A Sea of White.

I received my first copy of "The Roving Saint."   And reading the article "A Not so Typical Midshipman Cruise."  It brought me back to 1977...

<fade out, queue harp music>

It was May, and I had just finished FTM school for the Talos missile system radar, the AN/SPG-49.  I had orders to the USS Oklahoma City, CG-5, then the current flagship for ComSeventhFleet.

But first, a final training for damage control and fire fighting.  

After 3 major carrier fires in the late 60's, it was decided every sailor would attend fire-fighting school so everyone would be useful in case a major conflagration takes out the main fire fighting teams.  Which happened in one of the carrier fires.  So before my flight to Japan, I had to first go to the training center in San Diego.

On the flight down from Mare Island, I met a newly minted DS-3, also attending fire-fighting school and also destined for the Oklahoma City, KC Van Hingle.  Some people get all the luck with names...

After breakfast, we headed for where we thought the fire-fighting school was.  There was a large open air building, with a  cavernous opening large enough to accommodate several trucks passing through simultaneously.  We made a left face and came to a full stop.  In the compound was a sea of white uniforms.  About 2-300 ensigns, all in their dress whites.  After a second or two, I realized we were looking at the graduating class of Annapolis, 1977.

And in every right hand, a cup of coffee.

I muttered to KC, "I want to salute."

He whispered back, "They'll kill you."

"We have too.  Its the rules.  No cover, first meeting of the day,  enlisted meeting an officer."

A whole class who, for 4 years, had beaten into them, military etiquette.  The thought of reflexive muscle memory driving hundreds of return salutes, and gallons of coffee staining uniforms was proving a difficult to resist.

With a heavy sigh of what could have been, we approached the mass of gold and white.  

Though our decision to forgo the salute was met with some disapproval, there were ensigns who acknowledged the unusual circumstances we found ourselves in. And understood that adhering strictly to protocol might have resulted in a coffee-stained cascade of returned salutes. Respect for safety superseded the requirement for a formal salute in this particular scenario.

Then something better occurred.  Through the wide opening drove the roach coach.  The driver cleared the crowd in a wide arc before coming to a stop.

The side window of the food truck opened.  A large black woman leaned out, her voice resonating with an echo that captured everyone's attention exclaimed, "LOOK AT ALL THE BABY ENSIGNS! OH, YOU LOOK SO SWEET, I COULD JUST PINCH EVERY ONE OF YOU!"

KC and I just tried to look anywhere else at that point.  This kind of embarrassment does not need to be observed.  But by then, we were surrounded by the sea of white, each with a punctuation mark of red.

It was an interesting class.  The officers were sent back to don their khaki's, and class began.  Just 5 enlisted and over 200 officers.  All of us nubes to the fleet.

And I got to see the new movie, "Star Wars!"