USS Tarawa memories

 It was just a brief story in Navy Times, but it brought back a flood of memories. The Navy, the story said, was going to retire several ships by the start of fiscal year 2009, and one of them was the USS Tarawa.

Yes, LHA-1, the amphibious assault ship. I spent about five months of my service in the Marine Corps on the Tarawa, and occasionally would see Associated Press photos of the ship sailing out of or into some port during our recent military actions. I guess time and technology had not been kind to the Tarawa, and it is going on the inactive list.

In 1980, I had been assigned to VMA-513’s avionics shop since 1979. The squadron was and still is home-based in Yuma, Ariz., and I was pretty happy to be there. I had made friends among the civilians in Yuma, and the guys I worked with were a great bunch. It was the Marine Corps, so discipline was pretty tight but not overwhelming.

We were flying the AV-8A Harrier, the first-generation planes. For aviation electricians, they were a bit of a nightmare, and most of my formal tech school training was useless. You kind of had to learn as you went.

There was talk when I first arrived at the squadron about “Det B,” and how six planes and part of the squadron’s personnel had been deployed to Okinawa for about six months. They returned, and there was talk of another “Det,” this time aboard a ship.

The Iranian hostage crisis was ongoing and there was talk that while the next Det would be a WestPac cruise, it would also go into the Indian Ocean and possibly be part of action against Iran.

I had thought about whether I wanted to go. Finally, I decided that I had joined the military to see the world, so a trip to other countries courtesy of the Marines would be a good experience. I put in my name to go and received word that I was accepted.

I figured that being a single man with no children (more common back then in the military than today), I’d enjoy the experience more. The married guys had to worry about their wives and children back in the U.S. in base housing, while I just kept in touch with my parents and brothers.

Our Det finally set off in October 1980, riding a bus or buses (it’s a little hazy now) to San Diego. We finally arrived at a Navy base there, and saw for the first time the ship that would carry us on our adventure: The USS Tarawa.

It looked huge up close, the ship seeming to tower over the dock where it was tied up. We hauled our seabags up the ramp and reported in, then were led through endless corridors to our berthing space. It was hardly the most impressive spot, but it was our home for the next few months.

I think that one thing about the deployment was it certified that I had made the right choice by picking the Marines over the Navy. Life aboard ship, even with the lighter discipline of being in the Navy, just did not seem as much fun as living on shore. Sure, living on a Marine base could be limiting, but at least you could go outside the gates. Living on a ship at sea, there was no way to get away from the ship, at least until it docked, and then the powers that be might not let you off the ship.

We settled in aboard ship, and I remember the day when our planes arrived. They flew to San Diego and made vertical landings while the ship was still docked.

Later, I don’t remember exactly when, we set off on our voyage across the oceans.

Our ride from San Diego to Hawaii was uneventful and the planes did not fly. The guys spent our duty days in a little compartment, playing cards, talking and reading. I read “Shogun” on the way over.

We had a little grab-ass, too, like the morning I woke up, put on my flip-flops, padded over to the head and looked down to see that someone, overnight, had painted my toenails black with Em-Nu. We used Em-Nu to blacken our rank insignia and eagle, globe and anchor insignias, and some clever fellow had discovered another use.

So I scraped off the Em-Nu with a key and went back to my bunk, got dressed and reported to the shop.

During the day, someone turned the conversation to guys who kind of went “gay.” Someone noted that I had gone “gay” and had painted my toenails black. Someone else disbelieved it, so I was told to remove my boots and socks. I refused, and returned to my book.

It took a few of my friends holding me down, while one unlaced my boots and removed my socks, to get the job completed. Meanwhile, the ruckus drew attention from the compartment next to ours, and a second lieutenant (whose name escapes me, so I’ll call him Lt. Smith) came in.

“What’s going on here?” he asked. “What’s all this noise?”

“Sir, Lance Cpl. Safuto has gone gay,” one of my shop-mates said. “He painted his toenails.”

I was sitting off to the side, putting on my socks, and the lieutenant looked at me.

“Safuto, what are you doing with your shoes off?” he asked.

“They did this to me, sir,” I said.

He looked at me and shook his head.

“Are you like Klinger, Safuto? Are you bucking for a Section 8?” he asked. (Klinger is of course the corporal from MASH who is trying to get discharged from the Army by dressing like a woman.)

“No sir.”

“Then keep your shoes on.”

“Yes sir.”

“And stop painting your toenails.”

“Yes sir.”

From then on, whenever this officer saw me, he’d ask, “So, Lance Cpl. Safuto, how are you doing on keeping your footwear on? I can get you that Section 8.”

Our group had a lot of adventures on that cruise on the Tarawa, including the sobering trip to the Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor; the Philippines; Thailand; Singapore; Mombasa, Kenya; Perth, Australia (and crossing “the line”); Pusan, Korea; and finally Okinawa, where we handed our six planes off to VMA-542 and they sent six of their hangar-queens to Yuma. We flew back to the States in April 1981 and it was great to be home.

While we were aboard, Ronald Reagan was elected president, John Lennon was shot and killed, and, most importantly, our hostages were released from Iran.

I never went on another shipboard deployment, though some guys from 513 went on another LHA, the Belleau Wood, I think. I left the Marines in August 1982, but still have the photos and movie film I shot of my adventures on the Tarawa.

I hope it comes to a dignified end. Maybe it didn’t win any wars, but the ship did its part.