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By Gene Spinelli, Special to The Antarctic Sun
Before the high-tech days of weather satellites and the
Global Positioning System (GPS), aircraft flying between
Christchurch, New Zealand, and McMurdo Station would depend
on weather reports and navigational fixes from a weather
picket ship deployed near 160° east and 60° south.
Both the U.S. Navy and New Zealand (NZ) Navy provided
ships for this purpose.
During the years 1957-1968, the U.S. Navy deployed Destroyer
Escort (DE) class ships for this duty, while the NZ Navy
provided Loch class antisubmarine frigates for the four
years it participated. The U.S. ships were World War II
vintage DEs, later replaced by DE Radar (DER) class ships.
The DERs were also World War II (Edsall class) DEs that
were converted for radar duty in the 1950s. Built from
1943 until the end of the war for the princely sum of
about $6 million each, the DERs were never intended to
be in service into the 1970s.
The DER was easily distinguishable from its original
World War II configuration by its unusual architecture
and the addition of a second mast, Tactical Air Navigation
(TACAN) gear, the ubiquitous SPS-8 height-finding radar
system and an after-deck house on the 01 level.
The Navy selected the Edsall class DEs for conversion
because of their Fairbanks Morse diesel engine propulsion
system. The ships could travel many thousands of nautical
miles nonstop on a full tank of gas. It wasn’t the
smoothest ride a sailor would ever experience. With a
displacement of 1,700 tons — and at 306 feet long,
37 feet at the beam and about 14 foot draft — it
could have been worse, and was, during Antarctic storms.
In all, the Navy converted 36 Edsall class ships to DERs,
and eight of them served as Operation Deep Freeze weather
picket ships. Toward the end of World War II, seven Buckley
class DEs were converted to DERs, but those earlier conversions
were deemed unacceptable for radar picket duty in the
1950s.
During the early Operation Deep Freeze years, one U.S.
Navy picket ship would deploy to the Southern Ocean. Later
in the program, the U.S. and New Zealand navies would
alternate their time on station. From 1966 through 1968,
the U.S. Navy provided two DERs during each season, with
Dunedin, NZ, serving as the port for both ships. I don’t
recall both ships being in port at the same time.
Headed around the world
In April 1965, as a newly promoted Electronics Technician
Third Class (ETR3) awaiting assignment at the Brooklyn
Navy Yard, I was handed orders to the USS Calcaterra,
DER-390, at Newport, R.I. The chief petty officer handed
me the envelope, laughed, and asked, “Do you know
what a DER is?”
I responded, “No,” and he explained the life
of an East Coast DER sailor: Depart Newport and sail to
the waters around Cuba, then sit there for 30 days tracking
aircraft in and out of Cuba. The picket station was known
as “Dog Rocks.”
As I boarded a Greyhound bus for Newport, the bus driver
asked what ship I was assigned to serve. As we entered
the base, he would take us as close as possible to our
ship. The only problem was the Calcaterra had sailed for
Dog Rocks that morning to relieve another DER that had
broken down. DERs were known for breaking down.
I headed to the USS Yosemite, AD-19, and checked in at
the Quarterdeck. While being processed, the petty officer
of the Watch said, “You lucky dog.”
I responded, “Why is that?”
He said, “You’re going on a round-the-world
cruise. The Calcaterra will leave Newport in August for
New Zealand, completely circle the Earth on the return
voyage, and return in May of next year.” I spent
one month on Yosemite waiting for Calcaterra to return
from Dog Rocks.
So, at the tender young age of 19, I embarked on a once-in-a-lifetime
experience by completely circling the planet twice; transiting
the Panama and Suez canals; being inducted into the Ancient
Order of the Deep by crossing the equator; then later
crossing the International Date Line, the Antarctic Circle,
and spending two birthdays below the Antarctic Circle.
Exercise in routine
The voyage to Dunedin, NZ, took about a month. Departing
Newport, we sailed for the Panama Canal. After a few days
at the U.S. Navy base at Balboa, Canal Zone and a few
days at Callao (Lima), Peru, we began what was to be a
20-day nonstop voyage to New Zealand. Because of rough
seas along the way, the voyage took longer than planned.
Calcaterra arrived at Dunedin on Sept. 21, 1965, with
its fuel gauge almost on empty.
After taking on supplies and fuel, we departed Dunedin
four days later for the New Zealand weather station at
Campbell Island. I’d soon learn that part of the
ritual was to stop at Campbell Island to offload mail
and supplies for the handful of New Zealand scientists
who lived on the island. On the return trip, we would
stop to pick up outgoing mail. On each visit, crewmembers
went ashore to tour the island and enjoy a beer at the
recreation center. After several hours we’d be under
way again, either heading for picket duty at 60º
south latitude or back to New Zealand.
I would eventually learn that Deep Freeze pickets were
an exercise in routine. By the end of my Deep Freeze assignment,
I made a total of nine pickets aboard USS Calcaterra and
USS Thomas J. Gary. During these pickets, the aerographers
would send up at least two weather balloons a day and
the sonarmen would make regular bathythermograph (BT)
drops.
