‘Old Navy Fellas’

A young man with a wild and multi-coloured hairstyle sits next to an old man on a park bench. The old man stares at the young man.

"What's the matter, old man?" says the young man. "Never done anything crazy in your life?"

The old man replies: "Yeah. When I was in the Navy, I got really drunk one night and had sex with a parrot. I thought you might be my son."

"A Mustang's Hunting Dog"

A Mustang retired after 35 years and realized a lifelong dream of buying a bird-hunting estate in Alaska. He invited an old Admiral friend to visit for a week of pheasant shooting. The friend was in awe of the Mustang's new bird dog, "Chief". The dog could point, flush and retrieve with the very best.

The Admiral offered to buy the dog at any price. The Mustang declined, saying that Chief was the very best bird dog he had ever owned and that he couldn't part with him.

Six months later the same Admiral returned for another week of hunting and was surprised to find the Mustang breaking in a new dog.

"What happened to Chief?" he asked. "Had to shoot him," the Mustang replied. "Another old shipmate came to hunt with me and couldn't remember the dog's name. He kept calling him 'Master Chief.' After that, all the dog would do was sit on his butt and bark."

“Able Bodied ‘Canoe Club’ Seaman”

After a young ‘Crackerjack’ graduates from his/her intended ‘Canoe Club’ trade school, they will not automatically become a proficient member of Naval Society! OHHHHH No… No… Nooo!! While at the bottom of the evolutionary food chain their duties as an able bodied Seaman will be many and varied!! They will be called upon to operate and maintain many different kinds of complicated seagoing equipment!! These will be things such as the likes of Swabs… Cadillac’s… General Purpose Bottles as well as sponges, brooms, and green weenies!!!

Once this has been established, they will clean the same bulkhead… overhead… or horizontal surfaces as many times necessary until either the paint chafe’s off or their dick skinners start to bleed, whichever comes first! They must be a personal servant and be patient at having someone inspect them every day to make sure they’re clothed properly with spit shined shoes on the right feet at all times!! Operating hand tools, gages and instruments effectively are an essential part of everyday life onboard ship… Because not only will they not be doing the job they were trained for over the next two years, but they’ll surely get stuck with as many additional duties, working parties, fire parties, and berthing cleaner assignments as humanly possible!!!

They’ll also find training to be an essential filler of time while spending  99.9% of their days at General Quarters, Abandon Ship, Mass Conflagrations, and umpteen million other drills to prepare for that .1% chance that they will ever use said skills again in an entire lifetime!!!

Whatever their title may be or wherever they’re stationed… they must know how to operate and maintain their equipment… even though they’ve spent most of their gauddamned dutiful time mess cranking, learning how to put out fires, maintain watertight integrity, performing basic 3M maintenance, and take an ass chewing from the Chief at a moment’s notice without ever setting foot in their parent workcenter!!!

If they find the need to use the ship’s computers… they will be expected to change their password every two or three days for OPSEC reasons… and don’t expect any help from the IT bunch! Those hired hands are down in the galley mess cranking, doing berthing cleaners or at some gauddamned working party on the pier!!!

If you find yourself to be an able bodied ‘Canoe Club’ Seaman then you must know that the Navy believes you have the many varied qualities necessary to take simple mundane tasks and break them down into nuclear physics terms while briefing the Skipper before carrying out evolutions less complicated than picking your nose or wiping your ass... then for some, ass wiping can be quite difficult!!!  

Now don’t get me wrong… I spent Twenty-Three years of my gauddamned life in what I call the ‘Canoe Club’ and it has its ups and downs. You would’a got a quick kick in the nuts if  you told me I was gonna last that long in the place they say to ‘Never Again Volunteer Yourself’!!!

But hey, I’m not complaining… as time past, I knew some where on the horizon I’d reach that day where I could kick off the ol’ boondockers and relax the uniform to a nice smoky bottle of scotch and enjoy some retirement pay!!!

Besides… it was a damned great excuse for killing a bunch’a brain cells back in my day!!!  Too bad today’s shipmates don’t get to enjoy the excess in sociable libations we had years ago… No thanks to Alcohol Deglamarization and the whole Gauddamned PC’ pooh-haaa crap!!!

Sooo… for all you able bodied ‘Canoe Club’ Seamen out there who think the Chiefs Mess is a place for a bunch of ol’ farts to sit around and twittle there thumbs all day… remember this,

“We’ve been there & done that!!!”

Chief ain’t gonna make you do nothing he wouldn’t have done himself… and besides, who’s ass do you think the Skipper bites his teeth into when one of you sons-a-bitches gets a DUI or ends up caught doing some dumb shit act you should’a been more stealthy at producing?!?!

