I left the ES Navy in 1972. We already planned to move to Israel. I considered the possibility of sailing in the Israeli Merchant Marine nd got a couple of letters of recommendation before we left. I also arranged for a US Merchant Marine document, but that’s a separate story.
We made the move and got an apartment in Haifa. I went to the Israeli Merchant Marine placement office near the port. They were very happy to see me. An interview was arranged with Zim shipping lines. The personnel department was going to have me sail as an additional third officer and English teacher on a cadet ship that traveled between Haifa and Hamburg . This meant my time away from home would be less and it was important because our second daughter was born just after we arrived in Israel.
I got a sailing date and duly reported to the Zim office the day before departure for a mandatory check by the company doctor. He never even examined me. He saw I was wearing glasses and asked what I was going to be doing. When he heard third officer he .immediately disapproved my joining the ship. He was very much “old school” and a deck officer without perfect vision was unthinkable. It didn’t matter that I had been a watch stander in the US Navy or that I even got a medal for doing that job well. The ship sailed the next day without me.
I was very frustrated and returned to the placement office. The officer in charge, Captain Abromovitch, was stunned.. How could this be? He called on me to go the window of the 4th floor office and look into the parking lot below.
“Can you see the license numbers on those cars without your glasses?”
“Yes”
“Read the number of that green car”.
In those days Israeli auto license numbers were assigned by regions and the first digit of the number was the regional number. Haifa used regional number “7”.
I started to read the number, which was, in fact, a bit indistinct without my glasses.
“Seven..”, I began.
“That’s enough!” said Abromovitch.
“we’re going to meet with the doctor on Wednesday and clear this up. You meet me there at 9 AM”
I showed up on time, and the Captain met me. He had another man ith him that I did not know. He turned out to be the head of maritime licensing from the Israeli Transport Ministry. They were also carrying a small brown paper bag.
“Sit here.” Abromovitch commanded, “We’ll go in first.”
The pair of them went in to talk to the doctor. When they came out I was informed that everything had been settled. I also noticed that the brown paper bag was missing.
The head of licensing handed me a small piece of paper which turned out to be my official permit to sail as a deck officer, When the ship returned, in about 2or 3 weeks, I was scheduled to sail in her on the next trip.
In e actual event, the ship did not return on time. There was a dock strike in Hamburg and her return was delayed. By the time she did come back I was already being processed to join the Israeli Navy as an officer. But that is also a separate story for another time.
Wetherhorn 