O Captain, My Captain

When I was in the Navy, I was a quartermaster. To the layman, I worked with the ship's navigation team. As such, you maintain the ship's course on a chart on the bridge. Chart is another name for map. In the quartermaster business,you never ever call it a map. Chart. Always a chart. So, here I am, on the bridge, plotting the ship's course on the CHART and the ship's Captian strolls over from his side of the bridge. Now, when the Captain of the world's largest aircraft carrier (at the time anyway) comes over to the plot table, he just wants an update of where we are, when the next course/speed change is coming, etc.  He's usually followed by about 20 officers all trying to kiss his butt, and one of them gets to give him a briefing at the plot table. So, being a lowly enlisted man, I drop what I'm doing and get out of the way. If you're lucky, maybe he'll ask you to give him the briefing, or at least acknowledge your puny existence.

The ship was the U.S.S Nimitz, and the commanding officer was Capt. Paul Ilg. That's right, Ilg. You pronounce it just like it reads. Anyway, he was a short & stocky little man. He lifted weights regularly, and was on the wrestling team at the Naval Academy. He was very soft spoken,  didn't really say all that much. The previous captain was a loud gregarious man, So Capt Ilg took a little getting used to.  The top of his head was graced with one of the worst man rugs I'd ever seen. When he was not on the bridge, it was the topic of conversation and ridicule.

So, I'm at the plot table, with my pencil and dividers, plotting the ship's course, and here comes the Captain. Guess who was so engrossed in what he was doing, he didn't see the old man coming? Before I knew it, I was bumped about a foot to the side, stumbled, dropped my pencil, my dividers (navigation tool). Really a graceful moment. My immediate thought was that it was one of my fellow enlisted guys being funny. I looked over and the Captain is standing there, with an extremely satisfied grin on his face. He slapped me on the back, and asked for his briefing. What could I do? I looked like an idiot in front of everybody, but the Captain was pleased, so it was all good. I gave him his briefing, and had a great story to tell everybody later.

A couple of days later, I was once again hunched over the plot table, and the Captain approached. This time, I saw him coming, and moved out of the way. He reached  the table, looked at me and gestured to "come here" by tapping on the table. I inched over, well aware of what he's going to do. He taps the table again, and I inched closer to him. I finally get next to him, and he bumped me out of the way. This of course, lead to uproarious laughter on the bridge.  A bit red faced, I gave hin his damn briefing, and he moved on. Now I had an even better story to tell.

Some months later he was relieved of command of the Nimitz. This is a regular occurence. A Captain will command a ship for two and a half, maybe three years, then move on to another assignment. There was a huge change of command ceremony, with hundreds in attendance, that we spent weeks getting ready for. The next day was Capt Ilg's last day on board. I was on the bridge, looking over some charts, and he came in. Being that we were at our homeport, I was alone  catching up some "inport" work. He came over and shook my hand, and made some small talk for a minute. Then he took a final look around the bridge, and went over where his chair was, and grabbed his ashtray.This was 26 years ago, and you could smoke on the bridge, or damn near anywhere on the ship. The Captain was a cigar smoker, much to the disgust of the non smoking senior officers, and most everybody else.  I, and most of my shipmates were cigarette smokers, so ashtrays on the bridge were a common sight. Nowadays, the entire fleet  is smoke free.

The ashtray he kept by his chair was huge! It was made of gold colored beveled glass, and weighed a ton. I know, I used to have to empty and clean the damn thing. It was a beautiful piece of work, and being a smoker, I thought it would look good on my coffee table at home. It was his bridge ashtray, and when he wasn't around, extreme care was taken not to move or, God forbid, break it.

He surveyed the bridge one last time, ashtray in hand. I was still over on my side of the bridge, dealing with charts. He called my name and said "Think fast!", and the next thing I knew, the ashtray was hurtling it's way across the bridge, all 40 pounds of it. Well, it was heavy, ok? I made a brilliant catch that would have rivaled anything Barry Sanders ever caught. Relieved that it was still in one piece, and trying to confirm weather or not I had actually"made" in my pants,  I was tempted to throw it back. I thought he was starting an impromptu game of catch. He then smiled and said I was a good shipmate, and left the bridge. It was then that I realized he had given me his bridge ashtray.

It's funny when you think about the kind of stuff you remember over the years. For some reason, that has always stuck with me. Sadly, I don't have the ashtray anymore. It got lost or broken somewhere along the way. But anytime I see one like it, I remember Capt Ilg. And  anytime I see a bad toupee, I remember Capt Ilg.