The Indy

Early summer 1987, found me leaving my assignment in the Philippines. A mixture of excitement and concern marked my departure. My year and a half duty assignment at Subic, had without question, been an unbelievable adventure. Providing intelligence assistance during the New People’s Revolution, delivering firearms to Japanese Yakuza Members, and orchestrating a twenty million dollar heroin seizure, had coupled to fully authenticate my quest for a “Second Chance”. Not understanding why a second chance was even necessary just fueled my forward drive. As it had been during my Army and State Bureau days, forward movement became my primary focus

I had been in Philadelphia just a few days when I was introduced to the Commanding Officer of the U.S.S. Independence. The Captain’s name was “Buzz” Needham and upon my introduction, a flash thought came to me that it was going to be a long year aboard the Indy. We were in Capt. Needham's quarters on the Indy and the Captain was leaning back in his chair. The conversation had slowed a bit so the Skipper pipes in and asks if I had ever been on an aircraft carrier. His manner and tone indicated that he expected a “no” from me so I took a breath and said, “yes I have”.

The Skipper raised his brow and inquired which ship. My reply was, “Captain, it was this ship.” His follow question was “when was that” and I told him I had come aboard in 1968 with my Father, who at the time was AIMD Department head. He then jumped up and went to a book rack that held cruise books. He pulled one down and started flipping pages, stopping when he stepped forward towards me. He had his finger on a picture and asked is this your father? ‘’ Upon responding “yes” he loudly said “your shi — ing me”. I smiled and again told him that the picture was of my Father. The Skipper then laid the cruise book down and reached over to again shake my hand. As I thanked him and started to depart he commented that if you “need anything Steve let the XO or me know”. As I traversed back to

my quarters I was thinking that my year on the Indy might not be as long as I initially thought.

With the ship being in long-term dry dock repairs and refitting was the order of the day. A mixture of civilian shipyard workers and Sailors assigned to the Indy became my purview. Theft of Government equipment, narcotics investigations, and refitting the NIS Office aboard the Indy was the primary focus. NIS HQ had provided two new IBM computers still packed in shipping containers. Immediate concern was that without a doubt once unpacked, I did not have a “clue” as to the appropriate installation protocol. Adding to the dilemma was the hard fact that I was not “computer literate”. Learning long ago that an “operator — investigator” was only as strong as his resources, I managed to have a Petty Officer 1st Class, from the ship’s Master of Arms force attached to the “NIS mission” onboard the Indy. Petty Officer Averies was now my Partner and along with his computer skills, we would become a team.

In the summer of 1988 ship refitting and upgrades were completed. Orders were received transferring the Independence from the East Coast (Norfolk, Va.) to the West Coast (San Diego, Ca.). My one-year tour aboard the Indy was coming to a close. In preparation for my transfer, my replacement arrived aboard the Indy. Within a short time concern arose relating to his ability to effectively operate solo while the Indy was underway. Subsequent requests from LCDR Rolph the Indy’s Staff Judge Advocate resulted in NIS HQ extending my assignment until the ship’s arrival in San Diego.

Departing Norfolk, the Independence set course for San Diego. Course of travel would take the Indy “around the horn of Africa” and incorporate “port visits” in the U.S. Virgin Islands, Rio Deginaro, Brazil, Alcopolco, Mexico, culminating in her new homeport of San Diego, Ca.

Seemed as if we had barely gotten underway and the Indy was anchored just off the coast of St. Thomas. Ferries contracted transported crew members to shore for the age-old “liberty” or in civilian jargon Vacation. Steve Sarnoski, our legal officer, who had been a civilian police officer prior to joining the Navy, made quick work of making arrangements with local vendors for diving excursions. His “at ease” demeanor in the water coupled with an adventurous attitude made our dive excursions truly an escape from reality. The crystal clear water and abundant sea life just added to the “bigger than life” environment of the Islands. Two full days of ocean, beach and outstanding seafood climaxed with Sarnoski scheduling a night dive. Not wanting to appear “unnerved” I held back that I had minus zero experience with night diving. Clear water, underwater lights, what could possibly happen.

As I slowly dropped to about the twenty-foot depth mark all was “semi-okay”. However, aiding in my discomfort was the pinging sound of sonar being emitted by one of the Indy’s sister ships. All of a sudden a dark mass swam from beneath me and I felt a “creature” attacking my chest area. My “buddy” Sarnoski had managed to capture a lobster and instead of calmly showing it to me, he had decided to sneak up and plant it firmly on my neck and chest. I know it was not possible to hear laughter underwater, but as I panicked, spit my mouthpiece out, and swam to the surface I did hear “evil sounds of joy”.

