USS Michael Murphy Homecoming

Chris’ ship 1MC announcement before the fly off:

“Good afternoon Michael Murphy, this is the Air Boss, Scalleykat Actual. As we approach the end of deployment together and before we fly off tomorrow, on behalf of myself and the rest of the Scalleykatz I want to thank each and every one of you for the hospitality, camaraderie, and teamwork you’ve shown to my team and I during SUSTEX and deployment. Though every sailor on this ship has supported our operations in some way, I also want to particularly thank the flight deck team for their long hours at flight quarters. Your time and efforts are greatly appreciated, and you do a fantastic job daily. This is my 5th detachment and 6th ship overall, and the level of integration we’ve been able to achieve together is beyond what I’ve experienced in my career so far, both between the ship and the HSM-37 Easyriders, and as a department within Michael Murphy. Just as together we enhance each other’s combat potential between the ship and helicopter, we enhance each other’s professional potential as well, and I hope we’ve helped make you more well-rounded sailors, just as you have done for us. I’m proud to serve on a ship with such a great namesake legacy, and even prouder to serve with each of you who continue to leave a lasting legacy through your service. It’s been a great cruise, and the Easyriders stand ready to sail with you again! Lead the fight!”

Homecomings are the best! Chris and the other pilots wore their whites to the USS Michael Murphy homecoming the day after their fly off at the squadron. As we waited on the pier at Pearl Harbor, our first indication that our ship was coming in was the repeated blasts, or “Aloha whistles,” of the neighboring ships. At first this startled and alarmed me—five short blasts of a ship’s horn usually means, “move it or lose it.” That’s right, I read the material for boating class. But the blasts continued and Chris explained it’s a Pearl Harbor tradition!

A couple F-22s did a fly-over. The sailors, all in white with orchid leis, manned the rail. The closer the ship got, the more people pier-side started to recognize their sailors, waving and shouting hello over the brass band, the aloha whistles, the tugboat pushing the ship into place, the entire happy hubbub.

The thing about a homecoming is, there’s a lot of waiting…and waiting…and waiting. Waiting while it rains. Waiting while the rain clears up. Waiting for the ship to dock. Waiting for the ramp to get set up. Waiting for the official first hugs and kisses. So the initial excitement has a chance to wane a bit. But then the sailors start stepping off the boat, saluting as they walk across, and when their feet hit the pier families came flying from right and left to collect their loved ones. Kids get tossed high in the air, leis and kisses abound, and I cried and took pictures while Eloise complained about the rain and the sunshine.

(This woman was super excited about her sailor coming home on their fourth anniversary. “To the day!!” she bubbled, waving to him as the ship inched closer. His smile mirrored hers.)

When Chris found out he’d be on the USS Michael Murphy, we were like, “wait…why do we know this ship?” Back in Japan, watching AFN (Armed Forces Network) commercials about how to put out oven fires and reasons to get off base and explore, one of the spots was on the ship’s namesake, the US Navy SEAL officer Michael P. Murphy, who was killed in Afghanistan in 2005 while radioing for help as his men fought off the Taliban surrounding them. The helicopter coming to their aid was shot down. Between the SEALs on the ground and the crew and SEALs aboard the helicopter, only one man survived. Murphy was awarded the Medal of Honor (the first since the Vietnam War). It’s sobering to be on a ship named after someone born just a few years before Chris or me, someone who died when he was younger than we are now. We celebrate a homecoming he and his fiance never got.