When I Became A Sailor — My First Underway
The following diary-like account details my first time “sailing” and begins with the first day and night underway. I will not be sharing actual dates or ship names in this account—please enjoy it as an informal chronicling of my first true Sailor adventure!
Day 1 of Underway
The ship begins to drift from the docks. It accelerates, passing into the gray, uncertain deep past the piers. I've never viewed them from this angle before.
I may love or loathe this.
After chatting with my coworkers on the flight deck, I descend into the berthing and slide into my rack for the first time. The issued blanket itches but not unbearably; it's no different from the ones given to us at boot camp.
Boot camp. That's a faraway time, isn't it? Wasn't it only yesterday I was sitting in my rack reading the latest edition of the Bluejacket's Manual about the red lights on the ship, Sailor life, and how this is about to be "my Navy?"
It's far beyond "about" at this point. This IS my branch, and now I'm to earn the salt on my skin and that phrase emblazoned on my DEP shirt, "Forged by the sea."
They say this particular ship is a "cakewalk," and I'm sure that it is, comparatively speaking. But it's also a ship; this is the first time I've been underway. Simmering with thoughts, I sink like a submarine into near-instant sleep after the mechanical screams and anchor chain rattling beneath me quiet, rocked into rest's cradling arms by our great metal mother.
I am woken several times by drills and alarms. I had to participate in a few of them, but aside from that, I was able to return to sleep.
Night 1 of Underway
It's evening. Time for work.
I slip into my coveralls, don my black boots, and leave the berthing for my department. That old fire blanket kept almost none of the berthing chill from my bones. I woke up with stiff, numb feet, even with socks on, and desirous only of nabbing a few more winks.
It doesn't take long for the motion sickness to settle in. I struggle to keep my balance each time the ship moves, hoping my sea legs will "grow" in time. For now, when the ship tilts, I tilt with it. I've tumbled against the bulkheads more than once and must hold the walls and hatches for support when navigating the ship's belly.
It's really a fascinating environment. Take a few steps in any direction, and you'll encounter up to ten different scents, none necessarily unpleasant. While passing the galley, I smelled everything from hot grease and sweet pastries to the sharp smack of bleach, stale oil, wood, and the overarching "old" scent clinging to everything.
It's almost aromatic. You could capture the "old" scent in a candle and burn it to remember all the lives and personalities you've never met before who indwelt that vessel. Who, like me, once called it home. A friend, even.
But if this seasickness doesn't subside soon, I'm not inclined to call my sweet metal mother a friend. Not yet.
After tripping over the knee-knockers and my own feet a few times, I head out onto the smoke deck with my shipmates to glimpse the stars - only there are no stars. We're not terribly far from land - remnants of Japan still shimmer in the distance - but the darkness is oppressive. It hurts my eyes to even try to make sense of the silhouettes grouped around me, and anyone whose profile is even somewhat dubious evades my understanding. My eyes are deceived; we've all been reduced to shadow puppets.
The stars I want to see are shrouded in a thick veil of clouds and mist, further obscuring our vision. Occasionally, I make out someone's face through snatches of light from their desperate lighter flickers as they attempt to rouse their cigarettes. The lighters splash their countenances in bright, honeyed light that lashes out against the darkness. It's so gray, deep, and cold as to be maddening. With no celestial bodies to comfort us, we head back inside.
I try not to fall on my way in.
While the night crawls by, I shiver in the frigid air, kicking myself for not just purchasing a new fleece jacket. I'll make sure to do that on the next underway. Meanwhile, I pass the time with work and steal glances at the book I brought with me: Born Red by Gao Yuan. It details one man's life as an adolescent Red Guard during Mao's Cultural Revolution. When I'm not sickened by the boat rocking, this autobiography does the trick.
Apparently, no one else is feeling what I'm feeling right now. I could swear my stomach is doing a little dance in my throat, and a nagging headache persists toward the front of my skull. Mind you, I didn't take any Dramamine - kicking myself for that, too - but I want to see if I can ride this out. Literally. I trust my body will adjust to this; eventually, my sea legs will miraculously sprout, and the general sense of overwhelm will subside. It's okay to be weak, I tell myself, as long as I am strong within that weakness.
Something that relieves some of my suffering is midrats (middle rations). As a night worker - not a lady of the night, mind you - this is essentially my lunch. So, I grab my tray and get in line for my first taste of ship food.
Overall, it's pretty good. I can't complain, though I expect my intestines will be revolting in about an hour. The food is made to be cheap, convenient, and easily prepared/stocked, so I wasn't expecting much. Honestly? It's a lot better than I thought. Additionally, the galley offers a variety of fresh fruit, beverages (which are about 50% water), and a whole rack of cereal cups, granola bars, oatmeal, and bread with jelly, peanut butter, etc.
I enjoy my glazed carrots with butter noodles and a glass of watered-down pink lemonade with a smile. Later, I snag a cup of hot cocoa from the coffee dispenser and use it to warm my body and fingers. For extra-hydrated cocoa, it's a real treat, and hey, the Navy knows how important it is to hydrate.
When I finally get to sleep that morning, I pass out so well and truly that I'm surprised my alarm was able to wake me! As I prepare for my second day aboard, I turn off my phone to preserve battery life; there's no sense in squabbling over outlets in the berthing if I can keep the thing charged by not using it. And what am I going to use it for, anyway? I'm in the middle of nowhere.
Stay tuned for Day and Night 2!
