Battle Stations! by Ron Helle

“Battle stations, battle stations! All hands man your battle stations!” The blaring alarm generated an immediate reaction as I sat up in my bunk, only to hit my head on the overhead. I missed the part of the announcement that said, “This is a drill.” I was an 18-year-old Marine en route to Vietnam on a Navy transport ship. I was learning that the junior enlisted ranks were not privy to most of the shipboard routines, so we were all caught by surprise.

I had taken the top bunk of a four-tier bunk bed having been told by the old “salts” that if the guy on top got seasick, it was “lookout below!” The downside was that there was not sufficient overhead clearance to sit up erect. Maybe it was the bang on the head, but my mind went to the World War II movies and TV shows with thoughts of torpedoes and enemy aircraft. My sergeant alleviated my fears when he informed me it was only a drill. ….

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