“Dishonorable Discharge”

A Salty old Master Chief walks into a bordello and approaches the madam and says,

"My name is Master Chief Dick and I'm here for a woman!"

The madam immediately escorts the sailor upstairs and selects the best girl they have for him.  He immediately disrobes and is standing with his hands on his hips while he looks at the prostitute awaiting him on the bed. He then says,

"My name is Master Chief Dick, been in the Navy thirty years, and I'm a master of my mind and body, DICK, ATTEN-HUN!"

Immediately, his penis becomes fully erect. The prostitute is in awe and asks him how he can do that. The Master Chief replies,

"Like I said, I've been in the Navy thirty years, and I'm a master of my mind and body, STAND AT EASE!"

His penis immediately goes limp. The prostitute still can't get over the control he has and asks him for another demonstration. The Master Chief says,

"I'm a master of my mind and body, DICK, ATTEN-HUN!"

A raging hard-on once again, and he follows this display of prowess with the command of,

"STAND AT EASE!"

His penis goes limp once again. The prostitute still can't believe her eyes and asks for the demonstration yet again. The Master Chief shouts,

"I've already told you honey, I've been in the Navy thirty years, and I'm a master of my mind and body, DICK, ATTEN-HUN!"

His penis becomes immediately erect, and then he gives the following command,

"STAND AT EASE."

The Master Chief looks down, and to his amazement, his penis is still hard. He then says,

"Apparently you didn't hear me, STAND AT EASE!"

Once again, his penis is still fully erect. The Master Chief is now fuming, and says, "I'm going to tell you one more time, STAND AT EASE!"

No luck, his penis is still hard. He yells,

"You bastard!"

… and moves to the side of the bed and starts to masturbate vigorously. The prostitute asks,

"What the hell is going on?"

The Master Chief replies,

"This penis disobeyed a direct order, and I'm giving him a dishonorable discharge!"

"Ships & Boats"

As a small child, I remember my father, a Navy officer, taking our family to the piers…

"Look at all the pretty boats, Daddy!"

… I exclaimed …

"Ships, Tara," he corrected me. "These are ships, not boats!"

Through the years, I'd tease my father with the same comment, and he'd always reply…

"Ships, Tara, ships!"

Eventually, I married a new ensign who faced a year of training before he was assigned to a fast-attack submarine. One day, when he strolled up our front walk with a grin, I knew he had received his first orders.

"So to what ship are you assigned?"

… I asked …

His smile turned quickly into a frown…

"Boat, Tara!" he said. "Submarines are boats!"

"H&R Preacher"

Now this ain't no shit, mateys!

Years ago when we were at Brunswick it was near tax times and I set up for doing guys' taxes. $5 for short form. I called the operation "H&R Preacher." Now we had this super young ensign about as dumb as they come, let's call him Ens. Rogers, came into the shop…

"You doing taxes for $5, Preacher?"

"Yes Sir. I need all your W2's, S.S. card and the booklet you got. And a fiver."

He hands it all over, just one W2. I go sit down on the bench, fill it out, and give it back…

"There you go, sir. Just copy the return for your records and mail it in."

He looks at the short form…

"That's all there is? That's not worth $5. I want my money back."

"Sorry sir, no refunds. You solicited me to do the work, I did the work."

The officer and gentleman by act of Congress storms out. Ten minutes later phone rings. Chief says…

"Preacher, get up to the skipper. He wants you like now."

Hoo boy, here we go… I walk into skipper's office. There's XO and the good Ensign Rogers with him. Skip says…

"Did you do this officer's taxes for $5, Bradford?"

Wow, he never called me by my last name.

"Yes I did, sir. I didn't go to him, he came to me and asked me to do it."

"Is that right, Ensign? You went to his shop and asked him to do your taxes for $5?"

Skipper's face is red, almost purple. Ensign nods, speechless.

"A commissioned officer. A university graduate. Father's an ambassador. And you can't fill out a little piddling damned form like THIS?"

"Sir... I mean... I..."

"Get the hell out of my office, Ensign, and see if you can make yourself useful for once!"

