The Big Move

To begin with, having no good reason for not having posted in nearly a month and a half, I won't bore you with any. The biggest reason is inertia; finally having overcome that obstacle, let's get on with it. I had been planning to go in-depth on depth charges, but something else has come up to make depth charges No. 2 on my list.

No. 1 is the move. Monday it was decided was to be the day SLATER would be moved the mile down the Hudson to the other side of the river. Since the propulsion plant is completely non-functional, we made the move with the help of a pair of tugs. These two tugs move us on a purely volunteer basis, so we have to go whenever they have time. The big reason I mention this is that I had a mere 3.5 hours notice that the move was being made. Needless to say it took only 45 minutes for me to get out the door.

Upon arrival, there was a crane standing by to remove the gangway and a sizeable contingent of line handlers both ashore and aboard. But as soon as I stepped off the gangway onto the deck, I paused. Something was different. Something didn't feel right. It took me a mere second to realize what it was. But soon the alien vibration in my feet became clear as day: there was a diesel running somewhere! Rounding the No. 3 gun, I became aware of the blue smoke exhausting from the Emergency Diesel. By now, the rhythmic "thunk-a-click-a-thunk-a-click-a" was audible and only grew louder as I descended the ladder into B-4. At the foot of the ladder I was met by Carl, to whom I immediately exclaimed: "Hot damn, it sounds like an engine room now!" I don't know why the sound of that diesel made me grin as wide as it did, but after chinning for a couple of seconds, I went down the ladder to the lower level where I met Gus and made the same observation to him that I had made to Carl. Again, I don't know why seeing that diesel turning over, warming up to generate the electricity for the ship suring the move, seemed like such a beautiful sight to me, but it was. As much as I wanted to stay part of the Engineering Department for the move, Deck Division needed all the hands they could get, including mine.

After helping put canvas covers over the forward two 3" guns, the first tug arrived and began attaching itself to our starboard side forward. Once that was accomplished, we began to single up all the lines and the crane removed the gangway while the second tug busied itself attaching itself to the starboard side aft. Through the cold drizzle that fell throughout the process, one by one the singled lines were cast off and hauled aboard. Of course the hauling was my job, along with the other two volunteers who were assigned to the fo'c'sle with me. And then, ever so slowly, SLATER drifted away from the riverside and into the middle of the channel. It was a wierd feeling. The ship was dead for all intents and purposes, but the tugs lashed tightly to our side transferred their rumblings and vibrations into the hull of SLATER. It was almost like some sort of nautical artificial respiration. For the 20 minutes or so it took to make the move, SLATER felt like a ship and not a museum.

Now, here's where training took over. As we pulled lines aboard, one after another, the fo'c'sle began to look like a plate of spaghetti. I didn't notice this until after I had snapped several photos, but as soon as I did take notice, I thought "Oh, no. If 'Boats' sees this mess, he'll be pissed!" Some of the lines had been laid out down the port side, but the forward most lines has just been left where they lay. I immediately got to work, "faking down" the lines that were to go through the bull-nose. Halfway through this, I reflected on how silly that was. There were no Botswain's Mates aboard, and even if there were, they might have made a remark about the mess, but wouldn't have expected anyone to fix it. But, to hell with it, I couldn't let those civilians think that's how we do things in the Navy. I won't say that when I was done the fo'c'sle was inspection-ready, but it wasn't bad at all.

During my adventures in marlinspiking, the tugs, one at a time, had transferred themselves to our port side, because the ship would be moored on the starboard side. Slowly but surely, the tugs moved us into position, heaving lines were thrown across, and lines were singled up. Of course, this was not as easy as it seemed. We would put turns in the line around the bitts, and then word would come "Three feet forward", so we would either need to take in or slack the line three feet, depending on the orientation of the line. Back and forth, feet at a time, SLATER was moved into just the right position, the singled up lines were secured and then doubled up. Their jobs done, the tugs moved off, but not before engaging in some horeseplay that proved to be then antithesis of a tug-of-war.

Shore power was connected, the diesel secured, and the steel cables were passed ashore to add that extra bit of security to the mooring operation. All too soon, it was done. I can say that I have some sea time on a Navy ship, assuming that you apply liberal definitions to "sea" to include the Hudson River and "Navy ship" to include a 63-year-old DE incapable of moving under her own power. But I can say that I have more recent nautical experience than all of the students and a good 98% of the staff at work. That may seem like a minor point, but I'm proud of it.

I was on a schedule, so I had to get a ride back to the Albany side of the river before mooring was 100% complete. But once I got to my car, I took a second to snap a photo of where SLATER stood when I first saw her. But over the coming winter months, there will be plenty of heavy maintenance to be done, and I hope to be elbows-deep in it. Of course, I already know what my first project will be. I won't spoil it so as to keep intrest piqued, but let's just say that once I'm done with this, I may be eligible to cross-rate as a Gunner's Mate.

More School...

Well, since I'm still in the Albany area for another school for the Navy, you would think I would have time to get more done on the page here. But I decided that last week would be a good time to go back home on a week of leave, and so I did. Being a few hundred miles away kind of kept me away from the ship for a bit. But I figured I'd drop a line to let my loyal fans (all three of you) know that I didn't drop off the face of the planet.

Now, I'll apologize from the start that I really don't have much to add here. Hopefully that will change tomorrow, and if it does, I'll go for the unprecedented two-updates-in-a-single-weekend. But don't hold your breath.

This weekend was the 75th anniversary celebration for the Port of Albany, and the festival was held at our pier. There were plenty of folks on hand, and we had the ship open free of charge. But to deal with the masses (I've heard estimates of 1,000 to 1,800), we shortened the tour route and stationed guides along the way to give some brief points before the crowds moved along. So, other than two restroom breaks and a lunch break, I stood in forward bearthing and repeated the same five or six sentences for 6 hours, along with answering a question or two. I debated taking photos of all the folks who passed through, just to spice things up, but decided against it.

