I was depressed.
It was my first Thanksgiving away from home, away from family and Mom’s cooking.
Fifteen days before, I joined the Navy and was stationed at the Pensacola Naval Air Station to begin pre-flight officer training. I was having a hard time getting use to marching instead of walking, saluting instead of saying “Hi!”
Ten days before, I flunked a blood test, was placed on “medical hold” and separated from my classmates. The doctors told me that it could be serious - leukemia, or minor – anemia. I was sent for more extensive blood testing and would be on medical hold until the results were known.
Six days before, the President of the United States was assassinated. John F. Kennedy was our first president from the Navy and the Navy was adrift, mourning one of its own. The somber harmony and pensive words of the Navy Hymn permeated the base long after the memorial services: “Eternal Father, strong to save, Whose arm hath bound the restless wave…”
The day before, we were told that we could have base liberty for Thanksgiving Day. We – there were five other cadets on medical hold – would have our first free day. The only stipulation was that we had to be in uniform.
Our normal outfit was coveralls aptly called “poopy suits.” This was the “uniform” for all cadets during their first week, and for those on medical hold for the duration. The only times I got to wear a real uniform was when I went off base to for my blood tests and to attend the memorial services for President Kennedy at the base chapel.
The night before, while sitting around a table, spit-shining our shoes, the six of us planned our own special holiday. Call home was on everybody’s list of things to do first. We decided to pass on going to the cadets’ mess hall for Thanksgiving dinner and eat at the Navy Exchange cafeteria just for the change of scenery.
“Okay, that should kill an hour or two. What will we do the rest of the day?” Bill asked in between spits.
“We could go to the movies,” I said without enthusiasm.
“Nah, that will be a waste,” responded Todd, thus killing the movie idea.
“Hey, let’s go aboard the Lexington,” proclaimed Ralph. “I never have been aboard an aircraft carrier.”
The USS Lexington was a survivor of Japanese kamikaze attacks during World War II. Still serving her country, the “Lex” was now used for training pilots.
Around the table the Lex idea was met with universal approval.
“Sounds good to me.”
“Let’s go after we eat.”
Thus our Thanksgiving plans were set.
Thanksgiving morning we navigated our way to the Navy Exchange. We were trilled; this was our first time outside without a hovering drill instructor or cadet officer barking around us. By splitting off in twos and staying separated by at least ten yards, we had the added enjoyment of walking instead of marching. If the six of us had stayed together, we would have been required to march in formation. What freedom, even if we were uniform and confined to the base.
We got to the exchange about ten o’clock and made our phone calls home. When it was my turn, my mom answered.
“Hi, Mom. Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, Tom I was hoping that you would call. How are you?”
“Fine,” I lied.
“It’s so sad about the President,” and after I murmured in soft agreement, she told me that I had just missed my dad and little sister. They went to pickup my aunt and uncle - My job for the past four years.
“Can you call back? They all would like to talk to you.”
“No,” I lied. I then told my mom that I would be home in three weeks for Christmas and New Year’s. Her voice sounded happier. I did not tell her that I might be home sooner if the blood test results were bad enough.
“I gotta go,” I lied again. I told her to wish everyone a happy Thanksgiving for me. After I hung up, I realized that my first call home did not bring me happiness. It just reminded me of all the things I was missing. I rejoined my fellow cadets classified as medical holds to continue our day of freedom.
Before going to eat, we spent some time reading newspapers and magazines. Articles on the assassination filled the pages. For the first time I saw the photograph of Mrs. Kennedy in her bloodstained dress standing next to the new President.
We decided to eat before noon. Walking through the Navy Exchange cafeteria line with our trays, we all ordered turkey dinners. I watched as turkey, dressing, and mash potatoes were plopped rather unceremoniously onto my plate. Mom will be serving Italian and American: meatballs, sausage, cutlets, and lasagna – turkey, two dressings, and roasted potatoes. Plus, many side dishes that I called nibble food. My mom never plopped holiday dinners.
The six of us ate quickly, agreeing that the Navy Exchange dinners had all the qualities of cadets’ mess food. Our conversations shifted from the dead president to going on board the Lex. We had seen it previously on our marches around the base, and it was docked not too far from the exchange.
When we were getting ready to leave, Bill said that he needed to buy some shaving and other supplies. He added that he did not want to carry them on the Lexington and would take them back to the barracks. He would meet us on board.
The remaining five of us walked to the Lex, again keeping separated in order not to march in formation. As we approached the Lex the gray aircraft carrier grew larger and larger. Towering above its flight deck was the command island with its antennas protruding even higher.
When we all got to the gangplank, Todd started climbing up it.
“Stop,” I said, “we can’t just walk up. We’re in uniform.”
“I think your right. There are some procedures that we have to follow,” Ralph agreed.
“Well, what do we have to do?” Todd said rejoining the group.
Remembering an old black and white movie I said, “There was this John Wayne movie where he was a Navy officer. When he would board a ship, he would walk halve way up the gangplank, then turn facing the rear of the ship. He saluted then continued up. At the top of the gangplank, there was an officer. He saluted the officer and requested permission to come aboard. In the movie, it wasn’t an aircraft carrier, but I think it is the same way for all Navy ships.”
“Yeah, I think I saw the same thing in The Caine Mutiny ,” Ralph said referring to the Humphrey Bogart movie. “I believe when we’re saluting aft, we’re saluting the flag that’s hung on the stern of the ship.”
“Should we salute even if we can’t see the flag?”
“John Wayne did. We better not take any chances. Let’s do it the same way,” I argued for the John Wayne way.
They agreed and one by one we marched up the gangplank. Half way up we turned facing the rear of the ship, saluted and continued up. Sure enough, there was an officer standing at the top. I saluted him and announced, “Officer Candidate Airman Apprentice Guisto request permission to come aboard, sir.”
To my relief, the officer returned my salute and declared, “Permission granted. Welcome aboard Cadet Guisto.” John Wayne was right! We all got on board the Lex without any mishap.
We made our way up to the flight deck to begin our self-tour of carrier. Except for a few sailors on the opposite side of the deck, we were by ourselves. Feeling safe that we could not be overheard we started joking about John Wayne.
“Can’t go wrong following the Duke!”
“Thank God for Hollywood!”
“It’s a good thing Tom went to the movies.”
“But what if he only saw the John Wayne cowboy movies?”
Remembering Red River, I said, “Yeah, I don’t think yelling ‘Yea ha!’ would have gotten us on board.”
By now we were all chuckling. Then Ralph said, “You know this is the first time I have laughed since I got here.”
The rest of us stopped to think then nodded our heads in agreement. I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed, but I was sure that I was still a civilian at the time.
Continuing our tour of the carrier we walked around the edge of the fight deck. The height provided a great view of the base. Then we saw Bill walking in big strides towards the carrier. The five of us waved but he did not notice us.
Running up the gangplank Bill did not stop to salute. We all laughed again, joking that Bill must not have seen the Duke’s Navy movies.
After a little while Bill made it to the flight deck and joined us. He immediately started telling us that the officer had balled him out for not following the correct boarding procedures and gave him a lecture on Navy tradition. The officer was going to place Bill on report, but relented when Bill told him that he was on medical hold and had only been in the Navy two weeks. We laughed and told Bill how John Wayne got us on board.
That night lying in my bunk surrounded by darkness I did not think of the dead president, home, or my pending blood tests. I just thought of how John Wayne saved the day and made me laugh. The absence of depression felt good.