by Bert Royster,
STG2 1964-1966
June 1966 found the USS
Ernest G. Small
(DDR-838) headed from the Far East to our new
homeport at Pearl Harbor. After 24 months away
from America, we were all set to go home to the
good ol' USA. Most the crew had taken aboard a
goodly supply of tax-free bargains to bring back
with us. Motorcycles, tape players and many
other kinds of "big boy’s toys" were stored in
every nook and cranny of the ship. It was like
we had our Christmas and birthdays all wrapped
up together. Best of all, for those of us who
had been aboard ship for the full WESTPAC
deployment, one month’s leave was to commence
within a few days of arriving at Pearl Harbor!
That left us feeling truly thankful (so you
could throw in that "Thanksgiving feeling" too
when considering the attitude on our ship at the
time).
Enroute to Pearl, we had to make a short stop
at Midway Island (to refuel and do a few other
things for our Road Runner
to ensure she would make it all the way to our
new home). For those of you who have never
pulled into Midway Island, it had a small pier
that could only be reached by very
carefully navigating through a narrow, winding
and dangerous channel. It was a demanding job
that yours truly -- aided by very closely
monitoring the Fathometer in the Chart House --
located across the passageway from Combat.
Events from a bit earlier...
To complete the background to this story, a
couple of months earlier, Captain Gorman had
relieved Captain Smith and had yet to learn of
our crew’s 'little ways'. Since it was going to
take a few hours to complete what was needed at
Midway Island, our new Captain generously
granted leave for those not required aboard;
after Midway is such a small island... what
trouble could the crew possibly get into?
As soon as we had moored to the pier, men
raced to disembark. To a soaring Gooney bird
high overhead, it must have looked like a mass
of thirsty lemmings pouring out of our ship in
search of the nearest watering hole. Me? I
hardly caught my breath before panting out my
order for a cold frosty one at the
EM Club. As the
rest of our men on liberty arrived, I found I
needed to order 3-to-4 beers at a time, or face
the consequences of waiting in a long line with
only an 'empty' to keep me company.
Then the bad news came. In less then an
hour, we were shocked to discover we had
drunk up ALL
the cold beer available! From that point on,
drinking warm beer was our only option (hard
liquor, of course, had been made "off limits"
for us). We learned how drinking 80-90 degree
beer in 80+ degree weather was a rather new and
challenging experience. Doing the best we could
under those highly difficult
circumstances, the crew persevered.
It wasn't much later that whoever was in
charge must have come to their senses (or else
they ran out of beer), as "Last Call" was rather
suddenly and forcefully given. We were all
instantly ordered out of the Club and it was
locked up tight. We considered this highly
unusual since none of us had ever experienced an
EM Club closing so early in the afternoon!.
Enroute back to the "Dirty Ernie", I
remember seeing some of the Gooney birds walking
better than several of my shipmates! I
also found my own walking was slightly impeded,
since someone -- somehow -- had managed to strap
a couple of 'warm ones' to the inside of my
calf. With a lot of friendly assistance
provided by one crewman to another, we all
managed to get aboard. Upon my return to Fox
Division quarters, my good buddies (who had
not been able to get liberty) quickly
relieved me of my walking impediments. They
didn't have any problems in taking proper care
of those 'warm ones' for me. A short time
later, the crew reported to stations for getting
underway and we cast off our mooring lines.
To this day, I still don't know how we
managed to get safely back out to sea,... but we
did! "Look out, Pearl!", I said. "Here we
come!"