There are also two other important events that were commemorated today. Of course the Navy had yet another birthday, but on this day, 13 October, in 1944 a small portion of the US Navy won the most improbable victory probably in its entire history. A handfull of destroyers (DDs), destroyer escorts (DEs, like SLATER) and escort carriers (CVEs) faced off, toe to toe with the main Japanese battlefleet that was on its way to Leyte in the Philippine Islands to wipe out the American landings there and forced the Japanese to turn back. It's the best David-and-Goliath story I can think of since, well, David and Goliath.

I haven't the space or ability to do this subject justice in this small forum, so I apologize, but I'm going to make the closest thing I can to a demand. I very highly suggest to go to the library or the bookstore and get a copy of The Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors by James D. Hornfischer. I'll make it easy for you. Click on the link at the bottom of the page and you'll go to the page to buy the book on Amazon.com. If you want to know what heroism is, you'll find it between the covers of this book. There were several places in the book that I had to stop and think about exactly what I had just read. And a few times, after I reflected on the heroism and sacrifice and plain horror that these men faced, I had to put the book down and dry my eyes. I can't say enough to do the book and the story behind it justice. Read the book. Read it, and you'll see what I mean. If this book won't make you proud to be an American, nothing will. When you're through with it, you'll know without a doubt exactly what a hero is.

http://www.amazon.com/Last-Stand-Tin-Sailors-Extraordinary/dp/0553802577

It's Not Easy Being Green

Of course that title makes no sense unless I were green. But according to common folklore, radiation makes you glow a faint greenish hue. And God know's I've been up to my neck in nuclear power these past weeks, getting ready for my final boards that will prove that I have learned enough to go to the next school. And I thought 5 1/2 years in college was bad...

So, to make up for my intransigence, I will begin with what I promised last time: 20mm guns. This photo from a page I found today, http://www.savetheptboatinc.com/ shows a single 20mm mount. The nine mounts (three forward, four midships and two aft) aboard SLATER are twin mounts. Designed by the Swiss during the closing days of World War I and firing explosive shells, the 20mm was a common AA mount whose effectiveness was diminished only by the increasing speeds of aircraft. With an effective range of ~2000 yards, the 20mm gunner would have only the eights or so it took a kamakazi to travel those 2000 yards before impact to destroy it. But the situation is not as dire as it sounds, for the 20mms were the last line of AA defense.

Previously one of the mounts has been really done over in style, and we are in the process of working on a second mount. The gun here has been removed from its mount for work. (Al Vanderzee gives one of his award-winning tours in the background.) Of course the plan is to get the gun looking good, not functioning. The steel plug welded in the barrels of the 2os before the ship was returned to us would make those efforts fruitless anyway.

The image to the right is details the top of the 20, where the magazine would sit. The magazines containted 60 rounds of ammuntion apiece, and would be passed belowdecks when empty to be refilled in a clipping room and then returned full to the gun for subsequent re-emptying.

To be honest, work had been weighing upon my mind quite a bit over the past few weeks, and it showed. My tours were not quite up to snuff on Thursday, and on Friday, I asked if there were any odd jobs to be done around; and of course there were. I was tasked first with notching some covers that were to be screwed to the top of the ammo lockers located on the centerline of the O-1 deck. The fabricators who made them put the notches in the wrong place, and to make them sit correctly, that problem had to be fixed. Of course I had no way to fill in the incorrect notches, so we had to settle for making more notches where they should have been.

And the tools of the trade: the hacksaw for making the cuts, the channel locks to wiggle the tab out, the file for removing the burrs and rough edges, and the coffe because, well, because I'm in the Navy.

The rest of the day, honestly, was spent doing a little piddling around, doing odd jobs, replacing a valve that I had cleaned previously, organizing things, and the like. I got a brush up on the ins and outs of CIC, took the covers off some radar sets and poked around, and then took care of the banging, scraping sound that had been annoying me most of the day.

The day had been windy, and the signal flags could have been starched for all I knew. One of the radio antennas on the port side had been rattled and twisted loose from the turnbuckle that held it in place just below the O-3 level (three floors up from the main deck). The antennas are fixed on the yardarm that crosses the mast, and on the side of the superstructure. The turnbuckle had to be reattached. Sounds easy? Well, no matter how we tried, when we leaned over the rail of the O-3 level, we were still a good two feet away from the turnbuckle. The wing on the O-2 level was a good 10 feet away. There was only one option: someone had to climb up two stories of superstructure. You'll never guess who did it. Those who do not like heights, you've been warned.

Just another day in the life of a SLATER volunteer. Wouldn't trade it for the world.

If it Moves, Salute it; if it Doesn't, Paint it.

That bit of wisdom has been in the Navy longer than anyone knows, which means it must be true. I found this past weekend that enginerooms do not move. As such, I spent a good amount of time painting B-4.

The immediate concern was the deckplates. I believe I have failed to mention previously that most of the deckplates on the upper and lower levels of B-4 (on the starboard side) had been painted previously. The entire division, all three of us, were concerned

with the gratings these two past weekends. On the port side of the upper level, rather than solid plates of steel for the deck, there are gratings, basically a catwalk, much like you would see above subway lines for ventilation. The lower level of the port side has solid deckplates. All of the decking, solid or grating, is not fastened down, but sits upon a framework of angle-iron. This allows for easy access to what would otherwise be generally inaccessable areas of the miles of piping that wind throughout the einginerooms.

