'How Do Seamen Cross The Road'



How do the Seamen cross the road anyhow…?!?

Well… I put on the wrong pair of socks this morning…!!!

'Jody Waiting At The Pier'

Three-Hundred Sailors ship off to sea…

Three-Hundred Jodies standby on the pier for the sailors to disappear!!!

'The Right Picture At The Right Time'

Okay, I’m Guilty… The first thing that came to mind when I gazed over this!! 

USS Glory Hole?!?



'Dirty Laundry'

I remember a Chief once telling me…

“I’m ten times the asshole you could ever imagine to be… so don’t try me kid!”

Sometimes they just weren’t bright enough to know who to mess with and who not too!! I guess the author of this little yarn got the best of ‘em at times!!!

There are three people aboard you don't want to piss off!  The Disbursing Clerk, the Cook, and, of course, the Laundry!! Your laundry went to the wrong division? I'm sorry…  You lost some clothes?  I’m Sorry...  You need something pressed for inspection?  Wow… shit happens!!!

Did I press the Khakis for the Officers and Chiefs?  Oh Hell yeah!!

When one of them would give me a hard time… there was torn lagging behind the clothes dryer I could reach and grab fiberglass insulation from which happened to be the same color as the khakis! Put a bit in the crotch, some in the armpits, and let's not forget the neck!!  Press them, and fold them real nice!!  Only needed to do it to one set… then the rest of the week just sit back and watch!!!

When he started itching, we knew we got him! Good times had by all!! Boy did I have fun!!!

 

Brings new meaning to 'Gett'n your panties in a wad!

‘Welcome Home Sailor’

I remember well, the first time pulling in from a long spell underway… the envy of spouses and girlfriends coming aboard to meet their Sailor Boy!!!

A family excited to welcome their sailor home with a banner in his honor! One fella hugs his sister as she waves a flag!! All sorts of ladies and friends loyally waiting on the pier smiling and waving…

“Welcome Home Johnny!”

They came in all shapes and sizes from the Skipper's wife down to professional poll dancer! The Wives Club Regulars and old maids fighting the cellulite and varicose veins!!  From  sexy little sirens to veteran Chief’s wives who’d done enough ‘Welcome Homes’ over the years to know all you get after lines are doubled and liberty goes down is a sack of dirty laundry and a raging hard on!! Being gone for so long, it all left a burn’n sensation deep in my chest!!!

There were wives who used to get your time of arrival...  Then drive out North Island, the Golden Gate, or the shoals of Port Orchard  and sit there waiting for an old rust-bucket to come churning past in hopes you might catch them waving at you well before you got to the pier!!!

It was damned near impossible to maintain a long distance romance on a long Bon Voyage away from home! But damn it I envied those fellas who had something waiting on the pier!! It must’a been nice to be remembered!!!

There is something wonderful about standing topside waiting to toss the lines over!  And seeing the smiling face of a devoted spouse whose panties were overdue for an oil treatment!! There’s one Crackerjack who ain’t making it past the parking lot without stress testing the back seat of that old jalopy his wife came rolling in on!!! 

Guys were carousing the decks in anticipation…

"Hey Smithee, watcha wanna do when we get in?"

"Ron I wonder if Marianne could hook up an ole' buddy with one of them hot Mamasita friends of hers?"

"Oh, Look at that fine lady across the pier, she’s gonna be my next future ex wife!"

"The only way that hottie is ever going to look at you, you ugly son-of-a-bitch, is if you get a face lift and the Disbo gets caught cheating on her!”

“What about that gal over there?”

“Oh, that’s Greg’s wife!”

… then comes Greg…

"Keep it up shit for brains, and this left hook might pop ya in the snot locker!"

"Knock it off, ladies!"

And with that all the single fellas headed below primping for the neon-lit strip when hitting the beach!!!

The best this fella could hope for was waking up next to a pair of boobies with the crotchless satin panties pulled over his head, and his neckerchief hanging on the bed post! Some young gal he met the night before needing a few hours of handy work repacking her O-rings!!  

“Ummm… What’s your name again?!?”

… “Welcome Home Sailor” …

'Riggin' Bill' Part III

Seaman Riggin’ Bill,

Navy Yard Brooklyn, N.Y.

Dear Bill:

If you think that our art class is going to allow your handsome, sea going profile to get away from us you’re mistaken. For a month we’ve been touring the waterfront looking at sailor’s shapes, sizes and noses hoping we’d find a suitable model for what we believe will be the best war poster ever produced. Your face and figure are what the doctor ordered and we intend having it as our model. We say, “Art is Riggin’ Bill and never mind about the fleeting” – maybe a little flirting, but only after classes. Just to pin you down so the females of the nation can pin you up… I’ve written to my father who is a very important Congressman in Washington.

