“Berthing Capers”

In the many years gone past in this ol’ salts Navy, the berthing compartments have been the sole bearers of the best recollections and ol’ time memories thwarted by a ménage of bunks encapsulating the nastiest group of smelly snoring sailors a fellow shipmate could ever ask for.

The place was usually a pig pen smell’n like a gerbil cage in the heat of summer. There was always the unique tang of dirty laundry and fermenting towels from several weeks of reuse without seeing any hotel services. The distinct aroma of toe jam was an exceptional occasion when the A/C units were down for repairs. The extreme suffocating smell of foot rot and the rancid stench of body odor masked by ol’ spice & Brut 33 made this place a funk smell all its own that no gaudamn high school locker room could even come close to. Yes, I guess that’s why the wardroom often called it the zoo. The air was either colder than a cast iron bra on a pair of witches titties or so gaudamn hot the two rats couldn’t handle the wool sock (if ya know what I mean)!

It was usually so gaudamn small you had to Vaseline your butt and shoulders just to squeeze through the passeges. If Human Social Services ever inspected the likings of an ol’ time Navy ship they’d condemn it as unfit for human habitation. Where else could you room eighty of the lowest forms of sea life in a compartment the size of your garage. After long days underway it was a great little place to think up stupid stuff to do. These were the confines for telling sea stories, lies, and outlandish tales while play’n poker and trad’n the latest sex books in circulation. These were the most worthless bunch of sons-a-bitches gathered in one place.

That’s what made this lair the breeding ground for every hair brained caper, unscrupulous conspiracy, and fiendish plan ever devised. Yes, the most malevolent society of scallywags and scurvy dogs ever put on this Earth. And God knows it was the best place to learn the essentials of camaraderie. It was here we parleyed over Johnny’s involvement with Suzie Rotten Crotch and anything involving fat girls with big tits.

Nowhere was it more accepted among a group of males to give the proverbial ‘good game’ swat on the arse. The act of arse slapping another man, but illuding from the idea of gayness with a ‘good game’ to negate any homosexual implications. Or play a little game of Rochambeau in the likes of Cartman on South Park. You know the one,

"How about we all throw some money into a pile and see who can win it... Rochambeau Style!"

It’s always played with a swift blow to the crotch!! It’s a supreme test of wills. The challenge of challenges where only real men need apply!

“Have you ever seen a pair of ‘Cat Brains?’ Some of you know where that's going!”

Then, while prepping and primping for liberty, towel fights in the buff were often a common sight. I’m not talking about the high school locker room type either. I'm talking grown men style, take a chunk of meat outta your backside! This could really leave a mark!

Then there was the incident on the good ol’ MOMSEN, a sign of the times. In this PC’ Navy about a dozen Sonar Tekkies all went to Skippy’s Mast for playing a little ‘Floss the Towel between the Legs’ in berthing and a bit of ‘Good Game!’ What’s a dirty joke between friends in a secluded space 12 months ago? It could mean the loss of a chevron or crow and half a months pay times two. Tack on about 45 days of restriction to the boat with extra duty. No this ain’t the Navy I joined 22 plus years ago.

Who remembers the wrestling matches in berthing or the time the Skipper walked in with the Captain off the Merrill as Todd Doris was hog tied and shoved head first into the shitcan? What about the time the XO walked in on us while making our best orgasm faces around the table, waiting for berthing inspection? Anyone remember rousting Jose Rayos up in a laundry bag and toss’n him into the laundry bin. These were just some of the silly shenanigans we would pull back in the day. There was no Captains Mast for hazing or Court Martial for inappropriate behavior!

Yes the camaraderie. That was the closest we ever got to saying, "I love you man!”