The gratings had to be lifted out of place, taken up to the deck and then across to the picnic area ashore. After that, Gus and I ran an air line from the manifold in B-3, up to the second (O-1) deck, fastened it to a 20mm gun tub, and then ran it across to shore. Once the gratings were laid out, then the paint sprayer was unleashed on them, Gus and I taking turns changing the dull metal to shipshape gratings worthy of the finest of enginerooms. This was a multi-day project in and of itself.

This past weekend was more of the same. The upper level gratings had been returned to place during the week, and based on the "before" photo you saw, the difference is apparent. The upper level having been done, the same process had to be repeated for the deckplates in lower level.

But the process is a bit more involved than I first stated. Of course the deckplates have to be cleaned up, but to replace them on top of angle-iron that had not itself been chipped and painted would be, well, irresponsible. So most of Saturday found me with a scraper bar and rag going through 60 years worth of paint, oil, and grease. I kid you not, on some of the areas, I removed a 1/4" thick layer of dirt, oil, and grease and an additional 1/8 - 1/4" of paint. But in the end, everything looked fine, with the new paint applied. This Monday, while I'm taking a day off between work and USS SLATER, Gus and Carl will most likely be back at it, painting and then replacing the deckplates. Once that is done, B-4 will look 10 times better, but with still a ways to go.

Next, I think, will be B-3, the engineroom forward of B-4. Recently the welders cut a hole in the bulkhead separating B-4 and B-3, and a watertight door is scheduled to go in the hole. All original accesses to the enginerooms are through small hatches and steep ladders, so these doors will make the spaces more accessable for all our visitors.

Well, since I have been dink in posting, I suppose I have to drop a little teaser here. You see, they are doing some work on one of the 20mm mounts, and I did manage to get a few good photos. But, I'm just too darned tired to post and talk about them now, so I guess you'll just have to stick around and check back...

Fits and Starts

Well, folks, I admit it's been a while since I last posted, and there are a few reasons for that. One is that recently, I really haven't been doing anything other than messing around with the same valves on the mess deck, making them look much better and really taking my time for it. Second, or more of a continuation of first, is that I have been dedicating more of my time for tours recently. My work schedule has put me in Albany more during the week, and most of the maintenance crew comes in on Saturdays. So the maintenance I've been doing recently is light, one-man work; and there's really nothing that exciting about that.

However, I promise that after this coming weekend, there should be more interesting stories to relate and pictures to share. I'll be back down on a weekend, and there should be some more complex and detailed work to be done that will make for better reading and photography. Until then, I hope that you won't be too put off by my apparent leave of absence.

Enter the Trusty Sidekick

Well, it's finally happened. I've finally done it. I got another student in my section down to SLATER, and I think he's hooked. And truth be told, it was really his idea. Most people at work know what I do over my weekends, and often times I get asked about it. "Are you going down to Albany this weekend?" and other variants of that question are not uncommonly asked of me. So when an Electrician's Mate asked me if he could come along the other day, I of course immediately checked with "the Management" and told him to come along.

Due to the work schedule and corresponding screwyness of our sleep schedules, we didn't get down to Albany until about noon. The sun was too hot in my opinion to stay outside painting, and the valves in B-4 and other spaces belowdecks lacked air conditioning, so I made my way down to the mess deck instead and decided that some of the valves down there could use some work. Little did I know what I was getting myself in for.

I removed three valves. The first valve had what looked like solder or a weld bead across the stem, which made removing the handwheel on impossible. In fact, there wasn't even a nut, just these dribbles of once-molten metal fouling the threads and keeping the handwheel in place. Since the handwheel was non-period aluminum, I decided that some "machanical agitation" would not be uncalled for. So I went and retrived a "mechanical agitator" (tr. "large hammer") and proceeded to, er, "remove" the handwheel, with charm, grace, and refinement.

That having been done, I cut the threaded portion away, ground down the top, drilled and tapped the stem for a screw after having taken the various parts to the wire wheel and cleaning them up. Reassembled, the valve went back into place. And that, truth be told, is about all I got done in six hours. The rest of it, fighting with valves that didn't want to come out, didn't want to come apart, and didn't want to co-operate, is pretty much standard operating procedure, and you've heard about it all before. On one of the valves, I even encountered a handwheel nut that was truly welded into place. The handwheel is unique, so I'm going to have to finesse this one over the next few weeks.

In the middle of all of this, the "Electrician for Hire", or EM3, as I'll call him here, was busy delving into the electrical side of things. I showed him the enginerooms and the power distribution switchboards, and then he was introduced to some of the electrical bits aboard, and he spent most of the day, after having initially helped me remove the valves, reading up on and disassembling a set of synchros. Hopefully his intrest has been piqued to the point that he'll be a regular until our class leaves school here.

Well, that's about all I've got for today. The plan is to get B-4 on the tour by next month. Two months ago, I didn't think it'd be possible. But day by day, the pieces come together, and I'm tempted to say that we just might make it.

I'm Going to Have to Refer You to a Specialist...

Well, it's been a quiet week aboard the USS SLATER, my weekend retreat. (For those of you who can place that opening, good for you!) The end of the week had been crummy weather-wise, but I was pleased to see clear skies when I awoke at 7 Saturday morning (which is late for me), and despite mild backups on I-87 due to construction, the drive to Albany was as pleasant as ever. Or it would have been were it not for the problem that I knew would still be confronting me when I arrived: the broken pipe end in the reducer.

Arriving as usual, I made my change from mild-mannered, street-roaming civilian to The Mechanic For Hire, stepping into the Engineer's Office in civvies and re-emerging moments later, blue coveralls spotless, black boots gleaming, third class crow pin in NAVY ballcap shining, ready to take on 60 years of rust, crud, corrosion, and paint!

