Typing:
I learned to type in "Radioman A School" in Bainbridge, MD, in September-October 1970 right after Navy boot camp.
Of all the ratings I qualified for, that was the one that interested me the least, but I was determined to do my best.
The first order of business was teaching all of us how to type. Some already knew and were given piddling duties to perform until the rest of us caught up.
The odd thing was that all the keys were capitals. We never learned to shift, but we were taught the QWERTY method.
Minimum speed for entering school was 60 wpm. As the classes progressed, over a week or so, I got up to 90 wpm. It's not hard to get there if you don't have to shift. AND, we didn't learn the numbers row, for some reason.
Another strange thing is that we needed typing in order to learn Morse Code. We learned out dits and dahs over a week and then began the testing to see how accurately we could type out the code into words at faster transmission speeds. The faster and more accurate we got, the further up in the class we were seated until, in the final week of code, I was in the number 2 position. Sadly, I never heard or typed code again after that school.
The guy who was in the number 1 position was sent on to specialized training to type and transmit code. Turns out there were limited opportunities for that, and whatever gift I had for it was unnecessary after the school was over.
No, after learning how to do air-to-ground communications, and how to operate teletype keyboards and cut messages onto teletype tapes, I finished third in my class of 60 and was sent to Naval Air Station, Jacksonville FL. My first two weeks were spent cleaning passageways and toilets in the Message Center and buffing the floors.
Yes, life was grand. After that demonstration of my gifts, I was allowed into the Message Center where I learned to operate mimeograph machines in order to print out and distribute messages. It was a multiple mimeo machine operation, and we processed thousands of messages a day. I was also taught how to make coffee for everyone in my duty section and got to hone my buffing skills once a week in weekly "field day" activities.
I did get a promotion off a test. As a 3rd class petty officer, I made enough money to go out and see a movie in a civilian movie theater until, of course, Admiral Zumwalt began his modernization of the Navy and convinced Congress that the military was way overdue for a pay increase. It wasn't all Zumwalt. The Joint Chiefs of Staff convinced Congress and my payday increased significantly...more than triple what it had been (which was at Korean war levels until 1971-72).
Two most strange and wonderful things happened to me in late 72 and early 73: First, the powers-that-were needed a sailor in the shop to learn to operate a top secret cryptography unit. They picked me, and got me a top secret-cryptologic security clearance. I learned what I needed to do, but it was a very rare occasion when something required that sort of decryption. The second thing was that a friend in our personnel office told me that a rating I had wanted but had been "closed" (a closed rating was fully manned) when I was trying to find a career field (before they picked the Radioman one for me) had suddenly been opened and was classified as critical. What that meant was that new positions had been created as part of Zumwalt's modernization. I "ran a request chit" through my chain of command requesting I be cross-trained from Radioman to the rating of "Journalist".
Trust me when I say the request chit was not well-received. My first one was torn up by the leading petty officer. But he was told that my request MUST be forwarded rather than disregarded under new rules Zumwalt had introduced. I needed to run that request through five people, including the Message Center Commander. They all denied my request, and I was told there was no chance the Navy would entrust me with new training when thousands of dollars had been spent on my training and the specialized security status.
Still, I delivered my chit to the Commanding officer's secretary, hoping against hope that he might consider it.
A day or two later, I was summoned to the CO's office. His secretary bade me to sit down, and then a set of saloon doors opened, and the CO invited me into his office.
We talked for about 15 minutes. We had coffee, and he gave me an assignment: Write a page or two on why I wanted to be a journalist and bring it by his office.
That night, i drafted my treatise in ink and re-copied it a couple of times until it was legible.
Next morning, I dropped it off and reported for work.
I'm not sure how much time passed. Must have been a few days, but I got a summons to the CO's office, and his secretary smiled and handed me my request chit. All the disapprovals by my Message Center seniors had been changed to "Approved". I returned to the Message Center, heart pounding, and was denied entry. One of my co-workers told me to wait, and returned with a message and said "Read it".
I was accepted into and was assigned "Journalist A School" at Fort Benjamin Harrison IN to cross-train. Until my reporting date, I was reassigned to the NAS Jacksonville Public Affairs Office.
Journalism was my career in the Navy, and it covered a lot of ground. I edited newspapers, taught journalism for five years, did radio shows, TV news, served as station manager of the military TV/radio station in Naples, Italy, etc. etc.
Have gotten off track, sorry to say. It was in Journalism A School where I needed to re-learn how to type, using shift keys and numbers, too. Happily, my previous all-caps speed helped me meet the school's criteria.
My friend for many years was an IBM Selectric II typewriter. I rather miss typing on those wonderful machines, but they never had auto-correct and could be a bit unforgiving at times.
