<html><head></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; -webkit-line-break: after-white-space; "><br><div><blockquote type="cite"><div style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px;"><span style="font-family:'Helvetica'; font-size:medium; color:rgba(0, 0, 0, 1);"><b>Subject: </b></span><span style="font-family:'Helvetica'; font-size:medium;"><b>Reflections of a Blackshoe</b><br></span></div><br><font color="black" size="2" face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif"><br>
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<div class="plainMail"><strong><em><font color="#0000bf">Reflections of a Blackshoe<br>
by VADM Harold Koenig, USN (Ret).<br>
<br>
I like the Navy. I like standing on the bridge wing at sunrise with<br>
salt spray in my face and clean ocean winds whipping in from the<br>
four quarters of the globe - the ship beneath me feeling like a living<br>
thing as her engines drive her through the sea.<br>
<br>
I like the sounds of the Navy - the piercing trill of the boatswains<br>
pipe, the syncopated clangor of the ship's bell on the quarterdeck,<br>
the harsh squawk of the 1MC and the strong language and laughter of sailors at work.<br>
<br>
I like Navy vessels - nervous darting destroyers, plodding fleet<br>
auxiliaries, sleek submarines and steady solid carriers. I like the<br>
proud names of Navy ships: Midway, Lexington, Saratoga, Coral Sea -<br>
memorials of great battles won. I like the lean angular names of<br>
Navy 'tin-cans': Barney, Dahlgren, Mullinix, McCloy - mementos of heroes<br>
who went before us.<br>
<br>
I like the tempo of a Navy band blaring through the topside speakers<br>
as we pull away from the oiler after refueling at sea. I like<br>
liberty call and the spicy scent of a foreign port. I even like all hands<br>
working parties as my ship fills herself with the multitude of<br>
supplies both mundane and exotic which she needs to cut her ties to<br>
the land and carry out her mission anywhere on the globe where there<br>
is water to float her.<br>
<br>
I like sailors, men from all parts of the land, farms of the<br>
Midwest, small towns of New England, from the cities, the mountains and the prairies, from all walks of life. I trust and depend on them as they trust and depend on me - for professional competence, for comradeship, for courage. In a word, they are "shipmates."<br>
<br>
I like the surge of adventure in my heart when the word is passed "Now<br>
station the special sea and anchor detail - all hands to quarters for<br>
leaving port", and I like the infectious thrill of sighting home again, with the waving hands of welcome from family and friends waiting pierside.<br>
<br>
The work is hard and dangerous, the going rough at times, the<br>
parting from loved ones painful, but the companionship of robust Navy<br>
laughter, the 'all for one and one for all' philosophy of the sea is ever present.<br>
<br>
I like the serenity of the sea after a day of hard ship's work, as<br>
flying fish flit across the wave tops and sunset gives way to night.<br>
<br>
I like the feel of the Navy in darkness - the masthead lights, the<br>
red and green navigation lights and stern light, the pulsating<br>
phosphorescence of radar repeaters - they cut through the dusk and<br>
join with the mirror of stars overhead. And I like drifting off to<br>
sleep lulled by the myriad noises large and small that tell me that<br>
my ship is alive and well, and that my shipmates on watch will keep me safe.<br>
<br>
I like quiet midwatches with the aroma of strong coffee - the<br>
lifeblood of the Navy - permeating everywhere. And I like hectic<br>
watches when the exacting minuet of haze-gray shapes racing at flank<br>
speed keeps all hands on a razor edge of alertness. I like the sudden electricity of "General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battle stations", followed by the hurried clamor of running feet on ladders and the<br>
resounding thump of watertight doors as the ship transforms herself<br>
in a few brief seconds from a peaceful workplace to a weapon of war -<br>
ready for anything. And I like the sight of space-age equipment manned by youngsters clad in dungarees and soundpowered phones that their grandfathers would still recognize.<br>
<br>
I like the traditions of the Navy and the men and women who made<br>
them. I like the proud names of Navy heroes: Halsey, Nimitz, Perry, Farragut, John Paul Jones. A sailor can find much in the Navy, comrades-in-arms, pride in self and country, mastery of the seaman's trade. An adolescent can find adulthood.<br>
<br>
In years to come, when sailors are home from the sea, they will still<br>
remember with fondness and respect the ocean in all its moods - the<br>
impossible shimmering mirror calm and the storm-tossed green water<br>
surging over the bow. And then there will come again a faint whiff of<br>
stack gas, a faint echo of engine and rudder orders, a vision of the<br>
bright bunting of signal flags snapping at the yardarm, a refrain of<br>
hearty laughter in the wardroom and chief's quarters and messdecks.<br>
Gone ashore for good they will grow wistful about their Navy days,<br>
when the seas belonged to them and a new port of call was ever over<br>
the horizon. Remembering this, they will stand taller and say,<br>
<br>
"I WAS A SAILOR ONCE.<br>
I WAS PART OF THE NAVY;<br>
THE NAVY WILL ALWAYS BE PART OF ME."</font></em></strong><br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
-- <br>
<br>
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