In March 1972, I carried my seabag over my shoulder through
the LAX airport on my way to my first ship, USS Trippe, a new destroyer escort,
in Newport, Rhode Island. I put my seabag in the luggage compartment under the
bus on my way to the base, while I listened to two local Rhode Island women
talk. Their accents were so thick I wondered if I was in a different country.
After I walked onto the Trippe’s gangplank and was escorted down a few ladders
to my berthing compartment, I stared at my tiny locker, wondering how I was
going to cram everything in my seabag into it.
I shared the berthing compartment (ship's bedroom) with 21 other shipmates. I
was given the top rack (a bunkbed 3 racks high.) The compartment was 18 feet by
15 feet. We were so tightly crammed into the berthing compartment, I swear I
could hear my shipmates’ dreams.
