I've written elsewhere in this website that I started out in the Navy as a Nuclear Ballistic Missile Submarine Repair Specialist. After surviving one of the Navy's hardest training schools, I became a Deep Sea Diver and was assigned to the Ship Repair Vessel USS Hector, AR-7, in the Spring of 1983. I caught up with the Hector in the Philippines, traveled with her to Diego Garcia for 3 months, then headed West again to Mombasa, Kenya. The Hector was a basically a floating repair factory- if we didn't have a spare part to fix something, we made the parts from scratch in the ship's many specialized repair shops. At every stop, broken ships would come to us, and we would fix anything that was broken so the ship in question could continue its mission.

Now, every Naval vessel underway is required to have a qualified "Duty Rescue Swimmer" aboard to rescue any poor soul that may fall overboard while at sea. Also, the Duty Rescue Swimmer would be standing by anytime the ship receives supplies via helicopter, just in case the helo should crash and the helo pilot needed rescuing. As the newest member of the Hector's Diving Locker, the role of Duty Rescue Swimmer fell to me. Although required by Naval Regulations, and in the big picture- an important position- being Duty Rescue Swimmer is just plain BORING. I mean, NOBODY accidentally falls overboard from a ship the size of the Hector, right? AND- no one aboard Hector had ever seen a resupply helo spin into the drink....

During the long cruise from Subic Bay to Diego Garcia, the Chief Bosun's Mate would throw a fully dressed dummy over the side of the ship every so often to test the alertness of the ship's watch standers, and to conduct a "Man Overboard Drill" to keep us ALL on our toes. Once the dummy is sighted, a "Man Overboard" drill would be announced over the main ship's speaker system. The ship would circle around and lower a lifeboat with crew and yours truly, and as we approached the dummy, I would slide over the side of the lifeboat and "rescue" it. The lifeboat was lifted back aboard the Hector, and normal ship's routine would continue. Piece of cake for me, and a welcome diversion from my BORING daily chores.

3 months on station at Diego Garcia was hard but fun. We all looked forward to visiting Africa, but at a lowly 16 knots/hour, it took the Hector a LOOOOOONG time to get there. At this point, we were still about 800 miles from Africa in the Indian Ocean. We used the time to do a lot of past-due maintenance on our equipment and to work on various shipboard training requirements. On this particular day, I was just leaving the Chief Bosun's office to get some of my qualification training requirements signed off. As I walked from the Fo'c'sle and headed aft to the Diving Locker, I saw a dressed dummy flying by the deck rails from the decks above, and SPLASH into the water. I thought to myself "hell of a time for another drill" and looked over the side- just in time to see a REAL sailor float down the side of the ship as we steadily sailed right by him. Apparently all of the lookouts were asleep and I was the only person to see this guy go overboard. I grabbed the nearest ship phone and notified the Bridge Officer what had happened. The "Man Overboard" announcement was made, with the added note that "This is NOT a drill" repeated over and over. (Keep in mind that the main deck of the USS Hector was about 45 feet above the water, and the top deck was over 80 feet above the water... which, if you've never tried it, is a LOOOOONG way down.)

The Hector initiated a 360° circle- an act that slowly brings the ship right back to the point the man went overboard. I sprinted to the Diving Locker and grabbed my ready bag containing flippers, mask, vest, snorkel, etc...-(but no air tanks), then sprinted back to the lifeboat station where the lifeboat had already been lowered to the main deck rails and was waiting for me to jump in.... which I did. As the boat crew completed the needed steps to be lowered all the way down to the water, I quickly stripped and wriggled into my equipment. The Hector was still in its circling mode, and on the second pass around, this guy was between the lifeboat and the ship- DANGEROUSLY close to the ship. (Remember that a ship in action has dozens of high-powered suction pumps in various places below the waterline to run the ship's systems, AND that the ship's propellers were still turning furiously. Both of these items produce very intense suctions which can suck a man underwater and turn him into microscopic fish food...) We motored the lifeboat in a close as we dared and I threw this guy a long rope to pull him away from the ship's suctions and into the lifeboat. He promptly threw the rope back at the lifeboat and drifted closer to his death.

