First of all, [King] Paul -- this site of yours is awesome. I was on the Eisenhower and don't know any of you guys, but I laugh my ass off every time I read the sea stories. I wonder if Rickover ever imagined the characters that he would get in his program -- what is it about nucs that they are able to think up some of this stuff? 

I was on the Eisenhower from 1988 - 1991 and worked in RM02. The pig was already in the Med when I finished prototype so we were flown over to meet it. We flew onboard in the COD -- quite an experience. There were a couple of guys puking in their white hats before we landed. 

So here I was; finally, I was on my ship. We got checked into RT and then taken down to berthing. After the cries of "NUB" subsided, the next thing we heard was, "Hey, are you going to re-enlist? Don't do it! You'll be sorry." The mantra among the nucs was "Ike Bites" or "IB". "IB" was written everywhere nucs worked or slept. We found out later that Ike did indeed, bite. 

I'm not going to bore you guys with stories of drunken squids and decadent behavior-- we all know what nucs are capable of. There are a couple of incidents that do come to mind, though. We were scheduled for liberty in Palma, Majorca -- an amazing place with lots of bars, clubs, restaurants, beaches and beautiful women. Anyhow, the day that we are pulling into the harbor, a Greenpeace ship tried to cut us off. Apparently, since we were a nuclear ship, they didn't want us there. They cut across us a couple of times but nothing came of it. We are anchored in the harbor and all of a sudden, a couple of Greenpeace zodiac boats show up with a bunch of protestors. They have this brilliant idea that they are going to climb up the anchor chain and spray paint graffiti on the side of the ship. These guys got about halfway up the anchor chain before the marines blasted them off with a high pressure water hose.  From that point on, when "Operation Waterfall" was called -- everyone ran up to the flight deck hoping to see some activists get dunked. 

The other thing that I will never forget is the day we pulled into Norfolk following the 1988 Med cruise. We had just spent 6 months cruising around the Med with no accidents or problems and everyone was excited to get home to their loved ones. We were in the harbor and heading for our pier -- we had a little ways to go and then we would turn and head into the pier. We were manning the rails, and as we started to make our turn, Ike was still moving to the left. There was a ship at anchor and we are all looking at it and thinking, "I don't think we are going to make it..." All of a sudden, the guys from the port side of the ship start running towards the starboard side. We then heard this loud noise like metal on metal and our ship stops suddenly -- the guys in the plant said they thought we ran aground. What happened was, the left side of Ike drifted into the bow of the ship at anchor -- this opened up the side of our ship like a tin can. (The hole was up near the flight deck so no danger of taking on water." This all happens within sight of our pier and with all of the friends and families watching. It was unbelievable -- I think it was about 2 million dollars in damage.  Our Commanding Officer was gone the next day never to be heard from again. 

Hey, Mike, who are you? I'm Joe Brown. I was in RE Div on Ike from '86 to '90. My best buddy in RM was Don Launder, who was also my best friend in high school in Va Beach. I remember much about 'talkin' the IB.' James B Funk coined that term. I remember the Greenpeace fracas in Palma in '88.  They even had billboards (written in Spanish) declaring that "today there are nuclear ships in Palma." I remember twice on that cruise stopping in Cannes, France. That was probably my favorite. Not only were there topless beaches, but even from the ship, you could sometimes catch a small boat of topless women venturing out for a closer look at the ship. Even at Palma, you could go over to Magaluf and find topless beaches. I remember the collision at the end of the cruise. BTW, if anyone is curious, the following URL describes the whole thing... Link. I recall they used to use the collision alarm as a prelude to general announcements. I always wondered why they did this. It seemed a lot like crying wolf. Right before the collision I was down in Rx berthing (3rd deck way aft--~ frame 225) and heard a rumbling, which I figured was the screws reversing at the same time as the collision alarm sounded. So I had a clue that it was the real thing. Then they called 'GQ' and everybody wondered if they would go home that day. But it was wrapped up quickly enough. Poor Capt Gary L Beck was a pretty nice guy, but of course he got fired. I heard he went to the University of Wisconsin to be an ROTC instructor. James B Funk, the renowned talker of the 'IB', came up with a rhyme in honor of the occasion (James B, if you're out there, I hope you don't mind)...Initials and Acronyms, the Navy thinks they're swell, Take our old CO, whose first two were 'GL,' He drove our CVN, and in ASAP, took us to real GQ, Now GL is talkin' the IB.

