When a nation's ship comes in

We may have all come on different ships, but we're in the same boat now.

Martin Luther King, Jr.

In a way, the Zumwalt looks like the old ironclad C.S. Virginia.

My son taking in the ceremonies as the the Zumwalt's crew is about to parade before the audience.

The Zumwalt's guns mean business.

BATH — My son learned about the christening of one of the newest U.S. naval warships from a dedicated English teacher at Edward Little High School.

We thought it would be a great experience to witness a small piece of history transpire at Bath Iron Works, which is located 25 miles from our home in Auburn.

After all, we both share a fascination and appreciation for military hardware and its history. Anthony has never lost his fascination with ships. When a tug boat was heading for open water down the Kennebec River during the christening, my son nudged my shoulder and directed my attention to the tug.

My son got clearance from his track coach, who is also a history teacher, to attend the christening. History teachers will do that for athletes who appreciate the past and have a genuine interest in the maritimes.

When we got a good look at the destroyer, we couldn't stop thinking about ironclads. This ship was indeed a throwback from era when wooden warships would quickly disappear in the fog of time.

The colossal destroyer U.S.S. Zumwalt looks like a damn ironclad left over from the American Civil War.

It's angular shapes, austere appearance and the protruding bow reminds me of crude iron warships that policed the seven seas for nearly 30 years before dreadnoughts appeared and traded powerful rounds with each other during World War I.

Open any history book about naval warfare during the Civil War and you will find a picture of the Confederate ironclad C.S.S. Virginia, which slugged it out with the U.S. Monitor for two days in March, 1862 at Hampton Roads, Virginia. The warships were the products of novel designs in naval architecture and engineering, and explained why wooden warships became obsolete in a matter of a few years.

Wood was no match for cold iron.

You can see the startling resemblance between the Zumwalt and Virginia, but of course ironclads would be no match for the $3 billion, 610-foot destroyer which was christened at Bath Iron Works on a warm Saturday morning before a crowd of nearly 6,000 people.

When this big bastard comes your way, find cover in a cave or better yet — leave town. This ship has stealth written all over it and is loaded with technology and firepower that makes this an intimidating and formidable weapon.

I am grateful this leviathan is on our side. Other warships just might go the other way or give the Zumwalt a wide berth when this behemoth appears on the horizon.

The destroyer features a 155mm gun that fires GPS-guided shells at targets more than 60 miles away. The skin of ship makes it harder to be detected by radar and is equipped with long-range missiles. Thanks to the ship's technology, only 158 sailors are required to man a destroyer with a displacement of 15,000 tons and travels at 30 knots. The bow is designed to cut through the water to make this warship sleek and fast. This is a ship with a low profile and perhaps a harder target to attack.

We walked around the huge shipyard before the Zumwalt came into view. Its size and shape is awesome. I snapped away with my Nikon, which also takes high-definition movies. I commend and marvel at the men and women who toil at BIW building these state-of-the-art warships. I had the privilege of viewing the Zumwalt's sister ship — the Michael Monsoor. It is amazing how skilled shipbuilders can put these giant steel puzzles together and create a warship.

But before we witnessed the christening, a slew of dignitaries and politicians began a long procession to the podium to make speeches that were sometimes too long and short on substance. Some of the speakers could have used a good editor with a sturdy red pen.

We crossed paths with a handful of brave sailors who will someday pilot this ship as it travels into harm's way. It takes brave men and women to go to sea for long periods of time. Sure, it's their duty, but this isn't just about taking orders or racing to their posts when battle stations is sounded throughout the ship. It is often a passion and dedication that many civilians can't comprehend.

Anthony and I kept hearing the name Captain James Kirk keeping popping up in some of the speeches. Was William Shatner also present to honor the crew of the Zumwalt? I wondered why Spock, Bones, Scotty and Chekov were not on board, and by the way, where the heck was the Enterprise?

It didn't take us long to figure out Captain James Kirk is a U.S. Naval Academy graduate who will be the first skipper of the Zumwalt, which is named after Admiral Elmo Zumwalt Jr., who shook up the U.S. Navy by getting this particular branch of the service to embrace equal rights.

