A quartermaster’s naval misadventure, as served in the 1970s West Pacific
“The Navy. It’s not just a job, it’s an adventure.” So said the television ads, and so, having graduated high-school during America’s withdrawal from Vietnam, Gary Thorpe signed up. A quartermaster, his job is to steer and navigate the ship, but he learns quickly that being in the US Navy entails much more–and much less–than advertised.
Not Just A Job is the story of Thorpe’s time aboard the USS Okmok, an ammunition ship stationed near San Francisco, and the experiences he acquires during his ship’s service in East Asia, particularly at every port, from Yokosuka to Subic Bay. Throughout it all, he navigates both the arduousness and tedium of Navy life and the riotousness and cluelessness of life so far away from home.
Authored by a former Navy quartermaster, Not Just A Job is sure to relate to anyone who has ever found himself in a situation less than he imagined.
Excerpts
The December morning sky was filled with black clouds. That would mean rain for sure in most places, but this was northern California. The bus slowed down and stopped next to the sign for Naval Weapons Station Concord. The base looked like a bigger version of the one in Seal Beach. I got off the bus and carried my sea bag toward the main gate. Two marines on guard duty looked at me.
“I’m reporting aboard an ammunition ship,” I said to the sergeant, “USS Okmok, AE-73.”
“Port Chicago Shuttle, over there,” he replied, pointing toward a parked gray jeep.
The guy sitting behind the wheel was a yeoman third-class, according to the crow on his sleeve.
“Heading for the Okmok,” I told him. “AE-73.”
He nodded and aimed his thumb toward the seat beside him. I got in, and we took off.
“THEY KEEP THE AEs AT PORT CHICAGO,” he yelled over the wind.
“HOW COME THEY DESIGNATE AMMO SHIPS AE?” I yelled back. “SHOULDN’T IT BE AS?”
“STANDS FOR ANOTHER EXPLOSION. THE OKMOK HAS GOT TO BE AT PIER TWO, THREE, OR FOUR.”
“WHAT ABOUT PIER ONE?”
“THERE IS NO PIER ONE.”
“WHY NOT?”
“FUCKIN’ AE BLEW UP.” He paused and looked at me. “RELAX, THAT WAS DURING WORLD WAR TWO.”
-opening to Chapter One
A Navy recruiting ad on television featured sailors surfing turquoise waves on white sand beaches, sailors riding horseback through tropical jungles, sailors in dress whites sipping margaritas with señoritas at sunset. At the end of the ad, a baritone voiceover said: “The Navy. It’s not just a job. It’s an adventure.”
Partly under the influence of that ad, I walked into an armed forces recruiting office. The Navy recruiter saw me coming. He wore dress blues, and he stood up to shake my hand. The brass nameplate on his desk read: BM1 Rooker.
“Sit down, sit down,” he said, grinning like a fisherman who just had a forty-pounder jump into his boat. “I’m Boatswain’s Mate First Class Rooker. The Navy’s a great life. I’ve been in for thirteen years and never regretted a day. Have you decided what rate you want?”
“Quartermaster,” I said.
“Quartermaster is a seagoing rate, one of the three oldest rates in the Navy. The other two are boatswain’s mate and gunner’s mate. Sure I can’t talk you into boatswain’s mate?”
“I’m interested in navigation. That’s a quartermaster job, right?”
“That’s right, but first, you have to take a little test.”
He gave me a general classification test. It had questions on vocabulary words, basic math, and mechanics. There was a tool identification section to see if I could tell the difference between a torque wrench and a ball-peen hammer. The general intelligence questions were multiple-choice, such as: Which of the following statements is always true about an apple? It is a) red, b) round, c) a fruit, d) Cincinnati.