… He roars. Mr. Rogers decides he don't wanna be Skip's neighbor just then and runs out. Skipper grins…

"You know, Preacher, financial dealings between officers and enlisted is a no-no but since he solicited you I'm not going to say anything. But do us and you a favor. Don't take any more officer clients. This has been the best time I had in two weeks. When you get back to the shop, you tell your chief I said you got early libs. Go on, git!"

He and XO laughed Hard...

"Aye, aye, sir!"

… I bark and walk out.

"An All Hands Christmas"

All Hands Magazine is one of the leading distributors in keeping the taskforce up to par with what’s going on around the fleet. Here’s a few Christmas cheer comics from the magazine from over the years… 

Enjoy!!!

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"Americans & Brits"

Due to cultural differences, American and British sailors didn't always get along very well and often bar fights would break out. The British were usually very devoted to the Crown and were particularly sensitive about any slur regarding members of the Royal Family.

Our storyteller said he was once in a club in Halifax, Nova Scotia where American and British sailors were about evenly mixed. In an effort to be congenial, he, and his friends, started socializing with a group of British sailors. They were all getting along quite well when the topic of conversation drifted around to the Duke and Duchess of Windsor.

In regard to the Duchess, one British sailor remarked,

"She is nothing but an American prostitute!".

Without thinking, an American sailor quickly replied,

"Well you may be right but she was good enough for the King of England!".

That did it, and, the fight was on!

American sailors soon learned about this sensitivity of British sailors concerning members of the Royal Family and took great delight in baiting them whenever they could. One shipmate told of a time when his ship was docked in an English port. British sailors usually wore hobnailed shoes that made a lot of noise when they walked. One evening, a group of American sailors were gathered at the rail when they heard someone walking up the deserted dock. Finally a lone, diminutive British sailor appeared in the one light on the dock. An American sailor shouted down,

"Hey, Limey!".

"What you want, Yank?"

… Came the reply …

"Fuck the King!"

The enraged Brit then stamped his feet several times and shook his fist. Finally he said…

"Hey Yank. Fuck Babe Ruth!"

… And marched off into the darkness.

Not all Brits rose to this kind of baiting, however. One story was told about similar circumstances wherein an American said…

"Fuck the Queen!"

The Limey calmly replied…

"Fuck her? You can't even approach her!"

"Crackerjack Souvenirs"

It needs to be said that without the United States Navy, some of the world’s finest waterfronts would be just another seedy place! Those harbors were built on good ol’ Navy bluejacket bucks. It was a time when proud American sailors could be seen rolling down streets in foreign ports with white hats cocked over one eye dibbing and dabbling in the horse trade of haggling down prices!

So many of us wasted our time standing in line at some foreign whorehouse or taking a three hour soapy in Bangkok, smoking cigars and getting loaded, Especially in the Philippines! It was a great place for Monkey Meat, Lumpia, Pancit, Balut … if you were into it and a San Magoo to boot! Yep, it was everywhere like sin and head colds.

There was Shore Patrol, basket hats, soul saving nuns, rent by the hour hotel rooms and ten year old tour guide shoe shine boys ready to take you for a ride … always remember that you’re special, just like everyone else!!!

But we were always looking for exotic souvenirs. It became a serious business for officers and crackerjack sailors alike. On our journey we’d find whores, pickpockets, flim-flam artists and at least one low life son-of-a-bitch who sold overpriced cheap cigars and souvenirs stuffed with newspaper shredding.

In places like Bali, you couldn’t go far without spotting a barrel of wangs. These well-endowed carvings were symbolic for good luck. Men even used to wear these charms around their necks to ward off the evil spirits ... Good luck convincing your shipmates to do the same.

In Hawaii, a fresh flower lei is a beautiful thing. It's natural, fragrant and delicate. But you could always find a cheap, plastic knock-off. Or you could take a trip in Oahu to the Aloha Bowl on Wednesday afternoons looking for three for ten dollar flamboyant colored tropical print Aloha shirts in many assortments and sizes of your choice.

And who could resist those tasteful gifts of prolific proportions at night markets around Australia!?! A kangaroo scrotum bottle opener was the must-have accessory for any home entertainer, while kangaroo paw backscratchers were in equal numbers too. Rest assured, these products were made in accordance with national regulations keeping in mind the most humane treatment of all fur balls involved!!!

