Page 27 started March
Letters, Random Memories
and Assorted Sea Stories (Cont.)
Greg Boyle Comes Aboard .....
I’m Greg Boyle. I was a nub when you were
getting out, but I vaguely remember who you are. I was on The Pig
from 1989-1993 in both RM-23 and RM-3.
I can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org
Bill Isom Comes Aboard ....
Bill Isom here. I was Louie Wingo's roommate in Idaho, and would
have gone to the Enterprise from 8503 if I hadn't found some one
dumb enough...er, that is, interested in changing orders with me, so
I went to Carl Vinson, and Ricky Houston went on to the pig. I paid
later though, riding the E from 92-97, and 2000-2003. I still
remember in 2000, when at my 16 year point, I tried to bluff the
detailer so I wouldn't have to go back. I'll just get out, I told
him. Just remember, Bill, said the detailer... The Enterprise will
always be there for you." Sigh. And so it was.
When I arrived in 92, the ship was in Newport News in the
refueling overhaul. My roommate was none other than ET2 Todd Hagen,
the legendary walking RPM himself. I can still hear him say in that
lisp of his "Thath not only wrong, ith f**king evil!!"
Permanent damage to my eyes occurred when I was at the bottom of a
ladder going down into 1 Plant RC's berthing, and looked up to see
all 270 lbs of Todd descending in only a skimpy towel and shower
shoes. Anyway, right before I got off the faff, just before that
little 3 plant episode that all onboard at that time remember
fondly, there was a Watch Officer named Borchers, who we called
Skippy. Really nice guy, but Gullible, (capital G) and very subject
to peer pressure. So, these two ET's are standing SRO one night on
mids. Prior to coming on watch, ARO puts a broke up Mr. Goodbar in
his pants in a baggie. As the night goes on, the ARO is farting, and
moaning about how bad he feels, sick to his stomach, etc. Finally,
after a particular juicy fart, be says in a startled voice "Oh,
No! I think I shit myself." No way, says everybody in EOS. So,
he sticks his hand down his pants, and comes up with a couple
fingers full of that now nicely melted Mr. Goodbar. He's freaking,
waving his fingers around, and poor Mr. Borchers is going bananas.
Then, to cap it off, the BRO reaches over, grabs AROs wrist, pulls
it over, and starts licking his fingers. Then Skippy started to puke
in EOS. So many good names and memories on your site. Brings back
Bill Isom, RC 11,22,14,23,TPL,STAO, QA The only thing I missed on
my tours was office bitch.
Damn Bill, had you shown up on the E in '86 I'm sure we would have
had some great times together! Maybe we'll just have to make
up for it at the fall reunion in Vegas!
Make The Reunion A Reality!
Okay guys.... this has got to happen. There's just too many
of us out there now to keep to our civil selves. I desperately
need a "point man," i.e., someone's who's willing to take
charge and pull this thing together. We need to get a date
established as soon as possible. My guess (from feedback) is
most guys are willing to do Vegas in the fall. As soon as we
get a date and place I'll start designing a T-shirt.
I remember this guy who I worked with in RM-14, which no one
really liked, his name was MM2 G___t. That little f*cker actually
got “A” School instructor duty. He hardly showered, he had this
annoying little laugh after everything he said, was like 4’5”
and had short man’s attitude big time, plus his diet was so bad he
got kidney stones at the ripe old age of 28. One of my buddies, who
is now an officer, would put pubes in his dip can when he was on
watch at feed control. When we were in the ’99 yard period, one of
the one planters was on duty standing charge/discharge 2nd and 4th,
left on the 3rd watch and decided to get really shit-faced, came
back to the plant for the 4th watch, threw up all over 1 RAR LL and
left the plant, threw up all over himself again and passed out in
some head. The captain had this huge flail, the guy went to mast and
got denuked and all that stuff. What I’m trying to get at is, is
that I had duty the next day, 2nd and 4th roving watch in 4 plant,
and good ol’ G___t was my watch relief. Everything was shut
down, RPFW etc.., he was late for relief. I’m like where the
f*ck is this guy to the oncoming watch team; they all told me he was
smoking a cigarette on the smoke pad. It didn’t help that I hated
him to begin with. So he comes down and wants to do a pre-watch
tour. Who does a pre-watch tour when they’re bagging the watch?? I
just sign the logs over to him and jet; he goes crying and screaming
to the oncoming PPWO and the PPWS. So I go to mast a month later,
get 15 days restriction, suspended bust and $200 taken away. What I
did was wrong, but I wouldn’t have been a little bitch and cried
like that and gotten the guy sent to mast even if I couldn’t stand
him. Time passes, still nobody likes him, leadership is good and my
buddy, who was LPO at the time, was telling me that he needed a 1st
class to take LPO when he gets out soon. Well little G___t
makes 1st , and he became LPO. I hated him so much I couldn’t even
look at him in the face. He ended up going to nav lead school; it
was actually pretty funny when he came back because he would try to
tell us how good of a job that we were doing or asking how we were
doing, trying to use what he learned or whatever and we would just
throw it back in his face, making him even more bitter. He ended up
getting transferred to RM admin and then to “A” School. He’s
a lifer, so he’s probably back on the Enterprise making other
people’s lives miserable.
The other night The KP Family Singers were performing when I had the urge to play Free Bird. No matter
how I played it, it just didn't sound right. Then I remembered! Yes, of course--there's only one correct way to
play Free Bird!
|A Resume For The
Worked in commercial nukes for 10 years (5
different sites - see resume for list). Worked at a Tissue Paper
Mill for the past 7 years - downsized a month ago.
Biggest problem baby nukes have upon leaving the
Navy is that we were all trained on Mil Spec equipment verse OEM
equipment (i.e. Gould pumps, Fischer control valves, etc.). We can
fix anything but companies ask what equipment manufacturers we have
Peter Tentis EM1 (SW), Truxtun (79 - 82) & NPTU Ballston Spa (82 - 86)
[resume to be uploaded later today]
Shane Snedecor Comes Aboard ....
Man just found your site, don't know if its still
being updated but brought back a lot of good memories.
Was in RC22 from 1988 - 1991
email address is email@example.com
Would like to be listed.
John Semanco Comes Aboard .....
I got a kick out of the site, and I am sure it
will piss off the brass diggit-types on the pig. I was a 4-plant E-T
from '95-'99, and also served in the RIM ROOM (anyone remember
where/what that was?). Like many other, my memories of the pig are
filled with bitterness, yet the people and stories still make me
"50 Knots" and "The
During my stay on the "Great Ship," May
63 to Oct 67, I can vividly recall at least 5 full power runs. The
rumor then was "50 Knots +." There was also a rumor that
there was a knot indicator in #1 MMR that went higher than the one
located on the Bridge. It was said that the one on the Bridge went
35 knots and the alleged indicator in #1 MMR went past 60+. I wasn't
a Nuke but I had been in #1 many times to repair odds and ends, as I
was in the Shipfitter Shop, and never saw this covered indicator. I
have seen a "Rooster Tail? but at whatever speed the
"Great Ship" was moving, it never hit as high as the
flight deck. I would have judged her speed to me in excess of 35
Knots, but only by a + of maybe three. 90,000+ tons of displacement
is a hell of a lot to push through the briny deep, even if the pond
was like a sheet of glass. I got my information from a solid source
in the Reactor Dept., at that time as I stood the Damage Control
watch in Central Control in #2 AMR.
