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…
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.
ReplyDeleteAfter 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.
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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