First up, my arch enemy from last week, the reducer. There were no larger extractors to be found. The largest one I could find was just barely too narrow to be wedged inside the pipe like I needed it to be. I tried bending washers and wedging them in, making the hole smaller. The extractor slipped. I tried wrapping it in thin sheet copper. The extractor slipped. In desparation, I put a wood shim in. The extractor slipped. I had no choice. I was licked. I had to call in the experts.

The experts, wisened beyond their years, came and looked at my problem. I described the efforts I had made, and they nodded gravely. I detailed the ways in which I had tried to gently finesse the broken end of pipe out of the reducer. They scratched their chins and frowned. I offered suggestions of alternatives for consideration. They reached for a hammer and chisel. But by bit, the experts tapped, tinkered, and finally, they showed me what they were up to. How they were gently chiseling the pipe in on itself to make removal possible. Then they handed the chisel and hammer to me, at which time I tried to replicate their detailed work. And I failed. The small piece of pipe that had me licked for the better part of two weeks came out, but the threads in the brass reducer were so marred and mauled that I thought at first that the reducer was a total loss. But, in the spirit of giving it the old college try, I pulled out a tap and did what I could to make the threads serviceable again; I must say that I was pleased with the result.

With the reducer finally back in one piece, it was time to find a way to replace or fabricate the piece of piping and union that I had broken previously. I decided that the easiest way to go for several reasons (not the least of which being that I had left the broken-off piece to be replicated at home) was to install a new piece of pipe, remove the old union and put a new one in. Digging throught the plumbing storage area that is after steering (not to mention unventilated and extremely hot), I found the union I needed and returned to the machine shop to make the changes.

First, to remove the unbroken half of the union. I decided the way to go would be to remove the smaller piece from the overhead in the engineroom and take it up to the machine shop and work on it with the vice. However, when I put the wrench on and turned, it was not the coupling I was expecting that loosened, but one about three feet away. Try as I might, with only those two wrenches, either the whole three feet of pipe was coming out, or nothing at all. Five minutes later, I returned to the Machine Shop with three feet of pipe...

Five minutes with the vice, and the piping section came apart: about 8" of pipe with the union, a moisture separator, another 10" of pipe, and a valve. I put the part with the union in the vice, turned, and no dice. I got a larger wrench. No dice. Enter Erik Collin, who, without a word entered, picked up a blowtorch, heated the union, and then handed me the wrench. The union came right off. It's one of those principles that seems to get pushed to the back of your mind when learning about nuclear power: metal expands when heated. The Experts: 2; Mechanic For Hire: 0. So all the bits and parts got disassembled, the globe valve reconditioned and its stem tapped for a new handwheel, and reinstalled. It is at this point I will pause, because it was about this time I was interrupted by someone calling my name from down in the engineroom.


Gus, the Expert on the right in the first photo, had been rearranging some boxes in the engineroom (which I will call by it's designator of B-4, since if you're still reading this, you're initated enough to know what it's really called). He came across two plastic cases that he thought I should look in. I of course opened the two boxes, each one about the size of a sandwich, and in each one were about half a dozen extractors, all large enough to have been useful earlier when trying to take that piece of pipe out of the reducer! Talk about a useful discovery that would have been better found 3 hours prior!

So, after that bit of news, I was ready to put the reducer back in and be done with it. So bit by bit, piece by piece, the jigsaw puzzle I had removed over the past few days of work was reassembled. Once it was done, I can't say that it looked bad.


Okay, well that's about all I've got for you now. There is more, of course, but I'm going to save it. There's no guarantee that I'll have time over my next days off to return to Albany, and in that eventuality, I want to have some material left over for next weekend. Unless something else comes to mind, I'm thinking a brief lesson on electrical theory? Don't worry, I won't make you do homework; but, just like when I give a tour, no one is safe from a pop-quiz...

Mr. Popular

Well, jumpin' gee-willikers! I've got a comment! Look out, People magazine, I'm heading for the top of your popularity list! Now all I have to do is print t-shirts, hire an agent, plan a world tour, and come out with my own line of clothing and perfume. I think I'll call it Odeur de la Diesel No. 2...

And speaking of popular, I don't know if it's the summer vacationers or the recent coverage we've gotten in the press, but the tours seem to be going nonstop these days. Of course, being a long-winded Southerner, I tend to take a little longer than these fast-talking New Yorkers, but it seems like I'm having to go faster to prevent the tour behind me from catching up. I'm not complaining, but it's an adjustment I'll have to make.

Of course, not that I could complain about this weekend in any respect. I returned on Saturday to finish up on my air reducer. I took the parts down to the sandblaster in the forecastle and gave them a good cleaning. The nuts and studs came out with no difficulty during disassembly, and were likewise no problem to reinstall. The parts went back together without a hitch, and before long, the reducer was back in one piece and nearly ready to be put back into the system. The only problem was the sheared pipe I mentioned last time. Of course, my backup plan to get spare parts from Home Depot came to naught, in that the components are non-standard sizes, I suppose to prevent unscrupulous shipyard workers from taking parts for use at home or for sale. But all good mechanics, along with a backup plan, have a backup to the backup, so I'm still not sunk. But barring that one part, the reducer is done, sitting on the workbench, waiting to be reinstalled.

For my next victim, I picked out a smaller gate valve. You've seen photos of a gate valve before, so I'll spare you this time. But I must say, I was rather surprised. The nuts came off the bolts with no problems. The gasket on one side had fused to each of the flanges, but with 15 minutes of work with a hacksaw, chisel, and screwdriver, the valve came out, no problem. I was apprehensive when I put the valve in the vice for disassembly, but it came apart with no problem. I sandblasted it, took it to the wire wheel, and reassebled it without a hitch. I did replace the handwheel, but that was more for asthetics than necessity (a larger handwheel than what was there seemed more appropriate). Later that afternoon, except for the handwheel, which I decided to repaint, the valve was pretty much back in the system. (I say "pretty much" because I just remembered: I was in the process of reinstalling the valve when I got called away, and I never had a chance to complete the reinstallation. Hopefully no one will be upset that I left my bucket and a few tools in the enginerooms...)

