Dear Tom:

In 1964, during my sea-duty tour on the heavy cruiser, USS St. Paul, I met an old gunner's mate -- and I mean he was old! He claimed forty-four years service, and I don't doubt him a bit. He had so many hash marks they met his chief petty officer's chevrons. He was a likeable and playful old bird.

Once, while entering port, a gun crew was all set to fire the saluting battery. A young ensign was in charge. The old chief came struggling up to the gundeck with a bucket of flour.

"Here's your backup, Mister Jones."

The ensign looked at him, then down at the bucket of finely ground flour. "What are you talking about, chief?"

"Jesus, sir! Don't they teach you anything in OCS? This bucket is placed behind the nearest hatch. If and when your saluting gun misfires, have one of the strikers scoop up some flour and toss it into the wind as another striker slams the hatch - real hard!"

The ensign believed him, and took steps to ensure his "backup" was ready. We were pulling alongside Pier Juliette in San Diego after an extended period of steaming to and from Pearl Harbor via Seattle, Washington. We had just secured from "quarters for entering port." I stood on the starboard side by the lifeline, watching the crowd of happy wives and girlfriends, kids and parents, waiting for the ship to tie up. The old chief gunner's mate walked up and stood beside me with "Good morning, lieutenant."

I returned his greeting and salute, and we fell silent, watching the activity on the ship and the pier.

He finally spoke up. "That is one of the big disadvantages to being in the Navy."

His following silence invited a question: "What's that, chief?"

Well, it just hell to have to always be leaving your loved ones and come home to your dependents."