The Inspection

I was raised in the Texas Panhandle and spent a lot of time out in the open where a fella is pretty much on his own so there are certain things you always have with you that you no longer think about. I my case one of those things was a Bowie knife since it fulfills so many duties when one is out in the wild. Without any thought at all I stored my knife along with all my other belongings in my locker at the barracks. Much to my dismay we had a barracks search and inspection that nearly ended up with me in the brig over the fact that when they got to me they pull out a 16" knife that weighed nearly 31/2 pounds. I did not understand all the fuss over a thing like a Bowie knife and asked didn't everyone carry one?
It finally came around by one of the chiefs who asked me what state I was from? Texas of course. All of the chiefs looked at the knife and then at me and felt thoroughly justified in believing what I soon found out was the general conception at the time by most people in the US that we Texans still rode horses, lived on the ranch and had dirt roads for the main street in our towns and sat around Shoot'n Squirrels.
Now I understand why I sat under that tree in Florida back in boot.

Squeak Squeak

One day while taking a break from becoming a boiler tech. I happen upon a mouse in one of the vending machines. So I whipped out the old nickle and bought me a mouse. Puttin my new found pet into a cup with a lid I took him back to the barracks keeping him in my locker.

Then the evils of beer came upon me and after an evening of preforming my sailorly duties at the local bars, which charged the outrageous price of $1 a bottle!, I returned to check on my new buddy. According to my roomy the events are as follows, I took the mouse out of the cup and holding him in my fist I asked him to go squeak squeak, after repeated attempts to get him to comply I squeezed the little bugger and threw him out the door.

Next morning I got up and checked on my little buddy not finding him where he should be I asked my roomy about it and that's when I was informed of my dastardly deeds of the previous evening. I opened the door to check for the remains of what I had done and there were none to be found, a mystery never to be solved as to what had happened to my little buddy and my swearing off of beer forever.

That night I promptly went out and yet again preformed my sailorly duties.

BEER!

My having been raised in the 60's and 70's you will no doubt know where some of my stories will go and this being one of the first. Just before my 18th birthday a law was passed making it legal for 18 year olds to 1) Vote 2) drink BEER! After getting settled into my new home for the time being I was coming back to barracks after my first day of getting to know you and low and behold right there in the entry way is a wonderful machine that for a quarter you could get up to 6 varieties of hand cramping cold BEER! GOD BLESS THE US NAVY!!!!!!!!!!! As a side note there was not a single soda or munchy machine in sight anywhere. Just BEER!

Needless to say this would be the source of many a misadventure for one young sailor who shall remain nameless.

Chicago Bound

Isn't it ironic the twists of time. I went through boot camp in Orlando, Fla. and A school in Chicago, Ill. while my son went to boot in Chicago and A school in Orlando.

I left Amarillo,Tx. in September for 6 weeks of training to be a boiler tech with a stop along the way to show off my summer whites to my grandparents in Kansas. The trip was uneventful until I got to Chicago where this hick from Texas got introduced to the skyway which I got on to by mistake. I had never even heard of a toll road in my life let alone been on one and after a considerable distance I reached a toll booth where they wanted money to continue, guess whos broke. After much explaining and some laughter at my expense I was allowed to go over to the lanes heading back to Chicago and on to my duty station. I'm sure I was the butt of many a joke about being a hillbilly from Texas for somewhile to be sure.
What I thought was to be an uneventfull 6 weeks of learning before heading out to the fleet was not to be.

Time to leave boot

Well by now I'm sure your ready for me to get out of boot camp as am I. So I will finish it up with the day before graduation. As I said before I was having a problem that the sick bay boy's (I don't think) thought I really had. On the morning of the next to last day it was raining so with rain coats on we marched over to the PX area and got our pictures taken in our dress blues. When it came time to return to barracks I managed to leave my rain coat behind and got soaking wet on the march back. After being back awhile I was not feeling to well and since it was forbidden to get into our racks I slipped around behind mine to lay down for awhile. Later in the afternoon I found myself strapped to a stretcher and being hauled down a flight of stairs and into a waiting ambulance and thats all I remembered until I got to the hospital. Seems I had walking pneumonia and had been ill with it for the last 11 weeks of my training. They got me out of bed every hour to take a shower to keep my fever down along with enough drugs in my system that I didn't feel a thing. Next morning doc came to see me where I was told I would be in the hospital for the next two weeks. That went over with me like a ton of bricks, we argued for a couple of minutes and I won out being it was my last day of boot and I was heading home for two weeks of leave where I laid in bed there for two weeks instead.

