On November 11, 1968 the USS Gyatt DD 712, a World War II era Navy Destroyer departed the D&S Piers in Norfolk Virginia. The purpose of that cruise was to test newly designed experimental water washdown systems. The Gyatt was bedecked with numerous pipes and nozzles, which when using high pressure pumps sprayed water from bow to stern and from the mast down to the waterline, to fulfill the washdown testing. The ship's course was to steam south while doing its test work, with an ultimate destination of sunny Key West Florida. There we were to have a few days rest and relaxation for the ships crew.

At least that was the Plan of the Day…

It was a typical day for mid November in Norfolk Virginia, cool and gray outdoors but not cold or wintry yet. The weather conditions upon leaving port gave no overt indication of the stormy seas that lay ahead of us. The crew knew that the upcoming days would be filled with many additional chores due to the water washdown experiments. We were kept busy already while underway with the daily watches and duties necessary to keep the Gyatt on course and fulfill its mission. I recall the first day at sea as being one of normal procedure. Leaving the Norfolk Naval Base we passed through Hampton Roads and into the Lynnhaven area offshore from Virginia Beach [map]. Then upon entering the Atlantic Ocean somewhere in the Virginia Capes we settled into our underway routines and assorted watches, mine being in the engine room standing 6-on-6-off watches in main control.. 

I was assigned to R-Division (repair division) and worked with A-Gang, the auxiliaries division of the engineering department, out of the machine shop. We were primarily responsible for the repair and upkeep of all auxiliary equipment on board such as pumps, steam fittings, diesel engines, gas turbines, A/C, motor whaleboat, etc. Our daily routine was the maintenance and repair of this equipment using the machine shops lathe, drill press and other machines or tools. When out to sea A-Gang also stood a variety of watches in the engine or boiler rooms.

The first day and night at sea passed uneventfully but as the second day progressed the weather began to change. The sky darkened as the morning went on and by early afternoon the ocean also showed signs of change for the worse. Sometime in the afternoon word had spread that we were headed into a storm. Early in the evening the bridge announced over the PA system to all hands something like "batten down all hatches" and "secure all spaces". That was the formal order from the bridge to stow away all loose gear and to tie down or otherwise make secure everything that we could. We were told that we were going to go through a severe storm tonight and to make the ship ready for rough seas!

The crew went about doing the tasks assigned to them. First securing their own spaces and work areas, then in turn going wherever directed to double check or resecure spaces and gear as needed. The machinist mate in charge of the machine shop had me go up into spaces above deck and after checking them I returned below deck dogging all watertight doors behind me. I remember what I saw while there.  In one of the spaces I went into above deck, possibly the chart room, there was a porthole facing forward overlooking the port side of the bow. A 5-inch gun mount was below and to my right. The last thing I did before closing its ornate brass cover was to look out of that porthole. Outside it was twilight and I saw the ocean as I had only seen it in pictures before. It was an angry white capped scene, enormous waves everywhere, with foamy white tops being scattered by the wind, our bow plunging deeply into their ferocity. That visual memory is awakened whenever I see scenes in movies like "The Perfect Storm."

After finishing the securing of the ship, we were allowed to return to our regular habits, as much as was possible to do. From nightfall onward the storms devastating strength increased dramatically by the hour. The combination of us steaming into the storm and it moving toward us quickly made travel inside the ship problematic. I recall walking down the passageway with feet firmly on the deck and in the next moment my feet were on the bulkhead as the ship rolled under me!  Bow up, roll to the right, bow down, roll to the left, each of these movements repeated virtually ad nauseam and ever more severely as conditions progressively worsened.

At this point I went below to my berthing compartment in R-Division which was in the less punishing stern of the ship. I tried to get some sleep before my next watch, but it was mostly an exercise in futility. To keep from being thrown out of my rack onto the deck with each drastic roll, I was forced to trice-up my rack by its chains so it was at a sharp angle to the bulkhead. I found myself literally trying to sleep in a V-shaped crotch to stay in my rack.

The rolling and pitching of the ship was accompanied now by strange loud sounds and vibrations. It was the kind of sound that steel makes when it is put through such tortures as the storm now dished out. Thinking back it is funny but during this part of the night I was actually in the relatively calmer, quieter part of the ship. The aft berthing compartments, being located in the stern, were ever so much calmer for us than for those who berthed up forward. I was to get some first hand knowledge of this fact later that same night. I may have caught forty winks but mostly I just listened to and felt the experience of it all. Wow, I really was “in the Navy now”!  Sometime around midnight I was snapped back to reality by the screeching sound of General Quarters being piped over the loudspeakers.