(KP - In one of your welcome aboards you had a
question mark next to a 1962 date of a fellow shipmate denoting a
question as whether or not he was a plank owner. Plank Owners would
be in Nov. of 1961, if my memory isn't shot. Can't remember the
Richard Allen, May 63 - Oct 67
|Bobby P. Comes
First of all...
What a great site. I was a part of RC-14 "the
best ever" from early 1985 to mid 1989. Of course back then we
were so under qualified that those of us ET's that were qualified,
were qualified in all the plants.
Back then I was ET2 SWS Bob Pellegrino aka Bobby
P. Now, just "Bob" will do.
Read about the closing of berthing. There is a
story about some guy going into Damage Control Central and letting
the Captain, Exec and RO know exactly what he thought about the
Seemed to recall a bit about throwing a bunch of
stuff over the side, the "Great Italian" scam and women
trying to sell you their children "dead or alive" in
I also seem to remember some unfortunate soul
walking into a spinning prop of one of the E2C-Hawkeyes
On the lighter side, I seem to remember 5 days in Australia,
lots of alcohol in anywhere and pulling a MAA (Master at Arms) tour
just in time to escort the USO ladies
Feel free to post it, I'll be back to read more
As for the contact list:
Pellegrino, Robert L. (Bob)
RC14 for most of the four years short tour in MAA
and RA Div
|Bobby P!!! My
old bud! Hey, somewhere among my priceless artifacts
is a tape I made for my then girlfriend, now wife, where a
bunch of us are sitting around a hotel pool in
Mombassa. You were there and someone talked you into
eating a fruit that was growing on a tree nearby and after
eating it you tell us that it tasted like paraffin. We
also spent lots of time together down in 4-plant. And,
yes, though it may be obvious, you were also in the cool
Orders to the Prise ......
KP, Late July / early August 1974. S3G Prototype West Milton NPTU.
Most of NPS Class 7401 was already qualified and waiting for orders.
All we had to do was stand one 4 hour watch per day and just scratch
ass for the other 4 hours. This was a great relief after the 60 hour
a week qualifying ritual. Since we were at a submarine prototype and
all our instructors were submariners, almost all of us had requested
subs when we submitted our dream sheets. Ron Ogan and I put in for a
fast attack and had additionally requested buddy duty. One morning
as we mustered, ENCM Cornwell announced that some of our orders had
arrived. (In those days there were still some Engineman nukes
around.) The orders for the EMs came in first for some reason. One
of my roommates, Bob "Cap'n At" Atkinison, got orders to
the Enterprise. For whatever reason, everyone really thought this
was funny and really rode him hard about it. The next day at muster,
someone had made a small banner that said, "EM3 Atkinson is a
very Enterprising young man."
Over the next few days, a number of other people got their
orders. Henning and James also fell victim to the Enterprise. Jeff
Neuschwanger and several others got the Nimitz. "Hey, What's
going on here? We're all supposed to get SUBMARINES!" One
morning the chief had a larger than usual stack of orders and
started to read them off alphabetically. Then he got to, Petty
Officer Ogan……. USS Enterprise. Alameda California." Oh no!
Poor Ron! Poor me! Now I'm going to have to go to my sub without my
good bud Ron! As this is sinking in, I hear the chief continue,
"Petty Officer O'Neill…." I held my breath and I'm sure
my heart stopped. (Please, please please. Fast attack. I DON'T want
to be a "boomer rider!") "USS Enterprise…Alameda
California." WTF!?!?! How could this be? I'm supposed to get a
SUB! Over the last several days, I had unwisely been verbally
heaping huge steaming piles of shit in those who got orders to
surface vessels. Have you ever heard the saying "Paybacks are a
bitch"? Well it's true and then some!
After shift I ran into my two D1G roommates. Yep, Willy and
Gomulka had gotten orders to the 'Prise as well. That night we
called our NPS buddy Gary Steinke who was at a different prototype.
Before we could get a word out he goes into this big tirade about
how the Navy was screwing him and sending him to the Enterprise! Oh
well, at least I'd have some company to go along with my misery.
We spent the next few weeks having a number of farewell parties.
The staff of our crew threw the students a big party at one of the
restaurants on the main drag in downtown Saratoga Springs. I
remember both ENCM Cornwell and Lt. Consaul giving speeches and
saying how we were the best crew they had ever seen. Not only did we
work hard, but we played hard and did both exceptionally well. I
guess every crew gets similar treatment from their instructors, but
I know they certainly made us feel special that night.
Several days later we cleaned up the rats nest that our house had
become. I loaded up a U-Haul van with my motorcycle and worldly
possessions and left for four weeks leave, mostly in Virginia.
Grooming standards were a little lax at prototype and thanks to
strategic use of hair gel, I had about a one month head start on the
hair I planned grow on leave. On the front passenger seat were my
orders stating that I was to report to the USS Enterprise in Alameda
California no later than midnight Sept.16 1974. Saratoga Springs is
actually a pretty swell place in July/August and as I watched it
disappear in the rear view mirror, I vowed to return to the area
some day when my Navy days were over. (So far that hasn't happened.)
this site (or maybe it's in a Mooj story) is the tale about
how my class, 8502, suffered a similar fate. Many of us,
sub-volunteer or not, were given orders to the Big E.
This was a blessing in disguise since it was great to hit
the fleet with guys you had known from the very beginning.
And life on a sub would certainly have sucked compared to
all the fun we had on the Big E.
Reunion Update (see comments page 26)|
One, let's pick a date. Rob Shane suggests October 15 & 16
so at least we can lock that in. The place (most likely Vegas)
is still uncertain. Let's try to get some kind of head count
to get a rough idea of who can make it. Who wants to volunteer
to keep a tally?
Friends and Such ....
KP: Thanks for keeping my info incognito for the moment. I have
had one phone call from someone who admits to knowing me, and he
will keep my ID unknown until arrggghh figures it out. He
wants to tease him for some reason, do you think he deserves such
treatment??? I admit it might be a challenge, since he was a short
timer and paid little attention to the nubs who wanted to pick his
highly selective memory at the time. Funny how it gives someone
satisfaction to remain in anonymity while yanking somebody's chain.
Arrrgh, are you up to the challenge of finding me out????? Good
As to other things, I was thinking about some of the people who
made life half bearable while serving on board the Big E. It is
truly amazing to think that our lives revolved in such short circles
and how much it meant to be friends with people at such unique times
in our lives. I hung around with Adam Mosher and his wife Dianne
like many other guys at their place at on base housing. There were
many great parties at his house that we all ended up crashing at his
pad just because we hated to go back to that ship. I guess I will
never understand how his wife put up with all of our shit, she was
truly an angel in disguise. There were many times she had to kick us
out for a while so she and Adam could have a good time without us
being around. We understood, after all, she often had many months to
make up for since we had been out to sea for so long.
