"Nights on Duty"

Anyone remember weekend duty nights onboard the ship? In our unsullied youth it was a chance to detox and refresh ourselves from day in and day out of carousing the local establishments and chasing tale. It’s where we first learned the long standing ritual of telling no shit sea stories and becoming connoisseurs of that latest porn on VHS! Titles come to mind like “Bat Dude & Throbbin, Crocodile Blondie, Bonfire of the Panties, Frisky Business … etc.”  

If anyone had told me at the time I would be a lifer, careerist, make Chief one day break’n balls and call it the best years of my life, I would’ve punched the son-of-a-bitch right in the nose! Who knew we were creating memories we’d never forget? 

Back to my point … Duty days were a time when we could goof off, solve world problems, cuss Naval Leadership, make fun of each other and Marines and ponder the meaning of life and rather God exists. 

“Who the hell spit their tobacco in my Cola Can?”

There was nothing like taking a swig of someone elses swag of chaw & spit!

But that’s what we did! It was the life of a sailor in the company of other swabs, squids and chambray wearing ugly bastards.  Chief might walk in before he went home …

“You sons-a-bitches need to find something to keep you busy.”

“Chief, are you kidding? It’s after knockoff on a duty day and you should be home with the old lady!”

“Have you seen Chief’s old Lady? If I was him, I’d be afraid to go home too!”

“Watch your mouth sailor! That’s the mother of my kids your talking about!”

“So is that gal from Olongapo from what I’ve heard!”

… Ha-Ha-Ha …

Yep, poking fun at the Chief was like poking a hornets nest when you were a kid!

Then there were certain expected evolutions we had to go through before we could relax the rest of the night like fire drills and security alerts along with Eight ‘O Clocks’ if you were senior enough to have to deal with that mess. Once that was all done it was like an unwritten permission slip to unwind, order pizza and crank up a movie.  We'd grab a will book and compile an order then head up to the POOW shack topside to call out on the phone. We rooted through coffin lockers and work benches for pizza change or geedunk money to last the night while watching that movie rather it was sanctioned or triple “X” rated.  I think the Nato Seasparrow guys had a congressional sized library on golden aged porn … by gaud I swear to it!

After watching movies and eating fresh popped popcorn, playing spades, gin rummy and chess someone would start with the “no shitter” sea stories using pure unadulterated horse manure as the glue to hold that thing together! And before you knew it, shit was flying everywhere. Nobody ever accused us crackerjack animals of having good taste, etiquette or engaging in good bedside manner.  We were politically incorrect and didn’t discriminate when it came to four letter language or anything with a hole between its legs. Even conversations about that gal with a bad case of the drip was nothing the doctor couldn’t cure. We just left her in quarantine for a couple of weeks!  

Every so often you had that late watch you had to stand on the Quarterdeck, Engineering Room or traversing the deck as a topside security … etc.  There was always that clown who was a world class Buddy Fucker … I think these days they call them “Blue Falcons.”  The kind if bastard who relieved you twenty minutes late on a cold night of midwatch. It happens and you get over it.  Then you headed down for a nice hot cup of Joe or some hot chocolate if you were a bit light in the loafers. 

After surviving several 24 hour turn arounds of gin mills and late nights chasing tale, a good night of sitting around the mess table telling no shit tales of the local gals with a cup of joe in our foul weather jackets could put a grin on your face a mile wide.  Those nights were some of the best of my life … Why? They were spent with some of the best damned shipmates a fella could ask for!