A Philippine Steward

Arzaga, a wardroom mess steward, was recruited from the Philippine jungle to serve in the peace time Navy before WW II.  His neat white mess jackets were stenciled with his name but no initials. It was never known if Arzaga was his given or surname.  He had no formal education. His English was that which he picked up from the crew.  Not the best source.  The phrase  "F--k it"  was liberally used in normal conversation.  It was crude, but not meant to be obscene. Interpretation of the phrase could be;  no, negative, or express a dislike.  If a guy was asked," how was chow?" and  answered "F--k it," the phrase adequately expressed his evaluation of a meal.  A Longer phrase,  "F--K it, I don't have the watch," could mean something like,  "Hay I'm busy ask some one else to do it."  Arzaga spoke these colloquialisms he picked up in a Tagalog accent.  He was creative and had an artistic flair for doing nice things that made wardroom service more attractive.  He could fold napkins  into various bird and flower shapes.  When the OD ordered a sandwich, it came up with the crust trimmed off and garnished, if available, with a radish carved into the shape of a flower blossom. 

When another destroyer in the screen picked up a sonar contact, we were ordered over to join in.  There was no hesitating to  identify the contact friend, foe, or fish.  Both ships started laying full depth charge patterns all over the ocean.  The high pitch sonar pings coupled with radio talk between ships, added to the constant shouting of ranges and bearings, orders to the helm, and jarring the thumps of depth charge explosions, created a scene of organized bedlam.  Below decks light bulbs popped out of sockets and loosened pipes spilled asbestos insulation into the compartments.   At the height of this battle over the unknown deep, Arzaga showed up on the bridge resplendent in his dress blue uniform, with squared away white hat, and a bag packed with his personal gear.  He saluted the Captain and made a request," Sir, my hitch is up today, I request discharge from the Navy  and transportation  back to  San Diego, Sir." Astounded by the appearance of this likeable little guy and his preposterous request, the Captain slowly turned away and gazed at the sea surface under which  a noisy chase between hunter and hunted was taking place.  He looked at but didn't notice the thousands of tons of white water shooting up into the air like gigantic water fountains, the whole scene threaded through with sinuous ship wakes.  He turned back to Arzaga, laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and spoke to him in a soft voice,"  Arzaga, this is war time, hitches don't count any more.  Were all in it for the duration, and you can't get out of the Navy unless you're shot and they carry you out."

The war reduced paper work but not all.  The Bureau of  Naval Personnel issued  an updated list  of all its effective and cancelled policy directives with instructions to  destroy those no longer in effect,  The XO handed me the update list  and 4 binders full of Bureau directives with the order, "Clean em out."  One that riveted my attention read that the commanding officer has the authority to  promote a man one grade who couldn't read or write sufficiently well to study course materials let alone take a written exam. Many restrictions were listed for its application;  can't promote a guy just because he is popular, have a clean record, must be exceedingly well qualified to perform the duties of the next higher grade, etc.  The last sentence stated that this method of promotion without exam should be used very sparingly.

The directive fit Arzaga to a tee.  He hadn't had a promotion in 8 years.  The XO liked it but was hesitant to bring it up to the Old Man because of all the caveats.  He wanted to think it over for a while.  We took on for passage a four stripe captain who was reporting for duty on a task group staff.  This guy was a pain. He was one of those middle aged characters to whom the services  gave senior grade commissions directly from civilian life.  Many competent industrialists, engineers and scientists served very well.  This guy came from the academic milieu where he probably taught  history of Bulgarian medieval art and coached girls soccer. He was sent to intelligence school where he was given another rank before being sent out into  the field as an intelligence spook. At the time we were all practically sleeping hot bunks, and this guy complained about his sleeping arrangements.  The XO's stateroom was an extension of the ships office.  He removed files from the upper wire bunk and gave this character his lower bunk.  Our VIP didn't like the stringent water hours which prevented him from bathing and shaving properly.  And horrors, when his skivvies were returned from the laundry they were thrown on his bunk instead of being properly folded.  He tried to impress we junior officers with his name dropping.  Our guest let us know that  he was on intimate terms with the upper echelons of established east coast society.  One dropped name that went by me was that of the anointed poet of the state of New Jersey, with whom he held poetry readings.

The wardroom table was the only flat surface large enough where a guy could do paper work or  catch up on personal correspondence.  One afternoon while a few of us were relaxing and listening to  the VIP spout on about himself and the lousy Navy living conditions, Arzaga came through the wardroom loaded down with fresh towels and linen for the staterooms.  Our VIP called out, "Mess boy coffee please."  Arsaga, like many Pilipinos, could not pronounce the sound  of the letter "F".  When he tried it came out sounding like that of the letter "P". Arzaga answered." Pok you, I do not got the watch." The guy went into orbit and demanded that Arzaga be  punished for insubordination to a "Captain U.S. Naval Reserve," a veiled reference that he was senior to the Skipper of the ship.  He stated that he would not accept an apology from and uncivilized aboriginal. It's doubtful if any was forthcoming.  

The ship rendezvoused  with the task force and a highline was rigged to transfer him over to the Carrier.  Giving him and  his luggage a short dunking in he water was easy and very tempting. Sounding the proper note on the boson's pipe would have signaled the line handlers to let out sufficient slack to do so.  The next day on my way up to the bridge to relieve the OD, I met the Captain coming down.  He stopped me and said, "George, fill out that form  for Arzaga's promotion and  bring it up to me for my signature."---------Aye Aye Sir.

I am looking at a snapshot that I took of Arzaga back then.  He looks like one of the thousands of young Pilippinos who served in the wartime Navy and fought along side America GIs in he Philippines.  If he is alive today, he must be pushing the century mark.

 
George Silvani.