I Love Sea Stories.
Some Army guy in another thread claimed to like Sea Stories.
Let’s do it! We’ll just need to keep it simple. Army guys, need I say more?
I’ve got a million of ’em. Mostly true.
Points for knowing what a P-38 is.
Category: Geezer Alert!, Navy
No shit, there I was, deep in the jungle and knee deep in Ham Slice MREs… Just me, my M16A2, and a P38.
Sorry, Zero. Somebody said that the sheep were gone and all of your mates jumped ship.
So there I was in the middle of the desert, not a body of water in sight!
DaveO #1: Look up C-Rats and get back to me.
I remember canned spaghetti, crackers, cigarettes (4), and a candy bar. A 4-star meal.
No shit, there I was. Up to my waist in grenade pins and machine gun links. Taliban all around me. All I had left was my MRE spoon.
And that’s when shit got nuts.
You ain’t gonna believe this shit but by all that’s holy…
I think the Navy had steak, lobster, and a condom instead of cigarettes. But that’s just what I heard.
#4
Roger that, Zee! There is NOTHING like cold congealed grease charlie-rats. I think my cholesterol jumped 50 points just mentioning it …
Anyway, my sea story:
There I was, in a tiny, waved tossed launch, in a place called shark alley, surrounded by … wait for it … WAIT for it, blast it … Boy Scouts! We had left Long Beach at zero-dark-thirty and were on our way to the big BSA camp at Cherry Valley, Catalina Island. The sea was rough, I was tough (NOT), I puked the whole way there.
The end.
Sure, we had John Wayne in The Green Berets but the Navy–the Navy had that other John who made The Duke look like a Girl Scout. That’s right, I’m talking about The Man–John Kerry, USN. There he was–alone–creeping through the jungle–M-16 at the ready–steel pot atilt–scanning, scanning–cameraman not missing a step…
On the souls of my children, I once had a CO who never showered…ever. We smelled the guy coming up to the bridge long before we saw or heard him.
And one time, at band camp…
Not sure what the Navy called a P-38, but in the Confederate Air Force, and even the Army Air Corps, it was one of those flying machines that shot bullets at enemy aircraft and other targets.
But I don’t got no sea stories. Try not to get my feet wet.
this one time at boot camp. . .
Dad gum can opener guys……lol.
What’s a “can”? 🙂
I scored a full case of C’s a little while ago, at a garage sale. Tossed out a few cans that were swollen though. Technically, as long as the cans are sealed, rust free, and not swollen, they should be OK…….but I ain’t gonna find out 🙂
I’m looking to donate them to our local Vet museum.
Saw a TV show ( might have been mail call, r. Lee’s crazy enough to do this) where a guy at some C rats left over from WW2. Still “palatable”, but they made the 4 fingers of death left over from DS look like filet mignon.
P-38, John Wayne, can opener. One per case of C-rats… whose bright idea was that?
I have an Australian one that is longer than the US standard and incorporates a spoon in the handle; they came one per meal. Brilliant!
Fort Knox… summer of ’74. We were given C-rats with late 1940’s dates on them. I liked the “Pork Slices, with juices” as well as the “Ham & Eggs, Chopped”. Good cookies, too, and so was the pound cake. 🙂
I kept a P-38, it still hangs on my dog tags. A lot of Navy guys had never seen one before. It did come in handy for a variety of uses. The world’s first multi-tool.