As General Quarters was sounding a voice over the PA also alerted us to repeated messages of "FIRE, FIRE, FIRE, fire on the mess deck all hands man your fire stations!"  You can imagine the scene, many men in darkened red lighted compartments, rushing to climb out of triced-up racks, jarred out of sleep by this real emergency!  As we hastily threw on clothing, and verbally reminded each other what our "stations" were, the storm meanwhile was reaching its peak.

I don't know if I remembered, or was reminded, but my "fire station" was to man a two person portable pump stowed in a nearby space. As I recall the other person was a shipmate from Georgia we called Peach Thompson. He and I were to take the hundred or so pound pump to the mess deck should it be needed. So, winding through the berthing compartments, up the ladder into the main passageway, we headed forward toward the mess deck. The state the main passageway was in is memorable.

In spite of the precautions taken in securing spaces a multitude of items had been let loose into the main passageway. A drawer here, a typewriter there, file folders, cups, pens and reams of paper had been dislodged and thrown about by the erratic motion of the ship. We made our way through this rubble and finally down the ladder leading to the mess deck. There we joined others looking in disbelief at a ghostly battle lantern lighted mess deck covered in what turned out to be lube oil.  Somewhere a pipe through which the oil flowed had broken and the entire mess deck was covered in a thick, super slick coating of crystal clear lubricating oil.

Imagine if you will, many men carrying lots of equipment, stepping into a large darkened mess deck, it's tiled floor coated in oil, while the whole affair rock-n-rolled as the ship plowed through the storm! If not on so important a mission the spills and falls that happened would have been funny. The many tables and other equipment in the mess deck are welded to the deck, so any of the many slides taken was abruptly and painfully stopped. It turned out the original "fire" was something  electrical and was quickly taken care of by those first on the scene.

With the immediate danger of the fire over we regrouped and started the cleanup steps needed for the oil removal. Lights now were back on, squeegees being brought out along with buckets and bales of rags. Mind you that the ship is now in the midst of the storms strongest fury.

As previously stated I was now getting "first hand knowledge" of how much more pronounced the motion and buffeting of the ship was here in the forward areas compared to the stern. Reminiscent of an amusement park ride the drastic ups and downs gave your stomach that "elevator" feeling like the floor had fallen away from you leaving your stomach to catch up!  I think it's called "feeling green." Shortly thereafter we in the mess deck area saw increasing activity and heard new exclamations of distress coming from further forward in the area above the Chiefs' quarters.

Moving forward from the mess deck the nature of the developing crisis in the bow was soon clear. As the ships bow went into and under the waves in an ever increasing cycle, the destructive strength of the ocean was remarkable. Now in the wee hours after midnight the discovery of water in the Chiefs' berthing compartment struck us with disbelief and renewed anxiety. Fortunately the men and gear were already in place to confront this new, fearful and potentially deadly situation.

The cause of the flooding in the Chiefs' quarters was apparent. Two decks above that space and separating the outside of the bow from the inside of the ship was the forward hatch. This was a large opening in the ships bow covered by a steel hatch. This hatch is closed down on the deck and dogged tightly shut in multiple places by way of a large gear driven wheel in the center of the hatch. None the less, in spite of its steel barrier, the ocean would have its way with that hatch.

The force of the water as the bow repeatedly went into and under the waves had literally peeled a corner of the forward hatch back, and with each wave across and over the bow it was letting in large quantities of water. As gravity did its job the water went down two decks below and was rapidly filling the Chiefs' quarters. A portable pump was in process of being rigged with its 3-inch hose to then be lowered down the stairwells and the water pumped out, preferably somewhere outside of the ship!

The next thing I knew we formed a chain of men up the two ladders and into the forward head. We began to bucket water hand to hand from the flooding compartment up to that head. As strange as that sounds I know it to be true as I was one of those men.

At some point during this bucket brigade I got moved to the bottom position in the chain and I remember the water being up to and wetting the tops of the Chiefs' footlockers. This chore went on for what seemed hours and I remember how heavy a full bucket of water was when handing it up over your head to the next man in line. All the while the roller coaster ride was going strong and that green feeling was becoming harder and harder to avoid.

 

The gap in the forward hatch at this point had been shimmed, slowing the incoming water and the portable pump had gained control. I was given a break bucketing and went up into the forward head. The carnage I saw there is noteworthy. Some guys were so seasick they were actually lying on the floor in what aptly could be described as "the bathroom from hell!' or maybe "puke city" describes it still better! I still sympathize and commiserate with those guys. By the dawns early light that storm had truly made this "a hell of a night at sea sir!"

