Eggnog Thoughts

I've never done a Christmas at sea. My ship was always in port, or I was on vacation. Such was the case last year, when I was in a Singapore shipyard. Many of us went 'out to town' and came back to the officer's mess with stories of our adventures in the city-state, where most venues and activities are open on Christmas Day. For Christians, Christmas is about the birth of Jesus; but in the broader societal sense, is about connecting with people, friends and family. In contrast to my experience with United States public vessels, most ships do not take a day off for Christmas. You might need a tap on the shoulder to remember that it is a day of joy and merriment; at the same time the folks back home are caught up in their Christmas activities- shopping, church, and gatherings. Here's to the seafarer in your life.

First Class Cabins for All

On the ships Titanic and Olympia, First class was not a monolith: while the titans of empires and businesses enjoyed a luxurious experience with multi-room suites and ocean views, many cabins could be assigned to either first- or second- class passengers, with the difference between the two classes being the public amenities available. Notably, the ship was constrained in both food refrigeration capacity and freshwater production. In terms of dining, adherence to the set menu was expected; and outside of top tier suites, bathtubs were supplied with saltwater, and tap water was rationed by cabin stewards. Third class accommodations, mainly occupied by working-class immigrants, were spartan, and meals predominately made of porridge, bread, and potato stew. In the postwar United States, the builders of the liner SS United States considered a two-class arrangement, breaking from the pre-war and European class divisions. Third class was retained, however, to allow economical transportation of enlisted military personnel. Today, on modern cruise ships, class distinctions have fallen away.

The Year of Yes

If I look over the past year, I could tell you that I've broaded my horizons. Not so much through international work travel, since that was already happening, but through journeys undertaken in the United States. What was the reason for doing it now? There was the fear of turning 30 and entering middle age (by some peoples' definition). It felt like the right time to complete items off the bucket list. There is also the fact that the quality of travel and accomodation services are returning to pre-COVID norms; more hospitality, and less travail. Supplementing my actual vacation time, this year I also received weeklong interludes of basket leave - or administrative leave- while awaiting training classes and travel to and from the 5 ships I have spent time onboard this year. In April, I submitted my package for a Chief Engineer's License, issued by the US Coast Guard in Baltimore. In May, I hiked the first 100 miles of the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal in Maryland, with an interesting 5-day Turbo Activation of a reserve ship in-between the two hiking trips. In June, I learned how to dig holes with an excavator. I was surprised the construction equipment company rented it to me without proof of training. In July, I visited Tijuana, as my ship was in San Diego. In August, I drove an electric car long-distance to see the giant rubber duck in Crisfield, MD. This is where I boarded the ferry to Tangier Island, a historic community in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay. In November, I attended a family Thanksgiving in Seattle. This was the first large reunion since 2019. And I am writing this blog post from Amtrak's southbound Crescent Train, an overnight trip from Washington, DC to New Orleans.

Signing Off the Ship

There I was, standing awkwardly on the MacArthur Promenade at Naval Base Sasebo, six hours before my bus was due to depart for the airport. I'd forgotten that most ships, especially those overseas, are in a continous state of motion. While I was packing to leave, the ship was preparing to go to sea for underway replenishment. You're with the mission, or you're left behind at the pier. For the past year, I'd ridden the edge cases: the ship that had a 50% crew turnover leaving the Singapore shipyard in January; two based in Norfolk that rotated officers every month; and another that shed most of its crew as it headed into the Portland, Oregon shipyard. But the shock was getting to me; there was no time to unwind while still onboard- I had to demonstrate equipment, evaluate crewmembers, and replicate or delete computer files. I'd be away from the ships until after the New Year; and I was unlikely to return to Japan - or to those characters on the USNS Yukon- in 2024. While no day onboard was the same, there was a particular routine. Be in the engine room at 0530 to check people in for overtime, come back at 0800 to handle urgent issues, and then attack the monthly preventative maintenance worklist. There was also the guilt of bounty: while the deck officers were counting their days overdue for relief (43! 90!), I was getting off early, as one of the other engineers onboard was promoted into my position as First Engineer, allowing one of us to leave. Although all the officers are US citizens, many grew up overseas, so there was confusion over why I wanted to sign off the ship before a red letter day (as seen on government calenders) called Thanksgiving. Red letter days were overtime days, after all. Then I remembered what I wanted to do, if I ever had the time in Sasebo. This was the best opportunity to take the train to Nagasaki; those in less senior positions, with time to spare on weekends, had often talked well of the city marked in history. The train station had baggage lockers; due to security concerns little need, there really is no public place to keep unattended baggage on military bases. Once my train was outside of Sasebo, I relized that I was a tourist on a paid vacation in Japan.

