"Repair on the Sims"

This one comes from an EM2 Steven ‘FRIO’ Donofrio. He wrote this during the 1973 -1974 Med Cruise onboard the Knox Frigate USS Sims FF 1059 in Repair Division. I hope you all enjoy…  

( Click to Enlarge )

The following piece was forwarded to me from former EM2 Landis ‘BRIAR’ Cornett. It was written by a then short-timer IC3 Stephen Gray (who failed t0 include himself). It describes a part of my life aboard the Silly Willy and the shipmates that I am proud to have served with under then DCA Ltjg. Charles “I Never Take Off My Sunglasses” Rodriguez. Repair Division, an integral part of engineering, is composed of four rates; Hull Technicians, Electricians Mates, Machinery Repairman, and Interior Communications Electricians.

The HT’s are sometimes led by HT1 Maurice Bower other times by mass confusion.

Second in command is HT2 Frank (The Nerd) Trimmer who plays at Helicopter Fire Chief during flight quarters and whose ability to clean out stopped-up toilets is beyond reproach.

HT2 Mike Shockey rounds out the ruling class of HT’s and being “short” there won’t be much said concerning his naval views since this is a military and therefore censored publication.

Keeping with the navy pecking order, HT3 Keith Chambers enters the scene. Petty Officer Third Class (Push-button type) Chambers’ obsession with the high-speed, good maneuvering, well-constructed Volkswagen has made him a key figure in the toilet cleaning brigade second only to Frank Trimmer.

HT3 Dan Hinkle comes 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 is FA John Berger who constantly, in port, tries to disprove the theory that the shortest distance between point A and B is a straight line.

HTFA Mike Baimbridge, the Naval Reservist in our midst doesn’t know whether he’s 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, will 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, has really been an 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) have sparked the electricians under him to heights few men have ever achieved.

The manipulator and general enforcer is EM1 George (Frenchie) Ouellette whose conduct ashore is 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 is EM2 Harry (Motor Mouth) Patterson with past adventures of the USS Saratoga which are, in fact, unbelievable.

His first and foremost admirer EM3 and a half Oliver (Briarhopper) Cornett Jr. whose speech and mumbled wit require constant translation from the other  barefoot, down-home boys of the division, has brought about the rejuvenation of the now famous song “Jingle Briar” followed closely by “Sixteen Briarhoppers, What do you get?”

EMFN (at long last) Don Braun alias BB alias Buddha Belly alias Bubbles Braun alias ButterBall is one of the comical electricians with his joint checking account with his car-wrecking girlfriend.  

EMFN Vince Sinopoli is from Louisiana and dreams of going to the Mardi Gras. I’m sure that he and his go-tee (all twelve hairs) will make it someday.

FN Richard (Ravin’ Richie) Hughes dreams a little differently. His dreams are of becoming an OS or a QM or maybe a CS or anything out of engineering. He’s our gullible fireman who pleases our sea story tellers by believing every last word as the gospel truth.

EMFN Joseph (Squeaky) Nalli and EMFN Steven (FRIO) Donofrio both are recent arrivals and therefore won’t be subjected to verbal abuse this time around.

Division Officer, Damage Control Assistant and Division Chief ICC Charles (Chuckie Baby) Miller, is the ranking babysitter of the ship’s gyro compass and whose ludicrous inanity on small jobs has given him the title of ‘Ace Sweat-pump’ aboard ship.

Leading Petty Officer of the IC work center is IC2 Danny Waldrop. Although new to the ship, his endless stream of “bubblehead” (submarine) jokes has enhanced the Divisions ever sinking morale.

His right-hand man is IC3 Thomas Davis better known as the old man of the division.

ICFN Daniel Rohde, the other designated striker, constantly attempts to build non-working Heath Kit projects.

FN Gerald Jenkins, the last of the IC Men, is TAD to IC “A” School proving the fact that you can get off the Sims without getting out of the service.

The Machinery Repairmen section of R Division is 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 is 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 has earned him an unprintable name with which to live by.

The other MR, FN Axel Wittenrood hails from Chicago, Illinois and lets you know it as soon as you meet him, so that he won’t be confused with the “hillbillys” in the other gangs.

All kidding and joking aside, being part of Repair Division, is 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. Just maybe someday, someone will realize the importance of this Division and the individuals who are a part of it…

(Artwork By Jeremiah Paoli)

“Neptunus Rex’s Royal Address”

Captain, Officers and Crew of the USS Umptysquat:

Welcome to the waves and deeps of the watery domain, which, from time immemorial, has been under our imperial but benevolent rule. From afar we have watched the approach of your smart appearing ship, and it is our pleasure to come on board to meet you at this, the gateway of our realm. You fly the flag of a great and noble nation, and owe allegiance to the principles for which it stands. But, here ye’ and now, we detain you for a day in order that all on board may swear fealty to our Royal Parson. This will in no wise conflict with your loyalty to the nation of the Stars and Stripes, and none may evade the issue because it is our Royal command that none may enter our Kingdom as stranger; and, who is foolish enough to invite our Royal displeasure and resulting vengeance?

