By George F. McClure, ENS, (’55-’57)
Winter Park, Fla.
We were unenlightened about trans-fats in those days, accounting for the greasy pork chops.
My most vivid memory of a meal in the Navy was of a Spanish omelet, which I ate for breakfast while escorting a Middie cruise across the Bay of Biscay on a tin can (DD-976).
There was a big storm that had made the water very rough. Oilers in convoy were disappearing from view, then lunging upward so that it was possible to see the bottom of the hull under the bow.
Board ‘fences’ were placed on the tables in the wardroom so that the dishes didn’t hit the deck. I lost the omelet about an hour later, at the rail. Only time I threw up in the Navy.
A little later, I was transferred to another ship in a bosun’s chair while line handling deck crews on both ships kept me from falling low enough to get wet. They were successful!
The reason for the transfer was so that I could be an unbiased observer of some exercises they were to do on the other ship.