I remember how many times I would get off the brow with some of
the married folk and witness their reunions in the parking lot. Many
got to see their new babies for the first time, quite an emotional
thing don't you think? The funniest thing was how people would see
the wives driving in the base to pick up the hubbies, and not see
them when the hubbies were driving out the gate. I wonder what they
were up to that their heads were not seen while driving out?????
Some of the wives couldn't wait until they got home for some action,
and most of the guys didn't have long to wait either.
Adam & I kept in touch for a while and then sort of just
stopped calling each other. His wife (Dianne) could sure make some
mean cooking in the kitchen though. Just a short note of thanks to
all the wives who had to put up with the bullshit from the single
friends that your husbands had THANKS!!!!!!!! You made our lives
better in ways you couldn't comprehend at the time. I think I will
try to call Adam and find up what's up and things. Last I knew he
was living down south, and they actually were blessed with a child
to their marriage. To those who knew Adam and Di, you know what I am
talking about. They were just one example of the many great people I
was privileged to get to know.
As to the so called reunion and such, I would be interested in
attending just to have the opportunity to see some people that I
used to know and share some fun memories. We should invite any and
all who presently serve aboard to allow them the chance to
experience the way things used to be and see if they can apply any
of the old salt knowledge that we have picked up along the way. Las
Vegas in the fall ain't so bad, I don't think they will run out of
beer at least. Until next time "Someone they should Know"
Jud Woodings Comes Aboard .....
I was directed to your website by Lou Wingo. Very nice indeed. I
would be honored to be added to your list of e-mail address. My
information is below. Thank you.
Judson Woodings RC-11 1985-1991 firstname.lastname@example.org
totally remember you. You always had that serious look
on your face. I recall many a midwatch when I was FWD
SRE and you were SRO and I'd ask permission to enter (for
logs most likely) and you'd give me that serious look, like
telling me you weren't in the mood to BS. But then
again I do recall shooting the shit with you as well.
Great to hear from you again after all these
Ned Logan Comes Aboard ....
Hello, I served on the big E for four years, 1984 to 1988 In EM11
and EM625 division. I would like to be added to your list.
John Gentry Comes Aboard ....
Great web site! Some "old" buddies I still keep in
touch with sent me the link! Add me to your list: John Gentry RM 23
The Tale of Angus Analingus .....
Okay, this is my first entry. Ram you'll have to
post this since it's your site. Randy you may need to edit and fill
in the gaps so to speak. Although I think to protect the guilty
we'll leave them named as I have.
This is the tail of our adventures in Angeles City
waiting to fly on to meet the ship during the 86 cruise.
So the class of 8503 is gathered in Oakland
International to finally meet our fate and go to sea. Too many names
to mention but here's a few:
Louie Wingo, Randy Jestice, Mark Groseclose, Chuck
Muller, Kelvin Christensen (Crete), Al Hoehn, Q Gyolai,Tim Otten,
Mike Sheets, Many others I just can't recall at this time.
So we fly out and about 14 hours we land in
Angeles City (the Air Force side of the Philippine Islands). We
touch down in the middle of a huge labor dispute and what would
become the rise of Corazon Aquino. So civil unrest is the story du
jour. The military in its infinite wisdom decides that the best
thing for us to do is stay out in town, since the locals aren't
there to do any work on base. So they put us up in a pretty decent
hotel and every day we have to check in and see if we have a flight
to Diego Garcia. Here's the real brilliance to their thinking: the
protestors at the front gate won't allow us back on to the base.
Damn we're stuck out in town. We immediately recognize that every
day there is borrowed time and decide to make the most of it. First
night in the PI, we trust our local cab driver. Can't remember his
name but he was ever faithful and hilarious to watch (you know him,
he's about 50 years old but looks older and has about 3 actual
teeth). So he takes us to a place and it's typical although not
quite as hard core as the Navy side. The air force boys just can't
keep up. Anyway, we quickly get bored there although some of the
guys decide there is no time to waste and hit the target from the
first bar. The heartier souls go in search of true debauchery. After
several statements along the line of "is this the best you have
to offer" our faithful guide delivers us to the raunchiest
place in town: "The Nipa Hut: The Human Zoo." Okay now
we're talking. True Olongapo style filth. So there comes a point in
the evening where we managed to be front seat to the dancing
entertainment. The young lady positions herself such that the only
sight in our field of vision is her central anatomy. Now I won't
disclose names but here's what happens. The girl is expecting a
certain response from each of us that requires oral dexterity. Our
guide, faithful as ever, instructs us: "You no eat pussy you a
fag!!!" Well squid number one takes a look at the goods and
simply exclaims "I'm Gay!!!" I happened to be squid number
2. Now I do have certain rules that I live by and one of them is
that you should never ever eat anything that isn't properly cooked
or board of health clean. So I conveniently look away and allow her
to pass me over and go to squid number 3. Now squid number 3,
unfortunately, didn't have my strong moral code and was actually
hypnotized by the honey's gyrations. His head moved in a circular
direction and he actually looked like a cobra ready to strike. At
just that moment he dove in for the kill. After a moment of dining
pleasure he came to his senses and recoiled, his face all aglaze.
Needing more, the honey moved on to squid number 4; however, she
turned as she arrived so that he received a back door invitation.
Again another comrade fell hypnotized and went face first into the
rear of the honey. After he'd had his fill he lurched back to find
the rest of us stunned and amazed, all except for our faithful guide
who was laughing hysterically. He simply looked at us and said,
"I didn't taste shit…" Squid number 1 was immediately on
the ground laughing, myself and squid number 3 simply looked at each
other and said, "well that's good…". Squid number 4 was
then dubbed the legendary Angus Analingus, the famous Scotch Irish
warrior poet statesman. Truly a night to remember at the "Human
Next thing we knew we were on our way to beautiful
Diego Garcia. But that is another tail in the annals of Analingus….
serving with us at the time knew the lad affectionately called Angus
Analingus. Though I personally never knew why he was
called that. Now I do!
Dave" Comes Aboard!!!
Thanks for the great website. My name's Mike "Super
Dave" Avis, and I was in RC23 from 86-89. I included a few
stories below that you're welcome to post if you want (I cleared
Astleford's story with him). Please add me to the list. My email
BTW, Lou Wingo and Rod Andrews were in RC-11 (I think).
Also, I think you mentioned somewhere that you wanted to locate
Mel Denton. I haven't spoken to him in several years, but he was
working at a nuke plant up by Lake Erie. He was married with a
couple of kids.
Not the Captain's Finest Moment
I was on the ill-fated SG inspection job that resulted in the
tragic death of Mike Bowden during the '86 Westpac. After Mike's
death, the captain apparently decided that he'd better get down
there and see for himself what the hell was going on. As it turned
out, I was the Control Point Access Watch when the captain and the
RX Officer came down for their little tour. I checked them in on the
CTG Flats, and they climbed down the ladder into the reactor
compartment. About 10 minutes later, the captain stuck his head out
of the hatch with this sheepish, embarrassed look on his face. As I
sat there wondering what was going on, he climbed out of the hatch.