Here’s a Sea Story. It was a long time ago, but I still remember it pretty well. If there’s a small detail here or there out of kilter, the mistakes are on me, and 30+ years of distance. ———————– My crew had been tasked out from Lajes Field, in the Azores, to track a Soviet Boomer (ballistic missile sub). About halfway through the mission, the flight crew determined that the fuel management system was acting up, and we couldn’t draw from the center fuel tank. Well, we quickly determined that we had sufficient fuel (barely) to get back to Lajes, but not to divert anywhere else. We declared an emergency and headed home. While enroute, a thunderstorm developed over the Island, and we began to encouter headwinds that slowed us down and increased our fuel consumption. It was already after dark, going on about 2100 hours when we hit the storm, about 10 miles out from Lajes. Now, the thing about Lajes Field is that the only place they could build the runway was down the middle of this long valley, with nice rocky hills along each side. It’s also perpendicular to the prevailing winds, so you ALWAYS have a crosswind. Then, the runway ends just before you reach a 200 foot cliff that drops off into the ociean. Lajes is like the world’s largest aircraft carrier, except that it doesn’t move, unless an earthquake hits, which they do. Fairly often. But I digress… We had to come in over the water and over the cliffs, and the wind was really picking up, with lightening nearby and rain going sideways. The air also was burbling up over the cliff causing some good chop on the aproach, as we quickly discovered. Sitting back in the tube, (the tactical crew faces aft for takeoff and landing), I could see some of the others doing the same thing as me. Cinching every strap just as tight as I could, and my helmet as well. Gloves on, visors down, etc. Just in case something went flying around. That first aproach was a doozy, and… Read more »
@17: We saw that show, too, and I don’t remember either for sure which one! Sure does sound like R. Lee…
I went to DINFOS way back in the 90s when it was still at Ft. Ben Harrison. Went to school with three Navy chicks:
Seaman Doer (pronounced Do ‘er)
Seaman Eder
Seaman Sample
Tis true.
TIWTINS…3,000 feet, in the soup, inverted. How did I know I was inverted? Air medals slapping me in the face. Copilot was screaming like a woman. Of course, she was…..
Anyone sample doer’s edders?
@20. Good story. Unfortunately, it just doesn’t qualify for a sea story, AW1 Tim. You gotta be talking poopy decks, mermaids, sheep, or grog.
#22 Nikki:
For real!!??
Those poor women …
Walked into berthing one day after watch. Headed for my pit, as I came around the corner what do I see? The berthing P.O. mummified in duct tape with a sign on his chest that said” Gear Adrift this Mother F***er”. I promply turned around, went to the lounge and busted out laughing. Guess he pulled stuff off the wrong bunk.
Incidently after I transferred off the ship, I heard that the same guy pissed people off so much they wrapped him in tape again, shoved him in a laundry bag, and then shoved him headfirst into the laundry bin and left him overnight.
Look, I know that sex goes on aboard mixed crew vessels-even when they are in the shipyard, but in the berthing barge’s CHT pumproom?
Yuck.
DAMNIT, if I tell what the P-38 is I lose my Nam wantbe question! ARR. I am am a iknuckle draggtng Marine Rotorhead. What is a Rotorhead ? Joe
One day while giving a Ops compartment checkoff to a non-qual I asked him “Where’s the closest High Pressure air cutoff valve”. He looked very studious and pronounced “If you face Aft, it’s on the Port side”. I laughed and told him “Wow… that was a really salty sounding nautical type answer. Problem is, no matter WHAT way your facing Port is Port and Starboard is Starboard… and you’re still wrong.”
To set this up for those not of the Submarine persuasion, you have to know 2 things. One: The Collision alarm on a Submarine can warn of two things, an impending collision or flooding in the ship. Two: NOTHING motivates Submariners more than the thought of water coming into the People Tank.
My friend was an IC3 (Interior Communications Tech) and he was standing watch topside as the Topside PO on Midwatch.
Bored… and being a part of the IC division, he started playing with the IC suitcase that was used to communicate with the Topside watch in port, or the Officer of the Deck on the Bridge while underway surfaced. Incorporated into the suitcase was a plethora of comm circuits, including a 1 MC (All Hands announcements) and a switch that could activate the Collision Alarm. So at 0230, the freakin Collision Alarm sounds for about 4 seconds. Guys are pouring out of their racks, assholes and elbows, responding to the Alarm… and then a calm voice floats out over the 1 MC, “Test of the Collision Alarm complete, regard all further alarms” We all looked at each other in confusion… who the frak tests the alarms at Oh-dark-thirty???, but we shrugged our shoulders and went back to bed. The next day I find out that my friend had inadvertently triggered the alarm while he was messing with the IC suitcase, and then, after a moment of panic, had the presence of mind to make the test announcement keeping the rest of the crew from going batshit crazy looking for the leak… and then looking to kill whoever had set off a bogus alarm.
A P-38 is a type of airplane that was used to kill Adm Yamamoto. Among other things.
