There was the threat of severe weather all day, in fact, the air show in Biloxi was cancelled for that day, and right after I got into my room after touring the USS Alabama, the tornado siren went off. I was strangely unaffected, and maybe that was due to spending so much time in and around and on the deck of the battleship. I knew, intellectually, that it was like a little town on the water, but actually ducking through hatches and climbing up and down ladders and checking out the museum style recreations of shipboard life brought it all to life like a weird, half remembered dream of being there yourself. Of course that is unimaginable, I mean, even if you were stuck in traffic in the middle of summer in Baton Rouge and turned the ac off in the car and left the windows rolled up until you just felt like shit and couldn’t take it any more–it wouldn’t be close to what those men went through every day without the opportunity to bail or call it off or do something else. Even those that volunteered were giving up control of their lives. Even those who made it through gave up some of their most important years and were never the same. And those who didn’t go to war were shamed at home, if not openly, then subtly, back when being a man’s man was way more important to everyone than it is now. The USS Alabama is a crypt, a monument, and an inspiration. We don’t know, we can’t imagine what those men went through unless we were there beside them. They accomplished incredible things. They accomplished terrible things. So it goes, as Vonnegut would tell us.
There was also an air park and a tank farm on site, and unfortunately the day I was there was also the date of an auto show with hundreds of chopped vehicles and those who love them on hand. My room at the Quality Inn in Historic Downtown Mobile was not ready for me when I was ready for it, so I wandered a bit and discovered yet another southern pirate city that had more in common with those other cities like New Orleans, and Galveston and Savannah than any of them had with other cities in their state. I found a tourista style joint for lunch and tried my first Monte Cristo sandwich, which was edible but not very exciting, then lingered in a super comfortable coffee bar called Serda before going back to the hotel and quizzing the check in clerk on her favorite sushi spot. That was a good move on my part, and one of the best travel tips I can give anyone. Disregard the online travel reviews and ask a service industry person where they think you should go. Wish I’d remembered to do that for lunch.
The sushi bar was named the Liquid Sushi Lounge, and the crew did a really nice job with both my meal and service. The shrimp spring rolls and shrimp tempura were both perfectly fried, and the sashimi was super fresh and I was impressed with the blossom arrangement. And in addition my server (who was reading a paperback of George R. R. Martin’s Book of Thrones, poor child!) pointed me to the Loda Biergarten where I found a nice Imperial red which is hard to find in Baton Rouge. Some beers just don’t make an appearance in Baton Rouge. You can find PBR and Natty Light, but hardly anyone carries High Life. There are more IPA’s than you can shake a stick at, but a red or brown ale? forget about it!
Here’s how they spent their evenings during the war in warrant officer country.
It’s all right there in the cartons of cigarettes in the ship’s store, the pinup girls all over the walls in every room that wasn’t an actual battle compartment, the rush to get to the mail from home. These men gave so very much of themselves so we could have what we have. I was fascinated by the galleys on board and the oh-so-familiar shapes of flattops and mixers and slicers and dish machines, but I think I’ll post a separate gallery of galleys on Facebook since only the real pros will find those shots as interesting as I did. I needed the USS Alabama, and I think, in a way, we all do. We need to remember how hard that generation fought for our votes to count, to mean something. A whole nation standing against tyrants who could care less what we thought, or loved, or longed for. I can only hope we don’t throw that hard fought freedom away, or forget those who fought for us to have it.