It seems I had acquired chronic bronchial pneumonia of an aggressive nature which was to plague me for the next 30 years until I managed to cure myself of it.

A final note: The doctor had my company commander send someone over to bring me back to barracks since he did not want me alone, the guys name was Charlie a black guy whom I had made friends with while in boot he has a story all his own that will be told later.

God Bless the US Navy!

POP TALL!!!!!!!

In the barracks there are racks similar to bunk beds. The difference is at the foot of the rack is a set of lockers and draws for the storage of uniforms, under garments and toiletries. This contraption is made of solid steel and is shared by you and your bunk mate. The two drawers are of course sliding and this is were you keep your small items. I had the bottom bunk which meant I had the lower section of the lockers, my bunkie had the top. We sent our laundry off to be taken care of and when it is returned you properly store your gear because it is inspected for being folded and put away.

On this day me and my bunkie are tending to our laundry chores him above me below. The company commander walks into the barracks and the first person to spot him is required to shout the words "POP TALL!" at which point everyone is to pop to attention.

By now I am a well trained monkey and pop straight up and smack into my bunkies B drawer, were upon I go straight back down to the floor unconcise.

The company commander walks down to where I am lying has two of the other boots pick me up, checks on my condition and says "GOOD JOB WILSON" turns and leaves the barracks.

Shoot'n Squirrels

A brief run down to explain the events leading up to shoot'n squirrels is required so bear with me.

As I said in the beginning I am from the Texas Panhandle where the humidity is low. In Orlando, Fla. it is the other way round. The Navy had a peculiar habit of keeping their class rooms at a chilly 68 degrees while the temp outside would be near 100 or more with a very high humidity. We were constantly being moved in and out of this these two extremes. Because of this I developed a lung ailment that only showed up at night while I was lying down. My complaints about this got me sent to sick bay were a medic would check my temp hand me a bottle of cough syrup and send me on my way. As time progressed breathing just got harder and harder and physical activity was making me weaker by the day and had me gasping for air. The company commander would constantly question me about this and could not decide if it was real or I was a slacker since I showed no outward signs of truly being sick. Never had a fever or a cough until I laid down at night, being young and dumb I never really spoke up about it.

Turns out I had walking pneumonia which was left untreated for 11 weeks, which plagued me for the next 30 years of my life.

In boot the bunks are two tiered and I had a bunk mate that was a little to easy going and would not learn the things that the navy was trying to teach. As a part of learning to work as a team bunk mates were expected to be responsible for each other in all things, the making of our racks, the wearing of uniforms properly, terms of the day and week, etc. etc.

My bunkie could never learn the terms of the day or week, the first few times the punishment for this was his but after a few weeks of this it was determined that I was not doing my part in his training as well so we both got to go to a garden party in front of the barracks so that others could see what none compliance would get you.

Now do not get me wrong here, absolute discipline is the only thing that stands between you and the watery depths of the mighty blue. I love the ocean with a passion but she is a demanding mistress with no compassion. The only thing that stands between you and being pulled down to her bosom is each other.

Well anyway at 4 o'clock off we go to the garden party where the company commanders were gathered to discipline their way ward children. This punishment was nothing more than the strenuous exercise that folks pay to have done to them by health clubs. In short order I was gasping for air and getting pale, my company commander was watching and told me to stop and had a conference with the other commanders expressing his concern for me. After some talking he came over and had me sit on the ground leaning against a tree and I was instructed to point my finger at every squirrel I saw and go bang bang your dead in a loud voice while 400 other recruits watched. To say the least I was humiliated but I never heard a single word from anyone about it.

Jesus there were a lot of squirrels.