The day was December 11, 1985.
The place, the United States Naval Base in Yokosuka, Japan.
The ship is the USS Lockwood, the only vessel I ever sailed on.
After four months in drydock for a routine overhaul, we put to sea
for a three day shakedown cruise to test out our new weapons and
systems. We were returning to Yokosuka late in the evening - no moon,
cloudy night, full dark, lots of industrial clutter messing with our surface
radar. The captain ordered the helmsman to take us across an outbound
shipping lane in order to return to harbor, and a large Filipino ore carrier,
the RPS Santo Nino, had just pulled out from anchorage and had not yet
turned on their running lights. We were struck just forward of the bridge.
I was in my bunk, about 40 feet aft and on the opposite side of the ship,
from the impact. The gash in our hull was 22 feet wide, 35 feet high,
and extended 10 feet into the skin of the ship. Had Santo Nino been going any
faster we might well have been cut in half. Miraculously, no one was killed.
The worst injury was a broken ankle, and the most permanent casualty was
our Captain's career - a talented officer I greatly admired, he was relieved
of command and issued a Punitive Letter of Reprimand, effectively killing
his chances of ever making Admiral. To this day the collision of the Lockwood
remains the scariest thing that has ever happened to me - I thought for
sure we might sink when I felt that huge, shuddering impact and heard the
hull ripping open!