Joe B.
Joseph_L_Brown@dom.com

KP

PP 

Monte Hyler
gymguy@ntelos.net

Hey, what say we get some stories about favorite (or not so favorite) maintenance tasks that we undertook during our Navy days? I was an EM aboard Ike, as I've stated before on this site. One of our peskiest recurring problems was sparking on the commutators of the amplidynes, which served as rod drive power supplies. I'm sure these have since been replaced by solid-state components. I had a design concept I drew up for that back in 1988 which I showed to a certain rather dorky LCDR, but he wouldn't give me the time of day. The RE Div Sr Chief (or 'anchor with star', as we used to call him) liked it. I thought it was pretty good.  Anyway, the fumes from the F-14's would eat away the protective oxide layer on the copper and lead to 'arcing and sparking.' We spent quite a few days at sea with a group of rods on the spare rod drive while we took an amplidyne out for stoning of the commutator. That wasn't the worst part.  After you stoned off enough copper it would become necessary to undercut the mica. This was much fun indeed. Replacing vent fan motors was always fun. Some of those were real bears to get to. Once we had to replace a rod drive motor while at sea. The ship was furnished at construction with special rigging tools for performing this job. These were stored all the way aft in some forsaken compartment below the fantail (I admit it's kind of fun using some of these terms again--hee hee). Of course the alignment was all done with dial indicators. Later when I worked at a coal-burning power plant I learned to use a digital alignment tool which I felt was a bit more accurate--not because of a digital readout but because it used a prism and mirror to 'see' the shaft as opposed to a mechanical finger resting on the shaft. Shortly before I flew off to get out of the Nav in 1990 during a Med cruise we had a plane getting ready to launch that decided to dump all of its chaff. This apparently came right into the plant ventilation duct which discharged onto Load Center 42 (4th deck 1 plant port side). This resulted in a great production of acrid yellow smoke which quickly went about filling the Rx Room. We ended up disassembling all the 450 volt bus work and cleaning it. We then reassembled the busses and applied a new coating of melamine. Okay, that's what I've got. Who's next??

Joe B

Jaded  

Wow!! I just found this web site while searching for a cruise book from my era on the Big "E". For a reasonable price, these folks will make either an electronic (pdf or html) copy for you, or the good old fashioned photocopy variety. Now, all I need is someone to lend me a cruise book from the 82-83 cruise, and I'll be all set! For anyone interested, looks like the price is reasonable, about $50, less if you get some guys together and order a bulk quantity of them. Check out the site yourself. http://www.heritagearchives.com/Pages/CruiseBook.html  

If anyone out there has a cruise book from the 82-83 cruise, and will consider letting me borrow it (or have it sent to these folks for copying) I would be greatly indebted to you! Sadly (for me) I allowed my anger and hatred of the Navy to cloud the good sense to purchase my own, and now I can't get one. It's like one of the few the Navy doesn't have copies of for sale still. 

Arrgh! RC-14 former bad attitude now regretting it during a nostalgic moment type

Goodbye Connie ......

... Another great carrier sent to scrap heap of history!  Here's to a great ship and all the men who sailed on her!  

KP

KP,

A recent entry from Willy brought up the name of someone whom I greatly respected and regretfully haven't thought about for much too long. This would be Chief Gautier, otherwise known as Chief Goat. Goat was the 1MMR Chief for about two and a half of my 4 years. Goat was an absolutely great Chief. He treated us as equals and kept us sheltered from as much of the Mickey Mouse BS as possible. In return we gave him our respect, loyalty, and absolutely busted ass for  him whenever it was required. (And it was required more than one might think.) When ashore, Goat was certainly someone you wanted on your side in in a good bar fight.  Goat owned a 1960s vintage Harley Sportster, which he doted on as only true Harley guys do.

To set the story up, I need to give a brief explanation of STFO. Shortly before the '78 Westpac a new retort spread around M - Div like wild fire. I believe it originated in the AMRs. That retort was "Suck the f--k out." I know that this doesn't make grammatical sense, but few at the time seemed to care. Seemed like nobody could say ANYTHING to an M - Div guy without getting a "Suck the F--k out" in quick response.