Holding the limp rope in my hands, I turned to the lifeboat's one Officer- a young Ensign in the Navy less than 6 months. His eyes were as big as dinner plates and all he could do was sputter. I turned back to look at our Man Overboard just in time to see him being sucked below the surface just 12 feet from the Hector. Without thinking, I dove into the water and headed down. Fortunately for me, the water in this part of the Indian Ocean is crystal clear and I spotted him instantly. I could hear the THRUM of numerous Engineering suction pumps, AND I could actually feel the the suction created by the still-turning propellers pulling us both down. Holding my breath, I swam harder than even I thought possible- and managed to grab him by the hair on the one single chance I had. I immediately popped the two Carbon Dioxide inflation cartridges in my swim vest, and we both rocketed to the surface just as the propellers slid past us.

As he puked gallons of seawater, I spit out my snorkel and asked him why in the Living Hell would he throw the lifeline back at us???? His response was to take a swing at my head, which I easily avoided. Then came a stream of vindictive about how he was going to kill me, how he was going to blow up the ship, how I would be cursed forever if I touched him- and lots more of the same that made absolutely no sense at ALL. By this time the lifeboat was close by and the crew were shouting their encouragements. However, every time I tried to grab this guy, he tried to fight me. The crew was urging me to punch his lights out and drag him aboard and as I was about to do just that, I realized that he was starting to tire. I drifted back a few feet and used my diving mask to examine him underwater. Unlike me, this guy was fully dressed in his working denim clothes with no swim fins. Instead of hurting him on purpose, I decided to wear him down to a more manageable state... I let the air out of my swim vest, leaned back, and wrapped my flippers around his waist. Applying just a modest downward pressure with my flippers, it only took a moment before this guy was sucking more water and fading fast. I let go of him when he seemed about ready to go under again and dove down about 20 feet. Looking up, I kicked hard, surfaced quickly just behind him, and wrapped one arm around his neck. By this point, he was a meek as a kitten and I easily swam him to the lifeboat. The boat crew pulled him aboard the lifeboat, then leaned over to pull me aboard. The second the crew let go of this guy, he promptly launched himself over the other side of the boat and began swimming away in the other direction. NOW- I was PISSED OFF. I blasted underwater with my swim fins with the attitude of Jaws, grabbed him by the hair, dunked him underwater long enough to get his undivided attention, then swam him back to the lifeboat again. THIS TIME, the boat crew pulled him aboard and sat on him. I pulled myself aboard the lifeboat and took possession of this nut so the crew could get us back aboard the Hector. While having this guy in a headlock, I looked up at the Hector- to see the ship's entire compliment of 850 sailors all manning the rails and watching the show in real time, which for some reason shocked me more than when this idiot threw the lifeline back at me!

I maintained my headlock on this guy while the crew maneuvered parallel to the Hector. Cables from the Top Deck cranes were attached and the lifeboat was lifted up to the main deck level, where the side rails had been temporarily removed. As the lifeboat stopped, I led this crazy nut onto the deck- where the largest Chief aboard ship instantly sat on him, and the Chief Corpsman instantly hit him with a huge syringe full of something from La-La-Land. Handcuffs, Leg Irons, and 6 Corpsman assisted this guy into the ship's Sick Bay where he was immediately and fully restrained to a bunk. I later learned that he had been kept restrained and heavily sedated until our arrival in Kenya, and he was then airlifted to a Military Hospital in Europe. I never learned his name or what happened to him after that....

With my duties fulfilled, I wandered back to the Diving Locker to shower and clean and repack my gear. My alcoholic Chief Diver and my female Ensign Diving Officer were waiting for me, (more on them at a later date...) and immediately started in, yelling and swearing and otherwise berating me for not punching this guy's lights out and getting him back aboard faster. My adrenaline pumps were still running on overdrive, and just milliseconds before I launched into a career-ending tirade of my own, the ship's Commanding Officer came over the 1-MC (the ship's main announcement system wired into every ship's compartment.) Captain Venezia sang my praises for about 5 minutes for doing the job perfectly, and for using my head instead of my fists. Captain Venezia ordered me to the ship's Mess Decks (that's the dining room for you land-lubbers...), AND he ordered each and every member of the ship's crew of 850 people to line the Mess Decks and personally shake my hand. Up to this point, I only knew a few dozen members of the crew, but two hours later, I knew each and every crewman on the Hector!.

