The Magic Hat

Hey, you got a new hat! My gang at the coffee shop notice everything. They couldn’t let my hat alone without some smart-assed comment. My cap with the words "USS Patterson" sewn on it would be the day's "object of criticism". "Bustin' chops", that’s just what we do, it's all in fun. "No it isn’t new, in fact its 40 yrs old." "Looks brand new. I wouldn’t think your fat head would fit in something you wore 40 years ago". "Of course you wouldn't, there's a reason for that!" Certain things don’t mean so much to you until you get old. It's not just the hat, but the memories. My 'fat head' started to remember the day I was "issued" the hat.

"Welcome aboard!" I had no sooner set foot on the quarter deck, than the Chief Engineer gave me a warm, loud welcome. A lot of things would be loud from then on. Sleeping in the lower after decks, above the ship's screw with forty other guys, well, you can conjure up in your own mind, the noise of four hour shift changes along with the relentless rumblings of a huge propeller turning in the water, the ship's engines, next door, and the rattling of metal food trays in the scullery above. I outranked most of the guys in the filter cleaning room, only because of special schooling, and something referred to as a "presto-crow". Explanations aside, they suspected me of being a spy. Yep, I started out on the wrong foot all right!

The Chief Engineer, Lieutenant Ernest 'Big Ernie' Davis asked me if I knew who I'd be assigned to, and I replied, "Chief Kraut". At first he looked perplexed at my response, then, eyes rolling upward, he yelled, "Damned snipes!" Apparently, the engineering crew had a 'pet' name for Chief Brauensbach, and they didn't share that tidbit of information with me. The Chief introduced me to everyone, right up to the "Old Man". Later, I found a rack in the berthing area, unpacked, and hit the chow line. I saw a spot to sit down, and just as I did, the 4 guys there got up and moved to another table. This was going to be fun. Yeah, right?

The following day, we put to sea, to conduct "sea-trials", as the snipes settled into a watch routine. They gave me the "mid to fours", or "mid-watch". I was labeled the "new kid", and the midnight to 4:00AM shift meant you couldn't possibly get a good night's sleep. I had several "labels" during the coming weeks. From the "new kid" came the "smart kid" and later, more overtly, "Superspy"! Big Ernie must have found some "redeeming quality" in me and made me the "log room yeoman". Outstanding! No more watches. I merely had to type out 8 o'clock reports, a 3 minute job if you were slow, and carry on "other duties as assigned". Eventually, "Teacher's Pet", or just "Pet", became my moniker for the longest period of time. At least they talked "about" me, if not "to" me. I didn't give a damn. They could call me what they wanted to, but I would be the envy of all the other engineers. I knew this latest move would really divide us even further. By this time I'd about had it with the cold shoulder crap. When you live aboard ship, you have to get along, or get overboard. One of the worst things, is to be known as a "snitch". You'll be hated by everybody. Thinking I was some kind of damned spy, was tantamount to being a snitch. But, I had a solution, a solution which could have resulted in me getting an "ass kicking", if it went bad.

Eddy Marple was a tower of blood, guts and steel. The biggest guy in the engine room by far, hell, probably the biggest guy in the navy, and he was definitely not the "sharpest knife in the drawer". He had to sleep in a bottom end-bunk with some mattresses stacked up next to him, his long legs reaching out, as he managed to sleep diagonally between them. He was a mountain, but, thankfully had a mild disposition. He was my mark. In one section of the engine room was a passageway with handrails on both sides, to keep a 'squid' from slipping, on one side, into the bilges, and on the other, into the huge steel cover for the propulsion reduction gears. I practiced a move several times until I had it down pat. I could grab the rails, and with a little momentum, throw my feet onto them, and stand up. The top of my head now, a few inches shy of 9 feet, I would have the leverage I would need, with my legs pushing against the rails. I would catch him at about shoulder height. Timing was essential. The day and the opportunity came, and like clockwork, I made my move. He had no idea what had just happened. All he knew was he was being pinned to the steel cover by some guy twice his size, who was screaming bloody murder at him. "What the hell is going on? Why are you people treating me like shit?" I eased up as the big guy began to speak. I climbed down, and saw him sigh with relief. Christ, he could have crushed me with one hand, but instead, laden with guilt, he explained that everyone thought I was a spy, sent to catch all the "pot smokers'. By now, there was a crowd gathering, no one speaking. I said, "You guys are a pack of assholes! Did any one of you think to ask the disbursing office? The clerk could've told you anything you wanted to know about me!" I climbed the ladder to the upper decks, and started shaking, realizing what I had just gotten away with . Things got better after that, but not great. Being the "log room yeoman", or "teat-less wave", I was basically the EO's secretary. Ergo, any paperwork for leave or liberty had to cross my desk, first. They all knew that I had the power to really screw with them, and they feared that. Knowing their fear, was enough for me, to do what I was supposed to do, and for them, not to screw with me.