About a month into the STFO craze, we were in port in Alameda and we got word that a guy from Naval Reactors was going to pay a visit to the "E" to look over some stuff in 3 plant. Goat came down to 1MMR and told Kennicott and myself to be on our best behavior next Thursday when the NR guy was on board because (and I quote) "Rickover thinks about this guy the way I think about my bike." Kennicott and I knew instantly that this was some kind of serious!

So, anyhow, the following Tuesday Chief Goat is standing what I believe was known as Shutdown PPWO in 1 EOS. (Being an M -Div nuke I wasn't really up on this lingo.) Ens. H was in 4 EOS and gave Goat an order over the 12MC to do something or other. Ens. H had been to the dentist earlier in the day and wasn't enunciating clearly. Nobody in 1 EOS understood what he had said. Goat replied, "4 - 1 Say again." Ens.H repeated the order. Once again Goat and the others in 1 EOS couldn't understand the order and Goat had to ask for another repeat. After Goat had gone through this one too many times, he lost patience and said, "4 -1 Suck the F--k out." Turns out the Naval Reactors guy had come a couple of days early and was in 4 EOS standing next to Ens. H when this exchange occurred. Goat was relieved on the spot. He went down to 1MMR where Kennicott was standing Cold Iron Watch. He put his arm around Kennicott's shoulder and said, "I think I just kicked the spokes on Rickover's bike." Goat had to go to Captains mast and they made the rest of his time on the boat miserable. As for the rest of us, for at least a month all nukes had to stay an hour after the regular workday for "extra instruction" in proper communication and following procedures. 

Somehow Willy, Larry Z and I ran into Goat and an EM Chief during our last 2 days in Angeles City while waiting for our flight stateside. Goat was a happily married man returning to the States, so he didn't partake in the more seamy offerings of "Slurp City," but he did party hearty with us. We were big into mooning for some reason and would periodically run out on McArthur Highway and moon the passing jeepneys. Goat joined us in this on at least one occasion. Goat was an "old school" Machinists Mate and had twin screws tattooed on his ass. One on each cheek. One of the bar girls had seen this from the doorway of Knobbing Nora's, and when we got back in the bar the girls gathered around Goat asking why he had "lectric pans" tattooed on his ass. Goat tried to explain, but the girls just didn't understand ships screws. They DID understand electric fans as they were essential in the P.I. climate. Goat made up a story about why he had electric fans tattooed on his ass and this seemed to satisfy them.

Goat went on to the USS California and I heard that the repercussions of the STFO incident followed him for the rest of his career.  Too bad. Goat was one of those guys that knew how to get the most out of his men. Goat… If our paths ever cross again I owe you more than a couple of cold ones.

PP 

I served in EM22 from 2000 to 2003.
Thanks,
Mike Hinkley
michaelhinkley@cox.net

Back when this whole "don't ask don't tell" thing was introduced I remember thinking it was such a farce since the only guys that got kicked out of the navy for being gay were the guys pretending to be gay.  If someone really was gay no one cared as long as he did his job and relieved the watch on time.  No one was overtly gay in my time but we all knew (or suspected anyway) who was gay.  I'll never forget RE div's most notorious suspected gay guy, who was a great pal of mine.  One day he was down the office all gung-ho about something and said that he was going to get the ball bouncing.  As was customary when such an opportunity arose someone in the office replied, "[name withheld],  the only balls bouncing around here are the balls bouncing off your chin...."  The whole office erupted in laughter and the poor guy's face turned red.  No one cared but then again no one's feelings were ever spared either.

KP

R.H.

To R.H.

The Archie Bunker comment hurts. Look, I was joking about 'needing closure.' I does not bother me that I may have lived with a gay man years ago. I saw that cartoon and I was reminded how his girlfriend told me years ago that she thought he might be gay. So it was a good excuse to send a comment to KP's site. I was mostly curious if he had shown himself to be so while on the 'Big E' and if so to what extent. I must say though that I have reservations about the military openly accepting gays. I think that's the message they sent with 'Don't Ask--Don't Tell.' I think there is the potential to undermine 'good morale and discipline.' But then again I think there's evidence that having the women on board has caused a bit of that, too. But, hey, it's cool. I wish John the best. He was a funny guy. He was a good friend. I would not have chosen to room with him if he wasn't. Yeah, I was a little 'creeped out' when his girlfriend told me that, but that was a long time ago. The only thing I heard from John after prototype was when he sent me a picture of one of the steel beach picnics. I seem to recall there was an above-ground style swimming pool set up on the flight deck and people had bicycles out. I thought that was pretty cool. We never had one like that on Ike. Anyway, my thoughts when I heard from John were that I wished him well. I didn't give the gay thing more than a passing thought.

