By Ray Pfeiffer, RM2, (’70-’71)
I must respectfully disagree with my good friend Rick Erisman’s account of Thanksgiving dinner aboard the T-Bone in 1970 on Med 3-70 as described in his NEWSLETTER column in this space last year.
We were mid-way across the Atlantic and most of the Marines had never been to sea before and many of the crew had only experienced the conditions on an LST during training exercises along the East Coast.
At the time, I was an RM3 as was Rick. However he had far more experience than I and he was my watch supervisor in the Radio Room. I remember that we were taking the southern route to Rota, Spain because it was supposed to be somewhat smoother than the more direct northern route. However no one on the ship could have been convinced about this. It seemed to be get worse every day as we slowly crossed the wide Atlantic at 12 knots maximum.
On Thanksgiving Day the cooks made a splendid effort to prepare a traditional holiday dinner with allthe trimmings. A menu was posted on the bulkhead outside the mess deck. It was not just a meal, but also an event which all of us were anticipating.
Rick described the Thanksgiving meal as wonderful one, which was enjoyed during a relative period of calm.
A Different Version
Here is how I remember it:
Thanksgiving Day dawned and it was sunny and the ocean was calm. The afternoon was also calm. When it was time for dinner, Rick allowed me to go to chow first. Being on watch, I had front-of- the- line privileges and I think I was maybe second or third on line.
Just as the chow line opened, the dreaded announcement came over the 1MC “Now hear this! Stand by for heavy rolls!” The T-Bone’s usual rolling and pitching became even worse. As the chow line moved ahead, those of us who had gained our “sea legs” got our chow and sat down. We knew how to cradle the metal trays with our forearms and finger and to hold our coffee cup with our other finger. We shoveled the chow down quickly and enjoyed the meal as best we could.
About mid-way during the meal, the ship began to roll and pitch violently. Those Marines and crewmembers who didn’t have much experience at sea began losing their trays and cups as they flew across the mess deck. I remember at least three guys vomiting. I think the mess cooks were cleaning chow off the pipes and the overhead for days.
I guess by the time Rick had his chow, things had calmed down.
However I want to take this opportunity to thank Rick for the encouragement he gave me, and the patience he had as I learned to be a Radioman. RM “A” School at Bainbridge had not really prepared me for the workings of a Radio Room at sea. Rick was always there for me.
I am also glad that Rick is our Association’s Historian. He maintained a wonderful diary of our time on the Terrebonne Parish. I still have copies of the history and I review them from time to time. However we do remember things differently on Thanksgiving Day thirty-four years ago.