Thursday, November 30, 2017

"Baby-Faced Wiggins"



Short and baby-faced, Wiggins had trouble being taken seriously in the Navy.  A mustache, he assumed, would fix that, but he was wrong.

"Wiggins!"

… Bellowed his Chief after spotting the growth during Quarters for Muster & Inspection ...


"What's so special about your nose that it's got to be underlined?"


Tuesday, November 21, 2017

'Nasty City'

How many times do you remember being downtown after the Trolley stopped and sharing a cab while splitting the fare with a shipmate you didn’t even know? You had one commonality!! You were both Crackerjacks heading to 32nd Street… you were brothers!! That’s how it was on many occasions, but not on this particularly hair raising night of raising hell at the local McDini’s Baha in Nasty City!!!
 
As a young man and a Crackerjack to boot, I was less than immune to the games of stupidity! Yes, I was steeped, boiled and drowned in young stupidity for a number of years!! That’s how I managed to amass such a piling heap of sea stories over my twenty-three years of ocean crossing and tom-foolery!!! 
 
On this particular night I was hell-bent for flesh and fermentation! More than not, most nights I ended up plenty fermented with the only sure signs of flesh being Rosie Palm and her five sisters!! Playing skins has always been a game of Russian Roulette … you usually end up with an empty chamber and when you don’t, it could be loaded with a plethora of ‘VD’ … Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates!!!
 
I’d spent much of the night throwing quarters into the juke box, shooting pool on tattered tables while drinking lukewarm beer from around the world! I was hoping to find a woman to fondle but found nothing I’d want to stick for fear of scarring my brain for life!! It can get pretty nasty in “Nasty City!!!”
 
The time flew and soon it was well after bar thirty as I found myself walking back towards base all alone! So I headed to the trolley on 8th Street but must’ve been just a bit too late to catch the last train to nowhere!! My next course of action was to stumble northbound on Harbor View until I made the three or four mile hike to the 32nd Street Main Gate!!!
That’s when it all came about … some nameless, faceless sailor just happened along and offered me a ride! I just figured him for another good-natured shipmate unselfishly giving for the sake of another shipmate in need!! After all, we were brothers in a sense … and it was a chilly night for San Diego!!!
 
He stopped, asking if I needed a ride! That sure beat the hell out of the never ending job of walking back on a dark ass night in the autumn chill biding time for that hot cup of coffee on the mess decks once I got back aboard!! It was one of those nights that made your toes numb trying to keep the feet warm in that miserable weather which was uncommonly wet that night!!!
 
Just as we were approaching 32nd Street and he stopped to let me out …
 
“Could I entice you with a little head for twenty or thirty dollars? Or maybe some anal in the backseat for fifty?” 
 
Imagine that, another shipmate wanting to jerk my lanyard for an extra few Dineros?!? I’m not even sure if he was offering his services or asking for mine … at this point it didn’t matter …
 
“Sorry shipmate, but having sex with another man would be like poking a raw oyster through a crazy straw … it just ain’t gonna work for me!”
 
It was enough to make me as uncomfortable as a twisted testicle… I think I’d rather play leapfrog with a unicorn! This sexual promiscuity on the Left Coast was just getting out of hand!! In just a few short months I’d unknowingly made out with a Tranny, was approached by a male hooker or a John … not sure which role he was playing, and had seen things in Tijuana a young man just isn’t supposed to see!!! 
 
I wasn’t about to go bragging about my excursions to my cohorts onboard the Baglady! I realized long ago when it came to 'games of chance' it was simpler to keep my mouth shut than tell these types of ‘no shitters’ to shipmates back on the ship!!  It saved a hell of a lot of time and embarrassment as they’d have made me the communal urinal of homo jokes and eaten my soul alive!!!
 
Aaaah the memories… always recalling the little things! They formed the composite of an old salty son-of-a-bitch reliving years when he was better put together and thought he could conquer the world!! That’s the connection we all have as shipmates!! We’ve all got’em … different, but Same, Same … just like the little ‘LBFMs’ down and out in the south seas of the PI!!!




