July 1973. The bright Hawaiian sun made our dress whites sparkle as we stood at attention on the weather decks of USS Truxtun. The warm breeze blowing across Pearl Harbor ruffled our pants. It was a perfect day to sail out of the harbor. We were not on a pleasure cruise; we were sailing to Viet Nam. My thoughts were a mixture of wishing we could stay in Hawaii and worry about my going back to Viet Nam. All of a sudden, my mind started doing summersaults trying to discern what my eyes were witnessing. My brain rapidly cranked out possible explanations and then quickly tossed them out as being impossible or stupid.
Thought number one: Who would be stupid enough to swim under our ship while it is moving?
Thought number one: Who would be stupid enough to swim under our ship while it is moving?
Thought number two: Who would be stupid enough to swim along our ship while it is moving?
Thought number three: Who would be stupid enough to swim with all their clothes on?
I stared at the swimmer. Those clothes were dungarees. Someone must’ve jumped overboard. And then the man overboard alarm went off and we all ran to our designated man overboard stations. Who jumped? We all wanted to hear. It didn’t take long to figure out who. And then we ran back outside to watch the tug boat that had picked up the soggy sailor. His name is Joe Young. He had already been to Viet Nam three times and he had no intention of going a 4th time. (or maybe that would’ve been his third time.) Joe was brought back to the ship. He was out of the Navy 30 days later.
