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.

The Bayonet

On the second day of being at boot the masses where separated into companies and assigned barracks. No rhyme or reason to these assignments. Lo and behold I am in a drill company with a pretty blue epaulet (Baby Blue to be exact). This required the used of a rifle with a fixed bayonet. Over the next few days we did some marching to learn how and then taken out to the parade ground to see who would be on the drill team. I did not make it. As the weeks went by and the team started learning some fancy drills there was one introduced that seemed a little on the strange side for a bunch of guys with no more experience than they had. This little maneuver involved the tossing of the rifle over the shoulder to stick in the ground bayonet first in front of the man behind you. You guessed it! One of the guys got a little over zealous with the toss and the lad behind was pinned to the ground by a 14 pound rifle with fixed bayonet through the right calf of his leg.

Another one bites the dust. Medical discharge and full benefits as a vet.

Morning Inspections

My son Logan has issued a challenge to me about sea stories. Thinks he can keep up with the old man in quantity and quality. I thereby accept his challenge! Let the best old sea dog win. No disrespect to those who spent a career out on the might blue. Logan's space.

Reveille was at 5 AM every morning except on Sunday's which was a leisurely 7 AM. It was summer when I was in boot and they always lined us up on the parade ground facing east. I enjoyed these mornings due to the fact that we were out there before the sun came up and every morning I got to witness one of the most spectacular sunrises I have ever seen. As the sun would start to rise 3 large beams of light bouncing off of the ocean would begin to appear on the horizon gradually growing in length until they almost reached mid sky before the sun would rise high enough not to be bouncing light in our direction any longer.

Dream Sheet

I joined the Navy for two reasons: 1. Cause a good friend of mine was on a boat (for you non navy types that's a submarine.) 2. The recruiter said I could be an engineer (you know designing buildings, bridges and such, what do I know I'm 19 and stupid.)

Well a day comes and they take us to a building to fill out our dream sheet. This is a piece of paper that has five listing of what you want to do. My COUNSELER said OK I need you to pick what you want from this list of about fifteen job listings. I put down five that looked interesting (which by the way had noooooo descriptions to go with them) and handed it back to him. He looked at it a minute and pointed a the last space and told me what I had put there really did not line up with the other choices I had made, so he suggested that I erase my last entry and put BT there instead (notice the initials instead of actual words.) he also told me they usually pick from the first three anyway so it really was no big deal, being 19 and stupid I did.

Well there are two things you can rely on from the military "RECRUITERS and COUNSELORS lie.

In the navy if the letters BT show up even on the edge of that piece of paper your a BT for life with no possible chance of parole.

I did not end up on a sub because they don't have BOILERS just like they don't have screen doors. And an engineer in the navy doesn’t build or design squat.

Day 2

Some where along the journey from the air port to the base I regained my senses and wondered "Where am I?” If you think about it that is a stupid sentence that really makes no sense.

We arrive at the base where we unload into a large court yard with about 200 more fine upstanding individuals more or less standing in lines 3 deep. The order is given to face left, wasn't pretty. We then march in and get the full routine of hair cuts and uniform issue. This is where I learn the term "nuts to butts gentlemen" a gay mans dream. I wonder what they said to the female recruits.

After the ordeal off we go to the temporary barracks to stow our gear for the night. The march of so many with no marching discipline sounded like a herd of cattle plodding down a street. By now it's getting to be late in the afternoon so once again the gaggle of geese is gathered for a stroll to the mesh hall. We eat and stumble our way back to barracks for a good nights sleep; it's only 6:30 PM! But we are all exhausted from the day’s big adventure and by 7:30 after brushing our teeth and doing our private business we are all sound asleep.

I do not know about the rest, but mine was the sleep of the dead. Suddenly there was screaming, shouting and the sound of things crashing to the floor, bright lights filled the room, I jump out of bed and fall though the air landing hard on my bare feet with the shock of ice cold floor under me ( I was on a top bunk). Again the stupid sentence "Where am I?" Some where in the distance I hear a voice cry out in pain. My God it's the middle of the night, "5AM". Another voice rings out "Welcome to the United States Navy Boys"

I later learned that the crashing sound I had heard was a 20 pound steel thrash can being thrown by our host's to help get our attention. I also learned that one of these cans bounced up into the bunk of one young lad and fractured his arm in two places. The cry of pain that I had heard was his, he was released from the navy on a medical discharge and the practice of throwing thrash cans came to an end.

The First Day

I shipped out to the Navy July 31,1973. I boarded a jet in Amarillo Texas. It was a warm day of about 98 degrees and a humid 7%; There was a 45 minute lay over in Atlanta. We arrived in Orlando Fla. at about 3 o'clock in the afternoon with a temp of 101 and humidity of around 65 or 70%. Now I was just an old Texas Panhandle boy whose extent of worldly travels included OK, NM, and Colorado. Back in them days you boarded or deboarded a plane by a set of stairs rolled up to the plane. During the entire trip I never once left the plane, so here I am green and untraveled standing in line to get off the plane. I step out the door and boom, an environment that I had never experienced in my life hit me like a rock. I passed out and fell down the stairs semi-conscious and out of the darkness I hear a voice that says "Must be one of mine." I wake up on a bus heading to the base, and so starts my Navy career.