Memories of Higgins: To Sea, To Sea

Dear Mom and Dad,

Sorry about not being able to write back home these past few weeks. Apart for the time I spent getting my transfer arrangements in order, there was more work to do on the ship I got assigned to than I expected. Everybody’s been busy prepping up for our ship’s final deployment… Heh, that sounds pretty out-of-place, since this is my first overseas deployment ever. Higgins is a fine destroyer, old as she may be, and she has an equally fine crew manning her. In the few days I’ve been with my new crewmates, I got to see how much of a beehive of activity Ol’ Higgins really is. I’ve only been here for a short while, but it already feels like I’m with a great family. Higgins has become my new home away from home, and despite being aboard her for only a short while I feel sad that, after this rotation, she might be sent off to the breakers…

Anyway, let me tell you about life aboard.  I know being in the Navy means being busy all the time, but I never really saw that concept in action until I got assigned to Higgins. The moment I got my seabag dropped on my assigned bunk, my bunkmate and I—Kevin’s his name, great dude from St. Louis—got shaken up by our chief and pulled to help get the food supplies aboard, and then it snowballed to more stuff needing to be carried aboard. You can’t imagine how much stuff a Burke needs to pack, even for a single voyage. I literally felt I spent my whole first day aboard lugging crates, cardboard boxes and pallets around. Of course, I’ll do a lot more lugging around in my future, so I guess that was just preparation for my work.

The second day was a bit smoother but no less hectic. Chief Garza, my new boss, introduced me to the rest of my new team: panel operator Jameson, and fellow loaders Crisp and Woo. Kevin rounded up our little band. Right after introductions, we went straight to business. The chief gave out a speech of sorts, emphasizing on “the role we play as gun crews in a Navy that’s slowly being encroached by missile-loving cultists who can’t operate a five-incher to save their asses”. Everybody else laughed except for me, and that earned me a trip to the galley for the next three nights to peel potatoes (I found out from the galley boys later that it was a hazing ritual for the new gun crewmen that the chief made up since he first became a gun captain). The rest of the day was spent familiarizing myself with the weapons system, basic station damage control training, and joint team practice with everybody else. I still have a long way to go before I can work as fast as my teammates though. By the way, I’ve attached pictures of the team as well as my other crewmates, so take a look when you get a chance.

In between periods of PT, rigorous team training, helping out in maintenance and cleaning work, and getting yelled at from head to foot by the chief (normal Navy routine, nothing to worry about), I snuck in some time to get around the ship. You know, you’ll never realize how big a Burke really is until you actually get to walk through her passageways and find at least six ways to reach the same point from different directions without overlapping. I also got to know some of my fellow ratings a little bit more. I’ve met three hull techs who live upstate from us, even. Pretty small world, eh?

I was surprised to find that Higgins actually has a small jarhead—err, sorry, marine—complement embarked aboard her. I only found out later during morning chow; as I was holding out my hand to grab the carafe, somebody came swooping in from out of nowhere and took the whole thing. The cook poked his head out a little bit later and told me that Mister I-own-all-the-coffee-on-this-ship was actually a marine that the crew liked to call Corporal Hate, and that it was in my best interest that I let him have the carafe in the morning. I tried asking why he was called that and why he had such an obsession with morning Joe, but the cook just gave a shrug. Some things are best left to the imagination, it seems.

I finally got to meet Higgins’ skipper on our last week before shipping out. Captain Ryan Settle really was something, in my opinion. He had the grizzled look of the veteran Burke skipper, and with good reason; he’s been at the helm of Higgins for most of his career. Some of the older sailors told me he’s taking this last mission a little harder than most of us but he’s good at not showing it. He really, REALLY loves this ship, they said. Frankly, I really don’t see it; probably because he has this perpetual scowl on his face as his default expression. I guess I’ll get to know him better when we’re finally underway.

I guess that’s all I can tell you for now. We’ll be heading off tomorrow afternoon, and I won’t be able to contact you all again until we make port at Yokosuka. I hope you all stay safe. Tell Terry and Aileen they won’t get any gifts from Santa if they don’t pass their exams. Also, please don’t forget to give my Custer the vitamins that the vet prescribed to him. Take care, all of you. You’ll be hearing from me soon enough.

Your Son, Andy

PS: Dad, I visited that jewelry shop you recommended to me here in San Diego. The ring design was amazing, and the jeweler was kind enough to let me pay for it in increments until I can save a large enough sum from my pay to fill up the difference. As soon as I get settled down at Yokosuka I’d probably invite Veronica over for a vacation, and that’s where I’ll pop the question. Sorry if I can’t do it with all of you around; you know how bad I am when doing stuff like this around you guys. I’ll have some of my buddies take videos for all of you, so don’t worry. Again, please stay safe. I miss you all.



--Gunner’s Mate Second Class Andrew Quilford sustained critical injuries while manning his station in USS Higgins’ below-deck gun mount during the Battle of Los Angeles.  He was evacuated to Naval Medical Center San Diego, where he dropped into a coma after doctors raced to save his life. Despite their best efforts however, Quilford succumbed to his wounds one week later. He was 27.--