The Chief…

Sooooo now… let's go on full steam ahead and let the journey begin to a challenging and vital role of sweeping water with a broom for hours every time it rains and painting over rusty colored oxidation & grimy dirt prior to the Admiral’s visit for extra brownie points!! And I don’t wanna hear no gauddamned whining or complain’n!!!

‘Unreps With Grape Ape’

Underway replenishment, “UNREPS,” is the transfer of fuel, ammo, food and other supplies between ships at sea and is the key factor allowing the Navy to operate across the vast expanses of Ocean anywhere on Earth. The ship's crew shoots a small line from one ship to the other using a special M-14 rifle, with more than one attempt sometimes if necessary. When the other ship retrieves the line, crew members begin pulling until the heavy, attached hawser extends across the water between the two vessels. The hawser is then heaved across with the fuel transfer tubing between the ships. This is an arduous if not dangerous task.

On board my first ship, USS Bagley, I was the Line Captain for the UNREP Green Team. On my team we had a rather large Radioman we called Grape Ape or “GA”. He was an intimidating 6’4” and about 300lbs. One day while in the Philippine Sea the waves were choppy with a bit of overcast as we were preparing to UNREP with the Rappahannock. “GA” was usually our anchor on the line as he was clearly the biggest guy in our 7 to 8 man team.

Just before the evolution took place I had noticed “GA” and another sailor clowning around. I yelled back to focus and stop the horseplay. “GA” just looked at me and gave me the bird. Now for those of you who know me well, I am a meager 5’6” tall and at the time a sheer 160lbs soak and wet. I walked back to the end by the flight deck and repeated myself in a firm and direct tone. “GA” stands over me in an intimidating manner and says, “What are you gonna do about it!” Not having the time to screw around with this guy I had to keep my wits and the whole team in order before I lost control of the situation. All of this was a must knowing that “GA”certainly had the physical ability to pound me into the nonskid like hammered shit.

With no hesitation I reached between his legs and grabbed a hold. A firm grip and an instant tug sent “GA” straight to the deck with a thud, on his knees, and a distinct shriek in his voice. Once I realized he had enough, I politely let go and left him on the flight deck to lick his wounds and regain his pride. He must have laid there for ten minutes before he left and went into the skin of the ship in utter humiliation.

At the end of the evolution the officer in charge asked me what the hell happened out there. I explained to him I felt some things just need to be handled swiftly and abruptly to get the job done. In my astonishment he applauded me for my actions and a job well done. But in today’s Navy I’d probably get charged with an Article 15 at Captain’s Mast and busted down in rank for assault. but that my friends is how it happened…..and that is a no shitter!!

'Another Bird Of A Feather'

Okay, so after the “shitbird” story I’ve gotten a few requests from ol’ shipmates to write a little more in detail about “Henry the Big Nosed FC”! So here it goes……..

For those who didn’t read the original script I’ll briefly rehash this little yarn to get it started. In 94-95 onboard the USS Rainier it was pulling into its new homeport of Bremerton, Wa as a precommissioned ship. FC2 Henry was sitt'n down reading a book in the Director Room on the 05 level when he decided to go to the Circuit Breaker and turn off the gaudamn equipment as it was too dang loud for him to concentrate. As a new ship the breakers were labeled by compartment number and not by name. Meanwhile the ship was being tied up pierside when the Bridge lost control of the ship moving forward with a barge 50ft in front, smok'n lines and all. As the lines started smok'n all hell broke loose! Engineering diverted the disaster taking control in the Central Control Room. Not really knowing what the hell was going on I called the Director room looking for our FC1 when whoever answered the phone picked the gaudamn thing up but never answered. All I heard was the Captain’s voice in the back ground in a tirade screaming a dozen or so four letter words in vein! Later I found out that one of those circuit breakers Henry turned off was to the Bridge Control Unit. Poor Henry found out Two months later that he made First Class but was not allowed to put it on and the Captain said he would not be allowed to take the rating exam again until he, the Captain, left. And so it was. Henry finally made First Class shortly after the new Skipper came onboard.

Now, the story about Henry doesn’t stop there. No, he was the Divisional Shitbird hands down. Shortly after ship’s commissioning while on duty, Henry was standing watch on the pier. It was rather chilly out so Henry was nestled up all nice and warm inside the pier sentry shack. I believe it was late afternoon and the Skipper had already gone home for the evening. But little did Henry know that the son-of-a-bitch was living in the Officer’s Quarters up on the hill overlooking the base. While Henry was standing watch he decided to take a seat on the gaudamn countertop inside the shack. Well, the Skipper while keeping an eye on his prized ship took notice of this minor discrepancy. He then called the Quarterdeck and had Henry removed from the pier watch. Now, you can only imagine just how upset the Duty Section Leader as well as fellow watchstanders must have been when they realized someone else would have to stand the watch….pissed all to hell. That was usually the reaction anytime Henry’s name came up.