The weather balloons contained a radiosonde transmitter,
which sent various weather measurements back to the ship.
As the balloon made its way into the upper atmosphere,
the radarmen, using the SPS-8 height-finding radar, logged
the balloon’s altitude and direction. The aerographers
compared the radar tracks to the radiosonde data, computed
the results, and sent weather reports to McMurdo Station
and Christchurch. As required, the TACAN beacon would
transmit navigation information for inbound and outbound
aircraft.
On duty
Electronics technicians did not stand under way watches,
which probably annoyed those crewmembers who did. The
tradeoff was that we were on call 24 hours a day to handle
any failure of the radar or communication systems. During
the regular workday, we would perform preventive maintenance
or make routine general repairs.
While on picket station aboard USS Calcaterra, I awoke
one night to “Spinelli, wake up, the 10 is down.”
Of course, this meant the AN/SPS-10 surface search radar
was not working, and the ship was operating blind. All
the SPA-8 and SPA-4 repeaters showed the same pattern
of pulses that should not have been there. I’d seen
this problem once before. I went to the transmitter room,
where a newly minted ensign met me.
Icebergs surrounded the ship, and without radar, this
was not an enviable situation. The ensign was as nervous
as one could imagine, and he kept asking me how long it
would take to repair. I remember saying, “Ten minutes
after I figure out what’s wrong.” He went to
the bridge and reported to the commanding officer (CO)
while I diagnosed the problem.
The CO, obviously concerned by whatever the ensign told
him, came down to the transmitter room and asked how long
before it would be fixed. In the time it took for the
nervous ensign to go to the bridge, update the CO, and
for the CO to walk to the transmitter room, I had already
replaced the failing part and restored the system to operation.
Roll to port
On another picket aboard USS Thomas J. Gary, I awoke at
about 2 a.m. to those same words: “Spinelli, wake
up, the 10 is down.”
The problem was relatively easy to see: The radar antenna
high on the mast was turning but there was no such indication
on any of the repeaters of that rotation. An hour later,
I concluded the problem was either a bad servo (an automatic
device that uses error-sensing feedback to correct the
performance of a mechanism) at the antenna or a broken
cable. The CO came down and asked for an estimated time
to repair.
More Information
Gene Spinelli created a Web site in 1998 dedicated to
the Operation Deep Freeze weather picket ships and those
who served aboard them. Visit www.aspen-ridge.net to view
some of the 2,000 images from those years.
I explained the situation, and he said, “The aerographers
tell me the best weather we’re going to have for
the next few days is right now.” I immediately knew
he wanted me to climb the mast while the ship was pitching
and rolling in the cold Antarctic night.
So up the mast I went with some hand tools. I could only
climb as the ship rolled to port. During a port roll,
my body would be against the ladder. On a starboard roll,
I’d be hanging off the ladder with my back to the
sea. This was a no-brainer: only climb on port rolls.
Eventually I arrived at the upper radar platform, strapped
myself to the railing and opened the antenna pedestal’s
access plate. It took all of 10 seconds to see a broken
wire on the servo and another minute or two to make the
repair. I then scrambled back down the mast — on
port rolls — fired up the system, and watched the
smile on the CO’s face.
These vintage DERs had a nasty habit of blowing boilers,
generators, evaporators, and just about anything else,
as they were never intended to be operational 20-plus
years. We were fortunate to have the services of Sims
Engineering in Dunedin. Over the years, Ted Sims became
proficient at replacing major assemblies by cutting plates
from the ship’s hull and using hoists and cranes
to remove and replace just about any item that needed
attention.
Amazing memories
So, what was the most exciting memory from these deployments?
There were many, but without question, it would be the
December 1965 picket at 60º south.
We had a reporter/photographer from the Otago Daily Times
newspaper aboard USS Calcaterra. On this picket, the CO,
Lt. Cmdr. William C. Earle, performed some amazing feats
of ship handling by bringing Calcaterra alongside icebergs
for close inspection. On this picket, we sailed below
the Antarctic Circle and spent Christmas Day at the Balleny
Islands.
After the March 1968 deployments by USS Calcaterra and
USS Mills, the Navy discontinued the weather picket ship
program. Technology finally caught up with the old ships,
as satellites took over the weather and navigation duties.
Of course, a satellite would never be able to assist if
an airplane needed to ditch at sea, but then I’m
not aware of any situation through 1968, or after, where
an aircraft making the flight between Christchurch and
McMurdo had to ditch at sea.
Those were amazing years, and to have the opportunity
to completely circle the Earth on a U.S. Navy ship twice
would be exciting by anyone’s standard. It was a
great experience, and one that influenced me for the next
40 years. Of course, today it’s much more pleasant
to travel these long distances on a Boeing 747 while sipping
champagne and watching movies.
Gene Spinelli’s Navy enlistment ended in June
1967. Shortly after becoming a civilian, he joined the
IBM Corporation from which he retired after nearly 40
years of service. Today, Gene is semi-retired and lives
with his wife in Colorado, doing occasional consulting
projects in the IT industry. Gene can be heard on the
Amateur Radio bands as K5GS.
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