After two hours of speeches, Anthony and I stood in the crowd as Zumwalt's daughters broke a couple of bottles of the good stuff against the modern ship thick skin.

Was it worth the two-hour wait to witness history at BIW?

This small moment in history brought a father and son closer together and triggered a long and deep conversation during the ride home between two men who truly understand why the past is forever linked to the present and future.

Groundhog's lucky day

AUBURN, Maine —  My neighbor and I were forced to take this groundhog out for a long walk.

It would be a one-way ride. The furry critter wasn't coming back. We didn't want the darn thing around the neighborhood. It was bringing down property values. Enraged gardeners were arming themselves with pitchforks, razor-sharp sickles, guns and Sherman tanks.

Don Michael Corleone reacted the same way in "The Godfather," when the family discovered Sal Tessio had become a traitor and was part of a conspiracy to eliminate poor Michael.

Like Tessio, the groundhog was about to disappear from Bennett Street for good. Its fate was sealed after it ravaged my broccoli plants. The animal was responsible for several missing tomato plants in my neighbor's yard. We knew the little scoundrel couldn't resist the fresh broccoli stored in the trap.

I wanted revenge and my pound of flesh.

Well, our neighbor bagged the fat fella.

I looked at the groundhog trapped in my neighbor's cage. It tried to buy itself time,  almost saying,"For old time's sake, Tony."

"Can't do it, groundhog," I coldly said. "Not this time."

Tessio's pleas for mercy were also ignored after the order was given by the Don to eliminate the bushwhacking Sal.

I looked at the nervous hairball in the cage. This animal was responsible for killing off three broccoli plants. It was murder, I tell ya. Those vegetables never had a chance against this animal's sharp teeth. I was damned if I would continue to contribute to this groundhog's vegetarian lifestyle.

It had to pay for the damaged seedlings, and we had to make an example of the hairy pest. If not, all groundhogs might think they could waltz into any backyard for a free meal.

After watching my garden survive six days of torrential rain, I wasn't about to let this scavenger make a meal out of my small farm.

But knocking off this cute, obese SOB was out of the question.

Groundhogs are nervous wrecks. They are always looking over their shoulders for the law. A little bit of noise sends them heading for the hills. These compact fat guys can really move when they are under duress.

Don decided to pack up his trap with the groundhog and relocate it about 10 miles from our neighborhood. It was sort of witness protection program for groundhogs that run amok.

But the location will remain undisclosed because there are some gardeners still seeking revenge.
And I want no part of a vigilante group.

After all, I am a friend to dogs, animals, bugs and groundhogs.

But nobody messes with Dad's Garden! 

Nobody!

Just ask Tessio.

Ships ahoy, and T with Lizzie Borden

Anthony pauses with the USS Massachusetts behind him.

Terri stands in front of the Massachusetts' 16-inch guns.

Anthony and dad stand in front of the Massachusetts' 16-inch guns.

Anthony and Terri check out the inside of the USS Lionfish.

Anthony stands on the conning tower of the USS Lionfish.

Anthony takes aim with the Lionfish's deck gun.

The U.S. Flag flutters in the wind at the stern of the Massachusetts.

“Men go back to the mountains, as they go back to sailing ships at sea, because in the mountains and on the sea they must face up.”

- Henry David Thoreau

       FALL RIVER, Mass. — We climbed up and down countless flights of steep stairs and squirmed through narrow hatchways in the bowels of World War II vessels for nearly four hours during Patriots' Day weekend.

These behemoths from the past stand at parade rest at Battleship Cove — a haven and an open-air, hands-on museum for proud ships, which stood in harm's way during conflicts around the globe. The site is located at the confluence of the Taunton River and Mount Hope Bay.

When you tour these floating marvels, get your sneakers on for a demanding workout that will leave your legs and back sore in the morning — and you reaching for a pain reliever. 

One clumsy move as you amble down a steep flight of stairs could cost you a broken leg or a nasty bump on the head. Snaking your way through tiny corridors is not for the claustrophobic and would give rats second thoughts about coming aboard.

Every flight I scaled left me wondering how brave sailors dashed through the ship's constricting hallways when the order for "Battle stations! This is not a drill!" was shouted over the public address system.