It reminds me of the American souvenirs of old like the crap 'Turd Birds' found in gas stations across the good ol’ US of A! Montana Turd Birds, Texas Turd Birds, West Virginia Turd Birds... they all had one thing in common: they were made in various poses brought to life with pipe cleaners, plastic googly eyes and toothpicks ... Oh, the possibilities. Then of course there was the Niagara Falls Water and such meaningless cockamamie bullshit any side street snake oil salesman could get away with selling…

The wholesale proliferation of worthless consumerism made you more confused than a chameleon in a bag of skittles! Those street vendors would haggle you for the most useless toy horse crap and you’d walk away thinking you made a bargain, happy as a pig in swill! They ought to hang all those bastards by their toe nails I tell you!!!

The smarter, more seasoned salts spent their time and took pride in buying tailor made suits or silk cuffs for the Crackerjack uniform looking like a damn sailor was supposed to look.  These cuffs had Sharks, Chinese dragons, Rebel flags and embroidered mermaids sewed on the inside of their jumpers! Though unauthorized, it was as classy as you can get out!!!

The ships would return from deployment filled with sailors lining up for liberty wearing Westpac Jackets looking something like the Future Farmers of America used to wear back in High School! We’d bring back a treasure trove of gifts for the kids, girlfriends and wives from far away exotic lands.  My favorite all time was the foreign funny money we used to bribe the kids with to hang out with their friends so Mommy and Daddy could have a little bit of play time of their own if you know what I mean…

For those of you reading this who never had the opportunity, we took pride in our way of life! And the biggest souvenir of all … the memories! We collected them, savored them and used them to enhance these no-shitter tales of lore.  They’re the mortar that hold together our past and connect the next generation of whoever comes after!!  These types of souvenirs are a wonderful God-given gift.  It was a time when the world’s population loved the American Crackerjack and carved our image into the ages of time. Overseas collecting these mental gifts in port meant good times and hell-raising of untold proportions … We were proud.  We had a right to be.  

NAVY - NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS

'Twas the night before Christmas, compartments were still, The sailors were sleeping, as most sailors will.

The ditty bags hung by the lockers with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The men were all peacefully dreaming in bed As visions of liberty danced in each head.

The Chief in his skivvies, hopped into his rack, Having just came from town and a quick midnight snack.

When out on the deck there arose such a roar, I ran to the porthole to find out the score.

I stuck out my head and started to shout, "Just what in the world is this noise all about?"

A moon made for boondocking showed with a glow, It was downright cold out, 'bout seven below.

What I saw out there looked like those Mardi Gras floats, 'Twas a Captain's gig drawn by four white Navy goats.

In the boat was a man who seemed quiet and moody, I knew in an instant St. Nick had the duty.

As quickly as Monday his billy goats came, He whistled and shouted and called them by name.

"Now Perry, now Farragut, Dewey and Jones, What's the matter John Paul, got lead in your bones?

A little to Starb'rd, now hold it up short, No fluffing off now, or you'll go on report!"

He was wearing dress "Reds" that fit like a charm, His hash marks they covered the length of his arm.

The gifts to be issued were all in his pack, The gedunk was ready to leave on each rack.

His eyes they were watering, his nose caked with ice, He wiped it with canvass, then sneezed once or twice.

He opened his mouth and started to yawn, It looked like the Sun coming up with the dawn.

The stump of a pipe, he held tight in his teeth, And took a small nip from a bottle beneath.

He wasn't so big, but he must have been strong, I figured he'd been in SEALs early and long.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old Tar, Who said "Evenin' Matey, here - have a cigar."

He filled every seabag with presents galore, And left us all leave papers, right by the door.

With "Anchors Aweigh" he climbed back into place, A broad smile was creeping all over his face.

One look at his watch and he started to frown, "This mid watch is certainly getting me down."

Then out to the breakwater and into the night, The gig started fading, the landscape was bright.

"Merry Christmas" he said, as he drove on his way, "Now I'll finish my rounds and sack in for the day."

 Navy - Night Before Christmas - Author Unknown