"Happy New Year 2018"

(Click Picture To Enlarge)

A New Year's resolution is a tradition, most common with us Americans! Lose weight, run your first race, drink less beer, chase less women…etc!! Where’s the fun in that I ask?!?

Here’s a “Half-Hitch” Cartoon to help you along with the New Year! I hope you all enjoy… so Happy New Year, and may King Neptune Smile upon your souls!!!

"The Three S's Of Hygiene"

I had heard that John F. Kennedy once said…

“You haven’t lived until you’ve shaved next to another man while he takes a shit!”

Did he say this? Who cares… the point being that nothing makes you realize how comfortable you’ve become in your surroundings when you’ve found yourself in these conditions! Boy, don’t we know… the most time efficient and hygienic process of getting ready … “The Shit, Shower & Shave!”

Of all the dirty tricks, it really makes me rave,

To have my shipmate come in to shit, when I begin to shave.

There’s just one time in all the day, when it’s solitude I crave,

But he sits and drops his stinking shit into that watery grave;

I don’t see why he couldn’t wait until I’ve had my shave.

Yes my friends… Shit, Shower, & Shave. Every champion has their winning rituals for performance. After all it's what you do every day that really counts!!!

'New Uniforms'

The Navy unveiled its new Battle Dress Uniform today. The utilitarian thing about the new uniform said Naval Representatives was that it has a built-in reversible Hawaiian shirt.

"This helps keep troops at the ready!"

… said one Navy Official ...

"If they are off duty they simply turn the shirt inside-out and come into work!"

"How Servicemen Are Like Christmas Trees"

"Some people treat our servicemen like Christmas trees. They decorate them, and then they throw them out when they've served their purpose!"

"Shark Bait"

Here comes an old salty sea story onboard the USS Robert L. Wilson DD/DDE 847 as told by Jack Scully of back in the 1950s’ Canoe Club Days …

Our ship was on her way home from a pirate catching mission in the Caribbean early in 1961. We were lollygagging along the equator coming north back to Norfolk. It had been a really hard two weeks, and so the skipper (Lt Cmdr Holt - a prince!) had the thought to hold swim call out there in that emerald green sea.

The water was so clear you could see a dropped quarter for thirty feet or more under the surface. The ship hove to and we rigged for the evolution and put the motor whaleboat in the water.

The boat was the standard US Navy, 26' wooden, motor whaler. It was a great sea boat and had a Gray Marine diesel. It was the official Navy drill to have the boat wet, with a corpsman and an officer aboard, for this sort of thing. Riflemen were appointed to watch for party-crashers, and everyone was lined up on the port lifelines ready to leap in when the Old Man gave the word. He himself was togged out in swim bloomers and wife beater undershirt ready to go . . . when somebody hollered "Shark!" It most certainly was, about 15 feet or so in length. This focused everyone's attention until somebody else yelled, "HOLY SHIT!" and another shark came out from under the ship, cruising lazily out toward the boat, which lay parallel to the ship. This bugger was H U G E. Big barrel and long as hell!

When he slid under the boat, along the keel, we saw that his snoot and tail extended past the ends of the boat. All interest in recreation evaporated instantly, and the Gunner's Mates were looking for a shot with their M1's. Others ran off to grab some concussion grenades. The sharks hadn't broken the surface, so the boat crew was wondering what all the galloping about, arm waving and yelling was about.

JC Cole was the corpsman, and a black guy. He finally looked over the gunwale to see what everyone was pointing at, and friends, I have heard all my life, about blacks being scared white, but, buddy, I've seen it. JC literally blanched. The Chief - no officer actually went out in the boat on chores - saw the "little" one and they were alongside in a flea fart and hooked on. And this time, and this time only, did they ride those monkey lines all the way up to the blocks and swung inboard onto the chocks, before they let go and came out of that boat.

From the 01 level, the chief looked back out there and saw the BIG one, and liked to crap. No time was wasted in securing from swim call and the Wandering Willy was soon shed of that place on the chart and headed home.

Nobody got a picture, but when 'Jaws' came out, I know about 90 guys who were believers.

"Merry Christmas Everyone"

“Paoli’s Medical Exploits”

More of Jerry Paoli’s fine art from the pages of All Hands Magazine and Beyond …

‘THE OLD MAN AND THE SAILOR’

by Robert L. Harrison .

July 22, 1997 . Greenfield, Indiana

He was old and worn and a bit forlorn as he ambled through the park, 

He spoke to me and I could see that his eyes had lost their spark.

His gait was slow and his voice was low as he asked to sit with me,

And I answered him with a friendly grin, The sittin’ here is free.

He gave a smile and we talked a while and his voice was rather weak, 

But his mind was strong and it wasn't long til he began to speak

Of yesteryears and I saw the tears as the mem’ries flooded through

For he spoke of times and other climes as old men often do.

He smiled at me and I could see as he glanced at my Navy blues 

That he’d earned his keep on the briny deep and paid his share of dues.

I asked if he would share with me some mem'ries from his career,

He said he might if the price was right, and the price was a can of beer!

I’ve shipped on subs and oily tubs, on battleships and cruisers, 

Ten thousand mates and I can state not one of them was losers.

LST’s on foreign seas, from Tarawa to Leyte,

You name it, lad, I’ve been there, from Alaska down to Haiti.

Liberty ships of paper clips, balsa wood and glue, 

I saw one break apart one time and lose her gallant crew.

Marine Corps I took ashore on Tarawa and Truk.

Oh what the Hell, for quite a spell, I've had my share of luck.

One thing more, he said, before I move along, 

There ain't no air that’s quite as fair as the pipe of the boatswain’s song.

