by Travis Casey

Created on: May 31, 2010

On our Western Pacific deployment in 1984, we were given orders to leave the Philippines and go to sea in search of the Russians and their newest aircraft carrier, the Minsk. After a day and a half of sailing at nearly full steam, we were near. Steaming away, suddenly, we could see a big black bellow of smoke coming over the horizon. It was them. The commies. We steamed ahead in our pursuit of the Minsk but first we had to negotiate the Russian battle group.

There we were, a ship of 4,000 tons and a crew of 300 men, and the only Americans around for hundreds if not thousands of miles; infiltrating this Russian battle group of two cruisers, a couple of destroyers and various supply ships, all there to protect the Minsk. Our mission was to spy on this 37,000 ton piece of Russian technology at the height of the cold war. This was why we drank so much on shore. We drew along side of the Minsk and were very, very close in naval terms.

I remembered back to my school days, being told that the Russians were the root of all evil. It was Satan's empire. And there we were, face to face. We all ran on deck to see Satan's face, fascinated by these evil communists. And they were on deck, staring at us, to see the Yankee imperialist dogs. 'Oh my God, real Russians,' I thought. 'Oh great Satan, real Americans,' they thought. But staring at each other, I felt a bond. We were all sailors. I couldn't believe that in my young life I was now looking at real live Russians and I sensed that they could not believe that they were clapping their eyes on real live Americans. Arch enemies by politics, but bonded by the sea. There was an unsaid respect that we could feel in the few hundred yards that separated our ships. I wanted to wave, but I didn't think Uncle Ron (Reagan) would have been too pleased with me waving at communists who we may have had to kill at any given moment. But I will never forget their intrigue with us. It was so mutual.

For our one little helicopter, to be on deck during flight ops, we had to don lifejackets, helmets, earmuffs, goggles and be kitted out with long sleeve shirts and trousers. There were the Russians, with Harrier type, vertical take off planes - loud as hell, manning the flight deck in nothing but shorts and shoes. I was about going deaf from the sound hundreds of yards away, but these guys wore no protection whatsoever, standing only a few feet away. I was pleased that Uncle Sam made sure that I sailed safe.

After a few hours along side the Minsk,

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