You see, we are history fanatics who savor our nation's military past. For us, going to Battleship Cove is like purchasing front-row seats at Hadlock Field or Fenway Park. Battleship Cove is one giant learning experience — especially for people who appreciate the sea and warships

Spend several hours on the decks of the USS battleship Massachusetts or the destroyer Joseph P. Kennedy and you will come to appreciate what courageous sailors endured when mighty guns blasted away at enemy targets in a naval engagement. 

I can't imagine batting down the hatches during a typhoon or the endless boredom in the blistering South Pacific heat, waiting for the enemy to appear on the horizon. Getting sleep below deck in those sweltering quarters must have been unbearable for these combat veterans.

Besides an eye-opening tour of ships, the Cove also offers "The Pearl Harbor Experience," a special-effects presentation in surround sound. Splashing water from the bay creates a simulation of enemy planes strafing ships while the presentation is shown on a giant screen.

Leaving Maine

We had been planning this whirlwind trip for some time. It was worth the journey.

Fall River is nearly four hours from our home in Auburn. There are several routes to get to Battleship Cove, but I charted a course straight through Boston.

 

Driving into the Hub is like the Joseph P. Kennedy maneuvering through a mine field. I am from the greater Boston area so I know drivers in the Bay State are a different breed and often resemble kamikaze pilots on the road. But when in Rome, do as the Romans do. And if that kind of thinking doesn't work for you in Boston, then damn the torpedos and full speed ahead as you race across the Tobin Bridge.

Once you are safely out of Boston, it is smooth sailing as you drive down Interstate 93 and then onto Route 24.  Jump onto Route 78 and head toward Fall River where the USS Massachusetts is clearly visible as you drive toward the Cove. It is a spectacular site even from the window of a moving car.

Treasure Cove

This trio of weary travelers found a parking spot about 100 yards from these magnificent ships. We grabbed the camera, took pictures of the Massachusetts' enormous propeller and hurried toward the looming goliaths resting on calm waters. The weather was just right as temperatures hovered around 70 degrees with a refreshing sea breeze.

We bought our tickets at the gift shop and went through a quick maze as we passed along the Joseph P. Kennedy. There are no tour guides at the Cove. So we decided to check out the PT Boats before we boarded the other ships.

The Mosquito Fleet

The Cove houses the PT 796 and 617. What I found surprising was their size and girth. These craft might look small in movies such as "PT 109," but they are huge and heavily armed.

According to the Cove's Web site, "these boats were generally 80' in length and carried a beam (width) of 20'. Typical armaments included four torpedoes and an assortment of 40 mm, 37 mm, 20 mm, and .50 caliber machine guns, depth charges, and rocket launchers. Three Packard Marine gasoline engines powered the boats to a top speed of 45 knots."

It takes about a good 45 minutes to peruse this exhibit, but when you see the various armaments, you will come to understand why these suped-up boats played an important roll during World War II.

The USS Massachusetts

Her crew of 2,100 lovingly referred to her as "Big Mamie." 

Touring the entire this vessel takes stamina. It's that big. But when hunger sets in and you don't mind fast food, check out the ship's mess hall. Cub Scouts were coming aboard to spend the night on her. 

What a bunch of lucky scouts.

The Massachusetts' 16-inch guns are massive. During its service in World War II, these weapons delivered ear-splitting, thunderous firepower. The ship, which was built in Quincy, Mass., saw action during the invasions of North Africa and the Marshall Islands.

Anthony and I found a way to get to the captain's bridge, where commanders called the shots from above those devastating 16-inch guns. Terri elected to remain below. After climbing several flights of stairs, I think she might have been right. But when you get to the bridge and sit in the captain's chair, you now have a front-row seat on one of the most powerful World War II battleships.

We discovered that one station housing the 40-millimeter Bofor guns are in working condition. Anthony put some elbow grease into raising the elevation of the guns and had fun sighting a target across the river.

The Joseph P. Kennedy, Jr.

Named after John F. Kennedy's oldest brother who was killed over the English Channel during the war, this sleek destroyer was commissioned in December 1945, too late to see action. But the proud ship served in the Korean Conflict and participated in the blockade during the Cuban missile crisis.

The Kennedy was one of the navy's workhorses for 27 years before being decommissioned in 1973.

