In mid-1972, Coastal River Squadron TWO, Little Creek, VA, sent us PTF-17 and PTF-19 as the nucleus of Coastal River Division 21 formed at Great Lakes, IL.  The personnel mix of the unit was about 1/3 active Navy personnel to 2/3 Reserve personnel.  Naturally, everyone wanted to take these boats out at every opportunity and we got the Coast Guard to reopen the gunnery range in the middle of Lake Michigan so we could shoot the guns on the boats.

 

We had a surface gunnery shoot scheduled for our October drill weekend, but the weather decided to go bad on us.  Saturday dawned damp and overcast.  The wind had picked up and the lake water past the breakwater was showing a lot of chop.  By the time we were ready to get underway, approximately 0930, it had started raining and a storm was brewing.  Our attitudes remained undaunted; we hoped the storm would pass through by the time we got to the range.  We cast off and headed out to shoot the guns.

 

I was on the lead boat, PTF-17.  Once we cleared the breakwater that guarded the entrance to the harbor at Great Lakes Naval Training Center, we started receiving the full effect of the waves.  Everyone not on watch clustered in back of the bridge superstructure find something to hold onto and stay somewhat dry.  I was holding onto the grab rail with both hands and letting the calves of my legs act as shock absorbers while I watched PTF-19 follow us out.  Suddenly, the -19 boat hit a wave that seemed to launch it upwards until the hull came clear of the water.  I could see daylight between the keel and the wave as I watched the two counter-rotating props spinning.  Then the boat came crashing down in a great splash.  I thought to myself, "Damn.  This is going to be one rough ride."

 

It was a rough ride -- we pounded the living daylights out of the boat and ourselves getting to the gunnery area.  Unfortunately the storm had not abated by the time we got there and so the exercise was postponed for 24 hours.  We then did a 180 degree turn and headed back to base.  The ride home did not improve.  We were now heading into the wind and going against the waves.

 

We'd picked up a first class hospital corpsman to accompany us for the shoot (standard operating procedure was to have a corpsman present during life fire exercises).  The HM1 had seated himself on the aft 40mm Bofors gun and was holding on for all he was worth.  It seemed like every time he looked up, we'd hit a wave, and the spray would come back and drown him.  Several of us yelled at him to come forward to the relative dry area of the bridge superstructure.  He just clung on tighter and said he'd ridden worse on ocean minesweepers.  (The joke about the minesweepers was they took 45 degree rolls while tied at the pier.)

 

We finally made port, soaked and sore, but undaunted.  We finished the gunnery exercise the next day, but that particular HM1 never rode with us again for some unknown reason.