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EM's Club in Guantamo Bay, Cuba
My Banana Republic Memoirs Part VII
Reminiscing
“Botoleños” not the town this time but the people... in Norfolk, VA in particular
There were several Botoleños in Norfolk
during my first sea duty. Sure glad to know some kabanwas (townsmates)
in such a very far and so “foreign” a place. One was Uldarico (Banong)
Docuyanan, the late Henry (Pulat) Bugarin, my cousin twice removed and wife
Filipina (Pepin) Basa another distant cousin, Kaka Eping (late Efifanio)
Dial and his family, Jose (Joe) Data, Honorio (Orio) Isidoro, and Otoy
(Arnulfo) Docuyanan. Otoy was at his first duty station as a member of the ship
company at Norfolk Naval Base. Henry was aboard a sub-tender or destroyer
tender, USS Orion. Kaka Eping was an airdale or works in the airplane so he
might have been stationed at Norfolk Naval Air Station at that time. Orio, I
believe was on board a supply ship (somehow USS Pickaway comes to mind) while
Joe, I think was aboard an oiler (USS Hasayampa?); this is just a wild guess.
It was funny how I met Dick (Uldarico)
Docuyanan. When I arrived in Norfolk
during the middle of the winter of ’66 via a cross-country train from Los
Angeles, my ship- the WWII vintage destroyer USS Vogelgesang (DD-862) was in
dry dock at Portsmouth Naval Shipyard just across the tunnel.
I did not have any inkling at the time but
the ships company (personnel) was billeted (staying) in the barracks. When I
checked-in late Saturday afternoon, the Quarterdeck Watch whom I vaguely
remembered was a junior petty officer (E4) never told me where to go. He took
my orders, endorsed by signing and dating the reporting section and let me
wander about the ship like a sailor lost at sea. Of course being I just got out
of “A” or apprentice school and boot camp, I was still apprehensive and simply
content that I made it to my ship safely and ahead of schedule. I was still
feeling the stress and somewhat tired of the 3,000 plus miles of travel from
and to a strange place. So I took everything in stride, no questions asked.
Everything was copasetic (until I got hungry).
Things were cluttered aboard the ship to
say the least. Stretches of heavy-duty black electrical extension cords and
2-1/2" diameter fire hoses crisscrossed the decks. Aluminum scaffoldings with
2” x 10” flanks were set up from port to starboard (left side to right). Silica
sands, rusts and dusts from sandblastings have blanketed the hallways and
weather decks. Welding tents and heavy-duty tarps, which were set up to block
the sparks and “caution men at work” signs, were scattered from the forecastle
to the fantail (forward to stern). While white flumes of steams spew out of the
manholes and leaky heater pipes down the pier sides. No wonder why no one gives
a rat’s a** on a lowly E2 (me) at this point.
Of course later on I came to learn that at
this time of the week the “skeleton” crew was on their weekend liberty (free
pass) and only the essential personnel were on board like the duty quarterdeck
and seaman and deuces (E2s and E3s) fire watches. Married folks have gone to
their families, single sailors out in town looking for girls-in-every-port
thingy, the so-called short- timers gone to their new duty stations and
thank goodness the lifers finally retired (the boots or young
sailors don’t care for the lifers or old salts). No one ever bothered to instruct me as far
as my berthing space and where to go to grab some navy chow. I was like a
homeless fellow scrounging for food and a place to sleep. Good thing I had some
candy bars and cheese crackers leftovers from my travel.
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That night I wandered about the ship
looking for a place to sleep. In time I found me an empty small compartment
that had three bunk beds set-up at the most forward (forecastle) section of the
ship. The mattresses were about 8” thick and were twin sizes. The thick wool
blankets laid on top of the mattresses had USN stenciled on them and were
beige. From the looks of it no one was living in that quarters for a while. It
had an adjoining bathroom with a stainless steel sink, a commode and a shower.
I figured this is where I will bunk until someone tells me otherwise. I thought
this is a whole lot better than the open bay barracks and head facilities
(toilets/showers with no partition walls) that I was used to where there is no
privacy whatsoever.
The next day I went to chow with the watch
standers whenever they announced that the bus to the mess hall was at the pier.
I did this several times. I did not see any Filipinos at the chow hall so I was
by myself all weekend. No one to talk to and to ask questions from. My verbal
skill at this point in time was very limited to say the least so I just stuck
to myself. Man I thought if this is how it is going to be, I am in for a rough
time. This is no fun at all. I need to see some kababayans to shoot the
bull with and listen to their sea stories and learn the ropes.
Monday morning after breakfast and after
getting off the bus, I was so glad to see some homeboys. They were milling
about the portside weather deck amid ship (middle of the ship). It turned out that
they were there for the daily muster or roll call. I instinctively joined them in
ranks although I did not know whether I was supposed to or not. I learned the
names of my shipmates in my division- PO1 Wright (Bro), SD2 Manuel, TNs Doc,
Poblete, and Tuazon. Bro, who was the Senior Petty Officer welcomed me aboard
and introduced me to my shipmates.
After quarters, we all went to our pantry
for a coffee break (I think had some juice, coffee was not my cup of tea then)
and to shoot the breeze and eat some Krispy donuts. I found out afterwards that
we did not have anything to do aboard the ship yet so it was only “muster and
make it” meaning come in for the roll call and then leave for the day and come
back the next day.
So all the guys with families and girlfriends
left in no time, leaving me with C. (Tino) Tuazon and Doc. I hang out with
them at the ship and at the chow hall. We were all talking in perfect Tagalog.
Since Tino was from Orion, Bataan there was no hint of any telltale accent. The
same goes with Doc; I did not notice any Sambal intonation. Then after awhile I
got curious and I asked him what kind of doctor he was. He told me he was not a
doctor at all and that he shortened his last name on his nametags on his shirt
and back pocket since the Americans cannot pronounce his real last name of
Docuyanan. Then I told him that I had a teacher named Docuyanan. Afterwards he
asked me where I was from. I told him I am from Zambales. “What about you?”, I
asked. He replied, “I am also from
Zambales, in Botolan”.
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“Hay matay bapâ taga Botolan ka awod, ampitatagalog taynan
ampitatagalog nangon et”. Goodness! We’ve been speaking in Tagalog
all this while; I didn’t know you’re also from Botolan.
Hence then, it was in Botolan Sambal that
we conversed with except when other shipmates were around. We kinda, at least
I was, missed our very own dialect since
no other people in the world spoke it. To find someone in a such a far away
place speak it, was so refreshing.
We started asking each other questions like
our barrios, our kinfolks and common acquaintances. I found out that he had
been in the navy for quite awhile (two hash marks) so the people that he knew
before he left were Greeks to me.
So that’s how I met my first kabanwa
or hometown boy in the States.
Tino and Doc proceeded to indoctrinate me
regarding life aboard the ship. I told them that it was so cold on that ship
that I had to use three blankets. They started laughing when I told them that I
was berthing aboard the ship. They said the ships company was staying in the
barracks; that’s the reason there was no heat. That the place where I was
sleeping was one of the Officers Quarters. “You’re not supposed to sleep there;
you’re suppose to clean it”, they said cracking up. They then helped me check
in properly. From then on Doc sort of took me under his wings except on
liberty; when I hang out more with Tino cuz he was only a few year older than myself. By the way,
the American sailors call Tino “Tuson” as in Tucson, Arizona.
Oh boy! That was quite an experience to say
the least. Come to think of it, I was probably the only enlisted man who got to
sleep in a bed reserved for officers.
Bert Guiang
Tampo, Botolan, Zambales
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