When I was a sailor:
I liked standing on the bridge wing - at sunrise with salt spray in my face and clean ocean winds whipping in from the four quarters of the globe, the destroyer beneath me feeling like a living thing as her engines drove her swiftly through the sea.
I liked the sounds of the Navy - the piercing trill of the boatswainspipe, the syncopated clangor of the ship's bell on the quarterdeck, the harsh squawk of the 1MC, and the strong language and laughter of sailors at work.
I liked Navy vessels - nervous darting destroyers, plodding fleet auxiliaries and amphibs, sleek submarines and steady solid aircraft carriers.
I liked the proud names of Navy ships - Midway, Lexington, Saratoga, Coral Sea, Antietam, Valley Forge - - memorials of great battles won and tribulations overcome.
I liked the lean angular names of Navy - "tin-cans" and escorts -- Barney, Dahlgren, Mullinix, McCloy, Damato, Leftwich, Mills -- mementos of heroes who went before us. And the others -- San Jose, San Diego, Los Angeles, St. Paul, Chicago -- named for our cities.
I liked the tempo of a Navy band - blaring through the topside speakers as we pulled away from the oiler after refueling at sea.
I liked liberty call - and the spicy scent of every foreign port.
I liked the all hands working parties - as my ship filled herself with the multitude of supplies so as to carry out her mission anywhere on the globe where there was water to float her.
I liked sailors, officers and enlisted men - from all parts of the land, farms of the Midwest, small towns of New England, from the cities, the mountains and the prairies from all walks of life. I trusted and depended on them as they trusted and depended on me - for professional competence, for comradeship, for strength and courage. In a word, they were "shipmates"; then and forever.
I liked the surge of adventure - in my heart, when the word was passed: "Now set the special sea and anchor detail - all hands to quarters for leaving port,"
I liked the infectious thrill - of sighting home again, with the waving hands of welcome from family and friends waiting pier side.
I liked the hard and dangerous work - The going was rough at times; and the parting from loved ones painful, but the companionship of robust Navy laughter, the "all for one and one for all" philosophy of the sea was ever present.
I liked the serenity of the sea - after a day of hard ship's work, as flying fish flitted across the wave tops and the sunset gave way to night.
I liked the feel of the Navy in darkness - the masthead and rangelights, the red and green navigation lights and stern light, the pulsating phosphorescence of radar repeaters - they cut through the dusk and joined with the mirror of stars overhead.
And I liked drifting off to sleep - lulled by the myriad noises large and small that told me that my ship was alive and well, and that my shipmates on watch would keep me safe.
I liked quiet midwatches - with the aroma of strong coffee -- the life blood of the Navy permeating everywhere.
And I liked the hectic watches - when the exacting minuet of haze-grayshapes racing at flank speed kept all hands on a razor edge of alertness.
I liked the sudden electricity - of "General quarters, General quarters, all hands man your battle stations", followed by the hurried clamor of running feet on ladders and the resounding thump of watertight doors as the ship transformed herself, in a few brief seconds, from a peaceful workplace to a weapon of war -- ready for anything.
And I liked the sight of space-age equipment - manned by youngsters clad in dungarees and sound-powered phones that their grandfathers would still recognize.
I liked the traditions of the Navy - and the men and women who made them.
I liked the proud names of Navy heroes - Halsey, Nimitz, Perry, Farragut, John Paul Jones, Howard W. Gilmore and Burke.
In years to come, when sailors are home from the sea, they will still remember with fondness and respect the ocean in all its moods -- the impossible shimmering mirror of calm waters or the storm-tossed green water surging over the bow. And then there will come again, the sound and laughter from the mess deck, a faint whiff of stack gas, a echo of engine noises, a vision of "Old Glory" snapping in the breeze. As they have gone ashore for good they will grow wistful about their Navy days, when the seas belonged to them and a new port of call was ever over the horizon.
Remembering all of this, they will stand taller and say...