Today, Sunday, the tourists started showing up before we opened. Things were chugging along just fine, from about 10 am until about 2 pm when the weather broke. I did two tours, and the other tour guides and I didn't even see each other until the rain started and chased all the paying customers away. Both of my groups today were outstanding. My first group contained a retired nuke EM1 who is working for a local power company. He and his family had excellent questions, the kids were well-behaved, and it was an all-around good time.

My second group was probably the best group I've had thus far. To begin with, I had a World War II Army veteran. It's always great to have vets along, because they can always interject their personal stories and make things more interesting. This gentleman, being Army, didn't have too much to contribute, but he did say the berthing areas reminded him of the troopship he took to France. Nevertheless, he did get a handshake and a sincere thanks from me before he left.

Also among this group were some fabricators from northern Indiana in town for some work they are doing locally. These guys were sharp and asked excellent questions. On top of that, they wanted to see the enginerooms. Now, I look for excuses to show people the enginerooms. So anyone who wants to see the enginerooms gets their wish granted, at least in that I show them the aft motor room. These guys were so interested, I took them down to the aft diesel room, which I have never done for anyone. And the questions kept coming. It was outstanding! Most groups I take usually ask the same questions, or really simple ones, and it gets to be a bit tedious, but these guys just kept the questions coming, and I was loving every moment of it. They even asked some good questions that I didn't know the answer to, which I like also, because it makes me think, and think hard. And of course, when I go and look up the answer, I get to know just that little bit more about the ship. If I could have a tour each weekend with people as intelligent, inquisitive, and friendly as these guys were, the Navy would probably never hear from me again...

Right as we were about to close, a car pulled up and three gentlemen and a girl climb out. It was obvious that three generations were represented in that car, the girl being the young end and one of the gentlemen the older end, with the two other gentlemen being the middle. They got in under the wire, and another guide took them aboard, but the older gentleman stayed on the wood deck where I was sitting. Being a good tour guide (and a Southerner), it wasn't long until I struck up a conversation with him. As it turns out, he is a DE veteran, joined in February of 1942 and stayed in for 21 years. He retired EMC (Chief Electrician's Mate) and went to work for the Post Office. He and his family drove up from north Jersey just to take a look at the ship, and from what he said, they're back on their way home now.

It was while I was talking to him, it made me think about just how much we stand to lose if we lose SLATER. We lose the men and women each day. That's sad in its own right, but that is how human beings are -- we can't stick around forever. But it made me think about what I'm doing each weekend in Albany. I'm not trying to brag, but I'm putting things in perspective when I say that I'm helping, in some small way, to keep the story of what these men did alive. I'm helping to keep their story alive, and I tell and re-tell their story weekend after weekend, in some small way. And if those who walk away from SLATER have at least some small idea, some increased respect for what these men did (and women; people forget that the people who built these ships were mostly women), then I have done my job. Not that I care about getting glory, because I don't. I care about passing their story on to those who don't know it. I care about doing my job, both the job that pays my bills and my job of keeping these stories alive. My job for my country. My job for my Navy. But most importantly, my job for my Shipmates.

Semper fortis.

Welcome to Another Exciting Episode!

Goaded from his torpor of inaction, our heroic mechanic arises from his pre-dinner sitting, powers up his computer, and logs onto his blog, to share with the world the wonders of World War II naval engineroom restoration! [Dramatic chord]. This week's episode: The Valve Gods Have Been Satisfied...

Well, those of you who have been following my work with any regularity know, the pesky gate valve that has haunted my weekends/days off for the past few weeks, the one for which I had to find a new handwheel, the one that refused to come out unless part of the piping came out with it, the one that had nuts fused to bolts that had to be removed with welding torches and metal chisels was finally cleaned up and slated to get put back in the system minus the packing gland nut. I figured that the gland nut, when a replacement was finally found, would be easy enough to replace. I mean, the valve wouldn't have to be removed -- take of the handwheel, slip the gland nut over the shaft, torque it down, and replace the handwheel.

So, I made my return to replace the valve. I walk up to my bucket, and lo and behold, some kind sould had found the exact packing gland nut that I needed! First thing that day, the part that I never thought I would find has been delivered almost literally into my lap! I knew from that moment it would be a good day. So, with newly purchased nuts and bolts from the local Home Depot in one hand, wrenches and ratchets in the other, the valve, fully assembled, was replaced. Not to brag, but I think the thing looks pretty good. Of course there was some wiggling and loosening of other parts, some mild "mechanical agitation", and, let's face it, a resonable, but not excessive amout of swearing. (Serously, folks, I'm a Sailor. It's my job. It's what I do. They don't call it "swearing like a shoe salesman", now do they?) But as I snapped this photo, I couldn't help but to smile.

Looking around the enginerooms, wrench in hand, I had to choose my new victim -- er, project. I had done several globe valves, and the gate valves left were either too corroded to bear looking at or too large to contemplate removing by myself. Truth be told, most of them were both. However, looking in the overhead, I noticed a device that kind of stood out, mostly on account of it's color. You don't often see blue valves, but this one was. An air reducer! How quaint. It was new territory to me, from an actual hands-on standpoint; it did not look excessively corroded, terribly large, or horribly complicated to remove. It was perfect. So, after procuring a pipe wrench, I attacked the reducer with all due vigor.

