Probably not my place to comment, but based on the information that you’ve relayed, I feel compelled to say that the Vice Admiral doesn’t strike me the sort of commander who inspired men to get behind him when the fecal matter hits the rotating oscillator. Like maybe in times of war.
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Never met the guy. Don’t even know his name. Couldn’t say.
We all thought it was hysterical though.
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Funny for everyone but the CO. Poor ■■■■■■■.
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Seahawks from the air wing also flew directly through the plume. The brain trust on the ship didn’t realize the ship had sailed through the plume until hours later when air particulate detectors in the ventilation systems for both plants started alarming inexplicably. A lot of my friends were still on during that time, and let me tell you, it got crazy onboard, with Reactor working overtime to track and record exposure, contaminated areas, and begin cleanup and decon procedures- talk about things I’m glad I missed! THEN the CO went and made matters worse by kinda sorta telling the crew that the water supply from the distilling plants was contaminated (it wasn’t), causing a lot of a panic onboard, especially since this was right around a meal time. It took a few days to get that straightened out.
As for the spread of radionuclides into the ocean, several of my old nuke buddies were on the tiger teams flown to Japan to assist with that as well- some from the NRC, Oak Ridge, etc, some from Duke Energy and other power companies. Most of the material being leaked was fairly short-lived, and just being in water helped to mitigate virtually all of it (water is an outstanding moderator/ shielding material). So, it could’ve gone much worse than it did. I wrote a long post back at that time on That Other Forum (in a futile attempt at) discounting the hysteria and explain the real facts, based on discussions with people who were in the know.
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I heard it once from a very, VERY old, very salty master chief (his first ship was an old Gearing-class DD, which should say something). I think it goes back to the British (because don’t basically all of our Navy’s traditions?) and something about the drums beating to quarters and stuff like that.
EDIT: ah, here it is:
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All this talk of Japan, Fukushima, radiation, and Nukes reminds me of the time I met some during that whole mess when my bird had to make an extra stop at Atsugi to get scanned and lightly decontaminated. About had a heart attack when a couple members of the decon team almost ran a maintenance stand into one of the composite props. Then one of the Nukes had to cut away a small section of one of the armored mats next to my seat in the flight station because it was hot…
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I’m not sure why that post gave me the giggles…but it did… 
Oh what fun lives we lead.
spectator to the drumming out of Lieut. Enslin of Col. Malcom’s regiment…and lastly transported over the Schuylkill with orders never to be seen in Camp in the future
Jeeze! Made to cross the Schuylkill Expressway! Why not just shoot him. It would have been safer for all concerned.
(The Schuylkill Expressway is an artery into Philadelphia from the Conshohocken area. It follows the Schuylkill River, is narrow, almost no center dividers, passes under several bridges…a drop into the river on one side and a wall of granite on the other…traffic is either roaring in the 70 MPH range or deadlocked…there is no in between. It has well earned its local monicker as “The Sure Kill Expressway.”)
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Now see, my general rule when going to Philadelphia is, “don’t.”
Aside from that NFC Championship game in '04, there’s a story from before that involving a girl at Ursinus, an alternator going bad at 2am, and an angry ex-roommate.
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I’ll give you the tl;dr, since the other parties involved have both been married (not to each other) and have kids now:
As for the other story, needless to say after we barely got out of that NFC game alive, I figured the universe was trying to send me a message about staying out of Philadelphia, and I’ve decided to listen.
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Is that anything like an Irish Fry? Because in this southerner’s mind, that IS pretty much one of nature’s most awesome meals (also, goes even better if you add grits).
Sounds exactly like an Irish Fry. At least, the ones I’ve had.
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That is a pineapple + pizza level of british cock up right there…
It’s the sort of thing fights would break out over, if we didnt all have heart disease first
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Yep. British. Definitely 
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That beautiful place always had its rumors as the main operating base of the mystical ‘Aurora’ aircraft as well. I don’t know if I totally believe the rumors but I have read about it.
It’s a very interesting place. I’m very jealous that you got to experience it.
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EMC(SW) Thomas Bates - In Memorium - 1975-2005
Tom was one of the best sailors I ever had the pleasure to serve with, an outstanding electrician and one hell of a nuke. We reported to the Reagan around the same time, my class fresh from Prototype, him just finishing a staff pickup instructor tour there. Before he’d joined the Navy, he’d spent a couple of years playing Fullback for NC State, and he still had the size, speed, and strength of a football player. Those traits, combined with piercing blue eyes, shaggy blond hair, and coastal NC easygoing manner and drawl, but it made him popular with the ladies- needless to say, a lot of our shenanigans revolved around that fact.