Joe B

The process involves scanning every page at 300 dpi resolution. Separating the digital pages having images and text, text only, and images only. Doing basic image correction on some images. 

Then we process all pages having text (or text with images) with optical character recognition software. This is a tedious and exacting procedure - truly automated OCR software (read: automation that is truly automated) is so expensive it remains out of reach of all but the larger corporations.

Then we process all pages with Adobe Acrobat and finish the initial stages by compiling and indexing the pages.

The final stages are: Programming auto-run software to run the CD. Burning CDs. Creating and printing CD label and case graphics.

Even costing it at minimum wage (not including overhead costs) you can see that a "ONE-OFF" PDF e-Book copy of a cruise book is pretty much out of the question for most people.

Now, given what I have just outlined, are you still interested?

FYI: Of the three cruise-books I have available on my website, I haven't recouped even one tenth of my investment. But of course, these projects have been as much a labor of love as anything. 

Its just those nagging bills and my big appetite (and a loving wife of 35 years) that forces me to create income!

Thanks for the inquiry!

Hey King Paul,

Interesting dialogue about Pearson.  I know he wanted to be a model/body builder and really obsessed over his body. I was interested in getting into commercial acting so I took some classes, but soon that idea faded away. Thus my intro into the dopey book as a male model, pretty funny. By the way who penned that cartoon, was it The Wad?? I remember hanging out with Pearson a little.  I think he introduced me to a photographer so I could get a head shot. I think he lived in Fremont and didn't he know the Wad since he was from Fremont also?? Pearson was a nice guy, but was a little strange so after his confession to the chaplain of his gayness, then it always left questions in my mind if he was or wasn't. 

But the guy who was a major Flame was B__e.  He was this huge guy who had this voice like a 5 year old. I remember one time I just got out of the shower in the head that was located at the aft of the RX berthing, and I was shaving so I took my towel off to wipe my face so I am standing there in the raw, and I looked down the hall to the small lounge on the port side (where all the D&D guys used to hang) and there B__e is, staring at me with a big gay smile on his face. I was so pissed I immediately put my towel around me and yelled down the hall, "B__e you fag, if you ever look at me again I will _ _ _ _ you." Everyone in the lounge just looked at B__e. My thoughts are if you' re gay, just shut up and do your job and you will get along. B__e just crossed the line by being overtly gay and making everyone uncomfortable. If I remember right he didn't last long on the ship.

later dude,

Kid Pillow

I just finished my BSAST Nuc Eng with Thomas Edison State College. For all you nukes who don't know, TESC awards 81 semester credit hours for the completion of nuke school. One of the more difficult courses to complete, especially if you have been out for a while, is the prior learning assessment of Nuclear Instrumentation and Controls Fundamentals. I just finished this portfolio and can send it as a guide to anyone who is planning to pursue this degree.  All in all, along with 3 cleps, it took me less that a year to finish my degree. Some might say is a useless degree, but most colleges will accept it to get into a graduate program, and I am using it to go back and teach NNPS as a direct input officer. I didn't think I would go back in, but an O-1E with 8 years doesn't pay too bad, and I know enough to avoid sea duty.  That is all, figured it would have saved me a lot of research time if I had an example paper to follow, so I will try to help anyone else that wants it. Just email me.

