| BACK TO NO B.S. PAGE The 2007 Reunion in San Diego brought back some memories for "Vinny" Venezia --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shipmates: I’d been off that boat, the SABALO, for just
about 50 years
this past April [2007] and lo and behold, here I went and signed up to
go to the
“final” SABALO Reunion held in San Diego also this past April. I say “final” because that’s the way the Reunions are defined by me as events wherein
the attendees
have an opportunity to and really are expected to recall
(common-to-all-attendees) events that evoke nostalgia and (hopefully)
humorous
interactions, and also to provide the basis for renewing friendships. That I met and married my spouse, Barbara,
subsequent to my detachment from the SABALO didn’t sway me from telling
her:
“You’ll have a ball…believe me, those were a great bunch of guys, and
you’ll
love them!” By my own definition of
Reunions, you can see that I really was betting on the come in
expecting her to
mix with a bunch of antique submarine sailors and their spouses and
family
members, virtually all of whom she had neither seen nor heard much
about
before. But, pack up we did and then go
to The first night there was an evening of
“getting organized”
within the Holiday Inn where we stayed, locating the designated Reunion
Hospitality Room and getting some dinner.
All tasks were accomplished successfully and since there
were, would you
believe it, some 100+ old sub-sailors and an additional 70 some-odd
“guests”
attending, we met several attendees and their families that evening in
the
motel bar and on the grounds. It worked
out that I knew none of these people since they had been on board the
sub during totally
different decades than the one that contained my tenure.
These folks were, indeed, much younger than
me. That Barbara enjoyed their company
set some of my fears to rest regarding her “…having a ball...”. She noted
that all the gals were in the same
predicament as she was …and the guys were indeed, “OK”.
With that observation I thought, we might
make the The following day saw me embroiled in a golf
outing while
Barbara did some “Yo Vinny, remember the skin-diving beach
runs to Hanamu and
An animated Don chirped up with…a big grin on his face. “Yep.” I allowed, although while I fully recalled my participation in those Hawaiian expeditions, I really couldn’t tie Don into the beach-going group. Things started to fall into place when Don recalled a trip to Kaena where we, about six or so guys off the boat, fell upon a large metal mesh fish trap in about fifteen feet of water just short of where the beach shallows ended and the depth dramatically increased. There were, as I recollect, some twelve or more fish of real ‘good cooking’ size in the trap and we immediately started to plan on how we’d get those fish over our driftwood fire. Don recalled the event completely and continued with: “Harris (our Chief of the Boat) asked if anyone had some line (rope) we could use to tie to the trap and you ran up to your car and came back with some relatively heavy stuff…but not enough to tie on and still have the line reach the surface.” My mind locked into the event with absolute clarity and I immediately thought of the wonderfully cooperative “ballet” that evolved amongst us. We had to: -go back to the trap equipped only with face masks and fins and snorkels, -take turns tying two pieces of the line to two opposing ends of the trap’s steel framing, -hold the lines vertically until all of us could get a (evenly spaced ) grip on them, -then swim the trap up close enough to the surface for us to shift our individual grip to the trap itself, and hold it in that position relative to the surface while swimming it in to the beach…some forty or fifty yards away! That trap was so heavy that the only assurance I got that we were making progress, was that for the entire swim in to the beach, those fish in the trap were lined up with and also swimming in the direction we were going. Get it to the beach we did. Get those fish cooked over the fire and then eaten, we also did. Did we have a tremendous feeling of accomplishment? You bet we did! Did any of us feel as though we stole anything? Nope! Our rationale held that: “That trap was just planted too close to shore by its owner…and therefore, was fair game!” We just enjoyed the heck out of that experience at the time…and Don, Ski and I relived that superb interlude all over again, poolside…and even our ladies were mesmerized by the tale. I tipped my imaginary hat to Barb when she allowed as how she had never before heard that particular story…and she then said to the girls: “And I thought I really had heard all the ‘ Don asked: “Who’s Howard?” I smiled. This Ah, sea stories…kicking around that ‘fish trap’ package immediately gave rise to other swimming and beach related stories such as when we got to capture a ‘3 footer’ sea turtle, took it back to the Submarine Base in Pearl, showed it off…then returned it to the beach where we caught it and tried to turn it loose. The turtle was so shell-shocked by that time, all it did when released was dive straight to the bottom and lay there. Since there were other spear toting skin divers around and we didn’t want that ‘poor turtle’ to get killed by one of them, we took turns going down, gripping the shell behind the head and above the tail and riding the turtle like we were hanging onto a planning board until he, or she, got tired of messing with us and instead of bottoming, headed for open water when released. Talk about having fun reliving that story…wow! Even recalling being hungrily shadowed by big Mako sharks when carrying a string of speared fish didn’t measure up to those two ‘sea stories’. Not to be outdone, and changing the subject a bit, Ski offered: “Man, Vinny…you were really something coming