My Dad acts like a depth bomb on the Navy when he starts bellowing around demanding something so you might as well make up your mind to come quietly.  I’m the apple of his eye and he never lets anyone make applesauce of his good intentions, so why not be reasonable about it? Just what have you got against posing for our art class anyway? Wo knows, you may be the first pin-up boy the Armed Forces produce – perhaps the movie actresses will be pinning up your picture instead of vice versa?

We’re so confident that we’re going to get you as a model we’ve already begun to get the studio in order for your reception.  We really did need blackout curtains anyhow, and we’re getting them just in case we decide to work overtime. Please don’t misunderstand our intentions. We want to paint – not pant! Therefore, come in your Navy whites so it will contrast with the nice tan you have.  We promise not to harm a hair on your head if you come – if you don’t, pappy won’t like and pappy packs a lot of weight in Washington!

Hopefully,

Annie Lawes



‘Fo'c'sle, Bridge, Breaker, Breaker, One Nine ‘

This little yarn comes from another blogger, Comrade Misfit, from the blogosphere! I hope you enjoy…

In an earlier story about anchoring, I alluded to a sound-powered phone circuit between the Bridge and the Forecastle. Sound-powered phones are telephones designed to take their power from the energy of the incoming sound waves. While the handsets and headsets had receivers and transmitters, they were really bidirectional in that you could, if you wanted to, listen and talk over the same unit.

The advantage of sound-powered phones was that they were dirt-simple and they didn't require power. All you had to do was string two wires and hook a handset up at each end. For example, as part of the rigging lines between ships during underway replenishment, two sound-powered phone lines were sent across to the two ships could talk Bridge-to-Bridge and Unrep Station to Unrep Station.

All installed circuits were designated with at least two letters [1] and then maybe numbers. For this post, I am focusing on the maneuvering circuit, the 1JV. In open-ocean steaming, the 1JV connected the Bridge, Main Control and the After Lookout. On the Bridge, the Lee Helmsman served as the phone talker; in Main Control, the Throttleman did.

Coming in and out of port, there would be more stations on the 1JV. For mooring alongside a pier or another ship, the Forecastle would be on the line, while the After Lookout served as the phone talker for the Fantail line handlers. If boats were to be operated, the boat davit stations had phone talkers.

Communications could be slow. The Conning Officer would give an order, such as…

"Foc's'le, Bridge, slack Line One."

The sailor on the Lee Helm would repeat the order, verbatim, and the phone talker on the Forecastle would shout it out. The officer/chief/petty officer in charge would yell back:

"Slack Line One, Foc's'le, Aye!"

… and that would be repeated back up the phone circuit. And if you had a couple of sailors as phone-talkers who were not exactly the sharpest knives in the drawer, it could be a real cluster fuck with lots of… "say again" responses.

Back in the `70s, during the CB radio craze, a number of CB walkie-talkies began to hit the consumer market. Ships bought them, figuring that the Conning Officer (or the Captain) could then talk directly to the person in charge of the Forecastle and/or the Fantail. All it took was to find an unused channel [2] and use that. It was believed that as long nobody said their ship's name that using the CB radios didn't compromise operational security.

This is no shit: A destroyer was steaming into the naval station at Roosevelt Roads, Puerto Rico. The ship was heading for an anchorage, and, like a lot of ships, they were using walkie-talkies. When the ship was at the right spot to drop the anchor, the Conning Officer keyed his walkie-talkie and radioed:

"Foc's'le, Bridge, let go the anchor!"

That command was heard on two ships. The other ship was an oiler that was heading down the channel at Roosevelt Roads at ten knots. The Bo'sun's Mate on the Forecastle of that ship keyed his radio and yelled:

"Let go the anchor, Foc's'le, Aye!"

At that command, the sailor holding the sledgehammer at the pelican hook swung the hammer and knocked it free and all hell broke loose.

Fortunately, there were no injuries and nothing serious was broken. But an order went out from the Type Commanders, in very short order, outlawing the use of CB radios aboard ships.
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[1] All included the letter "J", designating the circuit to be sound-powered.
[2] Not 9, the emergency channel or 19, most commonly used by truckers

http://babesinopen.blogspot.com/2012/12/focsle-bridge-breaker-breaker-one-nine.html