Charles Slama
DBandCJS@aol.com 

I can't help but add a little ditty about our old pal Goldylock's Fuller and a "gay" nuke.  (I know, I know but it's a funny story .... I promise!)  When we were roommates in the Hunter's Point BEQ, Goldylocks was always coming back to the room half drunk and full of crap.  He just had to wake us up and tell us about his night.  How he went to "such and such" place with "so and so" and they met these girls and they did "this" and they did "that" and then he got laid because he was this huge stud and so on and so forth.  Then one night Goldylocks came in and was quiet.  There was no gloating about how many girls he bagged and shagged that night.  Obviously something was amiss and it piqued our curiosity since he refused to talk about it.  The next day I finally got him to open up a bit and he admitted that he went out "steaming" with an RC-Div fellow, whom many of us suspected as being gay.  Goldylock's, however, didn't know this.  This person took Goldylocks to a bar in SF's Polk Street District and Goldylock's didn't realize in time what kind of bar it was (think Blue Oyster in the movie Police Academy).  Goldylock's told me that he barely got out of the place with his manly chastity intact. 

KP

King Paul, 

My wife was asking about what it was like to be in the Navy in a foreign port. As I was thinking to myself, "What can I tell her?" I started thinking about some of the guys I hung out with, drank with, and worked with.  I had this good friend, Sean Bourgeois, who was a pretty easy going guy most of the time but if he didn't like you, he would let you know. We had pulled into Cannes and a few of us RM div. guys were out having a few drinks. We are sitting at this little cafe and were joined by a few ELT's that we hung out with. Things were cool, except they had this one guy with them we called "Gus." He was about 5'2" tall and looked like an Oompa Lumpa. Well, Bourgeois didn't like him and gave Gus a few digs...as he got drunker, he got a little meaner.  After awhile, we decided to go to another bar that we knew about. The ELT's tagged along, including Gus. I guess Gus was pretty drunk and he started walking down the street kicking cars. Bourgeois tells him, "Gus, you kick one more car and I'm going to punch your lights out." Gus takes a couple of steps towards him and says, "Oh yeah? I'd like to..." WHAM!!! Sean hit Gus with a right hook that knocked him right on his back. Gus gets up and says, "I'd like to see you do that..." POW!! Sean hits him with a right again and knocks him about 6 feet into some cars.  As luck would have it, Shore Patrol was heading up the street and saw Sean punch Gus the second time. They took us all back to the ship and wrote Sean up. I had duty the next day and was standing Feed Control when I see Gus walk by. He looked like the freakin' Elephant Man. His face was so swollen and bruised I hardly recognized him. The next day we have to go to Sean's Captain's Mast as witnesses. The Captain comes in and doesn't say anything for awhile -- he is looking us up and down and keeps turning his gaze towards Gus. He says, "Which one of you is petty officer (Gus - I forgot his last name)?" Gus says, "I am sir." The CO is staring at his face again and says, "Why don't you tell me what happened." Gus begins, "Well, sir...Petty Officer Bourgeois told me that if I didn't stop kicking cars that he was going to punch my lights out." The Capt. sits there for a few minutes staring at Gus' face -- a small grin comes over his face and he says, "I guess he wasn't shittin' ya, was he?" Everyone started to laugh (except Gus and Sean). They got off pretty easy, if I remember...but poor Gus looked like the Elephant Man for another week or so. 