Apparently, the captain didn't do a very good job securing his pants
when he put on his anti-contamination suit because they were wrapped
around his ankles! It was all I could do to keep from busting out
laughing. While he made his way over to the control point with his
pants wrapped around his ankles, the RO climbed out of the reactor
compartment and hurried over.
The RO decided to check the captain for contamination.
Apparently, he was in a big hurry to hustle the captain out of
there, so he was doing it way too fast. I figured that maybe he was
testing me, so I told him that he was doing it too fast. He said,
"Yeah, yeah, I know" but he didn't slow down. I decided to
let it go because I wasn't sure who to report it to.
It probably wasn't the captain's finest moment.
I've seen the "Cool Club" mentioned a few times in some
of the other stories. Well, there was another little known club
called the Crazy Club. On the port side of the aft cafeteria, the
marines had their offices or berthing (or whatever). There was a
sign at the entrance that said something like, "Access
Restricted. Use of DEADLY force authorized." Well, no one in
their right mind would go in there because they might get their head
blown off. However, to be a member of the Crazy Club, you had to go
in there and touch the sign (or something) at the end of the small
passageway. Matt Becker, being the crazy fool that he was, went in
there and touched the sign and lived to tell about it. As far as I
know, Matt was the first, and only, member of the Crazy Club because
the rest of us lacked the intestinal fortitude to follow his brave
More on Astleford
I read on one of the other pages that Andy Astleford once threw a
guy on top of Switchgear. Well, that brought back a couple of
memories. Andy also liked to knock Billy-Bob Scoggin around in Rx
berthing. It was kind of funny to watch, but I'm not sure if good
old Billy-Bob enjoyed it.
Anyway, I was standing watch in 3 EOS as an RO one time, and
Astleford was in there for some reason. The WO was making his
rounds, so the WS was in EOS. I don't remember what prompted this,
but Astleford offered to crack my back. I agreed, so he asked me if
I wanted the full treatment or the partial treatment. I said that
maybe I should start with the partial treatment. So, Andy does his
thing, and I hear a bunch of cracking noises in my back. It felt
good, so I asked for the full treatment. Well, Andy picked me up
from behind and cracked the hell out of my back. He apparently set
me down after that not realizing that I was unconscious. I must have
then fallen forward and cracked my head on the RPCP. As I found out
later, Andy had then pulled my carcass off of the panel and put me
back in my chair. At some point I heard people asking me if I was
okay, but I couldn't respond because apparently I had lost voluntary
muscle control. After what was probably just a few seconds, I was
back to normal except for a nice cut above my right eye. No one told
the watch officer what had happened.
Dave! Yes, you are very much remembered by me. I
know we had many wild times together overseas and quite a
few laughs through the years.
We must have been on the
same S/G inspection team because I was on shift the day the
CO and RO came down to tour the RC. It was such a
terrible day; most of us were heartsick after just finding
out about Mike. I was in 2 SWGR that morning as part of the
"dressing out" team. Lance Winters and I
ones who assisted in dressing the old man out. Then he
and BP McClure exited the SWGR to visit the RC. While we were standing there waiting for them to
come back Lance asked me how much I would give him if he
swiped the old man's ID card. The captain's wallet was
just sitting there on the bench in front of us! I told Lance there
was no way I'd have any part of it--I was crazy but not that
crazy. Lance, who had nerves of steel, avoided
temptation and left the old man's ID card alone.
Though I'm sure he had to fight those demons in his head
awfully hard since he knew it would have been quite a feat
talked about for years. No doubt he was picturing that
ID displayed in berthing or somewhere just as ceremoniously
flagrant. But it was a solemn day and so there were no
hi-jinks of that sort to be had. I recall as we waited for the
CO to come back
we watched Kevin Willy (the on watch RE) do his weight
training with makeshift dumbbells that he made with lead shield
bricks and HP tape.
John Carlson Has New Email addy:
My name is John Carlson and I have a new email address Please
update to email@example.com
Leave Before The 'Prise (Class 7401
I spent the first several weeks of post prototype
leave in Richmond, Va. My Dad and I went up for a couple of days to
Mount Carmel, Pa. where he was born and raised. Mount Carmel was an
old coal mining town on it's last legs. The coal had run out several
years before and the younger people were all moving away to where
the jobs were. There were still a lot of older people around who
knew my Dad and he enjoyed showing off his military son who had
orders to the USS Enterprise. Turned out that if people had only
heard of only one ship in the Navy, it was likely to be the
Enterprise. I started to feel almost proud of where I was going.
Mostly I just spent time riding my Triumph
Bonneville all over the Richmond area, grew my hair and generally
had a good time. It was during this time that I had a brief
"whirlwind romance." In the space of a week :
1) We met. 2) She fell in love 3) Things were
really blissful. 4) In a moment of weakness I told her that I loved
her too. 5) She sensed her opportunity and went for the jugular. 6)
She shit on me. 7) Game over. Some years later, my marriage would
take EXACTLY the same course. Only this time it was over a much
longer time span and the expenditure of emotion and money were
After a few weeks in Virginia it was time to pack
my bags and head to Tulsa, Oklahoma where I was going to spend a few
days with my good bud Ron Ogan. I was only there a short time but I
still fondly remember the friendliness and easy going manner of the
people in Ron's small hometown of Owasso. Wish people were more like
that out here on the left coast. We flew to San Diego to spend a
couple of days with an old friend of Ron's, who was an Aviation
Ordinanceman at Mirmar. He took us in to work one day to show us
around the F-4s he worked on. By now my hair was noticeably beyond
military standards no matter how much hair gel was applied and I
remember getting some evil looks from several chiefs. Fortunately I
made it out unscathed.
Finally, Ron and I boarded a United Airlines 727
and flew to SFO. Willy, Twain James, Cap'n At, and several others
picked us up. We spent our last couple of days of leave in Walnut
Creek where Willy's parents lived. On Saturday I wanted to go to San
Francisco to do a little sight seeing, but the rest of the gang
wanted to party instead. I hopped on a bus and made the trip solo.
Did some picture taking, had some good food and bought some
postcards to send to relatives. True to being a squid, I ended up in
an adult book store in the bad part of town. I bought a few
"f**ck books" thinking they would come in handy (no pun
intended) on those long nights at sea. The ominous date of Sept.16
was approaching much too fast and we tried to make the most of our
last remaining hours because we had absolutely no idea what fate
held in store once we reported aboard.
