash of French Silver Crowns (coins) from Boston to Philadelphia—a loan from Louis XVI to establish of the Bank of North America. This final mission, conducted in 1781, symbolically linked the Marines to the new nation’s financial foundations even as their military role ended.

The disbanding reflected broader American attitudes toward standing military forces. Having won their independence, Americans were skeptical of maintaining large military establishments that might threaten republican government. The Continental Congress, facing financial pressures and political opposition to permanent military forces, chose to disband both the Navy and Marines.

Legacy

The Continental Marines’ contribution to American independence was significant despite their small numbers. In all, over the course of 7 years of battle, the Continental Marines had only 49 men killed and just 70 more wounded, out of a total force of roughly 130 Marine Officers and 2,000 enlisted. These relatively low casualty figures reflected both their effectiveness and the limited size of the force.

Rising tensions with Revolutionary France in the late 1790s led to the Quasi-War, prompting Congress to reestablish the Navy in 1798. On July 11 of that year, President John Adams signed legislation formally creating the United States Marine Corps as a permanent branch of the military, under the jurisdiction of the Department of the Navy. This new Marine Corps inherited the traditions, mission, and esprit de corps of its Revolutionary War predecessors.  Despite the gap between the disbanding of the Continental Marines and the establishment of the new United States Marine Corps, Marines honor November 10, 1775, as the official founding date of their Corps.

The Continental Marines established precedents that would shape American military doctrine for more than two centuries. The Revolutionary War not only led to the founding of the United States (Continental) Marine Corps but also highlighted for the first time the versatility for which Marines have come to be known. They fought on land, they fought at sea on ships, and they performed amphibious assaults.

The Continental Marines represented a crucial innovation in American military organization. Born from congressional resolution and tavern recruitment, these maritime warriors proved their worth in battles from the Caribbean to the British Isles. Though disbanded with the war’s end, their legacy lives on in the traditions and spirit of the modern Marine Corps. While their numbers were small and their existence brief, their impact on American military tradition proved lasting and significant.

The First Amphibious Landing

By

On September 4, 2025

In History

 The Continental Marines at Nassau

When the Second Continental Congress authorized the creation of the Continental Marines on November 10, 1775, few could foresee their pivotal role in orchestrating North America’s first amphibious assault less than four months later.  The operation against Nassau, on New Providence Island in the Bahamas, was born of necessity, marked by improvisation, and ultimately set the tone for Marine Corps operations—an audacious legacy that endures to this day.

Origins: Gunpowder Desperation and Strategic Vision

The American Revolution’s early years were marked by chronic shortages, especially of gunpowder. After the British seized stores destined for the Patriot cause, intelligence uncovered that significant quantities were stockpiled at Nassau. The Continental Congress approached this challenge with typical Revolutionary War creativity—they would use their brand-new Navy and even newer Marines to solve an Army problem. The Congress’ official instructions to Commodore Esek Hopkins focused on patrolling the Virginia and Carolina coasts, but “secret orders” directed attention to the Bahamas, setting in motion a bold plan to directly address the fledgling army’s supply crisis.

Organization: The Making of an Amphibious Battalion

With barely three months’ existence, the Continental Marines had hastily raised five companies of around 300 men. Captain Samuel Nicholas, tasked as the first Marine officer, oversaw their training and organization in Philadelphia. Their equipment was uneven—many wore civilian garb rather than uniforms and carried whatever muskets and bayonets were available. The uniform regulations specifying the now famous green coats with white facings were not promulgated until several months after the raid was over.

The Voyage South: Challenges and Preparation

Hopkins’ fleet consisted of the ships Alfred, Hornet, Wasp, Fly, Andrew Doria, Cabot, Providence, and Columbus. In addition to ships’ crews, the fleet carried more than 200 Continental Marines under the command of Captain Nicholas. The expedition began inauspiciously on January 4, 1776, when the fleet attempted to leave Philadelphia but became trapped by ice in the Delaware River for six weeks.

When they finally reached the Atlantic on February 17, 1776, the small fleet faced additional challenges. Disease found its way onboard most of the ships. Smallpox was a huge concern and was reported on at least four ships.

The fleet’s journey to the Caribbean took nearly two weeks of sailing through challenging winter conditions. Despite the hardships, Hopkins maintained the element of surprise—British intelligence had detected American naval preparations but assumed the fleet was bound for New York or Boston, not the distant Bahamas.

Implementation: Amphibious Innovation at Nassau

The element of surprise was initially lost when the fleet’s approach triggered alarm at Nassau. Plans to storm the stronger Fort Nassau dissolved, and Hopkins convened a council to identify a new landing point. A revised strategy saw about 230 Marines and 50 sailors, led by Captain Nicholas, land from longboats two miles east of the weaker Fort Montagu on March 3, 1776. They wore a patchwork of civilian clothes and white breeches—some men had managed to find green shirts as a form of identification. They set out marching toward the fort armed with muskets and bayonets, looking perhaps more like pirates than soldiers. 

Their advance was met with only token resistance. Outnumbered and ill-prepared, local militia withdrew as Nicholas’s men captured Fort Montagu in what historian Edwin Simmons called a “battle as bemused as it was bloodless.”