off the beach
with a snoot-full! Remember Don? The night of the ship’s party in I guess Don was truly in on that incident because he laughed out loud. Listening to the telling, all I could think about was; how I must’ve been dead weight and how they just missed coming up with hernias hauling me around and lifting me onto my bunk in ‘Hogans Alley’. Seems we probably managed to wake up just about everyone that had been sleeping there…but, talk about your ‘success stories’, Ray added: “The OOD never did suspect that Vinny, the ‘glorious leader’ of the ET Gang, had come back loaded and needed a bit of help getting to bed.” Barbara just shook her head with the telling and the other two ladies weren’t smiling. Obviously, I didn’t recall a thing. Over the next few days, the Barbara also thought aloud: “That’s a fine family…and did you say he used to work for you?” I nodded but made no further comment. The Despite Buddha’s physical limitations, the
Becks currently
headed up a food and shelter mission for the poor in their hometown in
the Among several other old time shipmates that we met with over time, was an ex-Interior Communications Electrician who was very ‘familiar looking’ but who I really couldn’t recall well. The problem was that he had checked on board only about a year before I left the boat…and he was, at the time, considerably more junior, so we naturally ‘ran in different social circles together’. He got all in our small group to pay exquisite attention to his presence since he had an extensive, and at times embarrassing to us, photo album that documented our era. It seems, to his credit, that he rose professionally from junior sailor on board to be the leader of his Gang and then…get out of the Navy, and become a millionaire. He currently heads several companies that, among other endeavors, make aircraft parts and components and…provide commercial air services. And, oh-by-the-way, he does some of these things with his own fleet of airplanes. Digesting his ‘story’, put my relative success in life, and my life at sea, in perspective. “Millionaire indeed…Barb and I still closely watch our pennies!” There were others from my SABALO past, who
it really was fun
to pass a few nostalgic moments with.
For example, a gent named (Clumsy) Bob Stiles who, our
leading Radioman,
‘ These guys were my ex-shipmates and happily
most of our
recollections centered on pleasant events out of the past.
The euphoria continued into our last night
together, at the Reunion Banquet. It was
somewhat of a surprise that virtually all these beat up old sub-sailors
were
quite presentable in suits or sport coats and ties…and that they
soberly minded
their ‘Ps & Qs’. The dinner was
enjoyable both from both culinary and social standpoints and, nearing
its conclusion, we went into the ‘speaker
phase’ of the
evening. Our “…we waited ‘till we got to Going into Hong Kong Lagoon or Harbor,
anchoring and
bartering with Mary Soo’s Bum Boat Female Harbor Workers to get some
‘dirty
work’ done on your sub or ship, was something each and every
ex-SABALOite in
the audience fully understood. We were a
Pacific Fleet submarine crew, and Hearing about Mary Soo propelled me into my sea-story-telling mode. I waited a bit and then got the attention of the ladies at my table…the guys followed suit…when I announced loudly: “You all don’t realize it but I knew some REAL SUPER WOMEN! I’m not talking about Wonder Woman, or Cat Woman or any of those comic book characters. I’m talking about real flesh and blood SUPER WOMEN!” I now had the undivided attention of all
within hearing so I
continued with how, on one trip to “Remember, I said ‘Super Women’…well,
shortly after pulling
into the Lagoon, I was topside getting ready to ride the water taxi in
for some
“These cans were some three and a half feet tall and about 18 inches in diameter and had opposing grip handles at the top. I’m just guessing now, but when nearly full of liquid, these cans could go at well over a hundred pounds to tote to a receptacle…and that particular can must’ve been just brimming full of ‘dynamited chicken’ resulting from a (predictably failed) curry dinner.” Again pausing to see that I had the attention of all, I went on: “I know that that can must’ve been near full, ‘cause those two sailors each grabbed a handle to heave the thing off the deck and stumble their way aft. They went aft almost to the turtle deck where they were just a bit higher off the water than the girls in one of Mary Soo’s bum boats. They then struggled with that can to reach it over the to bum boat where it could be taken from them.” I paused again for effect, and continued: “Well, only one of the two girls in that skiff got under that can, reached up and took it from the sailors…and in a remarkable balancing act to keep from getting tumbled or maybe even capsizing the boat, that girl with full garbage can, tip-toed aft in the rolling boat, to a waiting tub…upended the can and poured the contents into the tub. She then nonchalantly tip-toed back to the sailors and returned the can. Folks, I was dumb-founded. Watching this feat of strength, I knew I had actually seen a ‘Super Woman’ in action! You can keep your Wonder Woman…she’s got nothing on one of Mary Soo’s girls!” The reaction at the table included: “Wow!…and that was enough for me. Following the repast, there were goodbyes
said all around,
photos taken and an exchange made of e-mail addresses and phone
numbers…and then
more ‘goodbyes’ were said the following morning as we all took
departure from
San Diego…homeward bound. Driving home,
Barb and I agreed that the ©
Copyright reserved by Howard Venezia, Winter Park,
CO Nonfiction. May 2007 BACK TO NO B.S. PAGE |