Hey I just saw Super Dave's entry. Very cool that
he's on board. He was right, Rod and I were both 1 planters. Most of
what I ever submit will likely be from an RC11 point of view. Almost
embarrassed that my first story was Analingus. I'm so ashamed.
you should be! What if children are reading this
site? Worse yet, what if my children are
reading this site? Egad! I'd hate to have to
explain something like that;)
I'm not sure why I thought
you and Rod were 3 planters. What a horrible thing to stigmatize
a guy with. How about sending in a story about our
wild night in Manila? I forget what happened that
night. It's all a blur. I just remember riding
back to Subic in one of those Victory Liners looking forward
to getting underway the next day so I could finally get some
Ram, I had a good friend at ET'A' school named
Pete Owitz, and we always called him Guido. He went into NPS 8502,
and I lost track of him thereafter. (I went to 8503) Is the Guido
you mentioned in your story about the guy with the swollen leg the
"Guido" was Rob Gargano (RM22). I met Rob at
MARF. Believe it or not, he was Nitro's
Rich Brady Comes Aboard ....
Please add the following email address to your distribution list:
Rich Brady, Reactor Dept. Yeoman, RE Division, 1965-1967
Andrew Kuether Comes Aboard ....
Can't wait to read some stories. Please add my
name to the Alumni.
Andrew Kuether, RM 4-Plant (1992 - Christmas Day,
THE BALL IS
By now, you should have gotten an email from Rob Shane, asking
for a yeah or nay for the October 15 & 16th Reunion.
Please respond to the email as soon as possible so we can better
judge the enormity of this thing. Initial estimates are
staggering and it looks like many are planning to
Since this is my "busy time of year"
at my present endeavor, please direct queries and ideas to Rob or
"Chester" Newman concerning specific details. I will
continue to post inputs on page 26 but may not be able to respond
directly to them.
Had to pass this one on, I know its not our prop but gives new
meaning to the term "getting screwed"!! Bound to remind
someone of Hunter's Point.
Jim Jeisel Comes Aboard .....
Please add my name and e-mail address to your list.
Jim Jeisel 1966 - 1970 MM1 4MMR & 1AMR
See The World, Kinda ......
Mid to late 90's squids will most likely recall
pulling the Pig into the U.A.E., while cruising the exotic Arabian
Gulf. Sounds like a good thing to have a port call, but then we hear
that the terrorist threat is too high and we won't be allowed to
leave the pier area! What a sight this creates as 3,000+ squids get
off the ship and walk into the "gated liberty area" near
the pier. Everyone sits at picnic tables out in the hot desert sun
and drinks thousands of cans of American beer. There are a few shady
food stands set up and some bad music, but that's about it. You
really haven't lived until you've got trashed on a desert pier,
received a bad case of food poisoning, and obtained severe
dehydration all within sight of the big rusty pig! My recruiter told
me I would see the world, but he failed to mention that I would be
seeing it through a barb-wire fence in the "Liberty Area,"
while listening to a band from Dubai butcher up another Aerosmith
I've really enjoyed this site. I’ve been reading
it for over a year now, and figured I’d put in my two cents.
I worked in the RIM Room during the ’01
med-cruise. Near the end of the cruise, the Div-O asked me to write
up awards for all of the RIM room guys. I remember having an
argument with him over whether or not any of us actually deserved a
medal for ordering parts, listening to music while we were on watch
as RT’s, or changing the combination lock on the door bi-weekly to
avoid being caught playing Deer Hunter on the computers. It just
seemed like one more meaningless job to do so the Div-O could look
good... But after being reminded that a NAM had recently been
awarded for doing a really good job waxing and painting a lounge, I
agreed to take on this task. With a lot of help from a friend
nicknamed Sheepboy, we presented the Div-O with the following
ELECTRONICS TECHNICIAN PETTY OFFICER FIRST CLASS
(SURFACE WARFARE) JONATHAN WILLIAMS, UNITED STATES NAVY
MERITORIOUS SERVICE WHILE SERVING AS REACTOR
CONTROLS LEADING CHIEF PETTY OFFICER, LEADING PETTY OFFICER, AND
ASSISTANT LEADING PETTY OFFICER ON USS ENTERPRISE (CVN 65) FROM
APRIL 2001 TO OCTOBER 2001. PETTY OFFICER WILLIAMS DEMONSTRATED
UNCOMMON VALOR WHILE SINGLE-HANDEDLY BEING IN CHARGE OF AN ENORMOUS
FIVE-MAN WORKCENTER WITH NO DEFINITIVE DUTIES. AS AN INTEGRAL MEMBER
OF THE PROPULSION PLANT DRILL TEAM, PETTY OFFICER WILLIAMS
RELENTLESSLY TRAINED 12 REACTOR CONTROL EQUIPMENT OPERATORS IN THE
ART OF STEALTH SLEEPING. PETTY OFFICER WILLIAMS DUTIES AS LEAD
REACTOR TECHNICIAN WERE NO LESS RIGOROUS OR DEMANDING. HE IS THE
ONLY PERSON IN THE ENTIRE UNITED STATES NAVY THAT CAN VERIFY
DEMONSTRATION OF EACH MODULE TEST KIT. WITHOUT PETTY OFFICER
WILLIAMS, NOBODY ON EARTH COULD AGAIN QUALIFY REACTOR TECHNICIAN
ABOARD USS ENTERPRISE (CVN 65). HE ALSO COMBATTED A DEADLY CASE OF
HOOF AND MOUTH DISEASE. HIS EXHAUSTIVE EFFORTS CONTRIBUTED TO
OUTSTANDING COMBAT CLEANLINESS. PETTY OFFICER WILLIAMS’
UNRELENTING PERSEVERANCE AND STEADFAST DEVOTION TO DUTY REFLECTED
CREDIT UPON HIMSELF AND WERE IN KEEPING WITH HIGHEST TRADITIONS OF
THE UNITED STATES JANITORIAL SERVICE.
ELECTRONICS TECHNICIAN PETTY OFFICER SECOND CLASS
(SURFACE WARFARE) ……., UNITED STATES NAVY
MERITORIOUS SERVICE WHILE SERVING AS NOTHING IN
PARTICULAR ON USS ENTERPRISE (CVN 65) FROM APRIL 2001 TO OCTOBER
2001. AS AN INTEGRAL PART OF THE RIM ROOM PETTY OFFICER MOORE
CONTINUOUSLY, AND WITH DISREGARD FOR HIS PERSONAL SAFETY, UPGRADED
AND FIXED COMPUTERS THAT CURIOUSLY HAD NOTHING WRONG WITH THEM IN
THE FIRST PLACE. AS AN INTEGRAL MEMBER OF THE PROPULSION PLANT DRILL
TEAM PETTY OFFICER MOORE STOOD BETWEEN BOTH THE ALPHA AND BRAVO
REACTOR OPERATORS, WHILE WEARING A CUMBERSOME HEADSET AND UNWIELDY
BADGE. AS AN EXPERT REACTOR TECHNICIAN PETTY OFFICER MOORE TRUDGES
THROUGH BLAZING HOT P-WAYS, FROM PLANT TO PLANT NEARLY EVERY OTHER
DAY IN THE EXECUTION OF INITIALING THE LOGS. HIS EXHAUSTIVE EFFORTS
CONTRIBUTED TO OUTSTANDING COMBAT READINESS. PETTY OFFICER MOORE’S
UNRELENTING PERSEVERANCE AND STEADFAST DEVOTION TO DUTY REFLECTED
CREDIT UPON HIMSELF AND WERE IN KEEPING WITH HIGHEST TRADITIONS OF
THE UNITED STATES JANITORIAL SERVICE.