Nicholas decided to wait until morning to advance on the town.  His decision was tactically sound given the circumstances—he’d lost surprise, did not know the enemy’s strength, was operating in unknown terrain, night was falling, and he lacked naval support. However, this prudent military decision allowed Governor Browne to escape with over 80% of Nassau’s gunpowder stores, turning what could have been a complete strategic victory into a partial success. This incident highlights the tension between tactical prudence and strategic urgency that was destined to become a recurring theme in amphibious warfare.

The next day the Americans took Fort Nassau and arrested the Governor, Montfort Browne. Browne had already sent most of the coveted gunpowder on to St. Augustine, Florida, the night before. Despite this, American forces seized cannons, shells, and other military stores before occupying Nassau for nearly two weeks.

Marine discipline and flexibility were evident, as they pivoted from their surprise landing, conducted operations deep inland, and created their evolving amphibious reputation. The fleet departed on March 17, not before stripping Nassau and its forts of anything militarily useful.

Aftermath: Growing Pains and Enduring Lessons

Though the mission failed in its primary objective of securing a cache of gunpowder, its operational successes far outweighed the losses. The Marines returned with large quantities of artillery, munitions, and several recaptured vessels. On the return leg, they faced and fought (though did not defeat) HMS Glasgow; the squadron returned to New England by April 8, with several casualties including the first Marine officer killed in action, Lt. John Fitzpatrick.

Controversy followed—Hopkins was censured for failing to engage British forces as directed in his official orders.  Nicholas was promoted to major and tasked with raising additional Marine companies for new frigates then under construction. These developments reflected both the lessons learned and the growing recognition of the value of the Marine force in expeditionary operations ashore.

A second raid on Nassau by Continental Marines occurred from January 27–30, 1778, under Captain John Peck Rathbun. Marines and seamen landed covertly at midnight, quickly seizing Fort Nassau and liberating American prisoners held by the British. The raiders proceeded to capture five anchored vessels, dismantled Fort Montagu, spiked the guns, and loaded 1,600 lbs of captured gunpowder before departing. This bold operation marked the first time the Stars and Stripes flew over a foreign fort and showcased the resourcefulness of American forces, who managed to strike a valuable blow against British power in the Caribbean without suffering casualties.

Long-Term Implications for the United States Marine Corps

The Nassau operation set powerful precedents:

  • Amphibious Warfare Doctrine: This was the Marines’ first organized amphibious landing, shaping the Corps’ future focus on rapid deployment from sea to shore, a hallmark that continues in modern doctrine.  This was likely referred to at the time as a Naval landing, as the word amphibious did not come into use in this context until the 1930s.
  • Adaptability Under Fire: The improvisational tactics used at Nassau foreshadowed the Corps’ reputation for flexibility and mission focus.
  • Naval Integration: Joint operations with the Navy not only succeeded tactically, but helped institutionalize the Marine-Navy partnership, with Marines serving as shipboard security, landing parties, and naval infantry.
  • Legacy of Boldness: This first operation established a “first-in” ethos and a culture embracing challenge and audacity, foundational principles in Marine culture.

After the war, the Continental Marines disbanded, only to be re-established in 1798. Yet the legacy of Nassau endured. “Semper Fidelis”—always faithful—has its roots in that March 1776 assault, when the odds seemed long and the stakes critical.

Today’s United States Marine Corps draws a direct lineage from that small, ragtag battalion of Marines scrambling ashore at Nassau, forever entwining its identity with the promise, risk, and legacy of that first storied mission. Every modern Marine, stepping from ship to shore, walks in the footprints of Captain Samuel Nicholas and his men—soldiers of the sea whose boldness, improvisation, and teamwork have echoed across the centuries.

 Doctors of the Deep Blue Sea

By

On March 25, 2025

In History, Medicine

A Brief History of the U.S. Navy Medical Corps

The U.S. Navy Medical Corps has a history that evolves from a humble beginning during the Revolutionary War to its current role as a vital component of modern military medicine. The Medical Corps ensures the health and well-being of sailors, Marines, and their families, while contributing to public health and advancements in medical science.

Origins in the Revolutionary War

The roots of Navy medicine trace back to the Revolutionary War, when medical care aboard ships was primitive at best. Shipboard surgeons, often lacking formal medical training, treated injuries and disease with the limited tools and knowledge available to them. In the early days of the U.S. Navy, physicians served without formal commissions, often receiving temporary appointments for specific cruises.  Their primary tasks included amputations, treating infections, and caring for diseases like scurvy and dysentery.

In 1798, Congress formally established the Department of the Navy, creating the foundation for organized medical care within the naval service.  Surgeon Edward Cutbush published the first American text on naval medicine in 1808. The Naval Hospital Act of 1811 marked another milestone, authorizing the construction of naval hospitals to support the growing fleet.

Establishment of the Navy Medical Corps (1871)

The U.S. Navy Medical Corps was officially established on March 3, 1871, by an act of Congress. This legislation created a formal medical staff to support the Navy, setting standards for the recruiting and training naval physicians. These physicians were initially known as “Surgeons” and “Assistant Surgeons,” tasked with providing care on ships and at naval hospitals.  The act granted Navy physicians rank relative to their line counterparts, acknowledged their role as a staff corps, and established the title of “Surgeon General” for the Navy’s senior medical officer.

During this period, the Navy Medical Corps began to expand its scope. It embraced emerging medical technologies and scientific discoveries, setting the stage for its later contributions to public health and medical innovation.