Sunday, November 19, 2017

'Navy Basic'


In Navy Basic Training, I soon learned that everything we recruits used actually belonged to the Company Commander! For instance, he referred to the stuff in our lockers as “my trash,” and the racks we slept in as “my racks!” One time when we were all whispering in the bathroom while making “head calls,” our Company Commander must had overheard us!!!

To our surprise, he suddenly yelled …


“WHY DO I HEAR VOICES IN MY HEAD?!?”


Friday, November 17, 2017

'Repair On Board The Silly Willy'

The following piece is from a former IC3 Stephen Gray (who failed to include himself) around the 1973-74 era! It describes a time aboard the USS W.S. Sims (a.k.a.) Silly Willy and the shipmates that served under then DCA Ltjg. Charles “I Never Take Off My Sunglasses’ Rodriguez!!!

Repair Division, an integral part of Engineering, was composed of four rates; Hull Technicians, Electricians Mates, Machinery Repairman, and Interior Communications Electricians! The HT’s were sometimes led by HT1 Maurice Bower and other times by mass confusion! Second in command was HT2 Frank (The Nerd) Trimmer who played at Helicopter Fire Chief during flight quarters and whose ability to clean out stopped-up toilets was beyond reproach!! HT2 Mike Shockey rounded out the ruling class of HT’s and being “short” there wasn’t much said concerning his naval views in a censored military environment!!!

Keeping with the Navy pecking order, HT3 Keith Chambers entered the scene! Petty Officer Third Class (Push-button type) Chambers’ obsession with a high-speed, good maneuvering, well-constructed Volkswagen had made him a key figure in the toilet cleaning brigade second only to Frank Trimmer! HT3 Dan Hinkle came to us from the Army where he traded ground pounding for wave riding!! For the illustrious strikers (those fools attempting to become HT’s) there was FA John Berger who would constantly, in port, try to disprove the theory that the shortest distance between point A and B is a straight line, while HTFA Mike Baimbridge, the Naval Reservist in our midst, didn’t know whether he was an HT or not... He evidently assumed the title while going through that tough two week Bootcamp!!!

FN Leonard Baldini, our bird and rabbit murderer of the division, would gladly tell you the necessity of hunting the vicious man-eating sparrow with a Thompson sub-machine gun! FN Mike Carter, a Boatswain mate reject, was a real asset to the HT’ with his superior knot tying ability!!!

Head maladroit of the Electricians EMC Terry (Chief) McDaniels whose trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, brave, clean, and reverent ideas (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha) had sparked the electricians under him to heights few men have ever achieved! The manipulator and general enforcer was EM1 George (Frenchy) Ouellette whose conduct ashore was in the highest traditions of the United States of America, Department of Defense, United States Navy, the USS W. S. Sims, and the First National Methodist Church of America!! Next in line was EM2 Harry (Motor Mouth) Patterson with past adventures of the USS Saratoga which were, in fact, unbelievable!! His first and foremost admirer, EM3 and a half Oliver (Briar Hopper) Cornett Jr. whose speech and mumbled wit required constant translation from the other barefoot, down-home boys of the Division, had brought about the rejuvenation of the now famous song “Jingle Briar” followed closely by “Sixteen Briar Hoppers, What do you get?”

EMFN (at long last) Don Braun alias BB alias Buddha Belly alias Bubbles Braun alias Butter Ball is one of the comical electricians with his joint checking account with his car-wrecking girlfriend! EMFN Vince Sinopoli was from Louisiana and dreamed of going to the Mardi Gras one day!! I’m sure that he and his goatee (all twelve hairs) had eventually made it!!!

FN Richard (Ravin’ Richie) Hughes dreamed a little differently! His dreams were of becoming an OS or a QM or maybe an MS or anything out of Engineering! He was our gullible fireman who pleased our Sea Story tellers by believing every last word as the Gospel Truth!! EMFN Joseph (Squeaky) Nalli and EMFN Steven (FRIO) Donofrio both were recent arrivals and therefore won’t be subjected to verbal abuse as they were too wet behind the ears before I left!!!

