The author attended the ship’s christening in 2009 and the commissioning in 2010 at Port Everglades Florida
A COLUMN By Kathryn Ross
This weekend, some of the 300-member crew and some officers from the USS Jason Dunham will be spending the weekend in Allegany County. It was explained to me that while this may be the first Cpl. Jason Dunham Weekend it is not the last. It was initiated by the Navy and is part of protocol for the ship’s crew to visit its namesake’s hometown and family. It may happen in the future depending on what the Navy is doing.
Some of the most meaningful moments in my life came from my coverage of the Jason Dunham tragedy. I’m not talking about awards or accolades; I’m talking about personally meaningful moments.
As a result of my courtesy towards Dan and Deb Dunham during one of the most terrible times in their lives, the loss of their son Jason, I experienced some of the most meaningful moments of my career and life.
I was in the crowd that sunny day in Maine, Aug. 1, 2009, at the Bath Iron Works when Deb Dunham pounded a champagne bottle on the massive hull, christening the USS Jason Dunham and launching it into the blue Atlantic Ocean. The sky was full of colorful confetti, and a band played loud music. The dock side audience was full of the bright, white, uniforms of the crew.
The USS Jason Dunham was the first United States Ship to be named for a noncommissioned officer. It joined the ranks of the USS John McCain and The Sullivans and many more.
I couldn’t help noticing the irony of its DDG 109 designation. As a child of the 60’s, that number on the side of a boat has a significant meaning to me.
The trip to Bath, Maine was special to me because Maine is one of my all-time favorite places. If I didn’t live here, I would live there.
The respect I showed the Dunham’s had led to an invitation to the Medal of Honor ceremony held in the East Room of the White House on January. 11, 2007. The room may have been callously destroyed, but my memories of that ceremony amid the pomp and historical beauty of the room is intact in my memory and always will be.
On November 13, 2010 the USS Jason Dunham was commissioned at Port Everglades in Florida between Fort Lauderdale and Miami. I was literally aboard via an invitation from the officers and crew.
I had flown into Jacksonville on the 11th. and because of my late arrival, I spent the night wandering the airport. The next morning, I was picked up at the airport by a Navy escort and delivered to the Naval Air Station in Jacksonville where the USS Jason Dunham was moored. I climbed on board with others who had been invited to the ceremony. We spent the rest of the day touring the ship while sailing the 260 nautical miles to Port Everglades near Miami. I still bear the scars on my left shin from banging it on the deck as we climbed through the shafts that led us from deck to deck.
That night, Commander M. Scott Sciretta played with us demonstrating the maneuverability of the guided missile destroyer and knocking our sea legs out from under us with quick turns and splashing those of us on the aft deck with the warm water of the Atlantic when he suddenly backed up.
Later I slept in the crew’s quarters in an iron cubicle four inches off the deck and not tall enough to lift my book high enough from my face to read. It was a physical reminder as to why young people fight our country’s battles.
Early the next morning I watched from the deck as a rising sun lit a bright pathway across the ocean while the Atlantic rose and fell around us. My father, a Navy veteran from World War II, had told me about sailing the Atlantic. I left his dog tag on the warship as a kind of coming full circle.
The next day, the docked ship was festooned with red, white and blue bunting from stem to stern and from towers to decks. In their sunlit, white uniforms the crew lined the decks, and gangways draped in banners. It was a thundering, breath taking, heart beating scene full of drama and patriotism and a moment in time I will never forget.
It was all because I respected the privacy of grieving parents, the way I was brought up to.
Kathryn Ross is a lifelong Wellsville resident, reporter, columnist, photographer, and community activist. You can reach her anytime, kathr_2002@yahoo.com