And the place to be is on the sea riding a fair sea swell,

With mates like you in Navy blue who’ll follow you straight through Hell.

So here’s to you and your Navy crew who take our ships to sea, 

You’ve fought and died and never cried throughout our history.

You’re heroes all and ten feet tall and your spirits never lag,

You’re the nation’s best and you never rest in defense of our country’s flag!

He rose to leave and I believe that he seemed to move much faster, 

His eyes agleam like a laser beam and his skin was alabaster,

He glowed at first then soon dispersed in a cloud of misty cotton,

A dream at most, perhaps a ghost, but not to be forgotten…

'Medical'

After his physical, the sexually active Seaman waited in the doctor's office for his results. The Doctor said,

"I have good news and bad news for you."

"The way I feel, please give me the good news first!"

"The good news is that your penis has grown an additional four inches since your last exam."

"Great! What is the bad news?"

"It's malignant!!!" 

…  Replied the Doctor!!!

“Never Surrender That Mechanical Trigger-Bang Thing”

No one likes to chronicle his own stupidity … But as a good Darwinian theorist, I quickly learned the strong selective pressures of young futility! And being the Fucking New Guy, “FNG,” after all, I had to learn that it’s better to swim with the sharks than to float with the bait!! Hence was the biggest lesson I acquired on my first ship as a US Navy Crackerjack Sailor!!!

There was nothing worse than being the junior man “Wet Behind Ears” at Morning Quarters every day! It was like having 'DUMBSHIT' tattooed on your forehead!!!

Now most of my shipmates were raised by wolves at best! Their comedic sadism became evident on a regular basis and being the “FNG,” I caught the bitter end of many attempted fool’s errands!! That just came with the territory of being on the lower end of the bottom-feeding enlisted totem pole!!!

Now I did a lot of stupid things when I was young but this one was a doozy, and made me feel about as dumb as an inbred coon hound! Maybe I was a bit too trusting of my elder shipmates, I don’t know!! But I sure the hell learned a valuable lesson about surrendering your weapon while on watch that day!!! 

Standing Security Rover on duty days required receiving one 45 cal. weapon, 16 rounds of 45 cal. ammunition and being ready and willing to shoot anybody trying to commit any funny business! You’re entrusted as the Officer on Deck’s eyes and ears of the entire ship as you rove from space to space!! I suppose you could say I took this for granted a bit much!!!

The problem with the issued little mechanical trigger-’BANG’ was it was hard to take seriously when the damned weapon wasn’t even loaded! I suppose we didn’t want anyone pissing their pants or pull’n a Barney Fife while tak’n out their foot in the process!! So this led to more important things to worry about such as scoring a pizza and settling down in front of the lobotomy tube in the cruise lounge to watch whatever might be on at the time!!!

There was one thing they drilled into our heads in Bootcamp and expected us to never forget …

“Never, under any circumstances, ever surrender your weapon … Ever!”

While shoot’n the shit here and playing grab ass there, I’d ran into one of my fellow FCs’, as I was making my rounds!  He started going on and on about something another and asking if I knew how to field strip my side arm!! I really didn’t give two shits what he was babbling on about, I just wanted to get on with it and get him out of my hair!!!

So my shipmates says …

“Here, let me show you something!”

… as he grabs my side arm and commences to undress it right on the table on the messdecks! Now I know there might be a few of you out there who ain’t dealt with field stripping a weapon before!! There are many parts such that if any one piece is missing, the whole shebang fails to function!!!

That’s when my shipmate got up and walked away …

“Have fun putting it back together!”

I found that I was here by involved in some real adolescent bullshit!!!

“Why is it me that always gets the shit end of the stick?”

He just walked off smiling like a Cheshire cat! Knowing I had about ten to fifteen minutes before my next check-in with the Quarterdeck, I was about as nervous as a Christmas Turkey!! At this point in my career, my Captain Mast and report listing was already a mile long and I wasn’t looking to get in anymore trouble!!! 

I would’ve rather shoved a wet noodle up a bobcat’s ass in a telephone booth than try explaining to the OOD why my side arm was in a gazillion pieces! So there I was busier than a one-armed bandit in a circle-jerk trying to figure out how to piece this son-of-a-bitch together!! That’s when my buddy Smithee walked by and noticed my predicament!!!

“Hey Smithee, you know how to put one of these things back together?”

 "Hell no, you dumb bastard.  Get that gauddamned thing away from me!"

And as I looked at the chronometer I realized I only had minutes to spare! The sheer appalling stupidity of the situation depressed me!! That’s when that jokester of a shipmate showed up and put it all back together in about fifteen seconds flat … I assure you I was quite amazed under the circumstances!!!

“Oh thank you most generous one…”

“You must have the IQ of a retarded fruit fly!”

I don’t know, figured it was probably more let’s bullshit the new guy kind of fun! When you’re young and doing dumb shit, you’ll find yourself in these types of situations!! It can make you feel like you’re as much use as an iron-on tattoo!!!

I mean it’s not like I was sent down on a fool’s errand looking for a light bulb repair kit! Though I guess it was just as foolish!!  W.C. Field’s once said …

“God still smiles on little children, fools, and dumb animals!” 

And yet I somehow walked away unhindered … just a couple of cuts and bruises along the way!! That’s when I learned there were actually “Twelve” General Orders, and the “Twelfth” one was …

“I shall walk my post from flank to flank, and take no shit from any rank!”

Yep, as you grow older you tend to remember the pranks and shenanigans! They represent the good times!! The acceptable idiotic behavior expected from the young!!!

"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?"

'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!!!

'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?!?”

'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!!!

'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

'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."

'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.

‘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!!!