The Navy Hospital Corps

The U.S. Navy Hospital Corps was established on June 17, 1898. Its creation was prompted by the increased medical needs during the Spanish-American War. Since then, the enlisted corpsmen have served in every conflict involving the United States, providing critical medical care on battlefields, aboard ships, and in hospitals worldwide.

Corpsmen are trained to perform a wide range of medical tasks, including emergency battlefield triage and treatment, surgery assistance, and disease prevention. They are often embedded directly with Marine Corps units, making them indispensable on the battlefield.

The Hospital Corps is the most decorated group in the U.S. Navy. To date, its members have earned numerous high-level awards for valor, including: 22 Medals of Honor, 182 Navy Crosses, 946 Silver Stars, and 1,582 Bronze Stars.

World Wars and the Expansion of Military Medicine

Both World War I and World War II were transformative for the Navy Medical Corps. During World War I, Navy medical personnel treated injuries and illnesses both aboard ships and in field hospitals. Their efforts were instrumental in managing wartime epidemics, including the devastating 1918 influenza pandemic.

World War II brought further advancements. The Navy Medical Corps played a pivotal role in addressing the challenges of warfare in diverse climates, including tropical diseases in the Pacific Theater. It also pioneered methods for treating trauma, burns, and psychiatric conditions.

Cold War Era and Modernization

The Cold War era marked a time of significant innovation for the Navy Medical Corps. The establishment of the Navy Medical Research Institutes advanced studies in areas such as tropical medicine, submarine medicine, and aerospace medicine. These efforts supported the Navy’s global missions and contributed to broader medical advancements.

In the latter half of the 20th century, Navy medical personnel became key players in humanitarian missions, responding to natural disasters and providing aid in conflict zones. Their expertise in public health, infectious disease control, and trauma care enhanced the Navy’s ability to spread goodwill worldwide.

Modern Contributions and Future Challenges

Today, the Navy Medical Corps supports both military readiness and global health. Its personnel provide care on ships, submarines, aircraft carriers, and for Marine Corps forces, and at shore-based facilities. They also participate in humanitarian missions and disaster response, reflecting the Navy’s commitment to a broader vision of security and well-being.

In recent years, Navy medicine has faced challenges such as the COVID-19 pandemic, addressing mental health issues among service members, and adapting to emerging threats like climate change and cyber warfare defense. These challenges underscore the evolving role of the Navy Medical Corps in a complex world.

From its early days of rudimentary care to its modern role in global health and innovation, the U.S. Navy Medical Corps has been a cornerstone of military medicine. Its contributions extend beyond the battlefield, shaping public health, medical research, and humanitarian efforts worldwide.

As the Navy Medical Corps continues to adapt to new challenges, it remains a testament to the enduring value of medical service in the defense of the nation and the promotion of global health.

Travels of a West Virginia Boy Part I, Hong Kong

By

On February 20, 2023

In Commentary, Travel

   The first time I left the United States I was 21 years old and on my way to Vietnam. In one of those little ironies of life, I would visit Hong Kong three times before I ever made it to New York City. Growing up in West Virginia, my family thought a trip to Myrtle Beach was the height of travel. It’s still the destination of choice for many West Virginians and I still love the South Carolina low country and fried sea food.

   My first trip to Hong Kong was in the spring of 1970. I was serving on the USS Sanctuary in the coastal waters of Vietnam. I had my R&R (Rest & Recreation) trip planned to Australia later in the summer. However, I received orders ending my tour early because I was to report for a training school in San Diego in early June. This meant if I wanted to go on R&R it would have to be soon. The only R&R destination available in my time frame was Hong Kong. I knew next to nothing about Hong Kong. The closest I had come to Chinese culture was chop suey at the New China Restaurant in Charleston.

  R&R was basically a five-day vacation that the military gave you when you were serving in the Vietnam area. It was something you looked forward to for the first part of your tour and then you would dream about it for the remainder.

   Even flying into Hong Kong was an exciting experience. The old Hong Kong airport was almost in the middle of the city. The flight path carried you down between the buildings. I remember looking out the window of the plane and into the window of an apartment building. There didn’t seem to be enough room for the wings in between the buildings, but somehow the plane landed without incident. That initial look out the window may have been one of the most surprising things that I have experienced.

   When we first arrived, we were given the typical military orientation lecture that included warnings about venereal disease with a large map that showed us the areas of Hong Kong we should avoid. Of course, for many of us that meant those were the areas we were going to head to first.  They also gave us a list of hotels we could afford without spending all our R&R money.

   Hong Kong was like nothing I had ever seen before. I spent the first day wandering around the crowded streets watching the people and trying to sort out the multitude of sights and smells.  There was an odd combination of delicious, exotic and downright strange. Street food was everywhere and so were street vendors.  The first day I was determined to sample as many different foods as possible. They varied from delicious to inedible. I’m sure that was just me, because the Chinese people seemed to most enjoy the food I couldn’t eat.

   I also looked in a lot of shops trying to decide what I should buy.  The shop people were friendly and spent a long time answering my often rambling questions.  I had been advised to be very careful about negotiating prices.  A Chief Petty Officer who was familiar with Hong Kong (his wife was Chinese) told us, “The Chinese people are basically honest.  They won’t steal from you, but if you’re a bad negotiator, they are glad to let you pay three times what it’s worth.”  In Hong Kong you even bargained over the price of a pack of gum, a skill I never really developed.