Reports have reached our Royal ears, in our palace beneath the sea, that there are many on board this ship who still deserve the disgraceful name of “Polliwog.” So we have come to set up our Royal Court, to hail these invaders before our high tribunal, and to determine by appropriate mystic rites and ceremonies if they possess the qualifications of good sailormen.

Alarming and serious charges have been made against some of your company. The nature of these charges will be made known in due time, but in passing I want you to know that the reports that have reached us have caused strong men to weep. Yesteryeve in the great banquet hall of Davy Jones’ locker, John Paul Jones, Stephen Decatur, and David Farragut craved audience and, with tears in their eyes, begged to accompany this party in order to personally deal with those pseudo sailormen who have prostituted the ancient sports of real sailors by indulging in the game – if it may be dignified by calling it a game – of Badminton. Badminton, a wench’s game, forsooth. In order that the record of this Royal Court for strict justice might be maintained their request was refused but the Lord High Justice has enjoined to make the punishment fit the crime. In keeping with the code of justice of our raging realm, each polliwog shall have the right to enter a plea of defense against the charges made against him.

There are some among you who have lingered long before coming into our Realm, and it pleases us not. Many year of coastwise sailing and bureaucratic swivel-chair performance have spoiled your erstwhile nerve. At least, though belated, you come on this fine ship. Our Royal displeasure is upon you, and unless you have adequate defense, swift and terrible justice shall attend you. We note with pleasure that among your company are many lads barely out of their teens. We welcome them, rejoice that they have made haste to visit us, and ere the setting of the sun will make them loyal subjects. 


The Royal Court

"Chiefs Always Get The Best Outta Them Ensigns"

( Dipping The Ensign )

The new Ensign met his Division. He wanted to teach them about self-esteem, so he asked anyone who thought they were stupid to stand up. One Chief stood up and the Ensign was surprised. He didn’t think anyone would stand up, especially the Chief, so he asked him ...

“Why did you stand up?”

… Chief answered …

“I didn’t want to leave you standing up by yourself on your first day.”

"Various Navy Toons"

Some various Navy Cartoons I’ve collected over the years … I hope you all enjoy them …

( Fin )

"Cruisebook Art - USS Chandler"

Cruise books capture the most personal memories of a Sailors Navy career. Pictures of friends, port calls and facts about their commands can all be found within the pages. Similar to a high school yearbook, they’re usually prepared by the crew with intimate picks to bring back memories from yester-years. Every so often someone will send me picks of extraordinary artwork form within the binders of some of these great memories. Here is a collection from a USS Chandler Westpac cruise. I once had a shipmate from FC “A” school who was stationed on the Chandler. He gave me a pretty awesome tour. I hope you ol’ salts will enjoy this great collection …

(Click to Enlarge)

(Click to Enlarge)

(Click to Enlarge)

(Click to Enlarge)

(Click to Enlarge)

(Click to Enlarge)

(Click to Enlarge)

(Click to Enlarge)

(Click to Enlarge)

(Click to Enlarge)

( Fin )

"Combat Stories"

It was a normal night at the VFW, stories and tales were flowing as freely as the beer. One of the long time members was an old Salty Navy WWII bastard who never spoke of his involvement in the war. From his uniform that he had worn to parades when he was younger and smaller, the members knew his ship was decorated many times. Tonight he was more than a few sheets to the wind, so one of the members asked …

“So Pappy, in the war, did you ever kill anyone?”

He looked around, and carefully said …

"I sure the hell hope not, but I'm not sure. I was the Cook!"

"Sailors Behaving Badly II"

Here I decided to share some comical nautical antics from sailors around the world. From within the ship’s hull to outside the skin of the ship and all the ports in between. For decades this is what brave sea going men of danger do when blowing off steam…  

(FIN) 

“Through The Eyes of The Military”

An Army grunt stands in the rain with a 35-pound pack on his back, 15-lb. weapon in his hand, having marched 12 miles, and says, "This is shit."

An Army Airborne Ranger stands in the rain with a 45-pound pack on his back, weapon in hand, after having jumped from a plane and jogged 18 miles, says with a smile, "This is good shit."

A Marine lies in the mud, 55-pound pack on his back, weapon in hand, after swimming 10 miles to shore, crawling through a swamp, and running 25 miles at night past enemy positions, says with a grin, "I Love This Shit."

A Navy Seal, up to his nose in the stinking, bug-infested mud of a swamp with a 65-pound pack on his back and weapons in both hands after jumping from an aircraft at high altitude into the ocean, swimming 12 miles to shore, killing several alligators to enter the swamp, then crawling 30 miles through the brush to assault an enemy camp, says, "The only Hard Day was yesterday, I Really, Really love this shit."

An Air Force NCO sits in an easy chair in an air-conditioned, carpeted office in front of his computer and says, "My e-mail is out? What kind of shit is this?"

