The BHR Chronicles Chapter 1

DAY 1: EMBARK

After a short 20 minute ride aboard one of our squadron's CH-53D Sea Stallion Helicopters from Kaneohe to the USS "BHR", I disembarked and stepped foot onto the Flight Deck. When several Flight Deck personnel offered to assist me with my gear, they picked up my 3 filled-to-the-brim bags and gave me a look as if to say "What the hell did you pack? Why do all the Marines have just 1 bag and you have 3?" I only packed the bare essentials though - Bose noise cancelling headphones and earbuds, my personal computer loaded with unwatched episodes of Desperate Housewives, 4 Puma gym shirts, shorts and sneakers, a memory foam egg crate to go under the new 600 count Egyptian Cotton sheets that I purchased for my rack, a down feather pillow, a jar of creatine, vitamins, lots of protein bars, sleepware, loungeware and...oh yeah, all of my military gear and uniforms. Just the necessities!
Although when I had to lug my 3 bags up 3 decks to the Berthing Area named "Officer Country" (where we sleep), I wished I would have packed a bit lighter.

I was impressed at the sheer size of this ship, it was immense. As I made my way to my quarters (pictured below), I was greeted by Sailors saying "Welcome Aboard Shipmate!" I wasn't sure what to say in return (I'm sure you recall the conundrum I blogged about when arriving in Iraq concerning the Marine lingo). So a simple "Thank You Shipmate" would have to do for the moment.



My quarters were more than sufficient. Each Officer "Berthing Area" had 2 bunk beds (to fit 4), closets, even a sink and vanity area. On average we had 2 Officers to a room. The enlisted quarters (not pictured), were much more crowded. Rows and rows of 3 bunk beds all right next to each other with very little privacy all placed in one large common area of the ship.

A few first impressions on Days 1 and 2:
So many hatches (doors). To walk one deck from forward to aft you need to open and close about 10 hatches, some of which are air tight locks (i.e. you have to open one door, step into the airlock, close it, then open the door on the other side of the lock. Of course the pressure change forces you to clear your ears every time you do this - which is about 25 times a day). It gets annoying really fast.

Everything looks the same. Every bulkhead, every hatch, every hallway looks identical. How the hell are you supposed to find your way around here when everything looks identical and nothing is labeled? (see pictures below) Why don't they put a sign on the wall or have an Information Kiosk like they do in malls that states "You are here", with everything labeled?




Every minute there's a loud pitched deafening, shrieking whistle which preceds some announcement over the intercom which you have to be a professional linguist to interpret. And when these announcements occur, everyone moves about 10 times as fast as before, like someone just yelled "Iceberg Right Ahead!!!" or something. The only announcements I have thus far been able to decipher are "This is a man overboard drill" and "Flight Deck Operations In Progress". (I think they contracted out the intercoms from the Burger King drive through windows and installed them here)

The rocking is non-stop. I lie in bed at night and sometimes my body rolls slightly to the left, then slightly to the right. Luckily I haven't gotten sea sick yet (only 1 of my Marines has), but the seas are expected to pick up. So we'll see.

The Wardroom Galley (aka Officer Chow Hall) serves Starbucks Coffee, so that's a big plus. It's not exactly the Caramel Machiatto that I'd normally order, but all in all I can't complain. The food is pretty decent too. You're typical Navy Standard I suppose. Today I had grilled chicken breast (and mom I thought of you because I put some Italian Dressing on it for flavor), with vegetables and for dessert a slice of Pecan Pie.


So tomorrow my Corpsman and I are going to try to get a tour of the "Bowels of the Ship", the Decks way below where the boiler and engine rooms are. We'll need a tour guide so we don't kill ourselves accidentally and special permission from the Ombudsmen or some other guy with a fancy Navy name that no one seems to understand, but it should be interesting to experience what it's like to work in 150 degree conditions and not see the light of day for days on end. Already there aren't any windows as it is and it's kind of like being in an Atlantic City or Vegas casino. But I can't imagine working down below.

So FYI my e-mail address on board is:
matyasrj@lhd6.navy.mil



I have been unable to access any other e-mail account, so if you've sent me something since last Thursday, I probably haven't gotten it.

More to follow on Chapter 2 in the next few days...

Ahoy Mate! (I don't think they say that here though)