The first time that I heard the name was when our drill instructor
Rumsey asked us, while we were in ranks after class and before PT, “Who
would volunteer for a war we have going in Viet Nam?” Almost everyone
stepped forward. “Here we go, round again, won’t stop, won’t quit, never die.
Why? Whiskey, women, PT, Rumsey.”
After each school day, Rumsey would run us around the base, close to the
palm trees and the chain link perimeter fence. You feel you can run forever
when you are running as a company or platoon. Even in your combat boots. Rumsey
was like John Wayne. One tough sonofa. . .
We were nearing the end of the Navy Seabee Class A Electrical School in
Port Hueneme, California, sixty miles north of L.A. The name Port gives you a
hint that it is on the coast. The year was 1964. It was before the Summer of
Love in San Francisco. “If you’re going to San Francisco, be sure to wear a
flower in your hair.”
It was a three-month school that ended with a month of power pole work. Not
telephone pole work, power pole work. I guess they put it at the end, because
if you broke your leg during this phase, it really didn’t matter. You still had
the knowledge of the previous two months.
That is Elmer Berkee sitting on the cross arms, with me gaffed in under him.
He was from Oregon and he did get orders to Da Nang. In country, sitting like
this, you were a fun target for the Vietnamese snipers. I wonder how Berkee did
over there. I heard of a Seabee who got shot in the ass upon arrival, as his
plane was landing.
Mark Ruane was from Malden and he got orders to Reykjavik. Harvey went to
Roda. Most everyone else went to Viet Nam. Somehow I ended up at the Naval Air
Station in South Weymouth, Massachusetts. I met John Waltner at South Weymouth.
John and Frank Sinatra were both from Hoboken. Every time you see John, he
reminds you of that fact. Every single time. He had done two tours in ‘Nam. One
on an aircraft carrier, and one in the mud and torrential rains at Da Nang.
Once while crossing a river on a barge, the guy sitting next to him was shot
dead. John was an Seabee Equipment operator which meant bulldozers, graders,
front end loaders, and tractor trailers. When he came aboard the carrier, the
Boatswains Mate Chief asked him what the hell rate was that under his crow. Waltner
told him, “Seabee Equipment Operator.” The chief shook his head and said, “And what
the hell am I suppose to do with you?”
John did end up operating something on the carrier. It was called the ship’s
movie projector.
My boss and friend of 52 years now got orders from South Weymouth to an
Army base in Ethiopia. Chet was wounded in Viet Nam and ended up putting in 44
years in the Navy. Spain, Viet Nam, Sicily, Guam, Puerto Rico, Gulfport, and
his very last duty station was American Samoa. He came to the Seabee reunion
here this summer with his wife, Carmen, who he met in Puerto Rico. He is
legally blind and you have to speak to him through his microphone, but he still
has that same positive attitude that he had the very first day that I met him.
Chet Urbati -- Navy Seabee Electrical Senior Chief and a first class person . .
. and does he ever have stories to tell!
While at the landfill recently, a guy stopped by the side of my pick up. “Were
you a Seabee?” he asked. I only have one sticker on my truck rear window and it
is the Seabee one. “I was.” He said he recently was also, and was just
returning from Fallujah. “What did you do over there in Iraq,” I asked? He said,
“We built a hospital.” I said, “Thank you for serving.” He returned the
compliment.
Bacon R.F. CEW 2
693 -10 - 63