The Hindensee

This unique warship was built in Russia and served in the East German People's Navy and then the Federal German Navy after reunification.

According to the Cove's Web site, the Hindensee carried long-range STYX anti-ship missiles and an array of defensive weapons designed to ensure her own survivability. The ship joined the Cove in 1997.

The USS Lionfish

Think small when you board this submarine and go below. It requires a lot of ducking and twisting and turning to move about in this cozy environment. The hatchways are four feet high, making it really difficult for guy like me who is stands at 6 foot 3.

A tour of the engine room and the subs' torpedoes   also makes you appreciate the men who served in the Silent Service.

When you are on deck, check out the conning tower and the sub's deadly deck gun.

The voyage home 

After an exhaustive tour of the Cove, we headed to the motel to make plans to drop in for tea with Lizzie Borden the next day. Of course, I got lost heading to the Comfort Inn, but one of Fall River's finest, officer Jason Staley gave us a police escort to the motel, which was just up the road. Talk about excellent community police work.

Of course, Lizzie is no longer with us. Her trial and subsequent acquital for the hatchet murders of both her parents in their home still draws curious tourists to 92 2nd Street No. 230 in Fall River.

We stopped twice for directions. One young man asked why we wanted to go "there." He said, "A lot bad things happened there, man. Stay away from there, man."

He was right, but my wife, who ardently believes ghosts lurk inside the Borden home, wanted to stand outside for a picture.

Why not. After all, it was once a horrific crime scene that ended in a dramatic trial.

Despite a round-trip of 430 miles and making the gas companies richer, I had the privilege of touring historic ships with my son and wife.

Some families find fun and happiness in the "hurry up and wait" atmosphere at Disney Land. We found our enjoyment on the decks of old battle wagons from an era when Americans banded together during one of the ugliest moments in mankind.

Games fathers and sons play

AUBURN, Maine - My eyes never leave the board when he makes his next move.

He is a cunning and dangerous tactician who knows how to maneuver his fleet of old battle wagons and carriers and place my ships in harm's way.

I try to stay a step ahead of my son, Anthony, but where ever I direct my battleships and submarines, he is there to meet me  with his intrepid and deadly fleet. 

He doesn't miss a thing.

This is not chess; this is war!

Well, not exactly.

It's a game without the video. No need for technology and the joy stick. You have to use your brain, especially when you send your planes on a mission to knock out a carrier or the other big bastards — cruisers and destroyers.

There are plenty of curve balls along the way as two navies slug it out on the open waters of the Atlantic.

Welcome to "Axis and Allies" — a game where naval tactics and the ability to keep your eye on your opponent and playing cards at the same time means life or death when you begin blasting away at each other.

Take your eye off the helm and just watch him deep-six a key battleship.

A friend of mine once told me fishing isn't really about catching fish. He said angling is about time you spend with someone you love. Sure, reeling in "The Big One" after a 10-minute tussle with a stubborn bottom-dweller is rewarding, but watching my smiling son proudly pulling in his own fish is priceless.

It's true. It is not about the fishing, and hiking isn't about just walking in the woods on a warm summer day. During these moments of leisure, random conversations appear out of nowhere as we cast our lines or make our way along a trail. We reveal ourselves and swap dreams and ambitions on a sandy pond. Our talks cement our relationships as we travel in our tiny universe.

Our big board game that consumes us in a cellar on rainy days keeps my son and I connected and reinforces our mutual interests about history. The hours we spend trying to strafe, bomb, sink or torpedo our fleets is as equally important as our conversations that emerge during a surface battle.

Look, there is nothing I like better than sending one of his battleships to the bottom. I know he takes great joy in deep-sixing one of my carriers.

And we both take pleasure watching our destroyers and cruisers pelt each other with their 10- and 5-inch guns with the roll of a dice.

We are both trying to rule the high seas as we roam this vast ocean, but in between setting our flotillas on a course of destruction, we strike up discussions during these fire fights. No topic is taboo. We share our stories of the past and opinions about the present.

There are a lot of things I could be doing around the house.  

But I know I will never spend these precious moments with Anthony again. I sop up these minutes with my son, knowing all along that the games we play will not continue forever , although I wish they could.