In January 1964 I was sent, by the Navy, to Norfolk Virginia to board the USS Norfolk DL-1 Moored at the Destroyer and Submarine Piers. The DL stands for Destroyer Leader.
During my time off I would travel around the area and I discovered Virginia Beach where beach life flourished. It turned out to be my savior from the idiocy of the US Navy and the oppression of the south.
A funny thing I have learned in my travels is that beach people have a vibe that is pretty much the same whatever beach you go to. If I go to a place with a beach and plop down on the sand I have never felt like a stranger. Because I have always lived at the beach and I have that vibe too. You don't stick out, it's the beach and you belong.
Somewhere in my travels through out the South I came upon a store front with a big banner across the top of the building that read, "US get out of Vietnam Now" I had no idea what that sign meant. What the hell was a Vietnam? This was the level of my ignorance in 1964.
Near the end of July, 1964 the USS Norfolk DL-1, Left Norfolk Virginia and headed north up the James River for the Naval port of Newport News, Virginia. There we took on cargo in the form of the Commander of the US South Atlantic Force, Admiral Arthur R. Gralla, his "Flag" (Flag = staff in Navy parlance) and 25 musician mates of the United States Naval Band led by Chief Frank Forgione.
From Newport News we headed south to my first encounter into the magical Caribbean Sea. This was the Spanish Main with the lore of pirates, voodoo, warm tropical breezes, and Hurricanes. None of which was lost on me and the sunsets were stunning. To this day, to me, it is still a place of magic and myth.
The first port of call was the West Indies islands of Trinidad and Tobago where the US had a small naval base. We arrived there on the 12th of August 1964, I know this as it was my 19th birthday.
As we pulled into port; on the pier was a group of musicians playing music on what looked like the top section of a 55 gallon drum. But the music was lyrical and sweet. Later, on closer inspection they were, in fact, part of 55 gallon drums but the steel had been hammered into sections. Each section was hammered to play a musical note. Something like a xylophone. These were mounted on metal stands. Since these 55 gallon drums were often used as trash cans (called shit cans in Naval parlance) Sailors who had visited here before called them the, "Shit Can Band"
After we moored to the pier liberty call was set and a few of us went ashore. People who had been there before said that the best place go was the Enlisted man's club on base. Naval bases like most military bases around the world have Officer's Clubs and Enlisted Man's Clubs Actually these are Military supported bars on base. These have to conform to the local laws and restrictions for alcohol consumption. On some bases they are pretty good on others they suck. The good thing about the EM Club on Trinidad was that Trinidad did not have a drinking age. So at only 19 I could drink there legally. Not that I was any stranger to alcohol, I had probably been drinking since I was 13. But it was cool to sit at a bar and drink.
This EM Club did not have Navy personnel working there. The bartender and waiters were all civilian employees. In one corner of the room there was a small stage and on that stage was...you guessed it a four piece, "Shit Can Band," for our entertainment.
The drink of the house was a Cuba Libre. This is basically a rum and coke. But in the Caribbean a Cuba Libre is served in a very tall cocktail glass with one ice cube, filled almost to the top with the local dark delicious rum with a splash of Coca Cola, and a squeeze of lime. (after all we don't want to get scurvy now do we?).
Did I mention that given this establishment was US Navy funded AND Trinidad is a third world country the Cuba Libres were dirt cheap.
At the same time we were heading to the EM Club a British Navy ship moored at the base. Being good sailors they too headed for the EM club, the place was packed.
At sometime early into the evening someone informed the band that it was my birthday. They immediately broke into the happy birthday song. Well the Brits wanted to know who's birthday it was and how old I was going to be. In the spirit good anglo/US relations of course they told them. One of the Brits got up and proposed a toast saying "Yer only 19 once!" There by every sailor in the place bought me a birthday Cuba Libre.
I had a virtual sea of Cuba Libres in front of me. And being that each and every one of them was a birthday present I felt it was my obligation to drink them all. And after all England is a faithful ally. I can only assume that I was fairly successful in my social and international good will responsibilities, because after a certain time my memory ceased to function. I have no recollection of how I got back to the ship.
The next day I had to be in the galley at 0700 sharp to cook lunch and supper for the crew. It does seem, however, that I did not go quietly into the night on my birthday. I was told that I woke up the whole supply department's sleeping compartment before I passed out. So there was little mercy or sympathy for my unbelievable hangover the next day.
Fortunately My youth and the fact that just about every sailor has had similar transgressions at least once. The hangover was considered penance enough.
I will note that it was many, many years before I had a rum libation again.