COMMAND OF MCMORRIS

My name was Halouk Rodolphe at birth in Paris. I became Rudolph (Rudy) Halouk when my family and I rejoined my father in New York after the occupation of France in World War II, and I started at St. Agnes Elementary School. I was called Mister when I became a Naval Officer. Now you can call me Captain.

Though a memoir is usually linear from birth, this telling starts at age thirty-three. That is because achieving command of a warship had been the ultimate goal of this sailor, and the story of command of the McMorris is central to my odyssey. Every sailor hopes that going down to the sea in ships will lead to the challenges of command.

It was 1966. Ten years out of the Naval Academy and thirty-three years old with three young sons, the Lieutenant Commander (LCDR) had completed a tour as Executive Officer of a guided missile destroyer, USS Buchanan (DDG-14), home-ported in San Diego. The LCDR stepped up to read his orders aloud to the ship's assembled officers, crew, Squadron Commander, guests, and families, on board McMorris in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. He turned to his predecessor, saluted, and said, "I relieve you, sir." He turned to his Squadron Commander. "I report for duty as commanding officer, USS McMorris, sir."

The Commodore responded, "Very well!"

The new Captain then turned to the microphone. It is usual for a new Captain to make some remarks at length, relevant platitudes—again at length—to thank the previous Captain for turning over a fine ship, et cetera, et cetera. Instead, in his hubris, the new Captain said, "Fair winds and following seas to you, Commander. All orders currently in effect will remain in effect until changed by me. Executive Officer, take charge!"

Without hesitation, the Executive Officer responded, "Aye, aye, sir!" and saluted. The Captain returned the salute and went to kiss his wife and three sons, sitting in the first row.

The Executive Officer, also an Academy graduate, two years the Captain's junior, had a slight frame, sandy hair, and intelligent, sensitive eyes. The Captain felt that together, he and his Number One would do well by the good ship McMorris. The Captain was right. The XO was a great ship handler with a terrific touch. He applied that same touch in handling the crew, eleven officers, and a complement of 157 Bluejackets.

The first underway was from Bravo Pier at Pearl Harbor, nestled between a pair of destroyers fore and aft. That bright summer morning, the XO came to the Captain's cabin and reported that the Special Sea and Anchor Detail was set and they were ready to go. A tug was standing by off the stern.

"Thank you, XO," the Captain said. "Have the Officer of the Deck call me when we are ready to get underway."

"Aye, aye, sir!" the XO said, and left the cabin.

The Officer of the Deck (OOD) soon called. "Ready to get underway, Captain. Main engines are ready to answer all bells."

"Very well," the Captain responded, and proceeded to the bridge.

"Captain's on the bridge," announced the Bridge Messenger.

The Captain went to the starboard wing, looked over the side, and called the OOD front and center. "You are not ready to get under way. Your lines are still doubled up," he said quietly, and left the bridge.

The OOD called a few minutes later. "Captain, the ship is ready to get underway. Main engines ready to answer all bells. All lines are singled up."

"Very well," the Captain said, and returned to the bridge.

"Captain's on the bridge," announced the Messenger once more.

"Take in one, three, four, five, and six," the Captain said. "Main control stand by to answer all bells." He strode to the starboard wing and looked over the side. His sharp crew understood the meaning. All lines, except for the number 2 line, were already loosed and almost on deck. The line handlers formed up in single lines and stood tall.

"Right full rudder, ahead one third," he ordered. As the ship strained forward on the number 2 line, the stern swung out. As the stern cleared the outboard of two destroyers astern, he ordered in quick succession, "All stop, rudder amidships, take in two. All engines back two-thirds."

As the ship got sternway, number 2 line slacked, and the line handlers took it aboard smartly.

What a ship! It was like squeezing toothpaste out of a tube. In the stream away from the pier, the ship turned to head fair and moved out to sea at two-thirds speed. What a crew! Sharp and responsive. They stood tall. They appeared proud that their Captain could handle their ship in a most seamanlike manner without depending on tugs. They would get along, this Captain and crew.

They got to know each other as they headed for Midway Island and the North Pacific on a highly classified surveillance operation. Prior to arriving at Midway to take on fuel, he Captain studied the Sailing Directions. The current in the channel ran seven to ten knots and changed direction as it ricocheted off the coral on either side of the entrance passage. Arriving at Midway, the Captain took the conn—his first mooring of McMorris—then ordered eighteen knots and entered the channel. He adjusted course to compensate for the shifting set of the current opposing the ship. As they entered the basin, the opposing current slacked off and the ship surged quickly to eighteen knots.

"Left standard rudder. Engines ahead two-thirds," he ordered.

McMorris came left and slowed. The basin was smaller than he'd expected. He looked for the assigned pier. "XO, where is our berth?" he asked.

"Right there! We're going by it," responded the XO as the ship passed it by at ten knots.

"Okay," the Captain said calmly. "All engines stop, half-full rudder."

The ship made for the next pier smartly and moored. The Harbor Master ran over from the first pier and hollered,...