    I eventually decided I would have a suit made because I had never had a tailor-made suit. I also had some shoes made.  I’m sure that because of my poor negotiating skills I paid more than I needed to, but I was happy with the price and that was all that mattered to me.   I thought I was pretty fashionable, but looking back I probably could have done better in my selection of material.  The shiny shark skin material that looked so cool on Frank Sinatra didn’t do anything for me.  The shoes were nice though.  I wore a size 14 narrow, and it was nice to have a pair that actually fit.

   The second night in Hong Kong as I was leaving the hotel, I ran into an Australian sailor who had been to there many times before. He said he’d show me the “real action” in Hong Kong.  As we walked along, he turned down a narrow and dark side street and then into a basement level bar that had a big neon sign that said “Club Red Lips” with a big pair of neon lips underneath it. The place was dark and crowded with a lot of Australian sailors and Chinese women. It smelled of stale beer, cigarettes and sweat. After two beers my new friend turned to me and suggested getting out of there and going someplace where there would be some better action.

We started down the street and as he was ready to turn in to an even darker and narrower alley, I suddenly remembered I had someplace else to be. The “real action” was starting to seem a little too risky to me.

 I begged off and headed back to a better lit part of town to have dinner and drinks with other American sailors. I suppose it was something he was accustomed to, but it was a little too much for a West Virginia boy to deal with.  It turned out I was not as rowdy as I thought.

   Most of the rest of my R&R was spent doing the typical tourist things and riding tourist buses. I didn’t venture down any more dark and narrow side streets. But I really did have a good time. 

   My next trip to Hong Kong was in May of 1975. By this time, I was in the Marine Corps and was an infantry officer. I was part of a Marine Amphibious Force that was embarked on Navy ships. We had recently completed support of the evacuations of Saigon and Phnom Penh and the recovery of the merchant ship SS Mayaguez.  Our ships anchored in the harbor in Hong Kong for liberty call for the sailors and the embarked Marines.

   Since I was one of the few officers in our battalion who had been to Hong Kong, I was tasked with briefing the troops on the things they could do there. I spent quite a while going through the ship’s library to find a few things about Hong Kong and then doing my best to remember some of the things that I had done during my previous visit. Of course, there was no internet to check.

   I was happy that I had come up with a quite detailed list of sights to see and places to go. I gave my briefing. I told them where they could catch buses and where they could catch the ferry and where there were good places to shop and where there were good places to eat. When I finished, I ask for questions and the first question was, “Is it true that there’s a Kentucky Fried Chicken in Hong Kong?”  Yes, it was true.

While I didn’t have any fried chicken in Hong Kong my friend Walt and I decided to be a little adventurous. We went to a “non-tourist” restaurant. Walt ordered pigeon, thinking it would probably be Cornish Game Hen and I ordered beef with bitter melon thinking how bitter can it really be, after all it is melon. Well, Walt’s pigeon was pigeon, and it came complete with head, beak, eyes, and feet. My melon was so bitter I couldn’t eat any of it.

Our stay in Hong Kong lasted four days and then we were back onboard ship to return to our home base in Okinawa.  I knew I would be returning to Hong Kong in a few months when Margie joined me for Christmas leave.

Anchors Aweigh, Part IV

By

On February 7, 2023

In History, Medicine, Travel

I reported on board the USS Sanctuary in September of 1969 and went to the personnel office for my assignment. This won’t surprise anyone who was ever in the Navy, but they seemed to have no idea that I was coming. After conferring among themselves, they came back and told me that I would be senior corpsman in sterile surgical supply.

Sterile surgical supply was where we prepared and maintained all the equipment necessary for conducting surgery as well as the sterile equipment used in the clinics and wards. The Sanctuary had several surgical suites that were busy almost all the time when we were on station in support of combat operations. It was a busy place and went through a lot of equipment.

Life on board a Navy ship is a 24 hour a day, seven day a week job. There are no days off when you’re at sea. Fortunately, as a member of the hospital crew, I was what they called a shift worker. Which meant I had a set schedule. Members of the ship’s crew were watch standers. That meant they worked in four hour rotations that changed every 24 hours. We could at least have some type of a routine for awake and sleep time, but for a watch stander the schedule was constantly rotating. As a petty officer and a supervisor, I was exempt from some extracurricular duties such as working on the mess decks and taking part in working parties for regular ship maintenance and supply.

The work was hard and continuous. There was no shortage of casualties in 1969. Our job was to provide direct medical support to our troops in combat. The wounded were flown by helicopter directly from the battlefield to the ship. We got the most severely injured; the ones who couldn’t be effectively treated at a field hospital.

The crew was highly trained and incredibly efficient. From the time a wounded soldier or marine landed on our flight deck it was only minutes until he was in the operating room. The survival rate for the wounded in Vietnam was far greater than it had been in either World War II or Korea. This was largely due to the speed with which casualties were transported to definitive medical care.

We generally didn’t treat civilians, but one day, unbeknownst to us, one of our medevac helicopters was bringing in a pregnant Vietnamese woman. When she was offloaded on the flight deck she was already in labor. They brought her down to the preoperative holding area which was adjacent to our sterile supply room. When there was a heavy influx of casualties, we helped out in the preop area that functioned somewhat like an emergency room.

