New Britain herald., 1918-01-11
FACTS ABOUT THE AMERICAN NAVY
BY LIEUT.. FITZHUGH GREEN, U. s. N.
The Navigator.

, all very well to command those big ] guns and all that: but if I were a
 man" her little lip whiskers bris l tled-'Td be a Navigator Not only l would I guide the great ship to safe l ty through treacherous reefs.. but 1 there would be no murderous blood on
 my clean strong hands. I would work l but wouldn't have to fight.'
 ! I took another piece of cake and
 counted ten. Then, Madam" I re- piled, there's not d clean handed navigator in the North Atlantic Fleet today. They're all ink and pencil 1 grimed. And as for fghting-+hot.s the last thing he does at night. and 1 the first job he has on the slate in tha 1 morning.
 Tt isn't sol" was the shriu retort- 'What could Navigator fight?" didn't even blink: "To keep awake of course"
 HIS truth indeed. Late in the eve nlng when lookouts are droning their reports and the great sea-monster is nearly dark you will find the nayiea- tor still peering under his little green eyeshade at vast white chart boards, boring over long and complicated light nsts measuring for the thousandth time a course, or soundings, or the harbor channel for tomorrow's up- stream entrance. And if he really hasn't any trouble in sight he ferrets around and finds some by wondering what would be the best course and speed Tor destroyer bound out to Ma gasaIl, or a cruiser homing from the Solent
 He's one of the administrative heads of the ships organization. Under him comes the entire Navigation Depart ment including steering gear, ndja- cent compartments, coming tower, chart house, storerooms, all naviga- t1onal and survey instruments; and, in one case I know of the ships cat
 The navigator's day is a mans day At A. M. the quartermaster hauls h1m from the narrow charthouse tran som (couch). "Oh1cer-of- the deck says you get some stars now" is the cheerful news; and means that dawn is sharpening the horizon, ntak- ing observation easy. The fight begins For who wouldn't have to fight to keep awake after three short hours f broken slumber on a hard bed, aud fully dressed? If it's winter he may not have to be up until o'clock but maybe it's snow he'll get on the bridge, and bitter driving wind, until tears blind him and make the flicker ing star a wiIl-o'-the-wi of the ses-
 Sometimes it takes him two hours to get a good set of star lights They must all be worked out and the re- suit compared with the dead reckon ing or guessed position of the vessel Often he can guess closer than he can figure.
 At A. M the full report of lati- %7,I
 tance make good and to destination, compass error, etc., go into the can- tain. No doubt the Old Man finds this meagre news a pretty slim substitute for the morning paper; but he studies it with twice the fixity he would put on ball scores. For here under his eye is the symbol of his ships posi- tion. And just let one tiny error creep in. No amount of prayer car, keep her off the rocks. Said one Skip per when the orderly let the little slip blow overboard: Man, do you know it's a check for twelve million dol lars you've let slip through your fin- gers?" He meant the ship-her posi- ton and her safety
 The Navigator grabs his GEES and , coffee in the pilot house. His com ! passes may be bothcring him. Perhaps 1 the chronom eters have a bit of wind 1 collie. Or the sun sights don't check 1 with the stars. So the morning spins l along, and the mass of papers and l pencil shavings drift over the man and l his assistant until no wonder we call ] them Babes-in- the e-wood-cedar wood. l
 Noon is bigger than eight A. M. as ! far as sights go. Back and forth l rushes the excited navigator. All the l young ensigns cluster about like chicks ! around a nervous hen. Each has a 1 sextant. She dips!" cries one. They l spring to the rail, aim their tele- ] scopes at the blinding orb-and bang! | "they've shot the sum-"
 In plain language the sun has l crossed the north-south line (merid ! ian) and they have read it's altitude l in order to compute the latitude. Once 1 more a complete report goes into the 1 Captain. And once more he clears his 1 throat and wonders, "by TomplSins! 1 whether we're really as far west as l that"
 Through the long afternoon the l same goes on. Eye ache, neck aches, ] head aches--so the navigator says and 1 it's so. Comes evening. The sun has l gone to rest and all that-but not fer l the poor navigator. For speck1ed l through the heavens are hundreds l more suns, and he must stay up late ] and "shoot them one by one. Oh, it's l great hunting on q dark night!
 And incidentally through it all. his l shipmates may be shooting too, at ! sons too, sons of the enemy's fathers. l For in battle particularly in long en- 1 agreements, must the poor defenscless l navigator push away with his pencil, l stopping only occasionally to dodge 8 1 1s-inch projectile, or to scratch the l back of his neck where a shell frag- 1 ment ticl1led him.
 And when he gets home to tho l