My dad was a lifer in the Navy. He was on subs most of his career. I was born in Connecticut when my dad was stationed at Groton, near New London. From what I’ve been told, he loved it. I was only six months old when we were transferred to the West Coast. I can only imagine the excitement my dad felt starting this new adventure. He was headed back to submarine school, but this time it would be on the modern nuclear powered subs. He was never stationed on the Nimitz (the first nuke sub) but he did train on it. He was in the second class to go through nuclear power school and as an engineer he would also spend time in Idaho, teaching at the nuclear reactor there. To be in at the beginning, to be on the cutting edge of his field must have been an amazing experience for my father.
Sadly, this was to be short lived. After a few years my dad started experiencing medical issues. He could no longer work on a submarine. We were sent back to the east coast where he was stationed on the USS Forrestal. From a sub to a floating city – what a culture shock that must have been. His health kept deteriorating and just shy of his 20 he was given full retirement for medical reasons. I don’t know how quickly my parents knew what was going on. It wasn’t until years later that I knew it was from radiation poisoning. Sometimes being on the cutting edge is not the best place to be. My dad was buried in Arlington when he was just 51. I don’t think he would have lived his life differently if he had known.
