Welcome To The Jungle - Part 1182: Epilogue

EPILOGUE I - 2005

So what was it all about?  What did the time period of  8/18/87 to 8/18/95 mean to my life?  In a word - everything.  I truly believe that my time in the Navy molded me into the man I am today – both the bad and the good.  I learned the meaning of sacrifice and honor and duty, but I also learned about booze and hookers and never having to worry about the consequences of your actions.  I learned that you can just pick up and move on, and that forming lasting bonds with those around you makes goodbyes that much harder.  I also discovered the meaning of the word responsibility.  When your job makes you responsible for protecting the lives of 256 of your closest friends, you tend to take it a little more seriously than you would if you were a fry cook at McDonald’s.  I learned that “normal” people have NO idea what military life is like, and have a hard time trying to grasp the reasons we do, or did, the things we do.  I am intensely proud of the time I spent in the Navy, and the things I accomplished.  About two years AFTER I got out of active duty, I had the letters U-S-N added to the flying eagle tattoo on my chest.  It is there to remind me every day of the time I spent in defense of my country.  “U-S-N” and “Freedom” – the two words on that tattoo explain a lot about who I am, and how I got that way.

 Do I have any regrets?  Sure – a few.  I regret the fact that I didn’t keep in touch with many of the guys from the Frez.  A few months ago, I got in touch with Jerry Ford and Mike Derkins, as well as with one of the docs, Joe Jackson.  Jerry filled me in on the whereabouts of a few others – Jim Lusher had left active duty and become an over-the-road truck driver.  He married Jerry’s sister-in-law’s sister, and then rejoined the Navy.  He is now a GMG1, and an Armorer for the S.E.A.L. Teams.  How fitting. 

 Jerry also told me that John Sorby died of a heart attack in 1994.  Sorby was a great guy, and I will always remember him when I hear the word “chewed”.  Darryl Cravens stayed in the Navy, and was now a BMC, stationed on the East Coast.  The guy I got frocked with was now a Chief…amazing.  Dave Benton was an Instructor at the EN “A” School at the Naval Training Center in Great Lakes, still married with a couple of kids.  Mike Derkins, who was one of the other Sea College guys, is now a nurse in Michigan.  He went to Central Michigan to become a teacher, and realized that his true calling was a little different.  He is still in occasional touch with Mitch Barris, who had gone back to Georgia, and now runs a newspaper in his hometown.  Jon Hickersham went home to Dayton, Ohio, and now works as for a plumbing equipment distributor.  Scotty Bale, the Postal Clerk who I heard went to prison, actually only did 18 months in a Navy brig in San Diego.  He now works in the computer industry in Northern California and tours the country with his punk rock band in his spare time.  Apart from them, I don’t know much about any of my other shipmates.

 I often wonder what happened to some of those guys – Steve Haulin, Bob Powell, Kent Pulling, Phil Darkbull, Jon Grace.  I’ll probably never find out, but it would be nice to know that they all ended up a success.  There are hundreds of other guys I met during my Navy service, and I could probably spend years tracking them all down, but for now, I’m just glad that I got MY story down on paper. 

 So much has changed since I got out of active duty – The San Diego Recruit Training Center, where I went to Boot Camp, has been closed and is now a housing development and city park.  Long Beach Naval Station, where the Fresno was stationed, has also been closed and is a business park now.  The Subic Bay Naval Station, where so many memories were made, has been closed to U.S. Forces.  Even the dear old USS Fresno has been decommissioned, and is sitting in mothballs in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.  Last I heard, there were ongoing negotiations to sell her to the Israeli Navy, but I don’t know any more than that.  A sad end to a proud old girl. 

 Time has a way of changing everything, but in my mind, the memory of all of the places I went, and people I met will stand as fresh and clear as the day I first saw them.  It was a time of my life I wouldn’t ever want to go through again, but I also wouldn’t trade for anything.  It was definitely the defining experience in my life, and what, I truly believe, made me the man I am today.

