Book of the sea

 The storm had passed, dark clouds now bright as he stood on deck, a coffee in hand and memories of yesterday when the sea showed her wrath upon them. Two hundred feet of steel was no match for the forces of the ocean, with waves the size of a six-story building, relentlessly slamming the ship, listing over forty degrees to port and then starboard, a carnival ride on open waters that made even the saltiest of sailors found hard to ignore. Inside, the cleanup continued as birthing areas were mopped clean of vomit, and the gally reopened after being closed for 2.5 days.

It was a costly storm in the millions, I believe. When a ship lists too far and the thought of capsizing becomes real, the forward gun mount, which weighed over five tons, would slide into the sea, thus upsetting the ship. The same held true for the captain's gig that weighed a couple of tons. The pounding sea wiped the ship's number off the hull, and the decks were covered with layers of salt still being cleaned with pressure hoses.

It was a scary time onboard the mighty war machine, which bowed down to nature's fury, praying it would end. We limped back to port, and once tied up, we saw the extent of the damage that had taken us back a few days when the sea challenged us, and we won. Shaky legs and queasy stomachs would pass, but the fear of becoming a guest of King Neptune would stay with us for quite some time.

A week in port to get everything shipshape and back out again, and the forecast is calling for calm seas. It's a sailor's life that most would never change. The exotic ports of call include Italy, Spain, Greece, and France. The Rock of Gibraltar and the Suez Canal, to name a few.

I'll always be a sailor even on dry ground, where my loyalty is to my shipmates, and my respect for the captain and his officers is beyond approach. We sail the seas always, the protectors, and are always willing to help where we can. But clearly note, we are a war machine, and you'll never escape us in our hunt for freedom.

It was 1972 when I was assigned to a destroyer. I was 18 years old and as green as green can be. I was headed out to sea for the first time in my life, a stark difference from puttering around on my dad's small boat to slicing through the swells of an upset ocean. My body was bruised everywhere from being tossed around like a rag doll as nature threw everything she had at us. I couldnt eat anything that would stay down, and the only safe place to be was strapped down to your bunk and ride it out. I encountered several storms at sea, and each one put the fear of god into me. But my sea legs grew stronger, my appetite better, and the excitement more profound.

Decades passed, and I can close my eyes, standing on the beach, seeing that mighty warship head out to sea. Young boys who became men overnight and old salts who had another chapter added to their book of the sea.

Mike 2026