ELECTRONICS TECHNICIAN SECOND CLASS (HAIR STYLIST
and TRASH PETTY OFFICER) MOOSE, UNITED STATES NAVY
PROFESSIONAL ACHIEVEMENT IN THE SUPERIOR
PERFORMANCE OF HIS DUTIES WHILE SERVING AS DINQ TRASH BITCH IN USS
OFF SHORE CORRECTIONAL FACILITY FROM APRIL TO OCTOBER 2001. PETTY
OFFICER JOHNSON DEMONSTRATES EXCEPTIONAL PROFESSIONALISM AS HE ONLY
HAS TO BE ASKED ONCE TO TAKE OUT A BAG OF TRASH. A CONSUMMATE TEAM
MEMBER, PETTY OFFICER JOHNSON CAN NEVER BE FOUND, EVER. MOOSE
DEMONSTRATED UNDYING DEVOTION TO DUTY BY SLAVING OVER THE IT21
COMPUTER FOR HOURS EACH DAY WHILE STILL MANAGING TO NOT QUALIFY.
PETTY OFFICER JOHNSON’S SUPERIOR PROFESSIONAL ABILITY, LOYAL
DEVOTION TO DUTY AND EXCEPTIONAL FLAT TOPS REFLECT CREDIT UPON
HIMSELF AND WERE IN KEEPING WITH HIGHEST TRADITIONS OF THE UNITED
STATES JANITORIAL SERVICE.
ELECTRONICS TECHNICIAN PETTY OFFICER SECOND CLASS
(SURFACE WARFARE SLAYER, UNITED STATES NAVY
MERITORIOUS SERVICE WHILE SERVING AS PARTS WHORE
ON USS ENTERPRISE (CVN 65) FROM APRIL 2001 TO OCTOBER 2001. PETTY
OFFICER SAYLER DEMONSTRATED UNCOMMON DEDICATION AND SUPERB
MANAGERIAL SKILLS IN THE RAPID PROCUREMENT OF OVER 400 PAINT
BRUSHES, 3 PALM PILOTS, 2 OF ANYTHING BURRIS WANTED, AND A PARTRIDGE
IN A PEAR TREE. HE MANAGED TO DO THIS WITH A BUDGET THAT CHANGED TO
MEET HIS DEMANDS. HIS UNSURPASSED TROUBLESHOOTING TALENT AND
COGNITIVE SKILL WAS PUT TO USE AS HE FLAWLESSLY ORDERED HUNDREDS OF
ROLLS OF SHIT PAPER, MAINTAINING THE READINESS OF OVER 400 OF OUR
SHIPMATE’S ARSES. HIS EXHAUSTIVE EFFORTS CONTRIBUTED TO
OUTSTANDING COMBAT CLEANLINESS. PETTY OFFICER SAYLER’S UNRELENTING
PERSEVERANCE AND STEADFAST DEVOTION TO DUTY REFLECTED CREDIT UPON
HIMSELF AND WERE IN KEEPING WITH HIGHEST TRADITIONS OF THE UNITED
STATES JANITORIAL SERVICE.
When I gave him these draft awards he started to
get a little mad. He started to lecture and then I handed him a
folder containing legitimate awards, and he got a good laugh out of
it too. I also included a couple of pics that some of the late 90's
ET's will appreciate.
Jon "Jake" Williams - firstname.lastname@example.org
More On Adam Mosher ......
To the mystery man who wrote about Adam Mosher...
I went to nuke school with Adam (we were both
section 1 rocks) and I lost touch with him after we left nuke
school. I went to S3G while he went to S1C (I think). Being in
section 1, we graduated 11 guys from nuke school and those of us who
went to NY, generally roomed together. We were a pretty tight knit
bunch of guys so even though others from S3G went to the Enterprise,
they weren't section 1 guys so I didn't know them all that well.
Imagine my surprise while waiting for a lonnng airplane ride at
Oakland International, when Adam walks up and says "Hey, how's
Both headed to the Enterprise, my comfort level
went up and we spent what seemed like a month in PI waiting for the
ship to come in. Adam delighted in telling my wife (now ex - but not
because of this) that after a few hours of drinking, my vocabulary
degenerated into two words..."letsch go". Apparently I was
at the pass out stage and wanted to get someplace safe. We stayed in
these quonset huts collectively known as RecSta, and to get there
you walked along a road with a pretty deep drainage ditch off the
side. Several times on the way back to RecSta, Adam later told me
that my staggering was so monumental that he thought I was going to
plummet headfirst into the ditch. He also said that he had no
intention of stopping it from happening either. Thanks to Adam, I
have great memories of PI, and many other places as well. I have
some pictures that I'll send in one of these days.
After BNEQ, Adam ended up in 4 plant and I in 2
plant and we went our separate ways. He was (and still is) a good
guy and he certainly made my first few months on the Enterprise
bearable. I recently reconnected with him after 15 or so years. I
have Adam's phone number and email address and will pass it along to
the mystery man if he wants. Just email me, I will keep your ID a
Rodney Thomas Comes Aboard .....
Thomas, Rodney, RE Div, TPL 1990-1995 Rodt187@yahoo.com
|Wow, you must
have showed up just as I was leaving. Didn't we send
you to 2-plant? I can't remember anymore.
Terry Gardner Comes Aboard ....
Eric Mann suggested I check out your site and add my name to the
list of those unfortunate(?) enough to have been sentenced to the
Enterprise for completion of nuclear power school. I'm Terry A.
Gardner and served in EE 30, EE 21 and 22 variously between January
1981 and February 1985. I graduated from class 8003 at NPS Orlando.
I left active duty (thankfully) an EM 2 (SW)....first E-5 in the
Engineering Department to make surface warfare qual on the 'prize. I
did that despite many a khaki telling we it was a waste of time.
I'll see if I can send some sea stories a bit later. One last note,
those who knew me then would never have believed I would have joined
the reserve (I can take the Nav in small doses it seems) and gone on
to make Chief.
Terry A. Gardner, Now EMC(SW) Command CPO NSA Bahrain Det H
N&MCRC, Tucson. (scary ain't it?)
Oh, if any of those on the site live in the Southern AZ area I'd
be happy to buy the first beer.......
Attached are some good [stories] from the 81 - 85 period:
Some memorable persons from E-Division and elsewhere:
"Rantin'" Blanton, Electrical Officer. A true zero in
more ways than one. I'm sure someone else from the early 80's
remembers his sleeping on watch in DC Central…. among other
'memorable' events. As I recall, Chief Christy was the EWS on that
occasion. Remember him (Chief Christy) as the "Unit of the
Willie the Wah / Neanderthal man / Trog. Red hair and buckteeth
that would scare a beaver (take that anyway you want). A truly
"useful" watch supervisor if ever there wasn't. How this
guy made Chief I'll never know.
