{"id":10242,"date":"2026-08-29T00:01:00","date_gmt":"2026-08-29T00:01:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/brendans-island.com\/catholic-citizen\/?p=10242"},"modified":"2026-08-27T21:28:30","modified_gmt":"2026-08-27T21:28:30","slug":"night-watch-paying-attention-and-my-father","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/brendans-island.com\/catholic-citizen\/night-watch-paying-attention-and-my-father\/","title":{"rendered":"Night Watch, Paying Attention, and My Father"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"Technical<\/a>
U.S. Navy WWII LST (Landing Ship Tank), from All Hands magazine..<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

My father, Bernard Ives Gill, was a Lieutenant J.G. on an LST during World War II. One of his duties was standing watch on the bridge. Being a rather junior officer, he often got the night watches.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On one of these, both he and the sailor at the helm were experiencing the wakeful serenity of duty. Below, the ocean streamed by. Above, stars slowly rolled around the pole as hours passed and the convoy sailed towards its destination.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then they noticed that the stern of the ship ahead of them looked a lot bigger than it should have.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/a>A Little Background: Signal Cables and the Captain’s Cabin<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

“LST” stands for Landing Ship Tank. Each LST was very roughly as long as a football field and weighed well over a thousand tons.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The things were not particularly maneuverable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Signal cables or chains ran from the bridge to the engine room passed right by the captain’s cabin. Being mechanical connections, they made quite a racket when someone on the bridge signaled the engine room, and someone in the engine room rang the repeater to acknowledge the order.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

During night watches, it was customary for slight adjustments in power needed to keep the ship in position to be carried by a runner from the bridge to the engine room as written messages. That way, the captain could have a good night’s sleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Back to that quiet night watch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/a>Oops<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Both my father and the sailor at the helm hadn’t noticed that the stern of the ship ahead of them had been getting bigger. Not until they were too close for comfort.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And not until in was too late to send a runner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The ship’s engines had to be re-set: fast!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I gather that the repeater cables rattling\/clanking\/banging in the captain’s cabin brought him sharply awake. Naturally, he was curious as to why the sudden maneuver was necessary.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I don’t know what happened after that. My father would only say that he was embarrassed, and that the captain wasn’t pleased.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/a>So What?<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

An obvious point to this story is that situational awareness is a good idea. So is correcting mistakes, even when it’s embarrassing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I could rattle on about war, peace, high ideals and all that. But I’ve discussed that sort of thing before:<\/p>\n\n\n\n