"Short-Arm Inspections ... What Are Those"

Any of you old rapscallions back in the day ever find yourself in line for the short-arm inspection? There’s a reason Corpsmen were known as "Pecker Checkers" or “Penis Machinists.”

The crew I hung out with back in the day, well we were a rollicking bunch of happy-go-lucky man whores! Meeting girls in every bar up and down the West Coast accessible to the Navy anyway!  Scratched our balls from Cabo to Vancouver and anywhere west of there! Scratched our initials on a few headboards as well. You could usually find us anywhere carnal pleasures were dispensed.

There was this gal in Bremerton I hooked up with one fine evening. I suppose many a sailor knew her and many had been there before me apparently … we’ll get to that. But hey, she had a charm about her. As the evening was young and I had taken part in libations of some sort, I had recognized the full value of what Bacchus had presented me as I saddled up for an evening of fun. Hell we played naked tag, hide-and-go-seek and skin darts all in a matter of a few hours …

Then all I remember was waking up the next morning in a strange house on the other side of town with this gal passed out butt nekkit and drunk on top of me. As I opened my eyes and noticed it was light out and the sun was up, I checked my watch …

"OH SHIT!”

You know that anxious feeling you get when you realize Quarters was being held fifteen minutes ago? Never mind there were no cell phones back in those days. I hauled out towards the street pulling up my pants, the hell with my skivvies, got a cab and back to base in about thirty minutes! As I salute the Quarter Deck, the LPO shows up just in time to greet me! He hauls my silly ass up to the CIWS Mount and reads me the riot act probably for the fourth or fifth time. Don’t know why he didn’t write my ass up and send me to Skippy’s Mast. I deserved it at least a dozen times over…

… But I digress …

It only took a few days before I started getting that not so fresh feeling between my legs. I never got the puss dribbles or the green weenie. I suppose the itchy feeling down the center of the urethra was enough to let me know something just wasn’t right! In the dark black waters deep in the recesses of my mind lurked murky monsters of the worst possibility, or at least I thought they were … which was much more frightening. It was during the AIDs scare you know...

I went down to medical after Quarters to have the Doc’ take a look at it. The Corpsman came out and did his typical temp and blood pressure check, and asked me what the problem was…

“Well you see Doc, the inside of my peter itches and it feels like I’ve got to pee all the damned time!”

"With all of the training we give you, how in the hell do you stupid asses end up in medical?”

… You know that dumb look you give …

" I dunno.”

“Liberty for the stupid I suppose. Okay what was her name?”

“Trina …”

“Blonde haired girl, blue eyes and big tits?”

“Yeah …”

“I bet I’ve had a dozen sailors down here in medical over the last few months because of that same gal. I suggest you just stay clear from now on, and maybe warn your shipmates!”

From there he pulled out a long ass copper wire with a Q-tip on the end. He heated up the wire with a Bunsen burner and commenced to sticking it up my pee-hole and dabbing it in a petri dish with some kind of jelly in it ... not any position you want to be in, take it from me.

“Now come back tomorrow and I’ll tell you what you’ve got. And from now on, wrap that rascal.”

“That might work, I calculate.”

I tell you, Corpsmen don’t have much in the way of sympathy and socially acceptable bedside manner. Turns out I had some sort of Nongonococcal Urethritis or NGU for short. And that was my short-arm inspection with the Pecker Checker down in medical. It’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I’m not gonna say I’m proud of it, but my wife said she was warned when she met me of the kind of trouble I was getting in. Somehow over the years she tamed me, but I got the scars and memories that live on. 

Boys and girls, once upon a time long, long ago we lived a life of precious memories. I hope as I grow grey and old, my mind doesn’t turn to mush and I forget all that had been said and all that had been done. Cheers … !!!

“The Unfaithful Wife”

Words you never want to hear while making love ... "Honey, I'm Home!"  A Sailor was testifying in his divorce proceedings against his wife. "Please describe," said his attorney, "the incident that first caused you to entertain suspicions as to your wife's infidelity." "Well, I'm pretty much underway almost all of the time. So naturally when I am home, I'm attentive to the wife. One Sunday morning while import for the weekend, we were in the midst of some pretty heavy love-making when the old lady in the apartment next door pounded on the wall and yelled, 'Can't you at least stop all that racket on the weekends?'"

"August Pin-Ups"

Behind the playful veneer, pin-ups have told the story of how war, markets, and sexuality shape society and norms. They are as much a part of Americana as Apple Pie. The sexy & sultry pin-ups cause us to think of the time surrounding World War Two. Their pictures would run in pages of Life Magazine as well as many other inspiring countless imitators. This led to the likes of Playboy Magazine and later Maxim and FHM Magazines. For the first time men had an easy source of feminine fantasy entertainment at their fingertips. With the advent of the internet some twenty plus years ago, now pinups are everywhere. Here I’ve gathered a few for your pleasure. I hope you enjoy them …

(Fin)