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BY KELLEY BOUCHARD
“Thanks for your work, BIW; thanks for your work…”
BATH, MAINE, FEBRUARY 7TH— At Bath Iron Works, shipyard of her birth, two tugboats let go and USS Winston S. Churchill was underway, headed for the mouth of the Kennebec River and the Atlantic Ocean beyond. As the Navy destroyer passed the docks at Bath Iron Works, Cdr. Michael Franken issued a heartfelt farewell over the loudspeaker: “Thanks for your work, BIW; thanks for your work.”
Wednesday’s voyage was the ship’s first with a Navy crew. By nightfall, the Arleigh Burke-class guided-missile destroyer had traveled 105 miles to the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard in Kittery, Maine. Later she was bound for New York and then Norfolk, Virginia for her formal commissioning ceremony. In August she heads across the Atlantic for a three-month goodwill tour of the United Kingdom.
The $1 billion destroyer is named for the British prime minister who distinguished himself as a statesman for an unprecedented sixty years and as a leader during World War II from 1939 to 1945. Churchill is the fourth Briton to become a namesake of a U.S. warship. The others were all Revolutionary War vessels, the armed merchantman Alfred and the frigates Raleigh and Effingham.
Churchill won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1953, and President John E Kennedy named him an honorary U.S. citizen in 1963. A copy of one of Churchill’s paintings, the Impressionistic “Goldfish Pond at Chartwell,” hangs in the ship’s wardroom, donated by Churchill’s daughter, Lady Soames. Naming the ship for Churchill impressed its crew, which includes several Maine natives. “I think it’s a great choice, considering what the ship’s mission is, as a deterrent and a power protector, and what Churchill’s policies were,” said Carl Folmer, 34, a chief petty officer who grew up in West Gouldsboro and who has served sixteen years in the Navy.
To honor U.S. military ties with the United Kingdom, a British sailor has been permanently assigned to serve as navigator of the Winston S. Churchill. Lt. Angus Essenhigh will fill the position for two years, while an American sailor serves with the British on the HMS Marlborough. “I was quite pleased when I found out it was going to be me,” Essenhigh said.
Launched in April 1999, Winston S. Churchill is the 31st of 51 Arleigh Burke destroyers to be built in Bath and Mississippi. BIW is currently building three others. It took nearly two years fully to equip and test the Churchill after her launching. The ship will return to Bath in about a year for a warranty checkup.
The ship left BIW at 10:45 a.m. Wednesday with little fanfare. The only visible send-off came from members of the Hyde School girls’ basketball team. Ensign Julie Graham, 23, played basketball at the U.S. Naval Academy. While stationed in Maine during the past several months, she shot hoops at Hyde, a private high school in Bath, to keep fit, and ended up being drafted to coach the girls’ team. About fifteen members lined the Sagadahoc Bridge to bid farewell to Graham. “It’s pretty touching,” she said. “I’m going to miss them.”
With a crew of 350, including 55 women, Winston S. Churchill hugged the Maine coastline 25 miles offshore and traveled at a top speed of 34 knots. Sea spray from the rear flight deck formed a “rooster tail” that plumed 35 feet in the salty air. The dull-gray ship is 513 feet long and 66 feet wide. It is never silent, what with the grind of turbine engines and the hum of a massive ventilation system. Below deck, the ship is a series of passages, airlocks and ladders that sometimes confound even experienced crew.
Heavy-latching doors, raised thresholds and maze-like hallways turn walking into a regular workout. Everywhere are exposed pipes, plugs, vents, hoses, valves, dials and rivets. Most everything is labeled and numbered with military efficiency, even windows. But labels don’t help much when trying to understand Navy terminology and lingo.
A “scuttle” is a circular hatch. “Sliders” are hamburgers, served every Wednesday for lunch in the mess, which is better known as Sir Winston’s Royal Cafe. A “helo” is a helicopter. A “decon station” is where sailors would go to rinse off if they were hit by chemical or biological weapons. A “CHT system” is the ship’s collection, holding and transfer system, better known as the onboard septic system. A CIWS, pronounced “see-whiz,” is a close-in weapons system, which fires depleted uranium bullets at 4,500 rounds per minute to disable inbound missiles. The VLS is the ship’s vertical launch system, which sends up Tomahawk missiles. (This is nothing compared to what Lt. Essenhigh had to learn: “buoys” are pronounced “boys” in English-English; there is an entirely different term for CIC, Combat Information Center, the heart of the ship’s data and fighting control, and so on. -Ed.)
Despite close quarters, stacked bunks and sometimes-difficult living conditions, crew members find time for normal, everyday activities. A sailor bows his head in prayer before eating lunch. Two crew members chat while leaning at a 60-degree angle as the ship completes a 360-degree turn. An automatic teller machine, post office, regular news bulletins and laptop computers offer links to home. A bottle of balsamic vinegar and a pepper mill add gourmet touches to the salad bar.
But crew members never forget that Winston S. Churchill is a warship. Sailors move quickly and communicate with military precision about the simplest tasks, so they are prepared for battle at all times. Crew members in CIC process radar and other information with help from massive video screens. Sailors on the bridge constantly scan the horizon because, even in the 21st century, they are still the eyes of the ship. On the forward deck, known as the forecastle, is a 5-inch, .62-caliber gun, the first of its kind to be mounted on an Arleigh Burke class destroyer. It fires extended-range, guided munitions that spout fins and glide to targets as far as 68 miles away.
Even as Winston S. Churchill met another pair of tugboats in Portsmouth Harbor and came to rest at the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard on Wednesday night, her purpose remained clear. “The mission of this ship is to fight wars and win,” said Lcdr. James Morrison, 34, of Chicago. “That’s what she’s built for.”
This article, which first appeared in the Portland Press Herald on 8 February 2001, is reprinted by kind permission of the newspaper.
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