Then there was ET2 / 3 Danny Banks. A miscast RT, who should have
been a hammer mechanic. A true product of inbreeding as only
Arkansas could produce. He did have redeeming features however. He
bit officers (usually while barking like a dog and punching
bulkheads), hated airedales and, was always good for comic relief in
a lowbrow sort of way. There was nothing quite like watching him
come into DC Central, remove some wadded up papers from a pocket
with his hamburger-like hands, try spreading the papers out while
smoothing out the worst of the wrinkles and, saying to the EOOW,
"Sir, request permission to start the 4A reactor." Or the
time he showed up for a dress uniform inspection of the ship's
company on the flight deck with boondockers wrapped in duct tape and
spray painted gloss black…..
Or, another stellar performer of EE 30 (who shall remain nameless….although
it is probably unnecessary as he is likely in jail or stoned out of
his gourd at the moment) who first got busted for dropping his hash
pipe on the after-brow and then going back and asking the JOOW if
anyone found it. This was followed by his losing his pants and being
arrested while wandering around in JC Penny's in downtown Bremerton
asking people: "Have you seen my pants?"
Or, sea stories…..
Eric Mann and the poison ivy - Yes Eric, I still remember that
Bob Losin and his short stint with the MAA force at NAS North
Island while in TPU there. Handing out speeding tickets at the base
exchange never had quite the same effect I suspect….."Captain,
uh sir, you need a hair cut…."
Nuclear ejector seat training. This one involved two IC 2's in
forward IC who had convinced a boot fireman that the 'prise had
"nuclear ejector seats" in hidden compartments to fire
people away from the ship in the event of a meltdown. These two came
down to the E Division office wanting me to make up forms (I got
stuck at the time as the admin PO….big mistake letting the khaki
find out I typed 40 wpm) for 'Nuclear Ejector Seat School' training.
So, of course, I did just that. The poor fool FN tried to apply. The
Div O had to interview him (it was on the form) and tried to
convince him it was a joke. He told the division officer that
"You're just saying that 'cause I'm not supposed to know about
this program…." Finally the officer relented and signed the
form. Medical got in on it. They scheduled and gave him the physical
from hell (on the form….amazing what bureaucracy can do….).
Shortly after this he found out ….Oh well, too late…. Later, the
MPA got one of these forms. He thought it was for flight purposes
and tried to apply so he could get a ride in an F-14. Never heard
how that turned out….
Then there was the time the XO's orderly came down to EE 22 to
get the XO's heating pad electrically safety checked. Yours truly
told the orderly that heating pads were a fire hazard and not
permitted aboard ship. I told him I didn't care if it was the XO's,
the Captain signed the instruction on electrical safety, gave him a
memo of confiscation and told him there you go…. The orderly
thought this was just tits and ran off with a big shit eating grin
to jam the XO with this news. I took the heating pad and memo and
put them on the division officer's desk. ENS (SS) "I hate
fuckin' airedales" Gonzo Gonzales (who already had a hard on
for the XO anyway) shows up at the shop a short time later. He asked
me for a multi-meter and a megger. I asked him what was going on and
he says with a big grin: "Next time the XO wants his heating
pad checked you are going to do it aren't you? I have to personally
safety check everything in the XO's stateroom." I got a special
4.0 eval a few days later for that little number. It was the only
evaluation I received in 4 years 2 months on that pig. They gave me
4 years worth of annual evals on the day I got out because they had
to to make the paperwork right. Of course, they also retyped my DD
214 like 6 times before I would sign it. And, that was like 2 or 3
hours after knock off…..
Speaking of discharges, when I was short (late 84) I had to go to
interviews with 3 different officers and a career counselor. Of
course, there was a questionnaire each time (with different but
similar questions) I was required to fill out. One question still
stands out after all these years. On one of these there was a
question " What could be done to improve current crew's living
conditions?" I put: This shows a complete ignorance of current
crew's living conditions. The officer read that and said:
"Well, that explains that one…." and went right on to
the next question.
fantastic stories Terry! This is the kind of stuff
that brings tears to my eyes. My favorite stories are
about characters, i.e., the folks that made our stay on the
Big E all the more bearable.
Hey, I only live 90 miles
from ya. Pencil me in for a beer next week
Yep, it's true! Our fellow alumnus Louie Wingo is now
skipper of his very own boat: The Little E. Here's a
photo of Louie standing topside watch ....
Flying On .....
The muse is upon me:
This is the tale of how I was introduced to our
blessed pig. It picks up where I left off with the tail of Analingus.
So we finally get torn out of our comfortable
existence in Angeles City and loaded on a C3 or some big ass Air
Force plane. Full of Filipino contractors heading to Diego Garcia.
We get to Diego Garcia and quickly realize that we don't want to
leave anytime soon. For those who haven't been, it's basically a
supply depot and a satellite comm station, and a bar. Run by the
Brits but rather international. Maybe 2 or 3 women but after Angeles
City we needed a break anyway. Beautiful island and no work to be
done, just waiting on that COD or S3 to take us to our new home.
Every day was like a lottery, the kind you don't want to win. We
mustered in the morning crossing our fingers and praying that our
names would not be called. After the muster and the departure of the
not so fortunate, we would do some cleanup maybe an odd job or two
and then cut loose. Beach time!! And this was a beautiful beach too.
A reef that went out for about 100 yards and emptied into an abyss.
Unfortunately I was stupid enough not to bring swimming trunks and
had to buy a pair off of some of the Australian guys stationed
there. This guy had a regular underground business going there. You
could buy just about anything, except of course respectable swim
trunks. I ended up buying some shorts that looked like rejects from
some homosexual European disco. You know what I'm talking about,
satin with some gay design that you would never consciously accept
as a God fearing straight man. I was so embarrassed I almost didn't
wear them. I think I managed to leave them on the island when we
finally flew off. Very traumatic, I can only hope nobody has a
picture of me in them.
So we finally fly off in an S3 for the pig. No
short flight, we were in the air all damn day. Some of you may have
experienced this but for those who haven't, when a plane flies into
the carrier they get into a pattern where they start at a high
altitude and circle down and eventually land. Now this particular
plane had a problem with the exhaust and we got to breath jet fumes
the whole flight. This was enough to make me sick but factor in the
circular motion and my inability to draw my focus away from the wave
patterns on the ocean below, I was destined to barf. So we're
auguring in and I'm obviously hurling in the next couple of seconds,
I search frantically and all I can come up with to barf into is my
dixie hat. Randy Jestice sitting next to me however didn't panic. He
quickly produced a large plastic bag in a nick of time and
everything in my digestive tract was immediately in the bag. So
about that time when I'm recoiling from the barf out we hit the
deck, unfortunately the pilot didn't catch the cable, so the next
thing I know my face is about three rows back the bag of puke is
trying to get as far back in the plane as possible and then it all
turns sideways ( the pilot banked off the deck to immediately come
in for a second try. As soon as we're upright, it's time to barf
again. Next time he caught the cable and I found my face was pulled
up into the cockpit will the rest of me had stopped about 30 yards
back (mass deceleration is a bitch).