 When I started writing this, I wasn’t really sure where I was going with it.  My original intention was to get down some of the stories that I had always told to friends and family.  It was going on 12 years since I’d been out of active duty, and I wanted to write them down before I forgot any more of the important details.  I figured it would take me about a week, and maybe ten pages or so.  Well, here I am – over a year and nearly five hundred pages later!  I guess the word “verbose” would fit well.  As I wrote these stories, and the memories came flooding back, I put down what I could remember.  Some of the stories may not be exactly the way they happened at the time, but it’s as close as I could get.  Time, distance and the loss of several million brain cells along the way has a tendency to color the past a bit. 

 The one interesting thing I’m finding is that, the farther away from it I get, the better it was.  I distinctly remember times on active duty thinking that it was the “stupidest, most worthless, idiotic” thing I’d ever done.  I swore I’d never, EVER reenlist, and I would never be happy about my time on active duty.  Ain’t it funny how times change?  In the summer of 1999, I actually went back to the Naval Reserve center and talked to their recruiter about going BACK in – but as an officer.  Luckily for me, there weren’t any empty billets, but I have a feeling that if there had been, I’d now be LT Peterson!  Scary.

 Another very unexpected result of telling this story is that it has been a very cathartic experience for me.  It has really helped me to open some doors on things I hadn’t talked about in a long time and has helped me to look at things from the perspective of time, age and wisdom.  I quit drinking in 1995 (December 23^rd, actually) and have been sober now for a little over 8 ½ years. One of the first things people in recovery usually do is to write a drinking history about when they started drinking, and how it became a problem for them.  I never really did that, but as I neared the end of my story, I realized that I just had.  From my start in high school, and our first “beer party” on my 18^th birthday, to puking all over the inside of the Marine Base Club in the Philippines, my drinking life developed almost entirely in the Navy, within the confines of this story. 

 Following my release from active duty, I ended up with two D.U.I’s, got kicked out of college, racked up over $25,000 in debt, got married and divorced, and basically pissed off almost everyone I knew because of the drinking habit I developed in the Navy.  Thank God that I finally got help and find myself now at 35, sober, married with two beautiful daughters and happy.  The Navy was a definite influence on me – good and bad.  I’m not sure which side came out ahead, but I’ve a feeling that over the years to come, the good will FAR outweigh the bad.

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it.  It has been a lot of fun writing all about the crazy things I did and saw.  I’m not sure who is going to read this, but if you’re one of the lucky ones, I hope you got a few chuckles and uttered a couple of  “Oh my God’s”. 

 And now, as I have worn the space bar and home keys on my laptop completely smooth with over one million keystrokes in sixty chapters on five hundred pages, while developing a rather nice case of Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, PLUS the fact that I really have no more to say, I bid you adieu.  Or in Navy terms – Fair Winds and Following Seas.

 

Thanks for reading.

 

-        GMG3 Herbert J. Peterson, II

USS Fresno (LST 1182)  1988-1990

Naval Reserve Center, Cheyenne, WY  1990-1995

Civilian, 1995-Present

 

- 13JUL05

QM3 Derkins and GMG3 Peterson - Nashville, TN

BM3 Barris and GMG3 Peterson - Macon, GA

GMG3 Peterson and EN3 Crigger - Orlando, FL

BM3 Hickersham and GMG3 Peterson - Franklin, TN

PCSN Bale and GMG3 Peterson - Davidson, TN

GMG3 Peterson and GMSN Lusher - Opp, AL

EPILOGUE, Part II – 16MAY17

Hello again, and welcome back.  It's been a dozen years since I THOUGHT I had finished this book, only to find me re-visiting it and adding some finishing touches, with the hopes of someday perhaps finding a publisher to make this available to the general public.

