Sunday, November 30, 2014

The Navy Man's Blog


1st Class Old Salt Rating Patch

I discovered a new blog today that I know I will enjoy.  I like his since of humor and it seems to be all Navy stuff. 
The new blog is Dan the Navy Man at (  Here is one of his posts that brought back some memories…

“More Pranks and Fools Errands”
If you never were enlisted in the good ol’ boy Navy then you missed out on some special times never intended for the likes of sissies and gutless wankers without a backbone. I've somehow managed to reach the ripe tenure of Navy retirement age in this ol’ canoe club without being lynched, keelhauled, dunked from a yard arm, marooned on a beach head, tarred and feathered or sold into slavery for my litany of misdeeds! If you consider some of the sailors and rascals I ran with, that has to make me a one of a kind!

In my glorious youth as a sailor I’ve been witness to a myriad of transgressions that would make most any pirate gaudamn proud in his own right. I haven’t the foggiest notion on where to begin this tale so I’ll start from the forecastle and work my way down to the fantail. Let’s run amuck shall we?

Anyone ever heard of the Mail Buoy Watch? One of the oldest tricks in the book next to the batteries for the sound powered phones…usually plays out with some gullable rookie greenhorn on the forecastle his first underway! Poor fella stands out in the rain and high winds look’n for a buoy so he can retrieve said mail for the crew! Everyone knows how important the mail is underway!!!

Up forward below the forcastle there was a tiny self-governing lil’ place known as the 'bos’n locker'. It was ruled by a senior Deck Ape and inhabited by a raggety-ass group of scoundrels known as deck hands. Its seclusion was insured by its inaccessibility from any other parts of the ship. No one without a bos’n whistle or a chipping hammer ever had a purpose or desire to loiter in such a wretched place. I’m figuring the ‘bos’n locker’ was sacred so long as some sorry land lubber didn’t escape from a well secured tie down of a bos’n knot. Ya didn’t wanna be the victim of a training session while BM1 was giving deckhand training to his gang of scoundrels… gives a hole new meaning to being hog tied!!

On the bridge sometimes a senior space cadet seaman might send another to tell the OOD we’ve spotted a few ‘CGU-11s’ (seagulls) on the horizon. Some JOODs will fall for this as well…considering they’re usually butter bar Ensigns who are still wet behind the ears. Another one that might get the ship’s QMC a little heated would be to send someone to the bridge for a PRKY-7 (Prick E-7)! Most will refer the young fella to the QMC who will give him a tongue lashing from hell!! Do you remember that “Double A”?? Yeah, I sent his ass up there…..I knew you were on watch!! He-he!!

I'm sure if you ever came up to CIC you got a glimpse of the ‘DRT snake’!! In some cases it might have been referred to as the ‘DRT Worm.’ He-he… When a new fella would get shown around the ship we had a piece of equipment back in the day called the Dead Reckoning Tracer (DRT). It was essentially a table with a glass top and a hollow interior with a light where the ship’s gyro gave inputs for course and speed changes. A side panel would be opened and the poor sap would bend down and look inside. Mean while our illustrious tour guide would whip out his cobra commander into the open interior and watch as the new fella shrieked in horror while leaping backwards as though it was gonna bite’m! It’s a classic maneuver I believe was taught some place called OS ‘A’ School somewhere in Virginia…

In the berthing compartments ol’ salts can be like cannibals eating their young! Yes, watching these ol’ coots teach us how to trice up racks and stuff young’ns into the laundry bin was always a treat. I remember a few times tricing up a young sailor into his rack and duct taping his sorry ass so he couldn’t get out until someone cut him down. That sorry son-of-a-bitch could be in there for hours. One of my favorites was dousing some poor son-of-a-bitches white sheets with some fine ‘bug juice’ powder! That would be Kool aid to all you land lubbers! When the sorry fella’ starts to sweat in his rack……ooooh it makes funny shapes & designs allover his gaudamn sheets! Talk about a pissed off sailor... with horns!!

Then there are the Mess Deck Follies! This is a great place to send a fella for a bucket of steam. On one particular cruise one of the A-gangers was crank’n and decided to tactically place an unused condom into the vat of vanilla pudding on the serving line. He pushed it down into the bowl so it couldn't be seen. A few scoops later and ‘Presto’!! That son-of-a-bitch caused quite a riot!! Thank Neptunis Rex he never got caught…..but we knew who did it!!

The Engineers on a ship are always ready to have some fun. Send that poor fella’ down to the Central Control Room (CCS) to blow the MPA! That would be Main Propulsion Assistant… usually an LDO or CWO ol’ salt who’s been around a while!!

“So you wanna be funny do ya?” … as he unzips his fly!! “Who sent your ass down here? Tell them they need to come blow the MPA because they’re good at it!”