@32: I heard a story of a young yeoman that was sitting on the bridge of the USS Enterprise (CV-6) who fell alseep while on watch. His head happened to hit the general quarters alarm. this being mid ’42 and the constant threat of attack, it being oh dark thirty, and a WHOLE TASK GROUP sent to general quarters, he made himself very scarce.
@ 33-Doc: How the hell does somebody make themselves very scarce on-board a floating city? Surely the Master-at-Arms and MarSec detail would find that person?
True story, though it is about some men in the USCG:
In the very early 1950’s (before I was born) my old man was a boatswain on a USCG Cutter patrolling the North Sea. They were tracking a Soviet vessel of one kind or another when they heard a distress call from a sinking freighter. The Captain issued an “All Hands” and changed course. On arriving, the freighter told the cutter they’d hit “something” and had no idea what but their hull was cracked and taking on water.
The sea was rougher than hell, (by the way, there were no helicopters of any kind at their disposal) and the decision was made to use lines shot over to the freighter to evac as many as they could instead of life boats. My old man had very one of his b/m’s on deck and rescue got underway.
Much to his disdain, one of his B/M’s took it upon himself to go below and inspect the damage. B/M runs to the bridge radio’s over it’s just a small crack and thought they could repair it good enough and with the bilge pumps be able to get the freighter to port in where-ever Alaska.
Two cutting torches, every spare bottle of oxy/acetylene and a crew of twelve men swinging sledge hammers, 18 hrs later, they’d closed the crack and welded enough to where they could get it underway. The next year, the crew of that USCG Cutter were front and center at their home port USCG Seattle and issued commendations and citations by the Commandant, USCG, signed by President Dwight D. Eisenhower..
I know, its not a NAVY story but…
Correction North Bering Sea….
My dad swore that this was no shit. He was a career Navy officer (ring-knocker, no less). Anyways, the place: Yokosuka, Japan. The date: mid-1950s. Dad’s sitting on an Admiralty Court involving a collision between a freighter and a US Navy destroyer, and the Officer of the Deck from the destroyer is not looking good (dad said the phrase “reckless disregard” spontaneously popped into his mind during the quartermaster’s testimony).
The phrase “reasonably prudent man” comes up repeatedly as an example of what the OOD wasn’t. In desperation, the defense asks for a legal definition of “reasonably prudent man.”
The President of the Court says “A ‘reasonably prudent man’ is one who checks for toilet paper before he sits down.”
I understand that a P-38 is a fixed-wing aircraft. What I don’t quite grasp is how you Navy guys open cans with it. Do you hold the can up to the prop or just run over it?
Okay… I’m on liberty in Rota, Spain with a few fellow AW’s (Aviation Anti-Submarine Warfare Operator) and we are at this nice place. Well, nice as far as the l.local bars go. I believe it was called the “German Bar”, but I can’t be certain. This was 1977. Anyway… We’d all had a big meal and several large beers and one of the guys starts a belching contest. We’re sitting right at the bar, by the way. Several good sounding, well resonating and baritone belches are produced. The guy sitting beside me leans back a little, braces himself, and lets a great honking belch rip. Except, rather than belch, he pressure pukes. Massive, beer foam and undigested stream of liquid flies across the bar, and sprays it from right to left as he turns his head. There is this profound, almost deafening silence. Actual, the only sounds were small drips of puke off the liquor bottles, and the sounds of bubbling water. See, there was this aquarium in the middle of the back bar, filled with tropical fish, and the little fellows are all swimming up to the surface to help themselves to this sudden banquet of free food. Now, this was bad enough, but the puke stream had also sprayed across the bosom of the lovely female bartender. She was a flaming redhead from Ireland there on a summer job. She had spray not just across her exposed skin, but seeping down into her cleavage, and little bits of matter clinging for life to the curl’s in her hair. She looked down, then up with eyes of fire and her face flushing as red as her hair. Next thing I see, as I start to laugh is her reach down and pull out this great honking knife from under the bar. She starts to scream something, and, waving that huge blade, she begins to run around the bar and at us. I can’t imagine many instances where a group of half-drunken sailors have moved that quickly. It was asses and elbows as our gaggle hightailed it out of that… Read more »
@#26 – OS – Not EVEN kidding! If I had those names, the last service I’d want to join is the damn Navy!