Mike 

KP

Last night I was walking my dog and I started thinking about times long since past.  Olongapo mainly.  I'm not sure why I was thinking about Olongapo.  Maybe because it was warm and muggy out and the tropical feel made my senses reminisce a bit.  Remember "channel fever," that feeling of bliss you felt when you were a day or two away from Subic?  Everything was fine with the world and it was like it was Christmas Eve or something.  You simply couldn't contain your joy.  If all went well within an hour of being pier side you were off (unless you were doomed with first day duty) and sprinting toward the main gate.  (Or, you awaited the shuttle bus--if you were on the Cubi Point side.)  You hit the gate, showed your ID to the Filipino guard (you had to show ID  going on and off the base) and, then, there she was: Sh_t River!  The smell told you that you were in your favorite place on Earth.  You migrate across the bridge, doing your best to dodge the commotion and traffic coming at you and then you are hit with the wall of sound.  All the bars facing you are cranking out loud music but yet somehow you are still able to hear the girls with their sticks tapping on the money changer windows.  There you trade dollars for Pesos and then you're off.  Usually you steam in groups of four or five, but that number will diminish as each bar is visited.  Your first pitcher of mojo goes down smooth; so does the second.  But then you start slowing down.  Things are now getting blurry and you start drinking San Miguels instead.  But they seem to make you thirstier so you switch back to mojo.  It now tastes better than ever.  But you're also dizzier than ever.  The lights and sounds seem to blur together and the endless traffic moving along Magsaysay pushes you along with it.  You know everyone and everyone seems to know you.  Then you find yourself at the Shark's Cove.  Great, now you can sit and relax for a spell.  Just nukes and engineers here, so that's good.  You think to yourself that it's nice not having girls sitting on your lap asking you to pay their bar fine or buy them drinks.  But, it also means another pitcher or two of mojo must be consumed since everyone's buying.  Then someone wants to go to the Sierra Club.  Hey that's a good idea!  Great music.  Loud music.  And you can eat the lumpia from the girls walking around with trays.  The lumpia seems to taste better than it ever did before.  Hey, now you're back at the Shark's Cove to rest again but your ears are ringing and you can't hear what people are saying to you.  Is that a Peso show going on over there? You don't care.  Hey, now someone wants to go to The Apple Club or Us Festival or wherever.  You forgot that you had been there earlier and told one of the girls you'd be back later.  She grabs you at the door--oh oh, looks like you found your girl for the night.  Then, well, things are really blurry.  The band is playing Stairway to Heaven and you're out there dancing.  Free Bird will be next.  Who knows what happens after that but the next thing you know you're woken up at 5:00 a.m., moved along down to a waiting jeepney, deposited in a seat and brought back to the main gate.  You don't feel very well and you're praying you don't have second day duty but you probably do.  If you do have duty you pray that at least you don't have the first watch.  But you probably do.  If you don't have duty, well, then you hit your rack for a few hours of deep slumber then someone wakes you up to begin the festivities all over again.  If the ship is in Subic for more than a week then you can count on being near death when you finally hit the open seas again....  

Is this how you remember it, too?

KP

That pretty much does it, KP... except the guys I hung with never took breaks at the Shark's Cove. We were flat out day and night long! And we preferred the "barbeque" from the street side vendors!

Arrgh!

the man

Hey KP,

I thought you would enjoy these pictures. I remembered your story about the beaches of France - check Ralphy out! It was a bad hair day for me, but check Schaaf in the background trying to bargain something for some cheap wine. 

The other two pictures are Perth -Club 242. Australia is anti-nuke so we had to stay out in the bay. I remember waiting to drop anchor and everyone was screaming about girls on a boat flashing their assets. I ran up to the aft anchor deal (forgot the navy term) and there they were. Every minute that went by more and more squids came to the side of the boat, some guys were hanging over the edge, and soon the a voice over the 1mc told the boat to move away. Pretty effective advertising. Am only sending the G-rated pix.

What amazes me is about being in the Navy is for such a short period of my life (6 years) it was filled with so many stories, and just crazy things!!!

Kid Pillow (I don't require as much sleep these days)

[The following story was borrowed from the Critical Thinking Website.]

..... never did any streaking myself, but I do recall the change of command ceremony for Capt Carol C. Smith was streaked. This was when he relieved "Engineroom Ernie" Tissot. Tissot received that nickname due to the fact that he was unsure anything existed below the main deck. He frequented the ready rooms, but only came down into the nether regions we occupied if there was a MAJOR problem or if a very VIP wanted to see nuclear power in action. I recall we were in Alameda, and the rumor had been circulating for weeks that the ceremony would be streaked.

At the time, the Master-at-Arms force was made up of whoever could be shanghied from their divisions. The powers that were decided to supplement the regular MAA people with a draft from each division. The idea was to have enough sailors to place two men at each door/hatch leading to the hanger bay where the ceremony was to take place. So several of us junior nukes were told to spiff ourselves up in dress blues, and report to the hanger bay for assignment. Many of us (myself included) were chosen simply because we had a set of blues available.

So here we are on the big day: bands, marines, admirals, officers, IPs, invited guests, camp followers, wives, girlfriends, etc. on the hanger bay. The actual ceremony went off without a hitch. A reception followed, and it was during this that the Big Streak happened. My partner and I were stationed in the aft hanger bay on the starboard side, just forward of number three elevator. All of a sudden from forward we hear this huge commotion, yelling, whooping, and varying levels of consternation. The streaker had entered from the forward door that led to the AIMD shops. He correctly figured that everyone would be focused on getting a piece of cake and a cup of punch in the reception line. He barreled down the port side, clad in nothing but a pair of flight deck boots, and this boy was moving! I recall one of the MAAs, a fat little lifer-type, waddling down after him yelling, "Stop that Man!" at the top of his lungs. My partner and I knew we weren't going to stop him, he was moving too fast, and we had no real desire to anyway.