The End of Overtime

Overtime pay, “time and a half” by law, and sometimes higher by employer-labor agreement, has been one of the building bricks of the postwar middle class. The first working-class beneficiaries of this provision in the 1940’s were familiar with six-day workweeks, and for those who grew up on the family farm, a seven-day workweek. The 40-hour workweek was foremost a job-sharing measure to end the Great Depression, but was also recognized as a move that gave the workforce more time for rest and recreation. White collar professionals, domestic workers, and many small-boat mariners do not receive overtime pay. Over the decades, retail managers have also found themselves as “exempt” workers. At least one maritime officers’ union has switched contracts from overtime-eligible to pure salary. For those still eligible for overtime pay, the allure has lessened, especially among the youngest generations. Time-and-a-half doesn’t go as far as it used to. Oliver Anthony sung this year: “Overtme hours for bull---- pay”. Baby Boomers worked long hours to buy grown-up toys: seldom-used RVs and boats that are still in shape to be used by the next generation, no new payments needed. In the past, overtime hours were often voluntary, in that you opted to stay to finish a job, of signed up for an extra shift. But in a time of staffing shortage, mandatory overtime offers less flexibility. Where there might have been a sense of obligation for a sole breadwinner to earn a little more money after-hours, today’s more-than-likely two-income household must share domestic chores, and passing jokes in the air-conditioned control room may appear more enjoyable than Saturday diaper duty. To cope with these changes in expectations, factories that were once running 60-hour average workweeks are adapting to a two-shift schedule. As far as practices in deep-sea shipping, weekly workhours have probably increased in the past 50 years, with the reduction of dedicated positions such as Radio Officer, Purser, and Machinist. However, tours of duty on American ships have fallen from an average of 6 months to 3 months; work harder for fewer months per year. Reliable automation, like the new cargo winches onboard USNS Arctic requiring half the operators as older systems; and increasing the mean time between equipment failures, do hold promise for freeing up mariners’ time, while at sea.

Israel Has Ships

Israel has had a problem that was revealed by the 1970s. The Promised Land was oil-poor, compared to all of its neighbors. While the nation has embraced both low tech (water heaters) and high tech (electricity generation) solar energy, a war of survival- with its tanks and airplanes- relies on scare petroleum. While the details of such critical information is a military secret, Israel must maintain significant stockpiles of fuel. The Abraham Accords and previous agreements with neighbors Egypt and Jordan have reduced the existential threat - in trade, diplomacy, and military arenas- of hostile neighbor nations. But as much goodwill can come from peacetime trade, Israel’s neighbors are in no strategic position to provide fuel for Israel’s military. Thus, the US has for decades exported fuel to Israel on a run from Texas to Ashkelon via the Mediterranean Sea, on ships flying the American flag. With access to the Black Sea restricted on account of Turkey’s neutrality in the Ukraine war, this thin lifeline could be critical to the defense of Israel. Fortuitously, the US Maritime Administration increased subsidies for American oil tankers several years ago, putting this part of the fleet in a relatively robust position. Although less efficient in size than commercial tankers, the Military Sealift Command has an excess of fleet oilers as the new John Lewis class is introduced into service, with retiring ships in serviceable condition. Crewing of merchant vessels might present the weakest link. Wartime double pay proved to be sufficient incentive during the Vietnam and Gulf War eras. Even without this bonus, American ships have been successfully supplying defense materials to Eastern Europe for the past 18 months. But in terms of shipping, Israel is not dependent on allied nations. Zim, the nation's flagship line, sails globally, and has done so since the founding of the State of Israel.

Shutdown Averted

On Saturday night onboard a supply ship in the Phillipines (daytime in the US), I anxiously watched the news to see if the government would be working as usual in the morning. If I had paid attention earlier, I might've worried myself sick. Instead, and very fortunately, a compromise Continuing Resolution passed the House, then the Senate, and signed by the President shortly before midnight. Now, instead of receiving the more typical apporpriations, Military Sewlift Command dips from a different pot of money known as the Navy Working Capital Fund. The paychecks would continue to be issied and cleared, but based on previous experience, paid overtime hours would be curtailed to conserve money. Other services used by mariners, including the US Coast Guard's National Maritime Center, would offer reduced service in issuing license renewals, and upgrades would be put on hold. Those participating in the US Navy Reserve's Strategic Sealift Officer Force would see their annual training postponed. The US Merchant Marine Academy has sent midshipmen home during past shutdowns, although operations continued- with faculty on deferred pay- during the most recent shutdown. I could happily report to my crew that it would be business as usual, at least through Thanksgiving.