Aboard the U.S.S Ogden

I just recently participated in what the military calls a “Tiger Cruise”, where relatives of servicemen can board a military ship fresh back from war. My cousin, LCpl. Erik Instinski just finished a seven-month tour on the U.S.S Ogden and asked me if I could join him for the week long journey from Pearl Harbor to southern california.

Here’s a brief summary of my trip aboard the oldest ship in the Pacific Fleet.

First look.

I arrived in Pearl Harbor and stared into the harbor at the U.S.S Ogden. Holy shit this thing is huge. Huge guns on top, huge guns on the sides, huge flight deck and a huge rickety ladder I saw dangling off the side... Oh crap I've got to climb that thing to get aboard.

My “bedroom”.

My berthing

Once aboard we go down one flight of stairs, walk down a hall, open and close two hatches, go down one more flight of stairs and into our “berthing”. I could not believe how small of an area it was: four racks (beds), from the floor to the ceiling, four times over, a picnic table, and a couple of lockers; sixteen marines sharing a space no bigger than my current bedroom. I was shocked. But we had it good, some berthings had thirty marines.

The Well Deck.

The well deck (the entire center of the ship) is where all the amphibious crafts were kept: TRACS (amphibious tanks), Humvee’s, rubber boats, and a giant LCU (Landing Craft Unit, like the ones that stormed the beach at Normandy, but a whole lot bigger). This explains the lack of space in the berthings. To accommodate all the vehicles in the well deck, all the berthings are squeezed to the sides of the ship. I’m told the soldiers are secondary to the guns and vehicles, as this is an “attack ship”.

The Smoke Deck & the Flight Deck.

The Flight Deck

I immediately needed a smoke after seeing the berthings. To the smoke deck from the berthing, is up one flight of stairs, through two hatches, up another flight of stairs to the Mess Deck, up another flight of stairs to the Flight Deck (only helicopters can land, although a Harrier jet tried once and burned a hole in the million dollar deck), up another flight of stairs to Flight Deck 2, and up one final flight of stairs to the “Smoke Deck” (I lost 10 pounds in a week). The smoke deck is marked off with lines you must stay inside, 12 ft. by 12ft I’d say. Hard to keep from falling down, when there’s 10-12 foot seas and 30-mph winds.

The Week.

I finally got settled in my berthing and tried to figure out how to get in my rack. You have to roll into it, avoiding the hooks poking you in the back and the step handles for the higher racks, from scraping your legs. The hooks are for latching a safety net from underneath your rack to the top to keep you from falling out during high seas. (I used it the first two nights) Once in, you better get comfortable. If you lift your head it’ll hit the rack above you, lift your feet and it’ll scrap against a metal box that houses an emergency breathing unit, move around too much and you’ll fall out.

The racks

The racks are 6 ft long exactly. I’m 5’ 11 ½ -- I was barely able to stretch out completely, many marines aren't so lucky. The ship needs constant attention 24 hours a day. There’s always someone up, banging on pipes, going from here to there, checking levels, etc. It’s rarely quiet. Hatches are extremely loud to un-latch and you must always re-latch them as a safety measure. There were two in my berthing.  

The “head” or bathroom was down the hall through three hatches. More than thirty marines shared two toilets, one shower and one urinal. (What? No trough?) The shower rarely had hot water and worked by pressing a button on a sprayer you held in your hand. “Wet down, soap up, rinse off” read the sign. Not many Marines took showers everyday as there wasn't enough fresh water. The heads were cleaned every day, but always smelled and looked like a sewer.

One of the many hatches

The third night aboard the ship they took all the sheets, pillows, blankets and curtains from the Marines. I have no idea why. Most slept fully clothed and placed towels over their eyes to keep the light out. I felt guilty as they left my rack alone. I spent only a week aboard; these guys have been aboard for seven months. The conditions they were living in was nearly inhumane.  Many joked that criminals have it way better.  I wouldn't know, but I can imagine.