Now, I say "all due vigor" for a reason, mostly so that no one can really say that I attacked it with excessive or undue vigor. And the reason I want to preclude that, is because of this...

Yup, I broke it. Now, to be fair, it is an old, galvanized metal pipe, exposed to moisture for God only knows how long, but as I tried to remove the pipe from the reducer, the pipe sheared. I'm currently bugging local plumbing supply stores trying to find a replacement, but I do have a contengency plan should all else fail. All good mechanics have a contengency plan...

Okay, so the reducer was removed; what to do next? Disassemble it, of course! With less effort than I would have anticipated, the reducer came apart.

Now, if this thing looks complicated, all I can say is that, well, I agree. I went to the Engineer's Office looking for a technical manual, but to no avail. Although I expected to remain short on avail, I took the manufacturer's name of the side of the reducer and looked them up online when I got home, and sure enough, they're still around. I'm currently talking to the good folks at Keckley to see if they even have anyone around who would know about this particular reducer. More on that as the news comes in.

After taking the bits and pieces to the wire wheel, there was an amazing difference.

Well, other than that, there is not too much to report. The enginerooms are being re-painted, the tours go on. Chipping and welding go on with regularity, and the depth charges keep rolling in, from somewhere in Montana, I've been told. The sun rises and sets. The river rolls on. And SLATER keeps afloat, and looking better and better each day.

Now Hear This: Swim Call, Starboard Side!

"They say that in the Navy, the coffee's mighty fine; it looks like muddy water and tastes like turpentine..."

Right now, I'll bet you any amount up to a half-sawbuck with 12-to-7 odds that a recruit division in Recruit Training Command, Great Lakes, Illinois, is marching around this moment to this very cadence. I never really knew how much coffee was part of Navy life until, well, tonight. Making the trasition from the noon to mightnight shift from the 7pm to 7am shift requires me staying up until about 4am this morning (its 0130 now), sleeping through most of tomorrow, and turning nocturnal. This also accounts for my absence from the blog-publishing world for the past several days.


So excuses aside, back to SLATER. The valve that caused me so much trouble, the valve that made me use up a month's worth of profanity in a measley few days, is apart, cleaned and back together. All but one part, the part that was missing when I took the valve out of the system: the packing gland nut. I have searched high and low for a replacement, but to no avail as of yet. By the way, if anyone knows where to find a 1-1/8" x 3/4" #14 thread packing gland nut that accomodates a 1/2" stem, let me know. Please.


I decided that, since I was going to be away from my valve parts for longer periods of time, it would behoove me to buy a containment for my valve parts. Looking through Home Depot, I decided that toolbags were too expensive, and generally excessive. Plastic bags were out too. So I settled on a small, 2 gallon metal pail, which I picked up for about $2.49. Once I got it home, though, I was looking at the pail and decided that it was too plain, too common. In other words, I was bored. Terribly bored. So, locating a Sharpie, I decided to label my pail, to make sure it was not misplaced, pilfered, or upturned and used for something else and my valve parts lost. When I was finished, I decided that, while not exactly up to Navy label standards, it would do the job just fine.


Well, now that I had MM3's Bucket of Valves and Other Assorted Goodies, I took the valve parts down below the forecastle, where the sandblasting booth is, and gave the valve what for. I mean, revenge is sweet and all, but for the sake of having a workable valve rather than over-worn hunks of metal, I took it easy and made the thing look good. The handwheel was missing when I took the valve out, and I quickly discovered why: the machine screw holding the handwheel in had long ago corroded to junk, and the head had sheared off, leaving the rest of the screw firmly embedded in the soft brass. And of course, a steel screw in brass is rather difficult to drill out -- the bit in the drill press simply bent away from the steel and into the soft brass. But finally, Erik Collin and I managed to get a hole in the stem, with the proper threads, and a suitable machine screw and washer was found to hold the handwheel onto the stem. The handwheel came from the stock of surplus handwheels we have down in after steering, and other than the missing gland nut, the valve is complete. It seems to work just fine, the packing is still in good enough condition. About all I didn't to was check for seat tightness, but the tools for doing that are nowhere to be found in the Machine Shop, so I'll just skip it.


But today, I spent very little time belowdecks in B-4. I was conscripted almost immediately upon arrival to fulfil the second half of what may be the wisest piece of advice in the entire Navy: "If it moves, salute it. If it doesn't, paint it." The #3 3"-50 gun tub does not rate a salute; as such, it was duly painted.

Now, to be fair, most of the work had been done previously by roller. All that was left was the cut-in work. But it's a gun tub. It's not a bathtub or jacuzzi. It's big. Swimming pool big.* And the sun was hot. Burn-the-back-of-your-neck-if-you're-not-wearing-sunscreen hot. (To answer your question, no, I wasn't wearing sunscreen. It wasn't until too late that I realized it was that hot.) So with a small can of the epoxy-based paint which costs about as much as good Scotch per volume, but should out-last me, I got to work. Round and round the gun tub I went, painting, sweating, drinking water as often as I could. Finally, I hit a snag. I had painted all I could, but there it a wrench that it attached to the gun tub that had to be removed so that I could paint behind it and paint the back of the wrench itself. Now, this wrench is big. Really big. I'm not exaggerating. The wrench is about as big as me, and weighs maybe 20 pounds less.

Now, just for reference, please understand that those depth charges in the upper right corner are about 20" in diameter. When I said the wrence was as big as me, I wasn't kidding. So with another set of hands, the wrench was removed and painted. Okay, you may be asking what the heck this large of a wrench could possibly be used for. Well, obviously a rather large nut. Specifically, the nut that holds the screw (propeller) on the shaft. I know this because I've asked and been told. But to remove all doubt, I looked on the back, and sure enough, engraved on the back, barely readable through the paint, are the words "PROPELLER NUT WRENCH". Nothing like going straight to the source. The screws on DEs were only about 6' in diameter, so if it was really necessary to do so, divers could go over the side and have the wrench lowered to them and remove the nut for the screw as necessary. Now, I don't have any information as to where, if anywhere, the spare screws were carried on board, but all I can say with confidence is the words stamped in the wrench itself.

