I liked standing on the bridge wing at sunrise with salt spray in my face
and clean ocean winds whipping in from the four quarters of the globe - -
the ship beneath me feeling like a living thing as her engines drove her
swiftly through the sea.
I liked the sounds of the Navy - the piercing trill of the boatswains pipe,
the syncopated clangor of the ship's bell on the quarterdeck, the harsh
squawk of the 1MC, and the strong language and laughter of sailors at work.
I liked Navy vessels -- nervous darting destroyers, plodding fleet
auxiliaries and amphibs, sleek submarines and steady solid aircraft
carriers.
I liked the proud names of Navy ships: Midway, Lexington, Bunker Hill,
Ticonderoga, Saratoga, Coral Sea, Antietam, Valley Forge - - memorials of
great battles won and tribulations overcome.
I liked the lean angular names of Navy ".jpg)
tin-cans" and escorts - - Barney,
Dahlgren, Mullinix, McCloy, Damato, Leftwich, Mills, Stickell, Noa, Paul,
Coontz, T.C. Hart, Glover - - mementos of heroes who went before us. And the
others - - San Jose, San Diego, Los Angeles, St. Paul, and Chicago - - named
for our cities.
I liked the tempo of a Navy band blaring through the topside speakers as we
pulled away from the oiler after refueling at sea.
I liked Liberty Call and the spicy scent of a foreign port.
I even liked the never-ending paperwork and all-hands working parties as my
ship filled herself with the multitude of supplies, both critical and
mundane in order to cut ties to the land and carry out her mission anywhere
on the globe where there was water to float her. 
I liked sailors, officers and enlisted men from all parts of the land, farms of the Midwest, sma
ll towns of New England, from the cities, the mountains
and the prairies, from all walks of life. I trusted and depended on them as
they trusted and depended on me - for professional competence, for
comradeship, for strength and courage. In a word, they were "shipmates";
then and forever.
I liked the surge of adventure in my heart, when the word was passed: "Now
set the special sea and anchor detail - all hands to quarters for leaving
port," and I liked the infectious thrill of sighting home again, with the
waving hands of welcome from family and friends waiting pier side.
The work was hard and dangerous; the going rough at times; the parting from
loved ones painful, but the companionship of robust Navy laughter, the "all
for one and one for all" philosophy of the sea was ever present.
I liked the serenity of the sea after a day of hard ship's work, as flying
fish flitted across the wave tops and sunset gave way to night.
I liked the feel of the Navy in darkness -- the masthead and range lights, the red and green navigation lights and stern light, the pulsating phosphorescence of radar repeaters - they cut through the dusk and joined with the mirror of stars overhead. And I liked drifting off to sleep lulled by the myriad noises large and small that told me that my ship was alive and well, and that my shipmates on watch would keep me safe.
I liked quiet mid-watches with the aroma of strong coffee -- the lifeblood
of the Navy permeating everywhere.
And I liked hectic watches when the exacting minuet of haze-gray shapes
racing at flank speed kept all hands on a razor edge of alertness.
I liked the sudden electricity of "General quarters, general quarters, all
hands man your battle stations," followed by the hurried clamor of running
feet on ladders and the resounding thump of watertight doors as the ship
transformed herself in a few brief seconds from a peaceful workplace to a
weapon of war -- ready for anything.
And I liked the sight of space-age equipment manned by youngsters clad in
dungarees and sound-powered phones that their grandfathers would still
recognize.
I liked the traditions of the Navy and the men and women who made them. I
liked the proud names of Navy heroes: Halsey, Nimitz, Perry, Farragut, John
Paul Jones and Burke. A sailor could find much in the Navy:
comrades-in-arms, pride in self and country, mastery of the seaman's trade.
An adolescent could find adulthood.
In years to come, when sailors are home from the sea, they will still
remember with fondness and respect the ocean in all its moods - the
impossible shimmering mirror calm and the storm-tossed green water surging
over the bow. And then there will come again a faint whiff of stack gas, a
faint echo of engine and rudder orders, a vision of the bright bunting of
signal flags snapping at the yardarm, a refrain of hearty laughter in the
wardroom and chief's quarters and mess decks.
Gone ashore for good they will grow wistful about their Navy days, when the
seas belonged to them and a new port of call was ever over the horizon.
Remembering this, they will stand taller and say...
"I WAS A SAILOR ONCE AND I WOULD DO IT AGAIN."
"Any man who may be asked in this century what he did to make his life worthwhile, I think he can respond with a great deal of pride and satisfaction ... I served in the U. S. Navy.
John F. KennedyMy Portfolio
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