Lincoln was about to bring the meeting to a close. “Gentlemen, we have in the USS California a potent weapon, the most significant military advantage we could ever imagine. But the very thought that there may be more is the most potent weapon of all. The word will spread forth, in ways to be determined, that we don’t know how many Californias there are out there. We just need to keep speaking the truth.”
Two days later, on April 19, 1861, President Lincoln would formally announce the beginning of the Anaconda Plan. Devised by Union General Winfield Scott, the Anaconda Plan called for the blockade of Southern ports, to prevent the import of supplies and weaponry as well as to block the export of goods, especially cotton, to Europe. The name Anaconda came from the idea of a snake wrapping its coils around its prey to suffocate it.
Chapter 33
Navy policy requires at least one officer to eat in the crew’s mess every day. The idea behind the rule is to ensure that enlisted personnel receive good treatment. The officers on the California loved this rule because the food in the mess hall is far superior to wardroom fare.
Chaplain Sampson had another reason to eat in the crew’s mess: he wanted to keep his finger on the elusive pulse called morale. He asked and received permission to eat in the crew’s mess five times a week.
On his first breakfast visit, he walked down the chow line when he spotted a large sign hung over the buffet. “For Your Dining Pleasure, Today’s Special — Chipped Beef on Toast Points (S.O.S.) Bon Appétit!” As every sailor knows, “S.O.S.” refers to “Shit on a Shingle.” Although it was an old Navy joke, the simple dish is very tasty. Father Rick enjoyed Valente’s sense of humor. Dominic Valente, the ship’s Supply Officer, personally wrote the special menu copy every day.
His tray full, Father Rick walked over to a table and said, “You guys mind if I join you?” Nobody minded. Everybody loved having Father Rick around. “Anyone wish to join me in grace?” The chaplain made the sign of the cross and intoned, “Heavenly Father guide us through these troubled seas, and save us from peril. In Your Holy Name, Amen.”
“You guys look pretty good for being 152 years younger.” Everyone cracked up. The Daylight Event had developed its own genre of humor. The chaplain then asked of no one in particular, “How’s everybody putting up with this crazy time?”
Petty Officer Bill Martin replied. “At first, Padre, it was kind of exciting. I mean the idea of finding ourselves in 1861 was almost fun. But it’s getting to be a drag, a real drag.”
“How so Bill?” asked Father Rick. He always made it a point to refer to enlisted sailors by their first name, contrary to Navy rules and tradition. Because the only identifier on a sailor’s uniform was a surname, people were amazed how the chaplain could remember so many first names. Father Rick would often tell his religious colleagues, “If a shepherd doesn’t know his flock, he’ll lose a lot of lambs.”
Martin replied. “A few days ago we knew we were headed to the Persian Gulf. We knew we’d be there for six months, and then home. Now we just don’t know the future, or when we’ll see our families again. If you pardon the language, Padre, it sucks.”
Father Rick looked into Martin’s eyes and said, “If I recall Bill, your wife just had a baby girl a few days before we shipped out. I bet you miss them both.”
“It’s not just a case of missing them, Father. It’s not knowing when, or if, I’ll ever see them again.” His eyes teared up.
“I bet it’s not easy, Bill,” said Father Rick. Martin just looked at his tray.
“Anybody else feel like Bill does?” asked the chaplain. Heads nodded in unison.
Petty Officer Jim Dayton, sitting a few seats down the table, said, “I know exactly how Martin feels. I was engaged to be married after we got back from the Gulf.” He took out a photo of his pretty fiancée and passed it around. “Now I don’t know when I’ll see her again. I can’t even talk to her or email her. It’s a bad feeling, Father, real bad.”
Petty Officer Andrea Dunne told the story about how she was texting her mother, who has severe liver cancer. “Mom’s reply got cut off in the middle of a sentence. She was about to tell me something that her doctor said.” Dunne put her face in her hands, wiped her eyes and then said, her voice breaking up, “She may be dead for all I know.”
Father Rick looked at her. “That must be very painful Andrea.”
“It is, Padre, it’s real painful. The worst part is not knowing, and not knowing when I’ll know anything.”
“Not having the Internet is the worst part,” Seaman Gail Robinson said. All heads nodded vigorously. “We’ve gotten so used to instant communication that it feels like, I don’t know, like I’m in the middle of a forest somewhere. What really hurts is that I know my folks, my brother and sister, not to mention my boyfriend, are all emailing, texting me and posting me on Facebook. They must think I’m dead.”
“That’s absolutely right,” said Martin. “Not being able to send a message is bad enough, but the empty inbox is the worst.”
“My father was a submarine sailor on a nuke,” Said Petty Officer Juan Portillo. “When they went on patrol they’d be submerged for 90 days at a time. The sub could communicate by raising a buoy, and they could receive messages called ‘family grams.’ But the messages were censored, and if there was any bad news, it wouldn’t get to a sailor until they returned to port. At least they knew that they’d be able to talk to their family eventually. We don’t even know that.”
A religious leader, whether a pastor, a priest, a rabbi, or a military chaplain, is part psychologist. He’s expected to not only listen to problems, but to offer guidance. Father Rick knew that the first part of healing is recognizing that you have pain. This conversation, Sampson knew, was only the first part, acknowledging the pain. He also knew that this was just one small group of sailors and that there was a lot more pain on this ship.
“In the years I’ve been on earth,” said the chaplain, “I’ve experienced a lot of pain, and listening to you folks reminds me of it. I remember when my mom had terminal cancer.” He looked at Andrea Dunne, who bit her lip as he spoke. “As mom was dying, I came down with a terrible case of pneumonia. I felt like I was going to die, too. It’s the closest I ever got to feeling real despair.” He let his words linger, looking for a response.
“What did you do, Father?” asked Andrea Dunne.
“I decided to let it go, Andrea. I decided to put the problems in God’s hands. I prayed. He saved me.”
The chaplain looked around the table and looked into everyone’s eyes. “You can’t email or text me, but you all know where my office is. Come by at any time.”
Chapter 34
Father Rick rang Ashley’s office. “A word with you Captain?”
“Sure, Father, come on up.”
“My dining with the crew is turning out to be a good idea, Captain. The idea is good, but the experience is difficult. To be blunt, the crew is feeling the effects of living day-to-day not knowing if they have a future. I heard some pretty heart-wrenching stories from a lot of sailors, and I’m sure we’ll hear them in the wardroom as well. People need to know there’s something to look forward to, and most of what I’ve heard is about families. They know their families, friends, and lovers are trying to contact them, and they can’t reply. Frankly, Captain, I don’t feel too great about the situation either.”