The first two days were spent trying not to throw-up during the unusually high seas. Some others did, and I felt proud I didn't. To stay on two feet during high seas with nothing to hold on to is tougher than I thought. If you slipped or slid down the deck, there’s a “life-line” (a thin piece of wire) to catch you from going overboard. Trust me it wouldn't have worked. And if you fall overboard you have little chance to survive. The ship could run you over, you’d drown or you’d freeze to death. Even more difficult was going down stairs during the storm while the wind and pitching was trying to launch you into the ocean. They closed the smoke deck many times because of dangerous conditions. I slipped down stairs twice and hit my head numerous times but got used it after awhile. The Mess Deck was hilarious during this time. Trays, bottles, some tables, anything that wasn't tied down was sliding everywhere. Only a few people fell but everyone always laughed.

Me trying to stay warm on the flight deck.

The people.

600 men, three women (all officers), and lots of porno. Pick a jock any jock. Now clone him five-hundred times, put them on a shitty ship and expect them to behave. Conversation aboard the ship was minimal. Mostly, and not surprisingly, it was about chicks, getting laid, and masturbating. To pass the time, many Marines often dry-humped each other and called each other fags. I got propositioned for a hand-job, a butt-raping, and a “fuck-orgy”, but declined nicely. The ones in charge were no better: “I need all swinging dicks down here now!” or “Admit it private, you like dick”. Not all were like this of course, some were married, and some had kids, but most were kids themselves. Most were below twenty-five.

Activities.

Most of time aboard was spent in your rack, reading, sleeping or listening to music. Sleep till your hungry, eat until your tired. But they did have some special shows and tours for us civilians on-board. One day was spent showing us the weapons and one day was spent shooting them, (no they wouldn't let us shoot). The ships' guns were the most impressive and truly frightening. “Twin Mike-Mike’s” (two giant machine guns) were strapped to a sailor (did I mention there were Navy dudes -- “squids” --  on board?), he’d blast a couple rounds out at the ocean, probably killing some terrorist fish… no not really, but I heard stories of dolphins getting shot down. Surprisingly his guns jammed twice during the fire play. I was told that the guns on the ships deck jam a lot due to the salt water. Scary thought if you really need them. I heard a lot about the M-16A’s the Marines use (similar to the ones used in Vietnam) jamming up all the time (I witnessed this also). Many have taken a liking to the AK-47’s that the Iraqis use. They don’t jam as much and are fully automatic.

Amphibious tank in the water

One day spent in and out of the Tanks and Humvee’s. By the way if you are thinking about joining the military, don’t be in a tank… There is no escape. I sat in the cockpit and asked if there’s was an escape hatch or something. Of course not. I asked what happens if you need to get out quickly. “Once your strapped in you have to accept your fate.” It took me five minutes to get into the gun turret. Once in, I couldn't move. It took me twice as long to get out. My cousin told me just two weeks before I boarded the ship, a sergeant was driving the amphibious tank off the well deck and into the ocean for a mission and something went wrong. His tank started to sink. He spent two minutes sinking before he died, talking with his captain the whole way down.

Leaving via the LCU, notice the marine in
right corner throwing up the peace sign

The last days were spent preparing the boat and gear for un-load. On the last day, three separate groups of Marines and civilians loaded the LCU’s and took off for shore. As each LCU left the Well Deck, Marines hooted and hollered back at the Ogden, glad to be going home. Once on the Camp Pendleton beach, some kissed the ground and others knelt in prayer. And once back at the barracks, family and friends greeted them with hugs and kisses of their own. Some Marines hugged their newborns for the first time and others called home. It was an amazing sight to see.

Politics:

For those that know me, know that I’m a pretty strong liberal. With that said, I did not engage in politics aboard the ship. The last thing these Marines needed after spending seven months in war was some stupid civilian up in their face. Most of what they went through they weren't aloud to divulge, but I do know that this tour was a one-of-a-kind mission, teamed up with the Navy, they searched Asia, Africa and the Middle East for those “terrorist cells” we keep hearing about. Mostly recon missions: boat crews would float up to fishing boats and through rivers, confiscating oil, guns and money. Some Marines vocalized their disappointment with searching for oil, but most of them were glad to be, as they say: “protecting our freedoms”.

Leaving the Ogden behind

Conclusion:

Many people have asked me why, being such a liberal, I decided to board a military ship in support of a war for oil. I've responded like this: “I do not support the effort in Iraq and I do not support war, but I would be a fool not to show respect for every one of the men and women aboard the Ogden and elsewhere, risking their lives for what they believe in. If all Americans had an ounce of their determination and courage, there wouldn't be a need for a war.”