We were standing there, an anesthesiologist and three corpsmen, trying to figure out how to deliver a baby. Thank goodness the woman took it in her own hands and delivered the baby herself! Of course, that didn’t stop us from congratulating each other about delivering the only baby born on a Navy hospital ship during the Vietnam War. If only all our patients could have turned out so well.

When I remember my time on the Sanctuary, I try not to dwell on the suffering of our patients. Their sacrifices still move me to tears. I prefer to be grateful that I was mostly out of direct combat and to focus the less intense episode that helped us maintain our sanity.

One unexpected benefit of being the senior corpsman in sterile surgical supply was being able to order those supplies. One day while going through the supply catalog I discovered it was possible to order five gallons of pure medical grade grain alcohol. And even better, it required no approval. I also ordered a large five gallon glass beaker. We had wall mounts in our work room where there were glass beakers with soap solution and acetone. We also had an empty wall mount.

The alcohol arrived, along with the five-gallon beaker. I put the alcohol in the beaker and pasted a large poison sign on it. I got green food coloring from the mess decks in return for a promise to share. It’s easy to be generous when you have five gallons. I did have to emphasize that it couldn’t be drunk straight but had to be diluted by fifty percent with fruit juice or soda.

The food coloring gave it an appropriately poisonous appearance. It also gave us the advantage of hiding it in plain sight. I quickly became the most popular corpsman on the ship.

Right after Thanksgiving the CO of the ship issued an announcement that the crew was now authorized to put up Christmas decorations. (I think I’ve mentioned before that sometimes I don’t always think through my wise cracks.) The fact that we were now authorized to have Christmas got me thinking. I made a large sign that said “All enlisted personnel desiring to have a Merry Christmas must report to the ship’s office to obtain a Christmas chit. Personnel having a Merry Christmas without an appropriate chit will be subject to nonjudicial punishment.” A chit was basically the Navy’s version of a permission slip. I thought this was pretty funny. Apparently, the ship’s office did not agree when people started lining up to get their Christmas chits.

This resulted in a stern lecture from our leading chief. It generally consisted of about every third word beginning with the letter F. I was sure I was going to be reassigned, reduced in rank, sent to the brig or something even worse. Surprisingly, after many blistering words, he dismissed me with a wave of the hand. As I was leaving, much relieved, the chief said, “And you can drop off the rest of that grain you got to the chief’s mess .” That depleted my supply and ended my short-lived popularity on the USS Sanctuary.

Right after Christmas, we had the opportunity to have a Bob Hope show on board the ship. Everyone was crammed onto the main deck to watch Bob, a few musicians and some dancers put on about an hour and a half show. I was way in the back as we had all the patients in the front. Bob’s jokes were corny. I’m sure the dancers were pretty (I wasn’t close enough to tell for sure) and the musicians weren’t particularly talented, but a good time was had by all.

Navy ships at sea in a combat zone practice strict blackout at night. Hospital ships don’t. Not only are they painted white, but they are lit up like a cruise ship with large flood lights hanging over the side of the ship to illuminate the red crosses. This illumination led to what quickly became one of our favorite pastimes.

Inshore ocean waters in Southeast Asia are infested with sea snakes and they are attracted to light. One sailor had his parents send him a sling shot and BBs and before long the ship’s rails were lined with sailors firing BBs and watching the snakes rolling in the water. For most of us, these were the only shots we fired in Viet Nam.

Once, while cruising close to the mouth of the Perfume River near Hue City, the ship went dead in the water. The rumor quickly spread among the crew that the NVA had attached a mine to the hull. Everyone rushed on deck to watch as divers went over the side to investigate. Imagine our disappointment when they surfaced dragging a large fishing net that had wrapped around the propeller.

I don’t remember as much about the trip home from Vietnam as I do about the plane ride over. I do remember that as soon as the plane lifted off the ground everyone on board started cheering and applauding and whiskey bottles were passed up and down the aisles. (Perhaps that’s why I don’t remember much about the flight.) Needless to say, it was a very happy trip.

There were other events that I may share at some point, including a misguided trip to Camp Eagle and several port calls to the infamous Olongapo in the Philippines. However, this post has gone on long enough, but I may return later to revisit these memories.

We arrived at Norton Air Force Base, which I now knew was in Ontario, California, not Ontario, Canada. They took us through customs and started searching our bags. I was wondering why, because I couldn’t imagine anything we could possibly be bringing back that would be valuable enough for customs to worry about until I saw them going through bags and pulling out weapons, grenades and even a mortar shell.

This was in the spring of 1970 and the height of the Vietnam War protests. As soon as we cleared customs, they put us in a large auditorium and gave us our welcome home briefing. One of the few things I remember from this is that we were told that if we did not have civilian clothes that we should go to the base exchange buy some and put them on before we got to LAX. Under no circumstances should we go to LAX in uniform because we would be harassed or possibly even assaulted by protesters. This was not quite the welcome home any of us were expecting.

I was on my way to an officer training program and four years in college. I was sure that by the time I graduated and got commissioned the war in Vietnam would be over. But, like many things associated with that war, nothing would ever be certain, and I would see that sad country again.