 Why on earth would I do that?  Why would I want the world to know what kind of an idiot I was when I was a young man?  Well, as I close in on 50 years old, and begin to look at the possibility of becoming a grandfather soon, I realize that there are some things perhaps the younger generation needs to know.  They need to know that military service isn't all the stuff they see in movies, or on TV.  They need to know that, at one point in life, we were the young folks making our own questionable decisions.  But along with that, we were also the young folks making a commitment to serve our country, and go to the wall with our friends and shipmates to ensure that today's young people have the freedom to live like they do.

 Sure we spent a lot of time drunk.  Sure we raised a lot of Hell.  Sure we did things just to piss people off.  Sure I have a petrified coconut from Hawaii sitting on a shelf in my basement.  Sure a lot of what we did made no sense to anyone outside of our group, but we did it all for a reason.  We did it because we were United States Navy Sailors.  We did it because we were kids from all over America who came together to travel the world and share an experience we would, and could, never forget.  We put our lives on the line to keep the enemy behind his lines, and ensure our way of life for our kids, and now, our grandkids.  I do not regret a SECOND I spent in the Navy.  Sure – I'd probably do things a little differently, but I'd still do them. I'd still serve and I'd still give everything I had to keep America free.

 In 2014, we found out that the Navy had towed the USS Fresno from it's long-term retirement home in Pearl Harbor, out into the middle of the Pacific near Guam.  There, they sent her to the bottom as a target ship in a training exercise.  In roughly the same spot I thought I may die in a plane crash in 1988, the Fresno found her permanent berthing slip on the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. 

Final images of the Fresno as she is sunk off of Guam as a part of VS SINKEX 2014

The end of the USS Fresno (LST-1182) - 19SEP14

 The video of the sinking was made public, and watching it brought tears to my eyes.  With the advent of Facebook, several of the other old Fresno sailors watched the video and had much the same reaction.  We then came together to share stories about how much we loved our service on the Fresno, and how much we all would miss her.  The stories inspired me, and in the summer of 2016, I hosted an all-hands reunion at my house in Nashville, Tennessee.  About 20 shipmates came.  We had hands who were plank owners and hands who had been on her last cruise.  Cravens was there, as was My First Lieutenant, Mr. McInerney.  (who actually lives about 20 miles from me, and laughed when reminded of the story of throwing my boondocker overboard). 

First USS Fresno Reunion - Nashville, TN - 2016

 It was amazing to hear the stories from everyone, and how the experiences of the Vietnam-era Fresno sailors were similar to the Desert Storm-era vets.  It seems that the Fresno was ALWAYS a rough and tumble duty station, and that was one of the things her crew loved about her.  Nearly every single one of the men who served on the Frez, then transferred to other ships later on, said that the Fresno was their absolute FAVORITE duty station of all. The Fresno was family.  I know that is true.  I was honored to serve aboard her, and truly believe, with all my heart, that the USS Fresno was the best ship in the whole damn Navy.

 My hope is that some of the feeling of brotherhood and camaraderie that we felt aboard the Frez came though during the retelling of the stories.  It was a one-of-a-kind duty station, and I am proud to say that I was one of her crew. 

 I know that when my time comes to finally join that heavenly crew, I'll take that familiar walk down the eternal pier, where I'll find the Fresno tied up.  I'll look up at those old familiar numbers, 1-1-8-2, and some crusty old Boatswain's Mate will lean over the side and say,

“Hey Booter – you on the Fresno?”

“Yes”

“Welcome To The Jungle, Baby!”

I will walk up the gangplank, snap my smartest salute, then turn to Davey Jones and say,

“Permission to come aboard, sir...”

"Permission granted, boot camp.  Let me see your fuckin' orders..."

EPILOGUE, Part III – 03AUG20

Hey - it's me again.  The never-ending story is finally coming to a close.  I'm posting this final edit online to give all of my old shipmates, and anyone else who wants, a chance to read it.  These stories happened over 30 years ago, and the telling of this tale has taken place over nearly 20 of those.  I just couldn't seem to finish it.  As I hit 50, I realized that I had never really finished telling my story.  I had to finish.  Here we are - finished.

