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Reminiscence
of the Decommissioning of the USS Isle Royale
by
Jeffrey L. Girdler, SK2
Little
did I know at the time but the beginning of my tour aboard the USS Isle Royale
was the beginning of the end for the old ship itself.
I reported aboard in March 1970 with only 9 months left on my 4-year
hitch and had no plans of shipping over. I
felt I had done my duty and was ready to let someone else have their chance at
“seeing the world” in the good ol’ U.S. Navy.
I had attained the highest rate I could achieve in a 4-year hitch.
I had a beautiful wife and daughter and a son on the way, and we lived in
an apartment off base. The reason I
am relating this now is to explain in the simplest terms I can think of, as to
why I only remember two of my crewmates. The
only time I spent aboard overnight were on the
occasions when I had the “Duty” and during the three days we took the ship
out for its last run. Most of the
conversation that took place between us as shipmates was each of us wondering
what and where our next duty assignment would be, or if we would be found
eligible for an “early out”.
For the first few weeks I was in
7 hole. We issued parts, supplies
and regular stores to shops aboard the ship as well as those from other ships;
however, we did not take on any new stock.
Soon the shelves were being emptied and all requests for supplies were
referred to the Supply Depot at
Long Beach
. Evidently some computer somewhere
had an inventory of what we were supposed to have on board as stock, and soon we
started getting the proper forms to send it all to the Supply Depot at
Long Beach
or another Supply Depot where it was needed.
The crew members that were offloading all this gear were busy non-stop.
Not only were all the stores and supplies offloaded, but everything that
wasn’t bolted to the deck, bulkhead, or overhead was offloaded, identified and
sent to its proper destination. I
remember on more than one occasion some of the shops on board would bolt or weld
a piece of equipment to the deck, just so they wouldn’t be required to offload
it. The dock was piled high with
items waiting to be trucked off to a new location.
I can’t swear it’s true, but was told there were a lot of
unidentified items that were “accidentally” knocked off the edge of the pier
because the stock numbers couldn’t be matched, and there was no Supply Depot
willing to take the unidentified items. I
guess there’s just no way of knowing how much was “lost by inventory”.
Sometime during the midst of all this activity we got to take the
Isle Royale
out one more time. Everything in
the ships store was sold off at cost with no taxes past the three-mile limit.
I remember buying watches and other things at real cut rate prices.
I remember buying a case of Lifebuoy hand soap and don’t remember
needing to buy soap for years after that. Maybe
the ride around
Catalina Island
and back was just an excuse for the CO and XO to shoot skeet off the fantail;
maybe it was just a ride for old time sake.
I was too far down the chain to question, but I knew it was my first and
only time to be underway with the USS Isle Royale.
Sometime during the first day out I was down in the hole and heard the
engines picking up speed, and the whole ship seemed to vibrate.
One of the old hands was down in the hole with me doing inventory, and he
said “Man, listen to that fat lady sing”, referring to the awesome
vibrations and deep tone of those massive engines.
Before I had hardly realized it, we were tied up at the pier again in
Long Beach
...for the last time, and then I think all of us got to know what it was like to
be on the deck force. I then
learned of what an all hands effort really constituted.
We were all chipping paint with hammers and needle-guns; feathering with
sanders and breathing the same paint-dusted air.
Sometimes a dustdevil was tubed
down to take some of the dust out, but the most important tool seemed to be
those little paper masks. You could
still blow gray crud from your nose hours after coming out of the hold.
Red-lead paint was then brushed on every naked piece of steel that
showed. Each space aboard was
inspected time after time to make sure no chips were unfeathered
and that no bare metal showed. I
remember them using dental mirrors to look around and under and over and inside.
What a relief it was to finally have your space inspected but then to be
somewhat dismayed when assigned another hold to do it all over again.
Still there was a real feeling of satisfaction when she was painted
“navy gray” and looked just like a new ship.
One by one the crewmates were
disappearing: enlistments up, re-assignments, retirements, a few goodbyes, good
lucks but no parties and no fanfare. On
December 6, 1970
, I showed up for a normal day and was given my personnel folder and told to
check out through the base. I
didn’t have much personal gear aboard the
Isle Royale
, and before I knew it I was walking down the pier toward my car.
About three-quarters of the way down the pier I heard a huge 24,000 lb.
forklift roar to a start. It made
the pier vibrate. It wasn’t the
engines of the old
Isle Royale
, but it reminded me of that sound I heard and the sensation I felt on my first
and last time out on her and what the old sailor had said.
I guess it was over...I had heard the fat lady sing.