Chester Hill 1990
WHY DO THEY CALL THEM DD’s ?
When my regiment was approaching graduation and commissioning as ninety-day wonders from the Naval Reserve Midshipman’s School in New York in the late fall of 1942 we were allowed to request three choices for duty assignment if we passed the final exams. This was a time when our amphibious forces were being expanded at a fantastic rate. I didn’t worry about that but asked for the duty I had always wanted since I had been aboard one when I was 11 years old: in order my three choices were Destroyers, North Atlantic; and Destroyers, South Atlantic; and Destroyers, Pacific.
When the duty assignments were posted graduation morning I was delighted to see my first choice on the bulletin board! Volunteers for the underwater demolition teams and bomb disposal squads also received their choice, as did a few that had survived a special selection process for PT boats. All the rest except for us couple of dozen who asked for destroyers, whether they had requested aircraft carriers, cruisers, special schooling, a specific admiral’s staff, or whatever, went straight to amphibious forces training and that was that.
In the late spring of 1944 Swanson swung at anchor during a brief respite in Humboldt Bay, New Guinea. Things were quiet. I was “standing” in the in-port watch over a cup of Java in the wardroom, when the messenger from the sea ladder watch on the quarterdeck came in and told me that an LCI was approaching us from the starboard quarter. On deck I gave them the OK to come alongside. They were wondering if we just might have some sort of supplies that we could spare them for replenishment. This was not an unusual occurrence in those forward areas. I sent for our supply officer and began to chat with the LCI’s skipper. We quickly remembered each other. He had been my company commander in Midshipman’s School. “How in the world did you get destroyer duty, Hill?”
I could only answer the poor fellow, “I asked for it.” By coincidence, the same thing happened the next place we anchored for a few hours, only this time it was my old battalion commander, who almost took my answer as a personal insult.
*************************
In 1952 – a civilian – I came home from the office one day in a funky mood. I had asked for a transfer to another office within our firm, and for the second or third time had been offered some place I did not want. “When I was in the Navy I always got the duty I requested.” I complained to my wife.
“Yes, I know
that.” she replied, “but the only duty you ever asked for was those DAMN DESTROYERS!”
That’s why they call them DD’s, I tell anyone who asks.