Thursday, August 6, 2020

"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 … !!!




2 comments:

  1. Always wrapped the rascal, never stood in that line. Funny though, I was a lot bolder when I got in my quals for Red Wings. Woulda hated for mates to call me "Clapeye the Sailor Man!"

    - Preacher

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  2. I know this all too well! I was Doc!

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