Anchors Aweigh, Part III

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On January 20, 2023

In Commentary, History, Medicine, Travel

When I left my duty station in Key West, the Navy handed me my orders and a check to cover my travel costs. As always, they left it up to me to figure out how to get there. I didn’t worry about that for the first two weeks. I was at home in Charleston, WV, and when I had a week left in my leave, I thought it was time to figure out how to get from Charleston to Norton Air Force Base, where I was supposed to get government transportation to take me to my new duty station, the hospital ship USS Sanctuary that was cruising off the coast of Vietnam.
I asked my father. He had never heard of Norton Air Force Base either and he suggested we contact a friend of his who was a travel agent. So, Dad gave him a call and two days later I went down to pick up the tickets. The agent handed me an airline ticket to Ontario International Airport. While I was trying to explain to him that I wasn’t going to Canada, that I was going to take my orders to Vietnam, he laughed and told me that Ontario was actually in California. It was the closest commercial airport to Norton Air Force Base.
While the Navy had given me money for transportation, it would only cover coach. In those days a coach seat was about the size a first-class seat is today. That flight took me to California where I got a bus to the Air Force base for the government chartered flight to Vietnam.
It was a long trip from California to Da Nang. We stopped in Hawaii to refuel. Unfortunately for us, they wouldn’t let us out of the airport. We were on that airliner long enough that they fed us three times, once on the way to Hawaii and twice between Hawaii and Da Nang. All three meals consisted of baked chicken, peas and carrots, and mashed potatoes. It wasn’t so bad for lunch and dinner but baked chicken for breakfast just wasn’t something I was up for. In typical government style we had three meals supplied by the lowest bidder.
I arrived in Da Nang to discover that the Sanctuary only came in port about every 6 to 8 weeks to resupply and wasn’t due back for three weeks. I got assigned to the transient barracks, where the Navy puts people awaiting further assignment. Sometimes at morning muster (roll call) they gave us jobs such as unloading trucks or doing basic lawn maintenance. Most of the time we were on our own to entertain ourselves.
The transient barracks was in Camp Tien Sha, a Sea Bee run support base. The most popular place on the base for enlisted men was the movie theater. It was open 24 hours a day and was free of charge. You could bring your own beer and they even allowed smoking in the theater. (Everyone smoked in the 60s.) They only had four movies which they ran in continuous rotation. But most importantly, it was the only place on base that an enlisted sailor could go that was air conditioned. Some guys even slept there.
While the camp was in one of the most secure parts of the Da Nang area, occasionally at night the alert sirens would sound. If any place in the surrounding area was attacked everyone got an alert. We would then go out to the bunkers and stand around outside to see if there were any rockets landing close to us. If there were, we would go inside the bunker. If not, we stood around outside smoking and trying to avoid the shore patrol who drove around to make sure we were in the bunkers. Occasionally we could see an explosion or the path of tracers in the air. Mostly we could just hear them. We were never quite sure where they were, but we were fairly confident they weren’t very close.
One of the most entertaining things was watching the TV news reporters. Camp Tien Sha had a weapons repair facility. If you were near it, you could hear machine guns and other weapons being test fired after having been repaired. You could also see tanks and other armored vehicles running up and down their test track. We got a big kick out of watching reporters put on a helmet and a flak jacket and stand in front of the camera while the tanks ran up and down behind them and the machine guns fired and them saying: “I’m reporting from the front lines in Vietnam. You can hear the battle raging behind me “. Occasionally, we would laugh so hard that one of the production people would come over and run us off. I know we ruined more than a few shots.
Eventually I got called to the personnel office and was told that the Sanctuary was due in port that afternoon. They handed me my orders and told me to report on board. I asked how to get to the dock and the personnel clerk just looked at me and shrugged. I eventually found my way to the motor pool and got a ride with a jeep that was heading down towards the docks.
There were several ships in the port at that time. However, the Sanctuary was hard to miss. Unlike other Navy ships that were painted gray, the Sanctuary was painted bright white and was emblazoned with big red crosses on the hull. I walked up the gangway, saluted and requested permission to board. In Anchors Aweigh Part IV I’ll talk more about life on the Sanctuary.

Anchors Aweigh, Part 2

By

On June 13, 2022

In Commentary

I managed to successfully complete bootcamp despite my well-known inability to keep my opinions to myself. I also successfully completed the Navy’s Hospital Corps School. After completion I was what now might be considered partway between an emergency medical technician and a paramedic. After several months of training at the Navy’s Great Lakes Training Center north of Chicago I was on my way to my first duty station. I had spent several months on the banks of Lake Michigan where the temperature sometimes dropped below zero with windchills to 40 below. Now, late in November I was on my way to the tropical paradise of Key West Florida.

After an uneventful flight to Miami, I boarded a DC3 for the flight to Key West. For those of you too young to have ever been on a DC3, it is a venerable old plane developed in the years before World War II. It was well engineered and well-made in the time before planned obsolescence became the law of the land. In fact, over 80 years later some of those airplanes are still flying around the world.

You entered the plane from the rear. It set with its tail down and its nose up. You climbed up at about a 30-degree angle to get to your seat. There were no cocktails, no gourmet meals, and no inflight movies. There was just a nice wide seat, a lot of leg room and a comfortable flight. As we flew over the Florida Keys I remember looking out and wondering if there was any place where there would be enough dry land for an airport.

On the flight I was sitting beside a First Class Signalman, an old Navy salt who had about 15 years of service. We got to talking and I told him this was my first shipboard assignment. He told me about his many adventures in the Mediterranean, in the Caribbean and in the Pacific. I was really fascinated and hoping to see some of those places myself.