Then of course was the Master-At-Arms incident. On the Rainier, we had a Chief Master-At-Arms and a First Class MA as well. Well the Skipper wanted a force of five but we were only billeted for two. So to make up for this discrepancy, he ordered the Department Heads to devised a rotation affording three extra bodies incrementing in three month tours in the Master-At-Arms shack. When our Division came up on the rotation, who better to get rid of than FC2 Henry. Well, I assure you the Master-At-Arms shack was not too pleased with our selection but he was an able body and we had our own Division to worry about. Well, it didn’t take Henry long to get fired from this detail. Within a matter of two weeks his ass was back in the Division with his tail between his legs. Apparently during a random urinalysis he lost sight of a piss bottle while observing one of our shipmates. This made the urinalysis null and void. The guys piss popped positive for THC but we could not hold him accountable because we could not prove the bottle was his or that it was even tampered with. So thanks to Henry, this guy got off on a technicality. Unfortunately for me, I was the only other Second Class in our Division so I had to take over as his replacement.

Then there was the Nato Seasparrow Magazine Sprinkler Test. While performing maintenance on the Nato Sprinkler System, Henry forgot to hook the hose up to the test casting on the bottom of the sprinker valve. This is to run the 150 PSI firemain pressure over the side of the ship instead of through the sprinklers and into the magazine. But without a hose, well….you get the picture. There is nothing worse than de-flooding a magazine of salt water after an incident like this. Even after the clean up, salt residue ends up in every crack, crevice and corner you could imagine. Then corrosion sets in, and it gets ugly!

Henry once told me a story about when he was younger, his sister and him were always at each others throats. He said one time after school his sister was giving him shit so he brought her horse from the barn into the house. He said he did this to annoy her…I thought, WTF!!! Why would anyone do something so ridiculous? Then he said his Dad was in his bedroom taking a shower…while he was all sudsy with soap the horse had managed to walk back into his bedroom, into the bathroom and nudge his Dad in the ass while gett’n all soaped up….Now, I have a pretty vivid imagination and I don’t know how you see this picture, but I’d be screaming bloody murder if I’m bent over in the shower all sudsy with soap gett’n nudged in my ass by a half ton horse!!

I asked Henry once what the hell he was thinking, and me being the kind of guy I am, why he always seemed to have his head up his ass? His answer, your not going to believe this shit, “God will decide my fate, there is nothing anyone can do or say that God can’t fix for me.” Wow, I was momentarily taken back after that statement. Then I says to Henry, “God gave you an asshole to shit with right? So use the brain he gave you to think with and stop expecting him to figure it all out for you!” Henry never much liked me after that….but then again, I never really much liked him either….

I guess the problem with the gene pool in Henry’s case is there is no lifeguard…..It’s hard to believe that out of ten million sperm he came in first place!!

“Is It Patricia or Patrick”

So there I was on the Good Ship Rainier….the best I’ve served on in the fleet to date! Well at least that is my perspective anyway. While serving onboard this great vessel I had the opportunity to get chartered out to the Master-At-Arms Office for three months thanks to good ol’ Henry the Big Nosed FC from a previous story!
 

You see Henry fell victim to a rash of criminal discrepancies while enduring the task of urinalysis coordination or for those not in the Navy, Penis Gawkers. Unlike in the civilian world, when the Navy has a urinalysis we have to watch the pee leave the organ. This of course is to prevent the alluring proposition of a “Urinater” or other commercial product that may destroy the integrity of this great operation...and apparently Henry wasn't doing it right!! So yes, I got to watch other guys pee!!! The joy of my life…That’s what I joined the Navy for…and my buddy Joey told me before I joined that I should always carry Soap on a Rope!! WTF…
 

So, there I was, acting as the ship’s Penis Gawking Super Cop with a nice shiny badge on my chest pissing in everyones wheaties every morning brow beating shipmates late for quarters, correcting their uniform discrepencies or giving the white glove treatment during berthing inspections. Yes I was a star candidate, so much that some of my colleagues would soon submit to me as the keystone copper!
 

Then there was the head of the MA force. A rather androgynous individual with a robust voice and profusely sweating armpits. Master-At-Arms Senior Chief Pat was her name, as she was a some what overweight character with short, curly black hair who wore glasses and walked like a dude with an attitude! Does this sound familiar to any of you? Yes she pose a striking resemblance to Pat O’Neil Riley from Saturday Night Live! Is it Patricia or Patrick…who knows? People would first meet MACS Pat and then go to great lengths to discover Pat's true gender without being so rude as to actually ask…hahaha.. No, we all knew what she was..or did we? I think some even referred to her as Barney Fife in reference to her Police Officer prowess and suspicious mentality!
 