Division Officer, Damage Control Assistant and Division Chief ICC Charles (Chuckie Baby) Miller, was the ranking babysitter of the ship’s gyro compass and whose ludicrous inanity on small jobs had given him the title of Ace Sweat-Pump aboard Silly Willy! Leading Petty Officer of the IC work center was IC2 Danny Waldrop!!
Although new to the ship, his endless stream of “bubblehead” (submarine) jokes enhanced the Divisions ever sinking morale!! His right-hand man was IC3 Thomas Davis better known as the old man of the Division!!!

ICFN Daniel Rohde, the other designated striker, constantly attempted to build non-working Heath Kit projects! FN Gerald Jenkins, the last of the IC Men, was TAD to IC “A” School proving the fact that you could get off the Silly Willy without getting out of the service!!!

The Machinery Repairmen section of R Division was by far and away the smallest segment! Smallest, not in work load but in number; only two men!! The top-dog of the MR’s was MR2 John Phillips!! His ability to produce precision cribbage boards and pegs (which don’t work) and his superior (what a joke!) card playing ability had earned him an unprintable name with which to live by!! The other MR, FN Axel Wittenrood hailed from Chicago, Illinois and let you know it as soon as you meet him, so that he wouldn’t be confused with the “hillbillys” in the other gangs!!!

All kidding and joking aside, being part of Repair Division, was a hard-working, thankless job endured by all the above mentioned men and it was my privilege to be associated with those people for the last year and a half of my time aboard! Just maybe someday, someone, will realize the importance of this Division and the individuals who were a part of it!!!



Saturday, November 11, 2017

'DOWN IN THE VALLEY'

( Another Shanty … )


Twas down in Twat valley
Where maidenheads grow
Where cocksuckers flourish
And the red river flows
Twas there I met Lulu
The girl I adore

That hare fucking c-o-o-ck-sucking whore
She’ll fuck you and suck you
She’ll gnaw on your nuts
And if you’re not careful
She'll suck out your guts.
She'll fuck for a nickel
Take less or take more

That hard fucking c-o-o-ck-sucking 
Mexican whore.
Now Lulu is [dead]
She lies in her tomb
The flies and the maggots
Crawl around in her womb
But from that dark region
She cries out for more
That hard fucking c-o-o-ck-sucking
Mexican Whore


Friday, November 10, 2017

'A Whale Of A Story'


Two whales are swimming along one day when one spots a boat up ahead. He turns to his buddy and says,

"Hey, you wanna have some fun? Let's go tip over that boat!"

So they both head for the surface and get their lungs full of air. They then dive and shoot all the air out of their blowholes. The ship tips over as planned and the whales swim away.

Not too far away, the first whale turns to his buddy again and says,

"Hey, how about we go back and swallow up some of the survivors?"

To this the second whale says,

"Look, I don t mind giving a blow job, but I hate swallowing seamen."


Tuesday, November 7, 2017

'Australian Service Ship'

If Australia became a republic, HMAS may become simply AS (Dropping the "His/Her Majesty's), or 'ASS'…  Here's Thirty-One ways that this could turn out bad:

I have to say admiral, you run a tight ass.

She's the largest ass in the fleet.

Sir! Our ass has sprung a leak!

Quick, sound the depth-sonar...I want to know exactly how many asses are in the area.

Our ass is hit sir!

That ass was lost at sea.

I've never seen so many seamen inside one ass.

Tell the Rear Admiral to get the seamen onto the poop deck … we have an ass to clean.

Request permission to land on your ass.

That submarine is attacking our ass.

I hear they're developing a new stealth-ass, it can slip right in undetected.

I'm the Cheng, I'll be probing deep into the bowels of your ass.

Let’s get this ass ship-shape.

We've detected a foreign object in the ass!

C'mon, let’s haul ass.