We landed in Key West and went to baggage claim and picked up our sea bags. He asked me where I was heading, and I said to the ship. He looked at me in disbelief. He said “It’s only four o’clock in the afternoon. Look at your orders, you don’t have to be on board till midnight. Surely, you’re not going to give them eight hours of your free time?” In fairness, he expressed it more colorfully than I have recorded it here, liberally sprinkled with sixth letter alliterations.

There were a lot of things I didn’t know. One of them was how to go about getting a locker to keep my civilian clothes. Sailors on board Navy ships at that time were not allowed to keep civilian clothes. We could only leave and board the ship in uniform. We couldn’t be on the base in civvies.

He introduced me to locker clubs. This was a place where, for a small monthly fee, you rented a locker to keep your civilian clothes. It was also a place where you could take a shower and buy snacks and drinks. They looked the other way if you were under 21 and wanted a beer.

Following his sage advice, I got a locker, changed into civilian clothes, and stored my uniform and my seabag. And we headed into town. This was my first time “steaming” through local bars with an experienced sailor.

I grew up in a fairly sheltered environment in the conservative state of West Virginia. I had virtually no experience with other cultures, especially with the gay culture. However, a friend of mine and I did spend part of our senior year in high school drinking beer at what was probably the number one gay bar in town. We went there because it was a nice quiet basement bar where, if you were tall and looked like you were 18, which was the drinking age in West Virginia at the time, you could get a beer as long as you didn’t cause trouble. So, for six or seven months we went there usually once a week for beer and had no idea it was a gay bar, which says something, not only about our naivete, but about how conservative and low keyed the culture in West Virginia was at that time.

When I arrived in Key West, I still didn’t know that I had frequented a gay bar. However, I was about to find out that the culture in Key West was a lot different than it was in Charleston, West Virginia. My buddy told me we would be heading to his favorite bar; a place called the Safari Club. We passed by another bar named John Brown’s Body. There were a number of men sitting out front at tables on the sidewalk. As we walked by, I heard a couple of whistles and someone commenting “seafood.” My buddy looked at me and said “Don’t pay them any attention, it’s not worth the trouble. They don’t mean any harm. They’re just trying to get a rise out of you.” I still wasn’t quite sure what was going on and I looked at him with a curious glance. He gave me one of those you’ve got to be kidding looks and said, “Haven’t you ever seen a gay bar before?” Well, I had, I just didn’t know it. I had certainly never seen one like that.

I quickly discovered that Key West was a “live and let live“ place. There was occasional verbal heckling, but it was seldom mean spirited and almost never physical. Sometimes the Navy’s old Key West hands had to provide strong counseling on proper island behavior to new arrivals. Even now, over fifty years later I am amazed at how people from disparate backgrounds and with different lifestyles could coexist if they would just accept that their differences did not make them enemies. As I would discover, the sailors and the gay men engaged in friendly rivalry, and we occasionally challenged one another in beach volleyball and ended with group beer drinking watching the sunset over the Gulf of Mexico. I remain convinced that there are no societal problems that can’t be solved by sincere people on a beach with enough beer, despite their differences.

At 10 minutes until 12 we reported on board the ship. I walked up the gangplank, now back in uniform, and saluted the officer of the deck. I handed him my orders. He looked at them and said, “You’re cutting it pretty close, aren’t you sailor?” Then he looked at my buddy coming up behind me, obviously he knew him, and said, “Well, I see you’re falling into bad company already.”

The USS Bushnell was a submarine tender. A submarine tender is a combination of a supply ship, a repair ship and a floating machine shop. It was known by the Navy designation as AS 15. That stood for Auxiliary Submarine Support 15. Because it seldom went to sea, it was known in Key West as Building 15. Every time it would go out for its semiannual cruise the joke was that the tugs had to come out and pull it off the pile of coffee grounds that had built up underneath it. It had a disconcerting habit of catching on fire. The fires were never serious, but they were frequent enough that the crew referred to it as the Burning Bush.

I arrived in Key West in late November, just in time to have my first Thanksgiving away from home. At the time the temperature in Chicago was about 20 degrees with wind chills down to about 30 below. The first Saturday I was in Key West I decided to go to the beach because the temperature was in the upper 50s and I thought it was a heat wave. I went out to catch the bus to the beach and was surprised to see people walking around town in coats and in some cases even parkas. I guess it’s all about what you’re used to.

I really enjoyed my time in Key West. I took two night classes at Key West Junior College. Drank way too much rum. Bought a motorcycle and toured around the Florida Keys. It was a lot of fun and not much stress. But that was about to change.

I was having a great time until the Navy decided to decommission (retire) the USS Bushnell and all the submarines that were assigned to our squadron. The submarines were all diesel boats; these were World War II veterans and were deemed to be obsolete and no longer needed in the days of the nuclear submarines. Like many things time has passed by, the diesel boats had many die-hard proponents in the Navy, and it was hard for them to let it go. For me, I only went to sea one time in a submarine and that was just on a one-day tour where we went out into the Gulf, dove underwater for about 3 hours and came back. I never really had a true appreciation for diesel boats or the mystique that they held for their crews.