I’ve even heard where the poor SAP involved was sent down to Engineering with a bag of laundry to ask for the ‘CHENG’ to do his laundry for him…..that would be the Chief Engineer!! Doesn’t usually bode well for the young fella!

What about the flight deck? Never mess with those airdales when they’re trying to take care of the helos! You might just get sent down to supply for some good ol’ prop wash! Or what about 100 ft of flight line? These guys have their own set of pranks to pull….and they’re all good ones!!

The fantail is kinda the back porch of your float’n oasis away from home! It’s here where sailors came off watch to smoke a cigarette and tell a no shitter!! It’s the place where we could relax our guard and talk about that transvestite seaman Johnny was smootch’n with at our last liberty port! This was the place to witness a glorious sunset or watch the rooster tail as the ship was at full flank! It was also a good place for Chief to deliver a good ass chewing….As you can see, not a lot of pranks were pulled on the fantail. This was kind of a sacred place… but it was also funnier than shit to watch some poor fella tripping over the bollards in the dead of night trying to make his way out to the smoke pit!!

The last place you wanted to be pranked on was in the head. The smell of the shitters could do wanders to a young lad prone to sea sickness! Gett’n one of those fellas to stand over the shitter and continuously flush it until the swirls change direction while crossing the equator was a classic.

“Let us know when it changes direction so we can start the ceremonies!!”

This was usually done with one of the squeamish fellas who didn’t want to partake in the ‘WOG DAY’ ceremonies! He would get his… one way or the other! Then of course was the ‘Mad Shitter’!! Nothing worse than walking into the shower at 0500 hours after reveille to be greeted by a hot steamy turd in the shower! Happened all the time on the good ol’ RAINIER!!

Yep, over the years I was probably involved in every knot-head prank and foolish stunt that took place! (But I wasn’t the Mad Shitter) …We were young and dumb but the memories are still a lot of fun! Can you still remember?????

See what I mean.  A cool blog.

Tuesday, November 25, 2014


Someone ask me yesterday if I had any strong fears (other than jealous husbands and Judy) and I have to say I don’t think I do.  So I looked up phobias in the ever-present and often used Google and came away with this list… and I don’t have a fear of any of these.  I also know there are many more, but these are enough.

A is for Acrophobia, which means is a fear of Heights.
B is for Brontophobia, a fear of Thunder and Lightning.

C is for Coprastasopnobia, a fear of Constipation.
D is for Deipnophobia, a fear of Dinner Conversation.

E is for Erythrophobia, fear of the Color Red,
F is for Febriphobia, fear of Fever, which can send straight you to bed.

G is for Gerascophobia, the Fear of Growing Old.
H is for Heliophobia, fear of the sun, which leaves me in the cold.

 I is for Ithyphallophobia, a fear of Erect Penis (especially if you are in prison.)
J is for Judeophobia, a fear of Jews; for Arabs, customarily.

K is for Katagelophobia, fearing Ridicule can make you sad.
L is for Lyssophobia, the fear of Going Mad.

M is for Mageirocophobia, which is the fear of Cooking.
N is for Nuduphobia, fear of Nudity.

O is for Oenophobia, fear of Wines.
P is for Paralipophobia, fear of Responsibility.

Q had no fear to be found. (Unless it is fear of Queers.)
R is for Rhypophobia, the fear of Defecation.

S is for Stasiphobia, which is the fear of Walking.
T is for Telephonophobia, which would severely limit Talking On the Phone.

U is for Urophobia, the fear of Urinating.
V is for Verbophobia, a fear of Words.

W is for Wiccaphobia, the fear of any Witch.
X is for Xerophobia, fear of Dryness.

Y was not available. (Unless you are from the old South and fear Yankees.)
Z is for Zeusophobia, a fear of Gods.

Yes, Peeps.  These are all fears and many can be very debilitating or even dangerous to some.  If any of these are you, I urgently plead with you to stop what you are doing and call your shrink RIGHT NOW.  Got on some pills, or on a couch.  Life is to short and beautiful to be afraid of stuff.

Thursday, November 20, 2014


I hope these give a laugh or two…

Jokes about German sausage are the wurst.

A soldier who survived mustard gas and pepper spray is now a seasoned veteran.

I know a guy who’s addicted to brake fluid.  He says he can stop anytime.

How does Moses make his tea?  Hebrews it!

I stayed up all night to see where the sun went.  Then it dawned on me.

This girl said she recognized me from the vegetarian club, but I’d never met herbivore.

I’m reading a book about anti-gravity.  I can’t put it down.

I did a theatrical performance about puns. It was a play on words.

They told me I had type A blood, but it was a Type O.

A dyslexic man walks into a bra.

PMS jokes aren’t funny.  Period!

Why were the Indians here first?  They had reservations.

Went on class trip to the Coca-Cola factory.  I hope there’s no pop quiz.

Energizer Bunny arrested.  Charged with a battery.