The worst of the storm by morning had passed but its devastation would as the new day began, still be in evidence. As the cleanup progressed and the ocean eased into a more familiar rhythm we were reminded of its wrath by what took place at the breakfast chow call, or better said, what did not take place. Having been relieved from the night's work up forward, everyone including myself dispersed either to their racks or to tour the ship with curious inspection of the damage done.

Linking up with one of my shipmates I recall going below all the way aft to the steering gear room or “ram room” where the rudder “rams” met the last bulkhead at the aft end of the ship. There we saw an orange colored steel tank which carried freon or such. It had evidently broken loose during the storm and had wedged between the rudder mechanism. The fact that tank was made of steel but was bent like a horseshoe testified to the forces at work last night.

Oh yeah, back to that breakfast chow call!  A somewhat subdued whistle piped the morning meal and a tired voice announced "there is coffee and doughnuts in the galley if anyone is interested."  This was breakfast? My friend and I went forward to see what this meant. Turns out it meant that someone had turned on one of the large steam kettles filled with water and dumped a 5 or 10 pound bag of coffee grounds into it along with throwing a large open box of Krispy Kremes on the counter!  With the mess on the mess deck and the shape most stomachs were in after last night this seemed fitting!

The further southward we steamed and the further northward the storm went, the brighter and calmer the day became. As the weather cleared the crew ventured outside to survey the havoc wrought on the ship. Things that were there before the storm in many cases weren't there now. Substantial things like the rack of oxygen and acetylene bottles that were ripped from their bolted and chained positions along the port side. Lifelines and cables dangled while numerous covers and equipment had been torn away from the sides of the ship. The Gyatt looked as if she had been in a battle and had suffered some heavy hits. On the 13th of November we pulled into the base in Mayport Florida (Jacksonville) and spent 7 days there having repairs made.

This is how I remember our cruise to Key West and the storm. Although we were detoured and delayed in Mayport/Jacksonville making repairs, I also remember we did get that sunny rest and relaxation in Key West that we had set out for.  THE END…

Postscript ...

THE STORM DATE... NOVEMBER 12, 1968...

Depart Norfolk-      11th Nov.-  (for Virginia Capes Operation Areas)

Arrive Mayport-      13th Nov.-  (for 7 days of repairs and clean-up after the storm)

Depart Mayport-     21st Nov.-  (for Jacksonville Operation Areas)                      

Arrive Key West-    21st Nov.-  (for 3 days R+R after the storm)

Depart Key West-   24th Nov.-  (for Norfolk VA)

Arrive Norfolk-        26th November 1968

ABOUT THE STORM:  For an official statement on the strength of the storm and some trivia of the times, read what OPTEVFOR, the Navy's "Operational Test and Evaluation Force", said in this PDF!

ABOUT THE GYATT:  For six years from January 1963 to 1969, specially equipped for service with  OPTEVFOR, Gyatt operated in the Atlantic and Caribbean. The stresses of her missile-launching and hull-stabilized past eventually caught up with her however and when her hull began cracking from amidships aft, it was seen as cheaper to scrap than to maintain her. Decommissioned on 26 September 1969 and stricken on 22 October, years before many of her Gearing sisters, she was not retained as a museum ship as her crew had fondly hoped but expended as a target on 11 June 1970 off the Virginia Capes.   The  USS Gyatt on Christmas 1968.

                      

ABOUT MY STORY:  This story was written in 2005. The story represents the events that happened in 1968. While entirely true, certainly after thirty six years some embellishment has taken place. It is my best memory of what happened. I realize that discrepancies in its chronology or accuracy may well exist.  It's a story I've found myself repeating over the years to my family and friends. It's an expression of the excitement I remember from my youth. During my four years in the Navy it is the most exciting event I experienced. Although I am fond of all the fun times and the sometimes crazy adventures I had in those four years, this “sea story” is my most cherished.

The compulsion to write it down, lest it be unknown, stems from a Christmas visit with one of my grown sons (Matthew Edison) and his family. As I found myself retelling my "great storm story”, he patiently listened and I thought to myself “it was a good sea story”, a story that before being forgotten I needed to write down. Someday my grandchildren may also feel the power and majesty of the ocean if they read this story and perhaps they will tell a friend "once when my Granddad was in the Navy".

ABOUT ME:  My name is Wayne Trickett.  I served on the USS Gyatt from spring 68' thru fall 69' as an FN. I have great memories about that time in the Navy. After leaving the Gyatt I went on to become a 2nd Class Lithographer and was discharged in December 1971 after my four years service was done. At the time of the storm I was 20 yrs old…

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A True Sea Story...

by

Wayne  Trickett