Thursday, June 20, 2024

" Chewing at the Bit "

 



I’ve written much prose over the years about the debauchery of being a sailor and all the highs and lows that come with it. I started running out of ideas on how to compose even more such nonsense so I decided to take a turn and write about some of the lessons I’d learned along the way … Lord knows there were many.

My first six years in the ol’ Canoe Club, I didn’t know shit from shinola. I remember hanging out with sailors who preached about their lack of military bearing while sticking it to the man using the word “fuck” a lot. I know most of you had been there and done that a thousand times. But some things didn’t always click with me when I sat listening, trying to wrestle with the ideas of what was wrong or right.

We can talk about the political correctness that started to rear its ugly head or our so-called leaders punching their ticket to make the next rank as they shit on the lower half of the animal kingdom, but regardless of reason, some lessons got traction in my life and I learned a great deal from them. 

Now I grew up short, left-handed, and born with the funny last name of “Swing.” You can only imagine the thousand or so derivatives made into nicknames from that alone. Not to mention I had a whole slew of “Peanuts” characters for step siblings … Chuck, Linus, and Lucy. That ain’t no shit!

You see, I can relate to that ol’ song by Johnny Cash, “A Boy named Sue.”  I had to navigate through the hardened facts of being a bit different, and it tends to thicken your skin when it comes to a barrage of banter and insult. Not to mention I grew up in a time when it was always repeated …

“Sticks and Stones may break my Bones but words can never hurt me.”

So it never bothered me much when people would call me “Swing-Lo Sweet Cheerio,” or Swing-batta-batta-Swing,” or all the other nicknames associated with the mockery of my surname. It just rolled off my back like water on a frog.  

That brings me to Master Chief Mike Oldknow. Now I was a Second Class Petty Officer at the time, and Master Chief loved to make fun of my last name. Every time I walked in a space …

“Hey, Teeter-Totter Swing or there’s Swing-a-ling-a-Ding-Dong.” 

But it never bothered me. I’d heard it a million times. So I was a little surprised when I got a real ass-chewing that kind of made my asshole pucker a bit.

Working as a Firecontrolman, there are times when some maintenance is shared with the Electronic Warfare guys. I don’t remember exactly what the maintenance entailed, but I had called over the “Bitch Box” to the “EW” shack asking for EW3 Heupal. Heupal had responded that he couldn’t talk right now as I could hear Master Chief’s voice in the background ripping into his crew. Not thinking clearly I responded …

“Is that Master Chief Old Nuts?”

The next response was quite clear and concise …

“Petty Officer Swing! Get your ass to the Ops Office pronto, and don’t stop at “GO” on the way.”

Needless to say, I marched down with my tail between my legs as I knew from the sound of his voice he wasn’t happy.

I walked into the Ops Office with Master Chief standing there, face and neck red and flared with his eyeballs about to bulge out, and before I could get a word in, Master Chief was ripping into me from one end to the other …

“Gauddamn it Swing, who the fuck do you think you are? What makes you think you can get on the Bitch Box and talk to a Master Chief that way? I’m a Guaddamned Master Chief in the United States Navy and you are going to respect me as such … blah, blah, blah …”

This went on for a good five to ten minutes, and finally, he asked me what I had to say for myself…

“But Master Chief, you make fun of my name all the time.”

His face got redder and his eyes bulged even more as he paced back and forth a dozen times trying to figure out what to say. He occasionally pointed at me like he was going to make a point, but stopped himself. I could see he was having a mental conundrum as he tried to figure his way around this one.

Finally, he told me to sit down as he sat in the chair next to me and says …

“Listen Swing, I know I fiddle with your name a lot and you’re always a good sport about it. And quite frankly you’re Oldnuts shenanigan I find kind of funny. But I can’t let that stand in front of everybody. I have to maintain a manner of discipline in that shop and I can’t have you getting in the way of that. It’s something you’re going to have to learn if you want to make it far in this Navy. Do you understand where I’m coming from?”

When he put it in a way I could understand it was like an epiphany. It wasn’t about tit-for-tat, but the big picture in general. When you’re young and dumb, you don’t always see the big picture. That was a good lesson learned.

Master Chief would chew my ass on many occasions. He would say …

“Swing, I chew your ass because I like you and I want you to do well in this here Navy. Just think of an ass chewin as free advice and a lesson learned in life … It ain’t personal.”

I’ll never forget that. I call it “Chewing at the Bit.” It’s just one of many lessons I had to learn along the way…  




2 comments:

  1. I remember a case when my dad was the "Shirt" of the 379th OMS at Wurtsmith AFB 40 years ago. He had called in an E-4 to get his ass chewed out over missing a dental appointment. This airman was about head out on leave and had brought his wife and infant along, who heard EVERYTHING over the divider wall to Dad's office. Now, my father was a little guy, but he had prior service with the 10th SFG(A) and Leapin' Lena in the early 1960s, and had a presence where he could back a 6 footer up against a wall in fear without raising his voice.

    After receiving the reprimand, he and his family went out to their car, only to find it would not start. Now, temps were below zero, the wind was blowing, and it was snowing. He came back in the hanger to use a phone to call for a tow, and Dad offered to check it out. Turns out it was a bad alternator - and Dad had one at home. He had the SRA bring his family back inside, ran home and got the alternator and tools, borrowed some coveralls from one of the B-52 mechanics, and changed it out for his troop in the lot outside the hanger. When he came back in, he refused to let them pay for it and played peek-a-boo with the baby. He said they thanked him before driving off and were looking back at him and shaking their heads in disbelief at the two completely different sides the "shirt" showed that day.

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  2. I quit smoking about a month before WestPac. Most satisfying moment was informing my Master Chief that the smoking lamp was out in Radar 1. Haven't touched a smoke since.

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