It transpired however that he attempted to get off the hanger bay through the one aft door guarded by a dedicated MAA, and he was duly tackled and hauled away. The funny part was afterwards. Since the streak had occurred we supplemental MAAs were released to attend the reception. As we wandered about in the crowd, it was all we could do to keep from busting out laughing as we heard the conversation among wives of admirals and captains. "Did you see him?" "No, damn it! Admiral so-and-so's wife, had me all tied up talking about her begonias." And so on. It appeared that everyone was excited about the streaking craze, and was disappointed that they had missed the great event. It transpired that the guy was brought to mast. C.C. busted him one rate, and fined him $300. Later we heard that the guy had won a pool worth $700 for actually streaking the ceremony. He was an E-3, busted to E-2, so he still came out ahead.

G.K.

KP, 

Loved your story about a typical day in Olongapo. Sounded a lot like some of mine. I've been in all the clubs you mentioned, but probably while you were still in Junior High School. Too bad the guys of later times were not able to enjoy the pleasures of that fine city. Of coarse I'm sure the AIDS thing was putting a damper on it near the end. Your story reminded me of some recent correspondence between 4MMR Willy and myself. I figured I'd edit it and share it with you and your website. I've omitted and/or changed some names to protect the guilty.

Willy, 

On our way between Hawaii and the PI the "old salts" were regaling us with stories of the Olongapo. Some even showed us pictures.  We were all chomping at the bit. When we got in the Subic area there was a monsoon and it was storming like a mother. We circled for a couple of days waiting for the weather to clear enough for the tugs to come out, but to no avail. Finally Capt. CC Smith said, "F**k the monsoon. I'm pulling in." Legend has it, he did so without the tugs. The weather was so bad that they didn't even put the after brow up. They just lowered one of the aircraft elevators, and wheeled some portable stairs up to it. We waited for our turn and when we it came we made a mad dash. When we got to the far side of the elevator, we stopped running. We just could NOT have gotten any wetter. We got down to the little snack bar and joined the horde waiting for transportation. I remember that there were some open excavations, which nobody could see due to the flooding. I saw more than one dude completely disappear into one. A bus came by and the driver was afraid to stop. He just opened the passenger door and slowly drove by as squids jumped in. We were among lucky ones who made it.

The bus dropped us off at the main gate Peso changing windows. It was raining so bad that for some reason we decided to stay on base. We caught a taxi and asked the driver to take us to the EM club. I believe this was the first time we heard the Guererro Taxi dispatcher. She always sounded so harried. ("Number seeeex, come eeeeen! Cars close to Cubi, come eeeen!') The driver drove us in a circuitous route to run up the fare, and dropped us off at the Sampaguita Club. This was at most 200 yards from where we started. They had "hostesses" at the club and a couple came over to sit with us. I remember it being awkward for us neophytes. The gals that sat with us were named Bebe and Ophie. Anyhow, we got a load on and returned to the ship without really having an adventure.

On our first full day in port, I'm not sure what we were supposed to be doing, but let me tell you, none of us were doing it! Everyone was either telling P.I. stories or listening to them. Some dudes had obviously gotten their first piece of ass mere hours before and just sat about silently with that "thousand yard stare." After hearing all the stories, you and I got together and developed a game plan. We had heard several horror stories about dudes being ripped off and decided to take preventative measures in that department. We also had heard a number of stories about guys who were already pissing razor blades or had the drips. (Must have been psychosomatic). You and I took an oath that we would NOT get laid on our first night in town. We would just do a recon, to check it out, and would make plans to partake on our second night in town. (Yeah, right!).

At liberty call, we took off with a group of about 6 to 8 RT types. We went to the main gate, exchanged our money and took our first walk across Shit River. Even after the previous days monsoon it was still ripe. Little did we know that soon we would stop in the middle of that span on a hot day, inhale deeply and sigh "Ahhh. Home!" If I remember correctly there was just a light drizzle this evening. We proceeded down Magsaysay in a tight bunch. I had my wallet in my front pocket, my hands were in my front pockets, and I would not make eye contact with anyone. We kept passing bars, and periodically someone would suggest "Hey, lets go in this one" Someone else would find a reason not to go in. Finally we were over half way down the street and I spotted the Bali Hai. One of the RT instructors had mentioned that this was a good place to go. We all decided "What the Hell. We gotta start someplace." In we went like lambs to the slaughter.

