Ken Stephens #7 - My Kind of Admiral

My time sailing with the Annapolis Naval Sailing Association (ANSA) gave me access to some remarkable officers.

One thing I enjoyed about sailing on Geronimo was the fascinating variety of people in ANSA. Essentially everybody was current or former military. This eclectic group included several Navy Admirals and a number of people who were part of the intelligence community. 

My favorite Admiral had served in World War II. Whenever he sailed with us, in the afternoon, he would always go below and take a nap. Knowing that he had captained diesel submarines during the war, we procured a dive alarm from a World War II diesel submarine. Ah-OOO-ga, Ah-OOO-ga.

In the compartment where the Admiral took his naps, there was a ventilation port. To open it, we would move the handle in a circular (horizontal) fashion. On this hot summer day, the ventilation port was open.

After the Admiral was sound asleep, we stuck the dive alarm down the hatch: Ah-OOO-ga, Ah-OOO-ga. Those World War II brain neurons fired, the Admiral hit the deck, moved the vent port in its circular fashion (as though he were closing a submarine hatch), and yelled: “DIVE...DIVE.”

A few seconds later, he realized that he had only temporarily been transported back to his submarine days. He laughed as much at it as the rest of us did.

One perk of being a member of ANSA was that highly-experienced sailors could take the boats on an extended cruise during the off season (Winter). One year, this same Admiral and three other sailors took Geronimo to the Caribbean. 

All of us have heard of pirates, and during the 1970s, there was a problem with drug pirates. Drug cartels would capture sailboats in remote parts of the Caribbean, kill the sailors, run drugs with the boat, and then scuttle (sink) the boat to destroy the evidence.

As the Admiral and the rest of Geronimo's noble crew were enjoying the warm Caribbean weather, they realized they were being observed by drug pirates. The pirates were on another boat about a hundred yards away, looking at Geronimo with binoculars. 

The Admiral said, “[expletive], here we are with nothing to shoot with other than a flare gun. I'm not going down without a fight.” 

Navigation charts are frequently kept in black cylindrical chart cases about three inches in diameter and three or four feet long. The Admiral went below, emptied the charts from one such case, grabbed a bullhorn, and went up on deck.

He put that chart case on his shoulder, aimed it at the drug boat, and in a booming voice said: “This is an official United States Navy vessel. If you do not throw your weapons into the water immediately, I will blow you and your vessel out of the water with this anti-tank weapon.”

The pirates believed the chart case was a bazooka and threw their Uzis into the water, along with their pistols. 

“Lie face down on the deck, you scum!” 

Geronimo radioed the Bahamian authorities, who picked up the pirates. 

Now, that's my kind of Admiral. 

We can only hope that today’s leaders measure up to that standard.