Navy Guantanamo Bay Part VI

As my days staying at the Guantanamo Bay Naval Hospital and Holiday Resort were coming to an end, I was informed that the next part of my recovery was scheduled to take place at US Naval Hospital Portsmouth Virginia, which happened to be a top-rated hospital. 

I would be transferred there at the convenience of the US Navy. And while I had been lolling around in the hospital on Guantanamo Bay, the Eugene A. Greene had completed it's shakedown and weapons testing and was going to be heading back to Norfolk, Virginia which was it's home port. 

So, instead of flying me to Portsmouth which would have taken a couple of hours, they decided to ship me back on my own ship and that would take over a week. That's called 'convenience'.

The open wound had closed up and healed, all the surface stitches had been removed and the infection was gone. My hand was still in a soft-cover molding mostly to protect my index finger which wasn't moving at all. The other fingers were very stiff from the insult they had endured, so I had no grip strength in my right hand. The good news was that unless I banged my hand into a door the pain level was fine.

My duty level was low on the trip back. For example, I stood lookout watches, but I didn't stand any watches at the helm. They didn't want me flipping the ship over. I couldn't use a broom (aww!), the bow had been repainted where it had scraped along the pier and there was no more old paint to remove. So, it was a cruise.

All the time I was an inpatient I had worn hospital pajamas. I had been wearing jeans and a work shirt when my hand exploded and the hospital personnel had returned the clothes to the ship. Someone (I never found out who) had taken these filthy, bloody clothes, wadded them up, unwashed, and jammed them into my seabag. 

When I took them out after weeks had passed in Caribbean heat, the coagulated protein had turned the mass into a concrete block. I don't think washing them even entered my mind, but if I had kept them they would have made an interesting sculpture.

Fortunately, they had put my boots on top so they came through relatively unscathed. I continued to wear them for years.

My orders to report to Portsmouth Hospital were 'TDY' - Temporary Duty. I would be an outpatient at the hospital but would also be assigned some sort of job. So, when I left the Greene, I had to take all my belongings because no one knew if I would be back. As it turned out only three weeks later the Greene departed on a six month deployment to Africa, the Middle East and Pakistan. Without me.

I would never see the Eugene A. Greene again.

Just a few years later, on August 31, 1972 the Eugene A. Greene DD-711 was transferred to Spain and became the Churruca D-61. In English, Churruca translates to 'Churruca'. Seriously, it was named for a previous Spanish ship. 

Here's a photo of the ship after it had gone into Spanish service. Look, there's my gun still in place, still working like a champ.

After twenty more years of service to Spain the Greene was sunk as target practice on December 12, 1991. Believe it or not, the sinking is actually available on YouTube.

Here's Part 1.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Om2wlRAn3A

And Part 2.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A_w3eFoXmx0

Boy, things certainly go away quickly around here. And as I was about to discover, sometimes, that included me.