I really loved the ship, and its crew, regardless of any differences, and I wished often, that I could do something to make things better between us. Well, an opportunity arose to do just that. I had seen other crews on other ships, with caps, unique to their particular ship. The caps had the ship designation, number and name, emblazoned in gold. Hell, they were the greatest things since sliced bread, as far as I was concerned. The caps really set those crews apart. I had to figure out a way to get them for our guys. Lt.Jg. Philcox was my pal. The ship's Main Propulsion Assistant, he was one officer I really saw eye to eye with. We were sitting in the log room one day, and I told him about my idea, but said I didn't know where the money would come from. Well, he just popped right up and said, "Ask the Old Man!". "Yeah, sure, just like that, ask the Old Man!", I replied. He said, "Well what the hell's the worst he can say? No?". "OK, I'll do it!". All the way up to the Captain's stateroom, I was getting that "you're gonna' get your ass kicked" feeling, like I got when I tangled with Marple. As I tapped on the door, I remember hoping there would be no answer. "Enter!", boomed the Old Man. "State your business!" Christ, I felt like a pissant in the gutter of a bowling alley, with a 16 pounder coming right at me. Well, I proceeded to give him a litany on "esprit de corps" and appearance, throwing in an extra measure of "Sirs", and he stopped me right there and said, "Boy, what is it you want?" I answered, "Money, sir!" "For what?" "Ship's caps, sir." "Well, why didn't you just say so!" We spoke for a few moments over details, and ended with one statement. He said, "Now, these ship's caps will be the uniform of the day, and if one wears it, then you'll all wear it!" Crap! What did I get myself into this time? I not only had to sell the idea to the snipes, but to all divisions, officers and enlisted alike!

Over the next week, I proceeded to "sell" my cap story, to man after man, working my way up to the Chiefs, and finally the Officers. By the time I got to the last couple of days, my story had preceded me, and the sale was easier. Finally, with check in hand, after getting a fair sample of head sizes, I sat down to write my letter to the cap company, pulling designs from their catalogue. Did you know that a man's average hat size is between 7-1/8 and 7-1/4? That's important. There will be a test on it, later. I happily posted the letter, after phoning the company, so they could get started. Now, I just had to wait.

My leave date was coming up, and I gladly gave a temporary "adios" to the ship. I went home for a couple of weeks and chilled out. I didn't wear my uniform. It was a bad time to be in the military, but that's another story. Leave time is elusive. No matter how much time you take, the return date feels like it is 12 hours after the departure date. When I returned, the ship was in dry-dock at Boston Naval shipyard. Another useless bit of information, the U.S.S. Constitution was the first AND the last ship in dry-dock #1 at Boston's Navy yard. Anyway, once again I was arrested at the quarterdeck, when I heard my name over the ship's 1MC (PA system) telling me to "Lay to the engine-room!". Damn it! What now? I hied my ass through the mess decks down to the engineroom. Sliding down the ladder, I turned around, and what I saw made me shudder. The entire engineering department, officers, chiefs and crew were standing in my notorious passageway, with Big Ernie at the forefront. I thought to myself, "Now you're really gonna' get your ass kicked". However, what happened made me choke back a tear. Big Ernie presented me with a brand new "ship's hat", with the name "U.S.S. Patterson", stitched in gold , and said, "This is on behalf of the officers and men of the Patterson's engineering crew". The ice was finally broken. They accepted me as their peer and in turn, the crew of the DE-1061, each shook my hand.

I still have that hat. I cleaned it a few days ago, and wore it today, on it's 40th birthday. It seems like only yesterday, I was standing in that passageway, facing the crew, like only yesterday I was choking the crap out of Marple. Yes, they are vivid memories. I know when I wake up, somebody will tell me I have the "mid-watch". Do you think these "magic memories" will ever fade and leave me? I hope not.