During the precommissioning days of rotating shiftwork, he’d been on my crew, and while we were all friends, he really turned us into a family; whether it was barbecues at his apartment, karaoke nights at one of our watering holes in Hampton or Newport News, or fishing trips (where the only thing we’d catch would be a buzz), if there was a something going on, Tom was most likely to be either either leading it, or dead center in the middle of the action; he was the one who introduced us to Jaeger Bombs, IPA’s, and (for the non-NC natives on our crew) proper moonshine, and the best stories can’t be repeated- ever. Even after commissioning and moving the ship from Norfolk to San Diego, as our old family drifted apart with transfers, marriages, births, etc, he happily took our new arrivals under his wing, both personally and professionally, and was an older brother and mentor to most of us junior sailors in RE Division.
We were beginning an abbreviated workup cycle in the summer and fall of 2005 (that’s another story altogether- sorry again, USS Nimitz), and were trying to fit 8 months of exercises into 5 months of time left before leaving on our maiden deployment. Right before leaving for one of our composite workups with our battle group, Tom and his roommates had hosted another one of their massive parties at their house in Chula Vista. This time, the drink of the night was Flaming Doctor Pepper, and this was where things started going wrong. At some point during the party, he missed his mouth while doing one of the shots, and suffered some pretty ugly burns. He was officially placed SIQ (sick in quarters) for the underway, and came with us (I STILL don’t know why the department insist he come with us for that one), with painkillers that were prescribed by Medical aboard the ship.
The morning of 12 July 2005 I had the 0200-0700 watch as the 2 plant propulsion electrician. When I went aft to do my inspection of the aft switchboard spaces (accessible through our division’s berthing spaces), I noticed Tom’s rack light on. This wasn’t unusual, as he was always a night owl, and I toyed with the idea of dropping in and checking on him, especially as I knew he wasn’t in the best of moods after the whole party incident. In the end however, I decided to let him get his rest, and I’d talk to him in the morning.
I’ve regretted that decision for the last fifteen years.
A medical emergency was called away to our berthing compartment during XO’s cleaning hour about four hours later, and word spread quickly that Tom had been found in his rack, dead. We all knew that he already had heart problems (he was on medication for murmur), and after a suspiciously brief “investigation” by our afloat NCIS agent, it was ruled an accidental death due to a bad reaction to the painkillers he’d gotten from Medical- they claimed they hadn’t known about his heart medication.
As an epilogue to the story, when Chief results were announced two weeks later, we found that he’d made Chief, and the initiation group aboard the Reagan that year carried his book among themselves, with “never forget” as their slogan.
So here’s to you, old friend. I miss you, and not a day goes by that I don’t wish I’d stopped in to check on you- maybe, just maybe you’d still be with us if I had. I’m sorry. Rest easy, shipmate.
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Thanks for sharing Ted. I’m very sorry.
I have my own reason to raise a glass tonight, so while I’m at it, I’ll do the same for your friend.
The 12th of July sucks.
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My first of many such visits to Machrihanish, (now ‘Campbelltown international’) was at night in a BN2 islander. Doing line training with the Fleet Manager, the crosswind was what he described as ‘technically interesting’ for the only runway. As a result after a short chat to the local firemen a few gooseneck flares were put out along a section of tarmac linking the runway and the parallel taxiway creating an unofficial runway 19… It was plenty long enough and could have been extended further but there was honestly no need in our STOL machine. If you look at a sat image you can see the link near the now displaced threshold of runway 11. Sadly we were not allowed to use 19 when we changed to the King Air
Like most residents of remote areas the folk of Campbelltown have a great sense of humour. During a spate in certain newspapers running articles on left wing support for our extremist marxist terror group Sinn Fein/IRA. Various stories were published about certain firms refusing to serve their supporters who openly displayed badges/wore T shirts. It briefly got national coverage that a Campbelltown firm had a sign in their window saying they would always serve supporters of the IRA and hoped for lots of business from them. The town undertakers. They repeated the joke when islamic terrorists had some loonies supporting them publicly.
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