We had another ship's reunion in 2019 in Las Vegas, and I got to see a LOT of the guys featured in the story.  The tales flowed, and the brotherhood picked up immediately where it left off when we aboard the Fresno.  It's nice to know you will always have a group of guys who have your back, no matter what or when.  I'm proud to have served, and even more proud to have been a Fresno sailor!

Hope you enjoyed the story.  No more edits, no more additions.  I'd done now.

Welcome to the Jungle, baby.  I'm damn glad I went.

- GMG3 Peterson

2nd USS Fresno Reunion - Las Vegas, NV - 2019

EPILOGUE, Part IV – 17NOV21

    Howdy!  I know I said I was finished, but...   

    In April of 2021, we decided to do it again.  We hosted another reunion, this one in Biloxi, MS.  It was a great time and saw several of our shipmates who hadn't made it to either of the first two.  The hospitality was great, the food was incredible and the stories had aged like fine wine.  For me, the best part of it was re-connecting with my old friend, GMG3 Lusher.  Jim and I found each other on Facebook a few months before the reunion and had traded messages and texts for a while.  I actually drove to Biloxi from my home in Nashville, and stopped at his house in Alabama to pick him up and take him to Biloxi.  The first thing I did when I saw him, after 30 years, was to hand him $200 in cash for the hunting license I'd screwed him out of all those years ago!  An amend thirty years in the making!  He laughed and I laughed, then I hugged my old friend, and we went about our merry way like we'd never missed a day.  I treasure those memories and those friendships, and I will for the rest of my life.

    As proof that "Old Salors Never Die", we had some of our former officers donate money for the bar tab at the Saturday dinner of the Biloxi Reunion, held at the Biloxi VFW.  Here was the report back to one of the officers:

So... I gave the gal running the bar at the VFW $400 in cash. I said - this is the for the tab. Let me know when this is gone, and I'll see if I can find some more. Whatever is left is yours - if there isn't any left, I'll find you tip money. "No problem" she said... an hour later, I went up to her and asked what the tab was at. "$125". "we have $125 left?" "No. You've only spent $125" I turned and looked at the room behind me with 25 guys double fisting and said...."ummm, okay. Well, you just let me know when we're out of money, and I'll get you more." An hour later, I went back and asked her again what the tab was at "$90" "So we have less than a hundred to go." "No - your total is at $90" "So - our bar tab has gone DOWN by $30 in the last two hours?" She looked kind of flustered, and started trying to show me the receipt tape. I stopped her: "Honey, look. I gave you $400. It's yours. When these guys have finished $400 in booze, I'll get you more. I don't care what you are charging, you just let me know what you need." and I walked away. Two hours later, at the end of the night, after watching shots fly, and I'm pretty sure I saw someone walking around with a liquor bottle in his hand, I went up to settle the tab. "Okay, we're done. What do I owe you?" She looked at her tape and the computer and said, "Your total was.... $163.00" "$163.00? For four hours?" "Yes, sir."

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I told her to enjoy the tip. What a place, what a night.

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PS - we stopped at a bar on the way home. ONE of the guys' tab at THAT bar for two hours was $250.00 alone.

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It was a night to be remembered, spent with brothers from days past!

    The other big thing that came out of that reunion was the establishment of the USS Fresno Memorial Association.  I decided that we needed to do something for our shipmates, so I created the USSFMA.  What we plan to do is collect monies and fund our 2023 reunion through the non-profit side, and any leftover funds, or additional funds we find or raise will be used to create a scholarship/relief fund for our shipmates.  When we can help a shipmate who needs it, the USSFMA will step in and do what we can.  I think it is a much-needed and valuable asset to the group.  I'm proud to spearhead that effort - it's the least I can do for a group of men who gave so much to me, our Navy and our country.  Look for our website at www.ussfresno.com and throw a couple of bucks to the USSFMA if you're so inclined.

Thanks for reading!  If you're a shipmate, we'll see you in San Diego in 2023!

- GMG3 Pete

3rd USS Fresno Reunion - Biloxi, MS - 2021