Jeff Edwards is a retired U.S. Navy Chief Petty Officer, and an Anti-Submarine Warfare Specialist. He is currently working as a civilian expert consultant to the Fleet Anti-Submarine Warfare Command, the Navy's think tank for high-tech undersea warfare. His naval career spanned more than two decades and half the globe -- from chasing Soviet nuclear attack submarines during the Cold War, to launching cruise missiles in the Persian Gulf.
He puts his extensive experience as a Surface
Warfare specialist to work in his new novel,
TORPEDO.
In a plot that could easily be ripped from
today's headlines, TORPEDO combines an accident
at a nuclear power plant, an illegal arms
deal, and a biological warfare attack, to
ignite a crisis that could draw Western Europe,
the Middle East, and the United States into
all-out war. TORPEDO mixes the elements of
a classic sea chase novel with state-of-the-art
technology to create a cutting-edge Surface
Warfare Thriller.
Sound Off! Got an opinion about this article? Make your voice heard on the Jeff Edwards discussion forum.
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February 28, 2005
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Forum to sound off.]
Nearly three weeks ago, I sat down to write a column about Black History Month. As an old retired seadog, it seemed fitting for me to concentrate on the history of African Americans in the United States Navy. I felt pretty confident in my overall knowledge of the subject, but I checked out a stack of books from the Public Library and did a little digging just to make sure I had my ducks all lined up properly.
As usual, the research paid off. There was a lot that I didn't know about the history of African Americans in the Navy, and now I'm smart enough to realize there's a lot more that I still don't know. But I accumulated more than enough information to write a column on the subject, and I managed to rough out an outline in a couple of days. From there, it should have been just a matter of elaborating and wordsmithing: a few hours work, and my column would have been ready for prime time.
Three weeks later, Black History Month 2005 has wound to a close, and I am just finishing my column. I didn't get lazy, and I didn't lose interest. I could plead the pressures of schedule, as the last few weeks truly have been crazy. But it wasn't lack of time that put the brakes on my column. Something happened to me. I discovered Lanier Phillips.
For those of you who already know about Lanier, I'm not claiming that I saw him first, merely that I've only just learned of his existence. If you haven't yet heard of Mr. Phillips, don't be discouraged. His name isn't a household word yet, although it probably should be.
I came across Lanier's name in the course of my research. As a Sonar Technician myself, I wanted to find out about the first African American Sonar Technician in the U.S. Navy. His name, I learned, was Lanier Phillips. (For those who are gearing up to send me emails about Norberto Collado, allow me to point out that Mr. Collado is Cuban, not American. Although he received some training from U.S. Officers, he served aboard Cuban ships, in the navy of his own country. From what I've learned of him, Norberto Collado has an interesting story of his own. But that's for another day, and - more than likely - another columnist.)
I found a few articles on Lanier Phillips, but nothing with any real depth. Then I learned that he lives in Washington, D.C., and - with a few judicious emails - I managed to wrangle a telephone interview. Before I even picked up the phone, I typed up an entire list of cross-referenced questions, sharpened my pencil, and surrounded myself with notes and references about the man's life. I was prepared for the sort of professional no-nonsense interview made famous by the big-named journalists. When the call went through, I even remembered to ask his permission to record our conversation, in case my notes failed to capture something important.
Retired Navy Petty Officer Lanier Phillips
Then Lanier began to speak, and my pretense of professionalism went out the window. I was enthralled. I wasn't struck dumb, mind you. I got in more than my share of talking. But the man is a wonderful storyteller and he has such an incredible story to tell.
Lanier was born in Lithonia, Georgia, in 1923. In the early decades of the twentieth century, De Kalb County was Ku Klux Klan country, and the Klan ruled Lanier's home town. There was only one school for black children, and in 1929, the Klan burned it down. Like every other African American in Lithonia, Lanier lived in constant fear. He dreamed of a different and better life, but what else was there?
In October of 1941, at the age of eighteen, Lanier joined the Navy. As he puts it, "I didn't want to be a sharecropper and the Navy was the only other choice I could see."
In 1941 the only rating open to African American Sailors was Messman, sometimes called Steward's Mate. Messmen cleaned, served, shined the shoes of the officers, and generally performed tasks that were considered too menial for white Sailors. The Navy was still strictly segregated. Blacks and whites had separate berthing compartments, separate heads (bathroom facilities); they even ate separately. White enlisted Sailors took their meals on the mess decks. White Officers ate in the wardroom. Black Sailors had to eat standing up in the Messman's pantry.
In the Navy, Lanier found himself facing a different breed of discrimination. "It wasn't quite like jumping from the frying pan into the fire," he told me with a chuckle. "It was more like jumping from the frying pan into the kettle. It wasn't quite so hot, but it was pretty close."
The Navy didn't go in for whippings or burning crosses, so it was better than the Klan. But not a lot better. It wasn't really safer either. In the Navy, the Klan couldn't grab a man out of his own house in the dark of night, the way they could back in De Kalb County. But, as Lanier would be quick to remind you, Nazi U-boats were already torpedoing ships off the East Coast of the United States. American Sailors were fighting and dying in the Atlantic long before war was declared in December of '41.
