Ship’s Return Ends Agony of Separation

Susan Lake was waiting at Pier 4, 9-month-old Briana cradled in her arms. A gentle rain was falling and the sky was dark.

“This is really hard,” said a teary Lake, just 20 years old. “It’s so painful, him being gone for six months, missing so much of his baby’s life.”

Enlisted man Troy Lake, 22, had been at sea for the last half of 1988, committed to naval exercises on the amphibious assault ship New Orleans. Friday morning, the New Orleans returned to port at the 32nd Street Naval Station.

Military bands played Christmas carols, rain gleaming off trumpets and trombones. Wives readied roses for husbands in what one woman called “the kind of role reversal us Navy gals always get stuck with.” Children carried placards that bore such tender endearments as “Welcome Home Daddy Fergy.”

When the gangplank was lowered, the men were met by slowly falling tears, sharp peals of laughter and, to some extent, clouds of uncertainty.

“The man’s comin’ home--let’s face it, it’s a big adjustment,” said Louise Ferguson, whose husband, Robert, is a chief warrant officer on the New Orleans. The couple has a daughter, 5-year-old Rachel.

“His coming back is exciting and wonderful, but his being gone has forced me to be independent,” Ferguson said. “I’ve learned how to be a single parent, without really wanting to be one. You could say I’ve developed an empathy for what those poor people have to go through. I hope I never become one.”

The New Orleans left San Diego June 16 and since then has steamed more than 30,000 miles, said Navy spokesman Steve Hiney. It was involved in major amphibious exercises in Thailand, Australia, Korea and the Philippines. The first three involved the naval forces of each of those countries.

The 20-year-old New Orleans carries a Marine battalion landing team as well as the helicopters and equipment to support it. The last six months marked the ship’s 13th deployment, which one veteran said was just as tough as the first.

Alwanda Williams has had to go through a couple. She’s the wife of Cedric Williams, a boatswain’s mate. Their 16-month-old daughter, Cenitha, has grown through many stages since Daddy left last summer. Such changes, never to be seen again, are the kind a mother would cherish sharing at home each night with her husband.

‘Second Deployment’

“We’ve been married for nine years. He’s been in the Navy for eight,” Alwanda said. “This was the second deployment we’ve had to endure, the first with the baby. You become fiercely independent, whether you want to or not. I mean, I had to learn how to fix things.

“At times, the separation was stressful, the loneliness almost unendurable. Even if you have family close by, it just ain’t the same as my man. You want to talk to him--he’s gone. Reunions are happy, but no matter how glad you are to see each other, there’s that chore of getting to know each other all over again. That can be stressful, but it’s a lot better than being separated. When he’s gone, you just face the fact that, if anything happens, he’s a lo-o-o-o-ng way away.”

As the ship rolled in, children, big and little, squealed excitedly, hoping to pick out Dad from among the sailors standing on deck, waving.

“That’s Daddy, I know it is!” yelled one little girl. “He’s looking right at me !”

The band played a rain-muted “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” The New Orleans bore a red, white and blue wreath that looked a bit like a sponge, having weathered the rain-battered Pacific.

Nervous wives wearing high heels and bright, pretty dresses paraded through puddles inches deep. Children let go of helium-filled balloons, some not intending to, then screaming maniacally. Cheers from everybody went up as the crew raised the flag.

Waiting to Board

Positioned in front of everybody, Susan Lake waited for the signal to board. Tiny Briana never once whimpered.

“I’ll never understand why deployment takes six months,” she said, not without a trace of bitterness. “It seems like the stuff they do could easily be done in three months, instead of six. We fought it as best we could. We mailed letters to each other and talked on the phone whenever he reached a port.”

That was no small investment of time, money or romance. Susan Lake said she sold her car to afford the $3,000 in phone calls she and her husband exchanged between San Diego and the Philippines, Korea, Australia and Hawaii. They had a lot to cover, such as the purchase of a home, which she completed while he was at sea. Friday night, he went home to a condominium in Rancho Bernardo that he had never seen, to learn more about a child who looks and acts much different than she did on the sad day he left.

Asked what was good about being a Navy wife, Susan Lake started to cry and muttered softly, “I’m not the best person to ask, I guess. . . . There’s a lot of difficulty, being with the Navy. I really don’t know what’s good about it.”

Once given the go-ahead, the families rushed forward, as if the first to reach the New Orleans would be awarded a coveted prize: new car, new home or no deployments ever again.

Happy Embrace

Diane and Jim Katzenberger, a master of arms on the ship, embraced happily, sweetly, with lots of wet kisses.

In 12 years in the Navy, Katzenberger has endured five deployments.

“When you’re gone, it’s the weirdest thing,” he said. “It’s like you’re in complete suspended animation, a dream. . . . You get the sketchiest news reports, tidbits of news from the family. It’s like nothing ever happens, while the minutes pass by slowly.”

“What’s it like when he’s gone?” said Diane. “It’s hell. Anything that can go wrong will--broken-down cars, hurt kids, you name it.”

At one end of a large meeting room in the center of the ship, Susan Lake stood alone with baby Briana. She asked several sailors--friends of her husband--”Where’s Troy?” One promised to go find him.

With the minutes passing by, the cookies on a nearby table disappearing, and the merry sound of other reunions filling the space in front of her, Susan Lake waited with a burning impatience. Finally, she saw him, at the back of the room.

“Troy!” she screamed, so piercingly that several pairs of eyes looked up startled.

He ran to her, and she ran, too, as best she could, holding a 9-month-old bonneted baby. When they met, they embraced tightly for several long seconds and then, slowly, passionately, began to kiss. For the first time all morning, the baby looked uncomfortable.

“It’s great, just great to be back,” said Troy, flushed but beaming as he and his wife and child trudged down the gangplank. For the first time in months, they would go home together, as a family . Six months of hope finally had given way to reality.