This ass will track the movements of the navy.

The air force will go in first and the ass will bring up the rear.

The supply ass is following closely.

They just fired on our ass!

Let’s fill this ass with able seamen.

They've breached the ass!

The Enemy: Vay are zey assink aruund?!

Our asses will shit on anything they throw at us.

We'll plunder that ass for all she's got.

Deploy the ass' floatation devices!

I've sunk many an ass in my time.

I'm giving this ass all I can Cap'n, she just can't take any more!

Get off my ass!

Those sea-men rode in on a huge ass.

The captain went down on his ass.

The ass has encountered a 20 knot tailwind.

The same could be said in all cases if the term Australian Naval Ship (ANS, or 'anus') was used.



Thursday, November 2, 2017

‘That Dreaded OBA’

How many of you Ol’ Coots remember not long ago when we were using this Breathing Device long known as the ‘OBA’ or Oxygen Breathing Apparatus?!?

This is where some enterprising genius discovered that if you are retired Navy and you build something half-ass, the Canoe Club Brass will buy it for six times the going price! I mean sons-a-bitches were a gauddamned death trap at best!! When the instructors at firefighting school were using SCBAs instead of what we were wearing onboard ship, you could recognize it for pure, unadulterated horseshit … if not you need to check into the Betty Ford clinic and get the hell off whatever it is you're lighting up!!!

It was a pretty easy contraption to operate, but very important that you learned how to use properly! For instance, there were the RED canisters and the GREEN canisters!! RED was for training, and I’ll be gauddamned if I’d ever actually used one in training!! It was enough to confuse the shit out of me, you and the whole lot of us!!!

Once donned, and the canister was actuated, you had a thirty minute timer! But like anything else, they rarely lasted fifteen minutes … it’s been awhile so my numbers are probably off!! Sometimes trying to breath in those damned things was like sipping the contents of a Pakistani septic tank through a straw … In other words, if you ran out of air, you were screwed!!!

When removing the son-of-a-bitch, you had to be real careful not to burn your hands as the canister got real gauddamned hot! There was a chemical inside the canister that was like a caustic soda and it made it so you had to use an oven mitt or lean over a trashcan to get rid of the monstrosity!! Never mind the fact this little box of chemicals could cause a violent explosion right around your chesticles!!!

That’s right, mixing any type of petroleum based substance, water and the canister could turn you into a regular onboard jihadi suicide bomber without the “Allah Akbar!”  So what are you expecting to crawl around in during a main space fire anyway?!? That’s Right … water and oil! You could be waste deep in the muck, trip over some refuse and “KABOOM!!”  It could be lights out!! I mean, who came up with this asinine idea anyway?!? Yet we used OBAs for a good forty or fifty years before we finally got the modern day SCBAs you see at your local fire house!!!

If that wasn’t bad enough, you had to fit the gauddamned thing over a huge Fire Fighter Ensemble! Now that made you feel like you were dressed up like an organ grinders monkey!! If you were one of those smaller Crackerjack types, one of the sons-a-bitches could weigh as much as the poor bastard wearing it! You’d need a lifeguard in case you accidentally fell in!!!

If you were built like a beef cake, it was some real entertainment watching you try to stuff yourself inside one of them things! I mean how much shit can you stuff into a tampon tube anyway?!? I guess it’s better than ending up looking like a Pompeii lava victim!!!

But hey, we were young, stupid and fearless as hell! An old Grizzly face Chief getting red faced while breathing down your neck to get dressed out and go fight that fire …

"Jesus, how'n the hell did I end up in this shithole?"

From then on, it was simple… While operating in a space a little larger than your granny’s bread box…

"Team Leader, my mask is fogged and I can't see a fuck’n thing!”

But we did it, smelling weird, breathing lousy air, and sweat’n like a whore in church … nothing worth mentioning! It was all long ago ...  But we were young and ten feet tall!! The years passed and somewhere, somehow without realizing it, we became fabled members of the 'Old School Navy’ where men ran ships and boys ran scared!!!