There was one other thing that happened to me while I was in Key West, that completely changed the course of my life, although I didn’t realize it at the time. I was a high performer as an enlisted man. I made Third Class Petty Officer in just barely more than a year and made Second Class Petty Officer with only two years in the Navy. This was an extremely fast advancement that was partially due to the fact that the Navy needed to expand because of the Vietnam War, and I was in the right place at the right time. Because of my rapid advancement, I was invited to apply for a program called the Navy Enlisted Scientific Education Program (NESEP), a program where the Navy took young enlisted men with the potential to become officers and sent them to college for four years. There was an obligation to serve as an officer after college, but if you were getting paid to go to college it couldn’t get much better than that.

I will say, I was sorry to see both the submarines and our tender decommissioned. It meant the end of my time in Key West. All of us were reassigned. I was reassigned to the hospital ship USS Sanctuary then off the coast of Vietnam. I was fortunate because two other corpsmen on our ship were reassigned to serve with the Marines in Vietnam.

I took my seabag to the Greyhound station and put it on a bus to Charleston. I strapped a small overnight bag on the back of my motorcycle and set off on a three-day trip to West Virginia. When I say motorcycle, it wasn’t one of the big highway cruisers so common now. It was a small 350 cc Honda and in the pre-Interstate days that made for a rough trip.

More about the USS Sanctuary in Anchors Aweigh Part 3 and about NESEP in Anchors Aweigh Part 4.

Anchors Away

By

On April 12, 2022

In Commentary

A couple of friends recently reminded me that I hadn’t posted to The Grumpy Doc for quite some time. They were wondering if perhaps I decided to abandon the project. I wasn’t sure whether they were asking because they were glad they didn’t have to read it anymore or because they actually enjoyed reading it. I’m going to assume the latter so I’m heading back to the keyboard.

The easiest thing when you’re trying to turn out an article on short notice is to just indulge in some reminiscence. You don’t have to do any research and hopefully your memory hasn’t started to fail yet. Although, I’m not so sure about the last part.

Going back to 1967, I just finished my first year in college as a political science major at the University of Kentucky. I was restless and bored. I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with my life, but I was sure it didn’t have anything to do with political science. I was also having a lot of doubt about my plan to go to law school.

I spent the summer working construction, basically, as an unskilled laborer, hauling, carrying, and digging. I also spent the summer closely watching the Vietnam War. While there were some protests, the true nature of the war really hadn’t dawned on most of us. I’ve always been and still am very patriotic. I thought perhaps it not only would be my civic duty but also a great adventure to enlist. One night at dinner I told my father I had decided to drop out of college and join the Marines. I was expecting quite a bit of resistance, but he just looked at me and then finished his dinner.

The next night I came home for dinner and my father’s first cousin George was having dinner with us. I would occasionally see George around town. He spent a lot of time in the Navy, and I was pretty sure he was still in the Navy. What I didn’t know was that he was our local Navy recruiter and by the time dinner was over I was enlisted in the Navy. I guess my father decided better not to argue with a stubborn guy like me but just to take action.

I went to Great Lakes Naval Base for basic training or boot camp as we called it. It seemed that the main purpose of boot camp was to indoctrinate you in the military way of life and to get you used to being a member of a group rather than an individual. They also wanted to teach you how to follow orders and complete all your jobs as directed. As an aside, they also spent a lot of time teaching us the proper “Navy way” to fold clothes. Anyone who was ever in the Navy will understand when I say I still fold my underwear the Navy way.

I won’t bore you with a lot of detail about the myriad wonders of boot camp. However, I want to share one experience that pretty much sums it all up for me. It also should have taught me a lesson to remember throughout my life. Unfortunately, I’ve always been too hardheaded to listen to that inner voice that offers caution.

We were at water survival training. This is where they taught us how to abandon ship in combat situations. Not only would a sinking ship drag you down to the bottom with it, but very likely there was burning oil floating on the water everywhere waiting to burn you alive. Knowing how to get safely off the ship and away from it quickly could mean the difference between life and death.

Our instructor was a grizzled old salt. His skin was leathery and wrinkled, most likely the result of years of wind, salt spray and sun with liberal doses of cigarettes and alcohol thrown in. He looked to be at least 60 but he was probably barely 40. He was the kind of man who dedicated his life to the Navy and who made the Navy work. I didn’t know it at the time, but I would come to respect those men far more than I could ever know.

He stood on the edge of the pool with a 15-foot tower behind him. We were all sitting on the deck in a rough semicircle around him facing the pool. He began explaining how to abandon ship. The first thing he said was, “Always abandon ship feet first. There will be a lot of floating debris in the water.” Only he pronounced it deb-er-us. Being the oh so smart college boy, I said “It’s pronounced debris.” I thought I had said it too low for anyone other than me to hear, but I was so wrong. He zeroed in on me like a bloodhound. He pointed his finger at me, curled it in a come here motion and said, “Get up here wise ass, you’re going to be my demonstrator.” It was just about that time that I remembered my father’s parting advice as I left for boot camp. He looked at me and said, “Keep your head down and your mouth shut.” He was a Navy veteran of World War II and knew what he was talking about.

I spent the rest of the day in a variety of uniforms and heavy equipment repeatedly jumping off that 15-foot tower to show the proper way to abandon ship. I still wonder if our instructor didn’t mispronounce that word on purpose to try to catch a smart young fool like me and to show who was really the smart one.

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