I didn’t like my beard at first.  Then it grew on me.

How do you make holy water?  Boil the hell out of it.

What do you call a dinosaur with an extensive vocabulary?  A Thesaurus!

When you get a bladder infection, you’re in touble.

What does a clock do when it’s hungry?  It goes back four seconds.

I wondered why the baseball was getting bigger… then it hit me.

Broken pencils are pointless.

Well??? Did you at least smile???

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Thoughts on Veteran's Day 2014

I wrote this and posted it on my blog a couple of years ago and it is kind of long, Peeps, but it has been on my mind again.  So bare with me.

November 11th, what we now call "Veterans Day," was originally called “Armistice Day.”  It celebrated the end of World War I, when the guns fell silent across the Western Front on the 11th Month, 11thday, on the 11th hour of 1918.  It is not a day to celebrate war, but to celebrate peace and thank those who have served.  However, today IS NOT the day to remember those who fought and died for our country.  That day is Memorial Day.  Today is about those of us who just served.  I want to take this opportunity, as a veteran, to remember, and to help those who enjoy this hard-fought peace that a veteran helped provide, to help you to understand.

Those who have served in the military know what it is like to do a job that is extremely difficult and dangerous; no matter if they are in combat, a war zone, or serving peace time.  I know 74 brave young men who were combat veterans who lost their lives just outside the boundary slated as a combat zone of Vietnam.  They fought hard with close-in artillery support for a group of Marines and Army guys, yet were killed in an accidental collision with another ship.  That 50 miles has kept their name off The Wall… to save the Navy from admitting… what?  The Navy didn’t do anything.  Those young sailors did.  And they died for it.

Those who served know that they do more work by 9:00 a.m. than most people do in civilian life all day long.  Yet they have no time clock to punch, just the NCO telling them when to start and when to stop.  There are no unions, shop stewards or scheduled breaks.  No OSHA pimps looking over their shoulders… no need too.  They KNOW their job and how to do it.

Those who served know what it is like to crawl through mud, dust, sand, and snow.  They know how to perform while carrying 80 to 100 lbs. on their person.  They know hot and they know cold.  They know what it's like to live 24/7 on a rolling ship at sea in all kinds of weather.  They know how to hold a tray level and eat with one hand while talking about the watch coming up or the girlfriend/wife at home.
They will also have no problem dropping trow and taking a crap in the open with their flanks covered by their “brothers.”  The will hold that same man while he cries over a lost friend.  Or cuss him for snoring too loud, or just because of his last name or any other reason just to relieve boredom. 

And they will carry these experiences inside for the rest of their lives.

And those who served know how others perceive them.  Most of us feel it is because they, who did not serve, are ashamed they were not brave enough to have stepped up.  Those types know they are in the presence of America’s Best.

It has always been this way.

Rudyard Kipling, the Poet Laureate of England in the Victorian Days, said it best in a poem, “Tommy”:

“I went into a public-‘ouse to get a pint of beer,
The publican he ups and says “we serve no red coats here.”
The girls be’ind the bar they laughed and giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an’ to myself sez I:
· Oh it’s Tommy this and Tommy that, an’ Tommy, go away”
· But it’s “Thank you, Mister Atkins,” when the band begins to play—

“I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but hadn’t none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music halls,
But when it comes to fightin’, Lord! They’ll shove me in the stalls!
· But it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, wait outside”;
· But it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the troopship’s on the tide.”

Yes, makin’ mock o’uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an’ they’re starvation cheap;
An’ hustlin’ drunken soldiers when they’re goin’ large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin’ in full kit.
· Then it’s Tommy this, and Tommy that, an “Tommy ow’s your soul?”
· But it “Thin red line of heroes when the drums begin to roll.”

“We aren’t no thin red heroes, nor we aren’t no blackguards too,
But single men in barracks, most remarkable, like you;
An’ if sometimes our conduck isn’t all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barracks don’t grow into plaster saints;
· While it’s Tommy this and Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, fall be’ind”
· But it’s “Please to walk in front, sir,” when there’s trouble in the wind.

“For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Chuck him out, the brute!”
But it’s “Saviour of his country” when the guns begin to shoot;
An’ it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ Anything you please;
An’ Tommy ain’t a bloomin’ fool—you bet that Tommy sees!"

Yet, you try to thank any veteran and more than likely he/she will tell you, “No need to thank me, I just served.”  Because we did our job every day to ad nauseam, we feel we did nothing special.  Now there are those few, those proud men who faced danger at its worse.  They bear the scars, both visible and unseen, and rightly deserve our thanks.  The rest of us feel kind of funny when thanked for our service, which was, for us, just doing what the country needed and asked of us at the time.

But because we did do our time and did go through the training, did do our jobs and did come home (or stayed and made a career of their service), those guys and gals deserve your thanks…except me.  I didn’t do anything.