The Mail Buoy was known, by every crewman aboard the ship, to be something that was stuffed full of our ship's mail.  All of us knew how an airplane had dropped it some way ahead of our ship's course...it was just out there, floating on the vastness of the seas.  It was the last means used to attempt to get us our mail...for us sailors who had not heard mail call sounded in many-a-day!   

A free floating Mail Buoy was known to send out special types of radar reflections and sonar sounds to help find it. Sometimes, to aid the normal ship's Look Outs, a very special Look Out watch needed to be set on the 01 level aft to help locate our Mail Buoy. 

Ahhh yes, like it was yesterday, I can recall the process in which someone was selected to stand this very special watch. This potential watch-stander was always the newest recruit, fresh from boot camp and on his first cruise. He would over hear a couple of Old Salts talking about the possibility of getting mail the next day from our Mail Buoy. If he inquired about this, he was encouraged to ask others to find out if they too had heard "the word". Every crewman he'd then ask would...wax eloquently and wistfully about their hoping to get mail the next day. 

The next day, right after noon chow, this Seaman Apprentice would be directed to report to a Petty Officer to obtain his required equipment.  First, for safety, he needed to wear the largest Kapok life jacket aboard ship and provided with the biggest steel helmet that could be fitted on his head.  Next, he had a powerful set of binoculars hung around his neck.  Lastly, he was supplied with a headphone-type sound powered phone that was on the ship's normal phone talker’s circuit.  This circuit also had Combat (CIC), Bridge, and Sonar, along with the Port and Starboard lookouts on it....and anyone else who wanted to 'come up' on that line during his watch.  

As the Mail Buoy watch progressed, Combat would report faint reflections on their radar screen and request he keep a "Sharp Lookout" in that direction. Next, it may be Sonar that reported hearing an intermittent contact that sounding like our Mail Buoy coming on a different bearing. Passing crewmen would always stop to chat with this special watch-stander. They might also help him look for our Mail Buoy...as they knew it would contain a letter for them from their family or girlfriend. This watch-stander was never lonely or lacking for something to do. As a reward for doing his duty, his watch ended an hour (or so) after it began. 

The end of this watch might come when some officer noticed what was going on and passed "the word" for it to cease or when the watch-stander suddenly realized something was wrong...as every possible Mail Buoy contact turned out to be a false alarm.  The watch-stander sometimes began to suspect all was not right for other reasons...say, upon hearing someone snickering behind a bulkhead...then the game ended early. 

Anyway, after about an hour, he would be told how he was the object of an elaborate joke (well, kind of a joke, as we all wished we could find our Mail Buoy) that the entire crew was in on.  At that time he became a real crewman of the USS Ernest G. Small DDR 838...a person who had taken one of his first steps in the process of becoming an "Old Salt"!

WETSU!

Bert Royster, STG2 1964-1966