Hiroshima Day, 1983: Auckland, NZ

There were handbills and posters seemingly everywhere inviting people to come to the rally against the Texas on Hiroshima Day. We were told to stay as far away from it as possible, but one of the guys in my engineroom saw the gathering from down the block. Breathlessly he estimated there were 100,000 -- no, 200,000! -- people out there, all hating America and showing how ignorant they were about nuclear power. I wasn't about to trust the crowd estimate of a guy who never left the Oklahoma panhandle until he joined the navy; the cattle in his hometown outnumbered people by 2 to 1. But I only replied that people in the States were pretty ignorant about nuclear power, too.

The NZ Herald had the story on the next day's front page. What I liked was the big discrepancy in the crowd estimate: 30,000 (organizers) or 15,000 (police.)

On my way into a pub the next night, I was accosted by three punkish guys about my age who told me, among other things, to get off their effing island and take my radiation with me. They were just getting up a good rant when a middle-aged couple emerged from the pub and interceded for me, telling the punks to mind their manners and treat the guest -- me -- with some respect and had they forgotten the bloody Battle of the Coral Sea? Why, they would be speaking bloody Japanese if it weren't for American sailors, the couple said. When the punks moved on, the husband apologized and offered to buy me a beer to make up for the "bloody poor hospitality." I declined and thanked them and then they thanked me for winning the Battle of the Coral Sea.

Loved or hated, we were minor celebrities for two weeks. Mostly, we were treated with kindness and generosity. And, coming from Norfolk, where they had only recently outlawed signs that said "No sailors or dogs allowed" but weren't in a hurry to change the corresponding attitude, life was more than good. I even asked about New Zealand's requirements for immigration.

August 2, 1983: Auckland, NZ

The USS Texas (CGN-39) was escorting the USS Carl Vinson (CVN-70) from Virginia to California the long way around when we were pulled from the carrier group to wave the flag on a tour of the south Pacific. Tough job, that -- four ports in Australia, one in Tonga, and two in New Zealand. Meanwhile, the Vinson was frolicking in the Indian Ocean. But, hey, someone had to drink all that beer and dance all night to David Bowie, the Clash, and the Eurythmics.

But our visit to NZ, at least, seemed poorly timed, as the country was embroiled in a passionate debate about becoming a nuclear-free zone. Or, maybe the timing was deliberate by someone in the Reagan Administration who thought that having the Texas drop into Auckland and Wellington with two nuclear reactors and a bunch of we-can-neither-confirm-nor-deny nuclear weapons would convince the Kiwis that they should just relax because, you know, everybody likes a little nukie. If that was the plan, it failed miserably: we were the last nuclear ship, and possibly the last American warship, to visit New Zealand. And, by giving the anti-nuclear faction something tangible to rally against, I'll always wonder whether we unintentionally helped NZ to become nuclear-free.

We entered Auckland's harbor on August 2, with most off-duty sailors manning the rails, and were greeted by some two hundred small boats of all kinds protesting our visit. The largest boat, a launch, carried a man with a bullhorn who shouted, "We love you but not your ship! You are welcome, but your ship is not!" over and over. (The NZ Herald said that a member of Parliament was aboard the launch, but I don't know if he was the man with the bullhorn.) Police boats dashed frenetically around us, keeping most of the boats away.

As I stood on the starboard side of the fo'c'sle at parade rest, wondering if we were going to run over some impassioned protester in a rowboat, I saw a brown sphere maybe 8" in diameter pop up against the gunwale and then disappear. It popped up again, moved aft, and dropped out of sight. As it bobbed down the gunwale aftward toward me, I recognized it as the top of a sailing mast. The boat was just too close to our hull for me to see it. The newspaper called it "the dory Mahatma Gandhi"; days later a policeman, laughing, told me that the boat had lost sail and its owner was frantically pushing off our hull, trying to get out of the way.

The NZ Herald from August 3, 1983 ran the story and pictures of the "Conflict on the Harbour." (It's a large pdf.)

And then came Hiroshima Day....

In My iPod.

The first full-length album by Fleet Foxes is full of gorgeous five-part harmonies. The intricate acoustic arrangements remind me of later Beach Boys as well as some 70's prog rock bands. Don't try to listen to this one in the car, as we did en route to the Indiana Dunes last weekend -- you'll miss way too much. Definitely headphones, definitely. Fleet Foxes have joined Cat Stevens and Nick Drake in my Sunday morning music collection.

I like Stay Positive by The Hold Steady as much or more than Boys and Girls in America. But I occasionally get tired of vocalist Craig Finn's talksinging or singtalking. Still, they rock.

Maybe I'm just a sucker for Southern Rock. After spending some formative years in NC listening to the Allman Brothers, Atlanta Rhythm Section and, yes, Molly Hatchet, I suppose that's to be expected. My Morning Jacket's Evil Urges has me reminiscing, but it also offers a variety of musical styles. Jim James does an excellent Prince vocal, among other treats. It's well-executed, comfortable and nostalgic, not breathtaking and earthshaking.

Other albums in regular rotation:

• Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
• In Rainbows, Radiohead
• Accelerate, R.E.M.
• Emoh, Lou Barlow
• Boxer, The National
• Narrow Stairs, Death Cab for Cutie
• Way to Blue, Nick Drake

What's in your iPod?

Remember to vote today.

You can preview the ballot at publius.org. Remember, Ward 2 precincts 1 & 3 vote at West Middle School. Our normal polling place, Estabrook School, is being renovated.

Don't forget your picture ID!