Other than that, there is nothing new to report. The ship still floats, the visitors still come, and the work goes on. Maybe, as I often joke during my tours, if we get enough help and enough funding, we'll cast off lines one of these days and cruise down the Hudson under our own power to Lower Manhattan and give INTREPID what for.

* It was reported to me today that shortly after the war, the CO of NEW JERSEY had one of the twin or quad 40mm mounts removed from its tub, the access (the notch cut in the side for the gun crew to get in and out) closed by welding a steel plate across it, and filled with water to serve as a swimming pool. These 40mm gun tubs are more than a bit smaller than a 3"-50 gun tub.

Overnighting and Valve Success

In that there is little new to report, and in that it's taken me almost the entire week to get around to reporting, this will be short(er).

My second overnight onboard SLATER was less eventful (thankfully) than my first, mostly in that there were fewer folks and they were a good deal older. The same routine, move in, eat, tour, learn, sleep, move out, and play prevailed. Of course the weather was nowhere near as wet as last time, and the dawn was much more pleasing to the eye, although it was more cloudy than I would have hoped.

But that was Saturday night -- let me return to Saturday. Remember that valve from last weekend? The one that mocked me silently from the vise? The one that another volunteer was kind enough to return daily and oil? Well, when I put the wrench on it Saturday morning, you guessed it, not a dang thing happened. I still looked silly. So instead I went off and helped Gus and Carl and some others from the Deck Division move the items scavenged from Newport News down into the engineering spaces, inventoring and stowing them as appropriate. Of course getting that load of stuff down some small hatches proved to be difficult, but we were fortunate enough that the Duty Electrician got one of the blowers working, so there was a good deal of air circulating as we did our work.

After lunch, I returned to the machine shop, despite the mockery of the valve, to find that another volunteer had managed to loosen the bonnet! Success, at last! With little hesitation (I don't even remember now why I was going into the machine shop to begin with), I stripped the valve down and began the rough work of restoring it. It still doesn't look like that much, but give me time, it'll look good before I'm done with it.

Well, I'm afraid that's about it. However, I decided that since there was little to say, I'd add a little bit of eye candy at the end, just to make up for it. Perhaps I'll have more to do this weekend. If that's the case, there'll be plenty more to update you on next week.

The (Valve) Gods Must Be Crazy...

To begin with, Christmas came early for SLATER this year. Or, more properly, as far as some of us are concerned, it may as well have. One problem that people seem to think keeps coming up for the restoration of SLATER is the parts. I mean, where do they all come from? Surely, after 60 years, technology has advanced to the stage where many of these parts are unavailable, right? Well, not really. Many of the items I have noticed around SLATER are the same as those used aboard ships today. Case in point: Sharples Lube Oil Purifiers. If you want to look at one, you can sneak onto your local Navy base and try and get down to the engineroom of a nuclear powered ship or submarine. Due to inherent risks, I would recomend visiting the enginerooms aboard SLATER. Yup, almost part for part, the exact same piece of machinery used in the fleet today. Many of the interior communications equipment, the sound-powered phones, etc. is exactly the same as was used during the Second World War. So whenever the Navy is scrapping or decommissioning a ship, we manage to get aboard and take whatever we need. Hence Christmas in June. A group of dedicated volunteers went down to Newport News and brought back a plethora of whirlies and gizmos. Pistons for diesels. Tachometers. Pyrometers. Hoses for CO2 fire extinguishers. Boxes upon boxes of fuses. Breaker panels. Valve caps and valves and springs and injectors for the diesels. For a mechanic, it looked like the biggest toybox you could imagine.

Beyond that, there was other work to be done. Down in one of the forward spaces, there was a mountain of old life jackets, kapoks, that needed stacking and re-arranging. Also there were bags of sand for the sandblaster that had been moved forward to the forcastle and had to be lowered belowdecks. After that, the collection troughs that catch leakage past the main shafts before it collects in the bilges had to be drained. And by "collection troughs" I mean of course, kitty litter buckets. Yup, Tidy Cat, the (semi) official cat litter of US Navy museum ships in the greater Capital Region. For all the mechanic nerds out there (both of us), I went ahead and snapped a photo of shaft alley, which is right before the shaft penetrates the hull. The top of the picture, where the shaft goes into the bulkead? That's the shaft seal, and beyond that, the Hudson. Of course, the shaft seals were designed for a small amount of leakage, just to cool and lubricate the seal. And based on the small amount of water that had collected over the week, a small amout is what we got. But after that, it was back to my pet project: valves, valves, and more valves.

I decided this week that, come hell or high water, I was going to get one of those gate valves I've been putting off onto the work bench and make it look good. Not to spoil the ending, but I should have prepared myself with a water bottle and a kapok of my own. I decided to go back to work on the gate valved I've mentioned earlier, the one that had the problem with the bolts shearing. Well, on one side, the nuts and bolts came off, no problem. And since sheared bolts are useless, I decided that, since there was a 3' section of pipe adjacent to the valve, I'd take the valve and the section of pipe off with it. After a few minutes of persuasion, my plot worked, and I had the valve and pipe section out of the engineering spaces and where I could better work on it.

