It’s been a distant memory that became more and more distant with each passing year.
Until a few days ago, I thought it would continue to be that way. It’s been 30 years since I was part of the largest deployment of American military forces to the Persian Gulf–the Gulf War. I was stationed on the USS Midway (CV-41) at that time.
We were considered the tip of the sword being forward deployed, stationed in Yokosuka, Japan. It was a dream assignment, Japan being just a few hours away by plane from the Philippines.
With U.S. bases then in Angeles, Pampanga, and Subic Bay, R&R visits to the P.I. were common, especially during deployments to the Indian Ocean.
Although a sailor’s life is mostly glorified in films and stories, it was not so aboard ship. It was mostly work, drills, and then even more drills. It wasn’t a cruise ship after all.
But we had unforgettable moments that we could cherish for a lifetime. We saw places we never dreamed of ever visiting, made friends with people who didn’t even speak the same language, but shared the most common human things with us. The things I saw I never will see again.
I’ve felt loneliness, missed the most important events in my life, but I felt pride in being part of something that gave other people the freedom they themselves died by the thousands to try to achieve.
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When the latest tensions between the United States and Iran broke out last week, I wasn’t thinking of the political aspects of the situation.
Instead, I was reminded of how it feels to be part of a deployed military force that may have to fight a war; of how it feels to leave your family not knowing exactly when you’d be coming back; of how it feels to have to abandon plans you had for your family, like your kid’s birthday party next Saturday, Thanksgiving, and Christmas; of the biting loneliness as you laid down at night in your bunk, feeling alone, even with the thousands of other sailors on the ship.
I was reminded of 1990 when the sailors of the USS Midway were informed that they were deploying to the Persian Gulf for operation Desert Shield, later becoming Desert Storm.
After a while, you could get used to months-long deployments. They were on the calendar, and sailors prepared for them, taking care of things with the family, to prepare them for the head of the household’s extended absence.
Whereas deployment dates were known, return dates were not written in stone. They could change, but normally did not, during normal scheduled deployments. Yes, during normal scheduled deployments. When tensions, like the most recent one, break out, normal is out the window.
On board ship, during what little off time we had, we were able to write letters to our wives, telling them about how bored we were, and how much we wanted to be home already. Cell phones, although available but not widely used at that time, were useless in the middle of the ocean, so letters were it. The mail plane flew in and out regularly, so the flow of letters was as normal as it would be on base.
On an aircraft carrier, you really do see the enormity of the effort needed to keep it afloat, and always ready to answer when called to station anywhere, anytime.
Perhaps, the most important thing in all of that was to always maintain the morale of the crew. Success always hinges on the people tasked to do the job. Transit to station was normal in all aspects. We were all kept busy by our jobs. Combat readiness is never an easy thing to achieve. It takes hard work and vigilance multiplied by 10, all the time.
Arriving at station, things drastically changed. The alert status was always at high, not an inch reserved for failure, a word which was simply stricken off the dictionary.
The Midway’s primary mission, as with any other aircraft carrier, was to provide air support. By the time the Gulf War was over, Midway had flown 10,000 sorties.
When word broke that we had been relieved on station, there was celebration among the weary sailors. At last, we could see our families again. But most of all, there was reaffirmation that good will always prevail. It was a warm feeling to know that the people in that land were happy and free again.
I think that as scary as being in harm’s way is, there is something in us that transcends all fear. We normally think that if fear became so great, we would be paralyzed by it, our thoughts becoming blank, succumbing to it without protest.
My experience of great fear, for my life, was liberating. In all that time that we were on station during the Gulf War, there was one incident that is still vivid in my mind.
It was late afternoon when the captain got on the 1MC to inform us that a SCUD missile was inbound. We were already at GQ, so nothing else was to be done, all stations being manned. Being somewhere inside a ship that big, there was no telling where that missile would hit, if it did. It could hit the bulkhead right next to me, and I’d be dead.
When the captain finished telling us that, I don’t recall that even one of us felt scared. I didn’t feel it, and neither did my buddies. We simply shook hands, told each other that it was an honor to have worked together, and then we went about our stations.
Well, the missile never made it through the defenses. We all just gave sighs of relief, and never spoke of it again.
Times were not always serious, though. There were lighter moments that made us feel normal in an environment made for war. We had steel beach picnics, where the ship would anchor out in the Indian Ocean, and we would have a day of barbecues, games, fishing, and even dips in the ocean. It was a day to wear our swimming trunks, lay our towels on the flight deck, and sunbathe if we wanted to.
Of course, the ones on duty had to stay on duty. They even gave us beer–two bottles each–prime commodities for which heavy drinkers paid up to $10 a bottle. Two beers won’t do anything for me so I usually sold mine during these picnics, and made an easy $20 bucks.
We had port visits in a lot of countries, including Australia, and all over Asia, but none was as sought-after than Subic Bay.
Everyone loved and would have killed for Subic Bay. Sailors screamed whenever the captain announced a Subic visit on the 1MC. Subic was a whole other world at that time, truly a haven for U.S. sailors.
I remember the time when the USS Midway broke a naval record for the longest straight at-sea deployment–110 days straight at sea with no port calls. That may have been broken since, but at that time, we were so proud of being part of that.
In the days leading up to it, we egged ourselves on, forgetting that 110 days was three months and 20 days long. After that, other sailors in the Pacific theater could not touch us. We were badasses.
On the face of what is happening now, we are never made aware of the human factor in conflicts. We never see the sacrifices made by those in it, friend and foe alike. Many times, the men are simply called by the units they belong to–company such and such, battalion this, platoon that, an army division.
Then, still, there are the ones who are in the middle of it all, totally aware but powerless against the dangers around them. All they know is that they want to get out of a place where the sounds of exploding bombs and gunshots are getting louder and louder each day.
These are the civilians, like the Filipinos and Americans inside Iran now.
The Philippines, as the Americans, is trying to get Filipinos out of the hot zone for their own safety. Ultimately, though, the decision to do so belongs to them. As long as their home country provides them with the means to get out, then it has done its moral duty. The rest is for them to bear.
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Conflicts exact a terrible toll on all involved. The things that people in conflicts go through is never fodder for jokes or even light banter. It is always a serious matter.
It is only in knowing the way it really is that you will truly understand what it takes.
My memories of that time 30 years ago have helped temper my belief in the need to avoid conflicts, as they benefit no one, and hurts everyone.
Now, even as she serves as a museum ship in San Diego, my fond memories of USS Midway will live on. It was on her that I understood true sacrifice, the way it is.
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Author’s email: [email protected]
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