Liberty concluded at midnight of our third day in the Virgin Islands and at first light, the Indy was back underway. Traditions in the Navy run deep with crossing the equator being ranked as one of the most reverent. Being a civilian with N.I.S. I felt secure in not falling victim to the transition of being promoted from a lowly Pollywog to a trusted Shellback. Neptune’s Kingdom and all rituals involved were for Sailors not for civilians and as such my plan was to “low profile” in my office/stateroom. Evidently, the Indy Master of Arms personnel did not recognize my civilian status. At about four a.m. I woke to loud knocking at my Stateroom door.

Upon opening, I was greeted by several trusted Shellbacks dressed appropriately as representatives of King Neptune’s Court. In their possession were papers alleging that I had violated Neptunes Laws of the

Sea by “associating with Officers instead of Enlisted personnel”. As I was taken into custody and escorted to the flight deck, I realized that Sarnoski was also in custody. His charge, however, was serious “violating creatures of Neptune’s kingdom”. Payback for his indecent “lobster” assault of me was now underway. A little more than a half-day of humiliating treatment on the flight deck ended with having to crawl into a makeshift coffin full of Limburger cheese. Once released all in attendance were now “Shellbacks — Trusted members of King Neptune’s Kingdom”.

As a civilian, I considered the opportunity to be inducted into “King Neptune’s Kingdom” a privilege and honor. Having it occur on the same ship my Father had served on twenty years prior only added to the uniqueness. Showing my Father my “King Neptune’s” Shellback card was as they say priceless.

Next scheduled port visit for the Indy was Rio De Janeiro, Brazil. Concern about local criminal elements in Rio targeting Sailors, along with previous port visits ending with U.S. Servicemen in Rio jails were the primary focus. With N.I.S.’s mission being a combination of Investigative and Counterintelligence support to the Indy I was selected to accompany other Senior personnel to fly into Rio prior to ship’s arrival.

Taking off and landing on an Aircraft carrier is obviously not the normal flying experience. Other than Naval Aviation personnel only a small percentage of personnel ever experience a carrier landing or take off. Old memories of helicopter flights evolving into casualty situations and airborne parachute drops going astray were now resurrected. Thankfully, time was short and before all was processed I was seated in a twin-engine plane referred to as a COD. Sitting backwards was strange but nothing about getting catapulted off an AirCraft Carrier is normal. Old lesions on tightening my parachute straps kicked in and my flight harness was cinched

to the max. Takeoff was more of a kick for going from a stationary position to a flying mode was a “catch your breath moment”. Landing in Rio was no different than other small aircraft I had flown in. Primary thought, exiting the aircraft was a relief for I would be leaving Rio by ship.

Due to the many NIS Offices being located all over the world “Liaison” with indigenous personnel, to include Military and Police Commanders is critical. To aid in developing relationships N.I.S . maintained a substantial gratuities inventory. Everything from wine and liquor to specialized equipment such as high quality handcuffs were available for distribution. Accompanying other senior Indy personnel into the Rio Policia Building we were greeted and escorted into the Police Commissioners Office. After initial introductions I presented a shiny new pair of Smith and Wesson handcuffs as an appreciation gift followed with a bottle of Jack Black whiskey. Although the Commissioner spoke only Portuguese the international smile and handshake pretty much set the tone.

The following day I returned to the Commissioners Office. My extra visit was to ensure that if any Indy personnel managed to work their way “into trouble” requiring Police intervention, that the perpetrator would be turned over to the Ship instead of finding himself incarcerated locally. As I greeted the Commissioner he immediately pointed towards his office wall, where the previous day’s gift “handcuffs”, were proudly displayed in a shadow box. As I exited his office I felt sure that my mission of ensuring no young Sailors would languish in a local Rio jail had been accomplished. Now I looked forward to several days of seeing all that Rio had to offer.

The hotel I was staying in was situated directly on the water between Copacabana and Ipanema Beach. Nightlife didn’t really crank in until ten to eleven p.m. However, an unbelievable number of “fine dining” restaurants opened earlier. Regardless of what your appetite was, availability was not an issue. Sarnoski and I discovered a British Pub that served world famous “fish and chips”. In addition, out of this world steak restaurants were plentiful along with Italian cuisine and seafood.

