Tribute to Master Chief Wesenburg

As a new deck hand aboard the USS Kalamazoo, I was unfamiliar with the preventive maintenance routine for the multiple stations topside on the oiler. I was a green horn in so many respects when I was assigned to grease the ¾ inch steel braided cables used to transport fuel and stores to other ships. MCBM Wesenberg saw my lack of commitment as I tried to coat the cable with grease. I was concerned about the small fissures of steel that were breaking off in my hand and getting crud on my new uniform. Honestly, I was doing more dabbing of grease than I was coating the cable. It wasn’t more than a couple of minutes into the detail when the Master Chief of the Command inserted himself into my world.

“You afraid to get dirty?” he asked rhetorically. Not waiting for an answer and while still decked out in his clean khakis, he reached down into the bucket, grabbed a handful of black sludge, and began properly coating the steel cable.

“Don’t be concerned about overcoating this line” he instructed to the neophyte who was more concerned about not getting dirty than getting the job done.

After a quick minute he nodded for me to join him in the work. Truthfully, his demonstration challenged me rather than instructed me. His clean uniform, full of service medals as well as his name tag, did not encumber him as he intently showed me that he was not above doing the lowest, nastiest job on the deck.  Once I started mimicking Master Chief, he found a rag, wiped his hands, but continued to encourage me while I pressed on with my work.

The impact of those short 10 minutes of instruction were many. First, Master Chief’s attention to detail was spot on. Secondly, he could have easily derided me but he chose to challenge and encourage me. Third, he could have used his rank and prestige as a means to avoid a tough work situation rather he relished the chance to use his seniority as a way to define expectations for his charges. Finally, we connected on a more personal level as my time aboard the deck crew continued. He got me assigned to the Wardroom during mess cooking, ultimately, I got to serve as the Captain’s cook personal mess hand. Later, I struck for a rate change to serve as an Operations Specialist and Master Chief Wesenberg was an advocate for me.

During my professional career as an educator, I have shared this story many times, particularly when I taught Business Management at the high school level. The moral of the story was always, never get too big that you won’t do the toughest job. Thank you, Master Chief Wesenberg for humbling yourself to teach a new deck ape not only how to grease a cable but more importantly, what real leadership looked like.

Daddy's Blueberries

The berry patch on the south side of the red clay hill

Looks strangely different from when Dad would still

Carefully transplant the first of spring’s early shoots

From the bushes that had stretched out their mindless, wandering roots.

The bushes are more open and clearer from my long pruning shears

And the shovel’s intrusion into the thickets that developed over years.

Small plants, grasses, roots, decaying mulch and fragile shoots

Are gently lifted by a rusting shovel assisted by muddy boots.

Dad began the task of thinning out the blueberry thickets

Long before I manned the shovel, he moved the tiny pickets.

“It’s good to share the wealth” he would always say,

As we lifted out a small sprout from the bramble fray.

At times the late frost and the cold were nature’s cruel way

To thin out the blueberries that were destined to go away.

Some years the bounty was too much, a teeming oversupply.

You never knew when or if and certainly not why.

But if we had plenty, oh, how our friends would enjoy

The little round berries, tasty mouthfuls of fruity joy.

By the quarts and gallons, those berry bushes would yield

A crop to share with many, their sweet treasure unsealed.

Dad knew the real treasure that he was willing to share

Was more than just the berries, their sweetness, their fare.

It was the bushes and the wealth of giving to another

The sharing of the plant, free berries for our brother.

So, when I give you blueberry shoots from Dad’s original patch

Plant them, cover well their roots, layer them with thatch.

I share them with you like they have been shared with me,

Daddy’s bushes and blueberries, a gift of love that’s free.    

 

Doug Gouge

March 2015