Let me just say that when a bolt and nut have fused together over 50 years, there's no getting them apart with a mere set of wrenches. To this end, I was introduced to several novel ways of removing nuts from bolts. The first came to me by a veteran who also went to dive school. With a large enough hammer and a good enough chisel, it's not too difficult to chisel through the nut and break it free that way. An interesting solution, for sure, and one I'll have to keep in mind should a similar problem face me in the fleet. The other solution to which I was introduced came from one of our welders. He simply put his welding torch to the stuck nut and just melted the damn thing off. I'm not a welder, but if I know where to find one in the future, it wouldn't be a bad way to go.

So, once I had the pipe free, I returned it to the system below, and began work on the valve. I spend hours on that valve. I put small wrenches on that valve. I put larger wrenches on that valve. I put a few excessively large wrenches (if such things exist) on that valve. I oiled the valve. I cursed the valve. I begged the valve. I threatened the valve. I cajoled the valve. I coaxed the valve. I did everything to that valve but take it apart. Not only that, it remains completely frozen. Won't move, won't budge, won't do anything but sit there and mock me. We even went so far as to put a propane torch on the valve, hoping to get some extra clearance, but it was no dice. The valve remains completely frozen, even now. But mark my words, that valve, before too long, will be disassembled, cleaned, and returned to the system. That or it will become the Hudson River's newest artificial reef.

Perhaps the Valve Gods demand a sacrifice? I wonder where I can find a white ram, a bronze dagger, and a dark-haired virgin at this time of the night...

Memorial Day

To answer those who have emailed questions to the effect of "What's taking so long?", allow me to explain. Two weekends ago, I admit, I was not in Albany. I vacationed to Boston to visit an old friend from college. Last weekend, though I believe I made up for it, and will relate my activities.

Sunday I took one of my roommates, Koop, down to see SLATER, hoping to rope him into giving tours, or at the very least helping with restoration. I think my efforts will prove worthwhile, despite the fact that he probably won't want to put in the hours I do. I mean, let's face it, he does have a life. But while he was around, he insisted that I pose for a photo op. Despite my natural disinclination for the idea, I decided to go against my nature for the sake of this blog. Perhaps more photos such as these will follow, particularly since, after joining one of my tours Koop made the remark that, despite my volunteer status, I'm still an "overpaid ham".

I had been previously conned to stay that night for an overnight group of 24 Cub Scouts. Of course, the little detail of the number I was not aware of until the Scouts were there. Despite my original misgivings, the whole deal was not really as bad as it seemed at first. Truth be told, the worst part was the 4-hour security watch each of the two overnight crewmen had to stand, which means I got a 4-hour nap rather than a good night's sleep. The fact that they put me up in the XO's cabin managed to atone for this slight sacrifice. That Monday morning, we did some more activities with the Scouts, including morning colors. Before too long, they were all gone, and I was busy preparing for the ceremony that was to be held for Memorial Day.

First were the 3" shells. Well, not authentic ammunition, but a home-made series of blanks. SLATER was able to procure several 3" shell casings, three of which were cut down and drilled out so that instead of the primer, there is a hole in the bottom the same diameter as a 20-ga. shotgun shell. Cut off the shell itself and insert the brass, add about a cup of black powder, and top it off with a cardboard disc, and presto, from the Chief's mess come three home-made 3" blanks. After a Navy shower (cold & quick), I had to make the change. I had been recruited for colors detail.

I have yet to mention the Admiral. One of our volunteers is, well, a retired Rear Admiral (Upper Half). He prefers that we not fly his flag when he's not in uniform, but this being Memorial Day, he couldn't not be in uniform, and one of the other volunteers and I immediately beat it up to the chart room where all the spare flags are kept. In no time, we had the blue flag with the two white stars flying in the breeze. But as the brass kept arriving, one after another, I couldn't help but be overcome by a feeling of wondering what I had gotten myself into. Besides the two-star Admiral, we also had a Commander, two Lieutenant Commanders and a Warrant Officer from the Coast Guard on hand. It wasn't until later, when GM1 and ET2 arrived to bolster the ranks of the enlisted present, that I began to feel less like the little fish in a big pond. But, as it happened, the other two enlisted were to join me for colors detail, under command of the Warrant Officer (who has some very interesting and rather funny stories, if you ever run into Mr. Walker).

There's not too much to say about the ceremony, other than that it was nice, quite appropriate in that it was neither unbearably long, nor disrespectfully short. On top of that, there was a rather sizable crowd on hand, and the color guard, not to boast, performed flawlessly. Of course, it goes without saying that those three blanks that I helped manufacture were disposed of in a most appropriate manner.

In that a picture is worth a thousand words, I'll curtail the writing and let the photos do the rest.

(NOTE: I apologize for the crummy nature of the photo editing. I am neither a professional web designer, nor do I pretend to be. Your patience in this regard is appreciated.)

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Special thanks to all the nit-pickers who have nothing better to do than to comb through this blog and find the one, minor, insiginificant spelling mistake I made. I mean, seriously, I've been called on technical matters, and that's okay, because if I goof that up, then, yes, I want to be called on it, but, all kidding aside, a small error such as mistakenly typing "to" when I really meant "do", seriously, that's pushing it a little, don't you think? I mean, really?)

(PUBLISHER'S NOTE: The author is insane. Thanks for the catch.)

(TRANSLATOR'S NOTE: Ringraziamenti speciali a tutte le nit-raccoglitrici che non hanno più meglio niente fare che pettinarsi attraverso questo blog e trovare quello, minore, errore che insiginificant di ortografia ho fatto. Lo significo, seriamente, sono stato argomenti tecnici invitati e quello è giusto, perché se goof che su, allora, sì, io desiderano essere invitatgi, ma, interamente scherzando da parte, un piccolo errore come erroneamente battitura a macchina "a" quando realmente ho significato che "et", seriamente, che sta spingendola poco, non pensate? Significo, realmente?)