After finishing dinner Sarnoski and I had a few drinks and then proceeded to walk the short distance back to our hotel. Shortly after leaving the restaurant a car pulled up occupied by two young women. Enough English was spoken for Sarnoski and I to understand that they were inquiring if we were interested in going to a “Disco”. Seeing how the “Disco Fever day” was dead and gone in the States we reluctantly replied “yes”. Arrival at the “Disco” was unmistakable for the music was reverberating into the parking area. As Sarnarski and I escorted our newly acquired dates I was taken back on how attractive both were. Both had jet black hair and dark eyes that flashed with a mixture of danger and excitement. My date was dressed in cargo type shorts and a matching low cut knit pull over in a matching camouflage design. Her physical build was athletic and skin tone was dark brown with accents indicating recent beach activity.

The mixture of music, “whiskey”, and a drop dead gorgeous date made short work of getting rusty dance moves going. Sarnoski followed suit and before we realized it six a.m. arrived. As we exited the now “closed Disco” our new friends (dates) decided it was time for breakfast so a sidewalk cafe was found. During breakfast Sarnoski and I had a short private exchange. I personally was in disbelief in our good fortune of making the acquaintance of our “new gorgeous companions”. Sarnoski was a bit more subdued, saying, ``I think they might be working girls”. Short compilation resulted in me stating “no way” it all has been too spontaneous.

After breakfast Sarnoski and I separated. I proceeded back to my hotel in the company of my new friend. After a couple of hours of “sleep” my “friend” said it was time for her to go. Saying goodbye was initially awkward for my words “it was a great night” did not seem to quite make the grade. As I opened the door for my friend to leave her “all night smile” turned to a frown. Suddenly Sarnoski’s words hit and I reached for my wallet. My friend’s smile returned and my wallet was now empty. Meeting Sarnoski for lunch was all that was needed to deflate my belief about “how lucky” we both had been the previous evening. Only comments made “hell of a night” and “I don’t care what it cost”.

A day or so of the Indy being underway allowed for the rest I had missed during the Rio port visit. My assistant Agent, who remained aboard when I did the ships “advance visit” to Rio, was briefing me on a “loss of classified material” case he had responded to in my absence. First impression was no “big deal” as the details were laid out. Following morning however things changed abruptly. A call to report to the Bridge was received. As I entered I met Indy’s Communication Officer. As the Captain turned in his chair to address us he had on his hand a naval message. His manner and voice spelled annoyance verging on anger. Taking my lead from the Comm Officer I agreed “we would look into it” Captain.

Once free of the Bridge it was explained. Evidently my Assistant Agent, in my absence, had sent a classified message out relating to the “loss of classified material”. The message had been sent from one of the Indy’s group support ships and implicated the Indy as being responsible for the loss. Ramifications from the message had come back hard directly to Capt. Needham the Skipper of the Indy. Once back in my office area I summoned my Assistant. His explanation was without a doubt “lame” and clearly not based on a thorough thought process. A stern warning was applied as we both plotted a course to close the case that had generated the naval message “from hell”. Primary concern was to fully insulate Captain Needham from any further unneeded aggravation.

As the Indy made progress rounding the horn of Africa the anticipated rough seas were encountered. Close quarters were now the order of the day for the hanger bay and all other outside access was closed tight. As the days ticked by an analogy of working in “an underground mine” appeared. Thirteen straight days of not being able to see sunlight unexpectedly took a toll. Stress decompression was now the focus and maintaining a low profile was my mode.

A late night visit from the Comm. Officer abruptly destroyed any thoughts of reducing stress. At the initiation of the conversation I detected reluctance “in telling the whole story”. Once I convinced him that “whatever it is” can’t be dealt with if I don’t know he laid it out. As his words flowed it was all I could do to not blow. Seems that subordinates in his division had brought information to his attention that my Assistant Agent had been

“intimate” with a female Petty Officer from one of Indy’s support ships. Realizing that the P.O. The in question was the principal “witness” in the “loss of classified information” that had caused “our” ass chewing from the Captain put the cherry on my anger. After the Comm. Officer left I tried serious deep breathing exercises in an effort to decompress. Sending word to my Assistant that his presence was needed in my office space was next.

Once sitting across from my assistant I calmly asked questions about the interviews he had conducted in regards to the “classified compromise”. Once regurgitated I specifically asked about the primary female witness. Noting a hesitation in answering a “red flare” streaked through my mind. Without thought I grabbed the Agent and pinned him to the bulkhead. His feet were dangling as I “made my point” saying “my year and a half on the Indy and your career” lost over a “hard pecker”. As I dropped him to his feet I instructed him to “get the f — k out”. The following days were full of contemplation. Knowing that if I reported the incident to N.I.S. HQ my Assistant would no longer be an Agent and that “nothing positive” would result from the Indy’s Captain knowing, I decided to assume the responsibility to leave it marked as “addressed appropriately, no referral to HQ needed”.