But frankly speaking Pat, as she was informally known as inside the office and I’m sure in the Chief’s Mess at the time, was really a pretty cool cat! She was misunderstood, and once told me she used that in her favor. She didn’t mind the cackling and jokes because it prevented her from getting too familiar with anyone in the line of her duties… I think I understand that even more now as a Chief in the Navy. But at the time I thought it a bit odd as to why anyone would want to be referred to as a man/she!!Then I met her husband…now wait a minute…I’m not gay, but I can tell a good looking guy when I see one and this guy was one hansome devil..what the hell was he doing with her? I still can’t figure it out to this day, but there was definitely something out of place with that picture. I guess you really can’t judge a book by it’s cover!!
 

In the end I had a pretty good tour working as a “Keystone Copper” and gained a lot of respect from the upper chain of command. I also had new found respect for ol' Pat. The things we learn sometimes when we see life from a different perspective….

 

‘That Ol’ Familiar White Hat’

Upon that fateful decision to join the ‘Ol’ Canoe Club’ while leaving the security of childhood… I had an idea of what going on the town in a ‘Crackerjack’ uniform might be like! Right or wrong… it was what it was… and thanks to the few ol’ Navy movies I’d seen before my time with the likes of Fred Astaire, Dick Van Dyke, Steve Mcqueen, and Abbot & Costello!?!? Quite a variety of hooligans to run across that gamut… but one thing that stuck out the most was the ol’ White Hat!!!

That old Canvas Crown went by plenty of names… ‘Dixie Cup’, ‘Rag Hat’, ‘Dog Bowl’, and ‘Squid Lid’… just to name a few! Worn back on top of the old noggin, some liked the ends rolled… some liked them fitted with ‘gull wings’… and some liked e’m looking like they came straight off the shelf…

However soiled, weathered, or crisp & white… the old trusty White Hat was our global token to society… our motif… our image of the fight’n spirit to defend freedom and democracy around the world… Oh, and courting the ladies, drink’n beer, impressing members of the opposite sex, drinking whiskey, butterfly’n foreign dames, drinking rum, going in debt on bar girls, drink’n pure grain panther piss and chas’n girls… Did I miss anything???

Yep, there’s a reason they say sailors have a girl at every port… we were known for being worldwide Casanova beer swilling… carousing the streets kind of fellas!!!

 That’s the image I had in my mind’s eye wearing a tilted back White Hat… Hanging out on some breezy South Pacific Island Beach in the Sun & Surf with the smell of coconut oil in the air, a Mai Tai in one hand & an Island Girl in the other…

Can you say “Aloha… Pina Colada… and Komaniwannalaya all in one sentence???

Yeppers… the ol’ White Hat was the trademark of good ol’ American Swagger!!! As the ol’ cadence goes,

♪♪“Everywhere we go… People wanna know… whooo we are… where we come from!!!” ♪♪

Even in the military hating, God fearing, liberal world of Hollywood you can see White Hat Cameos in almost any film!!! Just look real gaudamned hard… they’re there!! I promise!!!

In just about every foreign port & every far eastern country… you can still find that long standing symbol of the masters of the sea!!! We are the good guys… boosting the economies of our foreign neighbors afar… spending money on girls, beer, poker and anything else irrationally foolish to a typical landlubber!!!

But ‘Sailor Beware’ as White Hats tend to disappear at Fleet Landings, Go-Go Bars, Irish Pubs… and other dutiful establishments of ceremonial libations as ladies, lackeys, and jealous ‘Marines’ like to steal the canvas badge of honor for their own selfish deeds!!!

I remember I had to bury my White Hat when I became a Navy Chief… the fond memories of hitt’n the beach… pass’n by shore patrol,

“Hey shipmate, Square that hat away!!!”

That’s when you gave the middle finger salute and high tailed it into the crowd!!!

Or the time in Subic City when Honey Koe wants drink,drink after longtime pucky sucky no-shit and the only thing you had to hide your family jewels on the way to the bar downstairs was the trusty ol’ White Hat… would your best friend do that for ya?!?!?

I hope the Navy in all its wisdom never phases out the Ol’ White Hat… Lord knows they’ve done their best to rid the ol’ Drunken Sailor image with a gal at every port… Even the damned ‘Lone Sailor’ monument is outside Navy Regulations… but one Gaudamned thing is for certain…

The White Hat was… is… and always will be the hallmark of the Enlisted Navy Sailor!!!