Memories on the Midway

     While walking on the decks of the USS Midway, which is now nestled in San Diego’s harbor as a museum of maritime memories, my grandson Josiah, who accompanied me during a recent tour, remarked to another young tourist that his grandpa had been stationed on this ship.  Clearly impressed, the curious youth asked, “Is he still alive?”

     Yes, I’m still alive, as are the precious memories aboard the USS Midway that changed my life forever.  I certainly had no idea how profound that change would be when, on September 11, 1973, the Midway left Alameda for her new home port in Yokosuka, Japan, arriving on October 5, 1973 along with Carrier Air Wing Five, becoming the first forward-deployment of a carrier task group in a Japanese port.  In order to grasp the eternal depth of the change that took place, it will help to revisit my boot camp experience at Recruit Training Center (RTC) San Diego.

     In the summer of 1972 during my training at RTC San Diego, a Christian recruit in my unit, Joe Lieggi, asked me if I would be interested in talking about spiritual things.  He didn’t know that I had been pondering the uncomfortable inevitability of eternity for quite awhile, wondering if there was a credible answer to the question about what happens beyond the grave.  I accepted his offer, unloading years of my frustrated silence, challenging him to PROVE that his Christian view was right, to the exclusion of every other competing point of view.  He could not answer me, either to his satisfaction or mine, as he had only been a Christian a short while, and was frankly not prepared to objectively defend his faith.  I was a discouragement to him.  He was a disappointment to me.  But that would not be the last that I would hear from Joe Lieggi.  My first duty station was in Naval Air Station (NAS) Lemoore, California, where Joe Lieggi caught up with me again.  He said that he was prepared to give me the answers that he had been unable to articulate in our last meeting.  At the time I was with another guitar-playing buddy who was definitely not interested in his presentation, so I put him off politely, and never found the time to get together with him while at NAS Lemoore.  Next stop:  USS Midway.

     Junior enlisted life on the USS Midway had its share of lonely midnight to 0400 watches on the flight deck.  That is where I began to really regret my missed opportunity to speak with Joe Lieggi at NAS Lemoore.  This was especially true after a catastrophic incident in my aircraft squadron (VA-56) just 17 days after our arrival in Yokosuka, Japan.  On October 22, 1973, one of our A-7A Corsair II pilots, LTJG Goodrow, was fatally involved in a mid-air collision with an EA-6A Intruder aircraft (VMCJ-1).  The SH-3G helicopter which was assigned to go to the collision site crashed off of Midway’s bow upon take-off for the SAR mission.  All three of the helicopter crew members perished.  That incident began to speak to me forcefully during those long mid-watches of gnawing emptiness.  Eternity.  Like it or not (I didn't), that ultimate reality was undeniably there, and I was right on LTJG Goodrow's heels, whether it was 10 minutes, 10 years, or more.  In a virtual blink of an eye (compared to eternity), I would be there.  Was there no way to know the truth?  I began to share my honest concerns with some of my closest shipmates; it only served to alienate them.  How bitterly alone I felt in an insanely apathetic world!  Who could I turn to?  That was when I began to formulate my crude "God, if You're there" prayers during those late night watches, complaining that if He WAS there, I was still looking for credible proof.  I was interested in hearing from Him if He was inclined to make Himself known to me.  What an awkward prayer!  Who would bother to give it any attention?  Answer:  The living God!  He looked right past the audacity of that prayer, and in pity saw my anguish.  It seemed that, without an audible voice answering me, I began to perceive the clear logic that God had neither been silent nor absent on the stage of earth, but had so uniquely identified Himself by the impact of Jesus Christ that our calendar is universally marked by His arrival into this world (B.C./A.D.).  I began to be stirred with a sense that God was breaking the silence— and that I had better pay attention!  Shortly after that, a Christian shipmate, Tony Tamble, asked me if I would like to go with him to the Christian Servicemen's Center in Yokosuka, Japan.  I accepted his invitation, intending to launch the same challenging questions there that I had raised with Joe Lieggi in boot camp.

 

     It was December 28, 1973.  The Christmas season seemed to reinforce in my mind that God had historically left His impact on this world.  I arrived with Tony Tamble at the Christian Servicemen's Center and was seated in a room with others who were listening to a visiting missionary, Dick Patty, who was presenting a testimony about his personal experience with Christ.  I listened, but was still preoccupied with my own unanswered questions, wondering if I could get honest answers, or if I would just be dismissed.  Was there actually concrete evidence that allowed people to logically accept the claims that God had unmistakably made Himself known?  Was there a way, apart from the confusion of conflicting religious traditions, to really know God?  Without spending too much time on the details of the conversation that followed, I was so relieved to find that my questions were not regarded as defiant threats, but were patiently answered in a way which convinced me that there was ample evidence to confidently trust in the Lord Jesus Christ. The bottom line was plain:  I was a sinner (Romans 3:23).  I needed a Savior (Isaiah 45:21,22).  The Lord Jesus Christ was alone qualified to save sinners (John 14:6, 1 Timothy 1:15).  So now what was I going to do about it?  Dick Patty said that my condition was like being in a burning building.  There was an open window, the singular way out, and the One standing at the window was well able to rescue me, if only I would let Him.  The building floor was heated with the rising flames, and at any moment my hesitation could seal my doom... forever.  Mr. Patty asked me if I wanted to pray to receive Christ as my Savior, in view of the promise that He would enter if I sincerely invited Him (John 1:12,13, Revelation 3:20).  I prayed one of the clumsiest prayers I have ever prayed, and was saved by the grace of God.  I went back to the ship that night with a thrill that seemed to increase with every step back to the Midway.  I knelt down again on the green tile floor of my berthing compartment and thanked the Lord for saving me, repeating my prayer to receive Him in order to be sure that it was a settled personal matter between me and the Lord.  I was born again!  The Midway became my mission field with every meal conversation and every long line in which I stood (haircuts, chow, payday, etc.) to share my evidence-based faith with anyone who would listen.  Yes, I learned that speaking to people about Christ who weren’t interested in the truth was ineffective, yet I also learned that there were many who were genuinely searching for answers just as I was, anxious to hear a clear explanation of the Gospel in view of fulfilled prophecy, the historical reality of the Lord Jesus Christ, and His victorious resurrection.   

     Not long after this, I was transferred to the USS Kitty Hawk and stationed in San Diego, where I visited the Servicemen's Christian Home directed by Byron and Pearl Berry.  They sacrificially mentored me (and others like me) to grow in practical Christ-centered discipleship, Bible study, evangelism, and most of all, in the sincere worship of the One Who had first loved us.  Among the many blessings that God bestowed upon me through their ministry, they gave me their daughter Cindy in marriage (40 years ago in August 2017).  Byron is now with the Lord, and Pearl continues to be an inspiration to Cindy and me, as well as to our daughter Amber and her husband Marc with their growing family (now with eight children, all being trained to know and love the Lord).  What a blessing! 

      I retired after 24 years in the Navy as an Aviation Storekeeper Chief at NAS Alameda.  Can you guess who showed up in my final command?  Chief Joe Lieggi!  What a happy reunion, twenty years after he had spoken to me in boot camp!  Our God is awesome!