Of course, we had a MAJ Dork too. He was Army.
@#40: We had a dentist on base named “Toothaker”.
Horse and Cow, San Diego (since closed). Dance of the Flaming Assholes.
Nuff said.
I worked for a Major Payne once. Just once.
I’m beginning to think that most of you swabbies never left port. Ain’t you gots no sea stories?
Oh, sea stories…two immediately come to mind (ok actually these are liberty port stories). In Esmeraldas, Ecuador two of our guys do the $20 for a cabbie all day all night thing. For some reason, they thought it was a good idea to “take care” of their mobile host by buying him drinks. Returning from liberty at around 0530 the cab pulls up right by the brow, with one of the Sailors driving, the other in the front passenger seat, both barely capable of bipedal locomotion. The cab driver? He had passed out, so our intrepid squids did the sensible thing in order to not be late for quarters: they just tossed him into the back seat and drove themselves back to the ship. At Captain’s Mast their explanation for not getting a sober cabbie to bring them back was that they didn’t want “their” cabbie to get rolled while he was passed out. Puerto Vallarta (a port that my ship had been kicked out of on its previous visit several years prior for inciting a riot): The first night I draw Shore Patrol with our LTJG ORDO. For some reason, I shit you not, the XO had us go out not in uniform, but in civvies wearing our SP brassards. PV has a very long “strip”. All of our guys are congregated in bars at one end. The bars at the extreme other end, about a half mile away, are devoid of any Americans. Regardless, we had to patrol the entire strip. After 3 circuits (around 2000), the ORDO looks at me and says, “I’m thristy, what about you?”. I of course answer in the affirmative. So we un-safety pin our brassards, duck into a gringo-free establishment and chug a beer. We quickly slip back outside, once again don our brassards, and resume our patrol. This routine continued the rest of the night until about 0200, the time at which we had been previously directed to secure. When we got back to the boat, we were as hammered as the guys on liberty. It still amazes me that no… Read more »
whenever i run into anyone who is telling sea stories. i usually interupt them and ask:”have you ever been trapped on a submarine with the village people?”
Zero: wrong P-38. Try this one: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/P-38_can_opener
Heh!
An actual “Sea” Story:
At one point we had an arrogant, obnoxious prick of a LT. There was literally no enlisted man (and virtually the entire wardroom, as well) on the ship that did not regard this guy with a seething, homicide-inducing hatred. One night we were in heavy seas transiting from San Diego to the Puget Sound, and said jerk was standing Officer of the Deck. He decides it would be fun to go out on the Port bridge wing and duck behind the gunwale as water splashed over him. On an FFG, the Boatswain’s Mate of the Watch’s station is on the Port side of the bridge right next to the bridge wing door. This particular evening, the BMOW was a big, corn-fed Minnesotan (about 6’3″ 220). On comes a huge wave, and our dickhead LT realizes he’s about to get swamped. As he reaches for dogging lever (the handle that actuates the “dogs” on a “Quick Acting Watertight Door”) in the darkness, on the other side our BMOW puts his foot (and all his weight) on the lever. The BMOW later told us all he saw was a frantic face through the window tugging on the lever one instant, a wall of sea water, and then nothing. Our so-richly-deserving LT got swept 3/4 of the way down the O-2 level, coming to rest against the life rails just aft of the 76mm gun. The now waterlogged asshole finally makes it back to the brige after collecting himself and doesn’t call, but has the word passed on the 1MC, for another officer to temporarily relieve him so he can dry off and change clothes. This causes the CO’s ears to perk up, and he comes to the bridge to find out what’s going on. End result is LT Shithead receiving a royal asschewing on the bridge, standing the rest of his watch soaking wet, and a letter of reprimand. Our gallant BMOW received nothing more than quiet pats on the back from the rest of the crew.
Yes indeed. Karma loves those sorts of folks.
Joe my fellow rotor-head,
Marine Corps Aviation baby, OOOHRAHHH. A P-38 can be either a C-Rat opener, a most excellent Army Air Corps fighter aircraft, or a most excellent German 9mm semi-auto pistol(parabellum ocht und dreizig). Most of my sea stories are from my time at Subic Bay or Patio Beach and are not for family-friendly web-sites, but I am sure my squiddly-diddlies know these two ports well