It was really dark in there and we could hardly see. Instantly girls were on us like white on rice. One of the girls asked what we wanted to drink and we all responded "Mojo." Multiple pitchers were brought to the table. Things got real fuzzy real fast. All I really remember was a big ventilation fan in the back of the club and Mumbles sitting on my lap, (Think she sat on everyone's lap). My next conscious memory was being in the Sherry Club and seeing "Our Daily Bread" (later of Astro Club fame) for the first time. I was totally impressed! While we were there, some of our buddies came in with pictures of them at some club. We thought it would be great to get our own pictures taken and asked the guys where they got the pictures. They said that they got them at the "Queen Bee." We naively figured this was the only place in Olongapo that had this service. We took off for the Queen Bee and I'm not sure if we got our pictures taken or not.

Anyhow, we were still in the Queen Bee at closing time. We found ourselves out in the 11:30 madness of Magsaysay heading for the base. I had to take a leak, and went behind a parked jeepney to do so. When I returned, there you and B were with a couple of street walkers. I told you to remember our vow and you said, " Pat. They said they can make us some mojo! We'll just go to their place and have a couple of drinks." Sounded good to me and B was beyond caring what the Hell HE did! All 5 of us climbed aboard for our first tricycle ride. With 5 passengers the trike driver was shifting like crazy, but never seemed to get above 20 mph. Seemed like the trike ride lasted forever.

When the ride finally ended, we got off and literally went through a hole in the wall to get in the girls house. We gave them some money and they returned with some coke and cheap rum. (Not exactly the mojo we were promised, but TYFG) We chugged this rot gut down while they were looking for a third girl. When time came for playing "Hide the Sausage" me and B had to share a bed while you got one of your own. B and I were jealous since you and your hooker had a bed to yourselves. I was pretty tired and drunk and not really attracted to the gal that I drew, so I closed my eyes, grit my teeth, thought about a girl back home and got it over with. B must have used the same goal oriented technique, because he finished right after me. Around the corner where you were, however, things went on forever. You evidently had a pretty good heat on and couldn't bust a nut. None the less you were a real trooper and stayed with it. I have a lingering memory of sometime during the night going out in their little yard and taking a leak. I remember looking at myself bathed in the moonlight, and noticing that I was clothed only in my briefs and one sock. (The left one as I recall). I also remember thinking "Wow. What kind of a place is this?"

In the morning the noise of roosters and 2 stroke engines brought us to life. The girls dressed us, combed our hair, and gave us a back couple of pesos so we could get back to base. I remember walking toward the base saying over and over to myself like a mantra, "I KNOW I've got the clap". Soon we encountered other shell shocked squids heading in the same direction, all with vacant looks on their faces. It reminded me of the movie "Night of the Living Dead." When we got back to the ship first thing we did was take a shower. Your knees were tore up something fierce. Seems your bed was nothing more some wooden slats covered with a sheet.

KP, It was stuff like this that made life on the E bearable for my generation. Not sure how today's guys do it. 

PP

KP  

I got this from a book about the world war one exploits of Admiral Canaris, who in his pre-nazi days, found a good way to deal with foul mouthed senior officers. When he was a junior officer, he would repeat the last or key word of the senior's rant, but in a shout. Something like this:

senior: "This space looks like sh*t"
C: SH*T SIR!
senior: "The men in this division are idiots"
C: IDIOTS SIR!
senior: "Even the paintwork is f__ked up"
C: F__KED UP SIR!
senior: "You will never get anywhere in the Navy, you are a looser"
C: LOOSER SIR!
senior: "Look at the uniform on this man, what an a__hole"
C: A__HOLE SIR!

I had an engineer back on the cruiser that this would have been ideal for. He liked to rant, and the seeming agreement/approval would have fed his nasty ego. I offer it now for any short and brave soul with a nasty superior.

Cruiser Ghost.

Whoop, There It Is!

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