Naval Training Center

San Diego, California

August 18, 1950

N A V Y B L U E S

by Emory Lee Crews

In 1950, San Diego, California had more sailors roaming up and down Broadway than there were bordellos in Tijuana, Mexico. That's where many of them were eventually headed.

When you enlisted in the Navy in those days, you were either sent to the Great Lakes Naval Training Center or the Naval Training Center (NTC), San Diego. Because I came from a town west of the Mississippi, I wound up in San Diego.

When you first get off the bus at NTC, and while you're still in your civilian clothes, you are greeted by your company commander. The number assigned to our company was 236. Our company commander was Gunners Mate 1^st Class A. G. Ergber. Right away you are told in no uncertain terms that he is the boss. As you try to stand there at attention, he is right in your face calling you every foul name in the book, and even some that aren't in the book. I never heard such cursing in my entire life. I certainly was never called a "shit bird" before. I didn't even know what one looked like, but I guess it looked like me, because that's what he kept calling me.

Then came the haircut! We were marched over to the barber shop and lined up at the door. I could see six empty barber chairs inside with guys standing behind them smiling. It had taken me forever to grow my hair long enough to make a pompadour wave on top. I reached up and ran my fingers through my hair for the last time. It may not have been the best haircut in the world, but it sure was the shortest and the fastest! It only took about thirty seconds to shave each head. To say the least, we were not the same long-haired good-looking guys who went in the front door when we came out the back.

Next came the issue of clothing. We were lined up again to get measured top to bottom. When they handed us our regulation clothes, it was a hit or miss operation and if they just ran out of your size, you got the next larger one! We were told we would grow into them. I looked like Dopey in the seven dwarfs with a hat that came down and rested on my ears. They gave us a box to ship our civilian clothes back home.

Navy boot camp lasted twelve weeks. Every day was a repeat of the day before (reveille, inspection, chow, drill, chow, drill, chow, taps). Each morning while we were at breakfast our barracks would be inspected for cleanliness and to make sure our bunks were made with regulation square corners. One morning before we went to breakfast, the guy in the next bunk asked if he could borrow a clean white hat for personnel inspection. I loaned him one of my hats. That was a big mistake! When he finished with the hat, he folded it and put it under my pillow. The inspection team found it and our company failed inspection. They threw my mattress in the middle of the barracks. When our "friendly" company commander saw the mattress, I had to carry that white hat around in my mouth the remainder of the day. I never loaned anything to anyone after that!

The only highlight when I was in boot camp was when the United Services Organization (U.S.O.) put on a show starring Bob Hope. Every company, which consisted of approximately seventy men each, got to attend. There must have been a thousand guys in the audience. It's probably the only time we laughed while we were in training.

When you complete half of basic training you're are given what is know as Cinderella liberty. This meant you could go into San Diego, but you better be back at the base by midnight or the company commander would turn your head into a pumpkin.

On my first liberty, I went to the U.S.O. which was located at the Young Men's Christian Association (YMCA) in downtown San Diego. Just about every sailor in boot camp went there. The U.S.O. had organized activities for all the service men. Sometimes they would hold dances and invite local girls to come. There were never enough girls to go around, so most of us just wondered up and down Broadway window shopping.

One day I was walking by a jewelry store when the salesman who was standing outside stopped me. He said he had a terrific watch for sale and would let me have it for just $15.00. He said selling it so cheap was breaking the ice for the business, and he would get more customers that day. The watch was really pretty with diamonds (cut glass) instead of numbers on its face. He must have been a pretty smooth talker, because I wore it back to the base. It wasn't a complete loss; I remember hocking it a couple of time over the years for $2.50. I wonder what ever happened to that watch? I know I had it for over twenty years.

I finished boot camp training on August 18, 1950 and was assigned to the USS Lofberg DD-759. I was sent to San Francisco and put on board the troop ship SS Hinzelman headed for Japan. After being transferred to a destroyer, I eventually caught up with the Lofberg off the coast of Korea. They transferred by high-line along with the mail and the movies (comics).

Swinging between two ship strapped in a boatswain's chair on a "high-line" is not the most graceful way arrive aboard ship. It would have only taken one little mistake by the men who were pulling on the ropes (lines as the Navy calls them) to dunk me in the water. When I opened my eyes, I was safe-and-sound on board the Lofberg.

The time spent at the Naval Training Center in San Diego was not an experience I look back on with fond memories. On the other hand, I remember San Diego as a place where I roamed up and down Broadway looking for girls, buying watches and trying to rid myself of the navy blues.