When all was finally over and I had showered and eaten, the ship's Chief Corpsman came to see me. He simply couldn't say enough great stuff about how I had rescued this guy without hurting him. He told me he was putting me in for the Navy Cross for my actions, and that I deserved even more. Also- he told me what had transpired BEFORE I called the Man Overboard warning:

Apparently, this young man wasn't the most stable tree in the forest to begin with. He was deep into "Dungeons and Dragons" gaming, and had been counselled several times for role-playing his characters while on the job. Then, the day before we left Diego Garcia, the ship received the final US Mail delivery we would see until we reached Africa. In this load of mail, this young man had received your stereotypical "Dear John" letter from his fiancee. After pondering this letter for a week, he finally came unglued for real. He walked into the Commanding Officer's cabin unannounced, and started telling Captain Venezia stuff like how he was going to sink the ship, how he could blow up anyone with just his touch, how his special powers made him invincible, etc..... Captain Venezia was smart enough to see this kid needed real help real fast, and ordered him to report to the Medical Department one deck below his office. The kid left the Commanding Officer's cabin, took 3 steps to the top deck railing, and thru himself overboard- just as I happened to be walking by two decks below him.

A few days later, routine had returned to normal and we were all excited at the prospect of arriving in Africa in a few more days. I received a call to report to the Executive Officer's cabin. As second in command, the XO plays "Bad Cop" to the CO's "Good Cop," and being summoned to HIS cabin was NEVER a good thing. With my heart in my throat, I reported to the XO as ordered. MUCH to my surprise, he offered me a seat and a cup of coffee- good fresh-ground Officer's Coffee, not the crap that the enlisted crew drinks! When we had settled in, the XO informed me that all concerned had review the Chief Corpsman's submission for the Navy Cross for me. Unfortunately, politics were involved, and the award would not be forwarded to Washington. You see, as great a guy as Captain Venezia was, he had made a very bad mistake in letting this young man out of his sight- the Captain should have summoned the Chief Corpsman to his cabin immediately and have had the young man ESCORTED to sickbay. HOWEVER, my actions were noted by all, and there would be many other ways forthcoming for the Captain to show his gratitude. You see, if that young man had drowned, Captain Venezia would have been relieved of his command and forced to retire- at best, and he knows all too well that your actions saved that young man as well as the Captain's career. "I know your background, and I also know that we have problems with certain senior people in the Diving Locker," he says. "Go back to work and concentrate on being the best Diver that you can be, and don't let this Navy Cross business eat at you." So, I did just that.

I'll write more about this later, but over the next two years, my alcoholic Chief and my female Diving Officer came to hate my guts. I was written up on various charges of disrespect, etc..., FIVE different times and dragged before the Commanding Officer for punishments. They LIED SO BAD, wanting desperately to have some of my stripes taken away. EACH AND EVERY TIME, the Captain listened to all their arguments, then dismissed the charges with stern lectures to the alcoholic Chief and my female Diving Officer. (Medals are cool, but watching events like THIS are PRICELESS!)

As my tour of duty came to a close, said alcoholic Chief and female Diving Officer refused to award me my next stripe, tried to get me stationed in Adak, Alaska, AND wrote a set of professional personnel evaluations that made me look like scum of the earth. The Chief Personnelman tipped me off to what was happening, and got me a private meeting with Captain Venezia. When the Captain finished reviewing what was going on, he awarded me my next stripe on the spot, ordered the Chief Personnelman to rewrite my performance evaluations to read "4 point O" (perfect in Navyspeak), AND gave me my choice of Duty anywhere in the world. 48 hours later, I stepped off a plane in the Philippines, wearing my new stripes, and starting yet ANOTHER adventure that most people can only dream about.

BUT- as I was walking off the USS Hector for the very last time, I Xeroxed my new orders and performance evaluations, and slipped a copy under the door of both said alcoholic Chief and female Diving Officer. Captain Venezia taught me a valuable lesson: more often than not, doing the Right Thing is the Right Thing to Do.

WebMaster Bruce