Arrival in Acapulco, Mexico was marked with relief. A few days in Mexico and another week at sea would put the Independence in her new home (San Diego). It would also mark the end of my afloat assignment and allow my pending transfer to Camp Lejeune, N.C. to occur. Wanting to ensure my Assistant had no additional opportunities to “commit professional suicide” I remained on the Indy when we arrived in Mexico. Within a short time a message was received from the Indy’s Shore Party” that my assistance was needed at Fleet Landing. Evidently the Indy’s Shore Patrol personnel had encountered a situation which initially was “handled”, or in this case mishandled, by my Assistant Agent.

Upon arrival I discovered that an American Citizen had approached personnel at fleet landing, (Shore Patrol) and the Indy Officer in Charge, explaining he was a fugitive from Texas where he was wanted for 1st degree murder. Immediate inquiries conducted disclosed that the person, a U.S. Citizen, was in fact wanted by authorities in Mercedes, Texas for murder. Arrangements were made for the local Mexican authorities to “hold” the man until extradition arrangements could be formalized. Immediate contact was made with the Legal Attache (FBI), in the U.S. Embassy in Mexico City.

Discussions with the Officer in Charge at Fleet Landing disclosed that he had direct contact with my Assistant (Agent HP) prior to sending word back to Indy requesting my presence. According to the OIC Agent, HP indicated that there was “nothing he could do”. Trying to calm the OIC about the “lack of assistance” from Agent HP required ingenuity on my part. While explaining that Agent HP was “new and inexperienced” my brain was telling me “no good deed goes unpunished”. Asking Agent HP why he did not notify me instead of saying “nothing I can do” was fruitless. Rethinking my decision to not notify N.I.S. HQ about Agent HP’s continued to unfortunately ricochet between my ears.

Sarnoski being the perpetual “fun guy” set up a couple of scuba excursions for the two of us. Watching him break up sea urchins for “fish food” was comical but effective. Unbelievable variety of fish in every size and color. On the beach adjacent to our hotel was a recreation experience I tried to avoid. Sarnoski found it and once discovered our fate was sealed. A speed boat pulling a parasail was now our challenge. As I watched the boat pull him aloft I wondered “what could go wrong? A wide circle in the bay and a nice soft landing on the shore. Now my turn, the first issue was the boat could not pick up speed quick enough so I was brutalized by the waves before lift off. Once aloft I immediately remembered that I did not enjoy any of my parachute drops with the Army. Thinking that at least in the Army I was paid to jump just added to the drama of “having this new fun”. Landing time came and as I crashed into the surf my thought was “I’m having some fun now”.

Word came from the Embassy in Mexico City that our recently “captured” fugitive would be turned over to the U.S. Authorities after the Indy departed Acapulco. Surprise arrived a short time later when I was notified that myself and the Staff Judge Advocate would be present at the “custody” turn over. Once I was informed that the COD would deliver us back to the ship while it was underway my focus was “ I catapulted off the ship, landing on it should be a snap”.

That night Sarnoski and I ate dinner together and drank into the night. Once finished drinking he went aboard for “sea and anchor” preps for departure was first light. I on the other hand had one more and headed to my hotel room. Once in bed I realized my curtains had been left open. Earlier I had stared out the window and marveled at how beautiful Acapulco Bay was. Now fatigue coupled with too many drinks closed my eyes. At around seven a.m. I woke and proceeded to make a bathroom call. As I passed the open curtain my peripheral vision caught a glimpse of the Indy steaming out of port. Panic immediately set in for not being totally awake. My first thought was “I missed ship’s movement”. Old stories my father had related about Sailors “missing ships movement: reverberated. Shame, disgust and “how did this happen” remained for several seconds before I realized I was flying out to the Independence.

Once the formalities of turning over our “surrendered murder supect” were completed John Rolph and I traveled across the tarmac to the COD which would be our ride back to the Indy. Again being strapped in backwards was strange but unlike taking off landing, using an arresting cable would be without a doubt an abrupt stop. A last-second “wave off: by the Carrier elevated my tension level twofold. A snap-around maneuver and the sudden jolt of the cable spelled “landed safely”. A couple of days cruise into San Diego and once anchored my Afloat assignment aboard the U.S.S. Independence was completed.

A bit more than thirty years have now passed since my service aboard the U.S.S. Independence. Pride in my service, appreciation for being inducted into King Neptune’s Kingdom, doing a catapult take-off accompanied by a tail hook landing, are experiences I cherish. Although it took twenty years, I do believe my assignment to the Independence was “destiny” set when my Father took me aboard in the summer of 1968.

Recognition, prayers, and a huge “Thank you” to my Father LCDR Robert H. Smith, U.S. Navy. May he rest in peace.