So they move the plane around and eventually pull
us out, at that point there's an Airedale in my face screaming at me
not to move a muscle or I'll die!! So we're standing there single
file got all my stuff in a pile next to us, orders in one hand and a
big old bag of barf in another. I look around me and all I can see
is blue sky and blue ocean (360 degrees). We were standing on the
elevator so l look down and see the water rushing by and then I
looked up at the island. After 2 and 1/2 years in the Navy I finally
was aware just how "in the Navy" I was. Until this point I
was just some kid going to military school. This was a very rude
awakening. I was trapped and felt the full burden of my enlistment.
My day count began then.
They form us up then and march us into the island,
I remember some Airedale was tending our bags and when I went to get
mine I just handed him my barf bag, HE TOOK IT!!!!! I just walked on…..I
don't know what he did with it, don't want to know...
Inside the island we were greeted by none other
than Rocky Spane, who invited us to join the rest of the crew for
steak and lobster. We did have steak and lobster but I think we all
know just how yummy that was.
So that was the beginning of my life on the Big E.
Incidentally I left it the same way I came to it, but that's another
|My arrival on
the E (6 weeks earlier) was not as traumatic. I wrote
a detailed account of it many years ago in one of my letters
to my children and it would have been the fourth installment
in my "Jules Vermillion" westpac story I was
writing for The Mooj Weekly Standard, had I not begun this
website (and abandoned all naval stuff on The Mooj). I
don't think it was ever included here. Oh
I was, however, briefly acquainted
with Diego Garcia when I was flown off the E when my EAOS dwindled
near. I had just been frocked to 1st Class but was too
lazy to iron new crows on my dungaree shirts (or sew 'em on
any of my dress uniforms). On the first morning at DG,
I learned that E5 and below had to muster for working
parties so I bagged ass to the island Navy Exchange and
bought a 1st class crow. (Actually it wasn't even an
Exchange but some guy selling stuff out of a glass cabinet
in one of the admin buildings.) I think I taped it to
my sleeve. Hey, I was too short to do that working
party crap! The Wad (who flew off with me) and I were
flown to Clark the next day so we didn't have much time to
enjoy DG. That whole BigE to DG to Clark to Tokyo to
TI adventure was my last one in the navy. I wrote
about it in detail but I don't think it is here on the KP
site. It's probably in a letter to my children
Danny Banks Memories ....
Terry sure jogged some memories when he mentioned
ET3/2 Banks. The most memorable order I ever gave as watch sup was
to him: "Banks, shim rods with your hands, not your feet -
maintain T-ave in the green band and put your boots back on!" I
think he had stopped barking by the time the WO got back from
Danny was the only person I know who was ever
fired from the position of RC Dept DCPO...guess how many twidgets it
takes to clean PKP out the RCER equipment panels after a DCPO blows
a fifty pound bottle into them; at least he didn't light off the
AFFF. He swore it was "an accident" and almost seemed to
care (well, if you stood on your head, closed one eye and squinted
real hard with other one it almost looked like he cared).
Terry mentioned that Danny had no use for airdales.
There was a gedunck on the starboard side of RX berthing by the
head. It was always humorous to watch Danny roll out of his rack
with only his boondockers on, and go stomping and barking past the
line of assorted airdales and other slackers in line for their
smokes. I was told that he once pee'd down the entire passageway on
the way to the head (and on not a few shoes and dungarees too)
howling and barking all the way. I wasn't present, so I can't really
vouch for that one.
At a party at the E-Div(e) hangout in Potowon
(down the street from the traffic circle on the left) I also heard
that one skanky, but talented (in a clinical sense at least)
"entertainer" quoted her bar fine to him as 15,000 pesos.
You should take Terry up on his offer of
refreshment, he just drills in Tucson; he lives closer to you than
One Fly Off Memory ...
As mentioned above I once wrote a detailed account
of my flight to freedom from the Big E and all that was navular.
So as not to spoil the adventure tale (if I can locate it) I'll just
mention here that Mike the Wad and I basically flew off the E with a
moment's notice. It was like we had 2 minutes to get to the
flight deck so we pretty much left all our belongings behind--all
but what was on our backs or in our sea bags. Between the two
of us we had $50 to our name. To make a long story short,
someone (I won't name names), blew that $50 in PI and so from that
point on we were virtual paupers. From Clark we flew to Tokyo
and were literally starving as we waited in the airport for a flight
to SF. I finally had to beg one of the other squids traveling
with us for some spare change so that I could go and buy a bowl of
soup. As I sat there sucking the nutrition out of every single
noodle I noticed an old woman come out of the place where I had just
bought the soup and go to a trash can and use a strainer to retrieve
noodles from disposed of soup remains. She then put them in a
bucket and returned to the soup kitchen to re-use them! I
didn't care--I was too hungry to be bothered by such things. I
also recall standing at the urinal in the Tokyo airport bathroom
when a cleaning woman came in and began cleaning the urinal next to
me. I was a tad bit uncomfortable since, well, in America they
don't really do stuff like that.....
Ding-Ding, Ding, Ding, Class 7401 Arriving
KP, I spent the morning of Sept 16, 1974 looking
for a barber shop. As this was a Monday, it wasn't easy, but somehow
I managed. 2 months growth of non military hair was soon on the
barber shop floor. For whatever reason it was important for me to
wait till the very last minute to look military again. Mid afternoon
a bunch of us piled in Willy's Dad's car and Willy drove us to
Alameda. Willy's Dad was a retired Navy officer and as such the car
had an officer's sticker on the front bumper. As we drove through
the main gate of Alameda NAS the Marine guard saluted us! We thought
this was hilarious and made Willy drive back out the gate then back
in again. There was just something surreal about a Marine saluting
the bunch of us degenerates. Willy dropped Cap'n At and I off at the
end of the pier and the rest of the gang drove off to return in the
I think that when anyone gets close to a carrier
for the first time it's an awesome experience, especially if you
know you're going to be a part if it's crew. As we walked down the
pier, I think our mouths were agape. I decided that this thing was
basically defying the laws of physics. How could anything this huge
actually float much less move under it's own power? In our dress
whites and with our sea bags on our shoulders, we trudged up the
after brow for the first time. (Made us feel like REAL sailors.)
After the usual saluting ritual, we presented our orders to the
chief and he phoned the Reactor Office to send up an escort. The
escort led us across the hanger bay, up some ladders, down some
other ladders and then through a bunch of passage ways. (Later, when
I knew my way around the ship I figured out that this guy was either
f**king with us or showing off. The trip was 5 times longer than
required. Screw you, dude. That shit was neither necessary nor
funny.) Just when we reached the Reactor Office the door flew open
and out stormed Gary Steinke. Cap'n At and I yelled "Hi!"
to our old NPS buddy. Gary just looked at us like he had never seen
us before, and practically screamed, "This is the most f**ked
up ship in the entire Nuclear Navy!" Then he stomped off. This
was NOT a good sign!
After we turned in our orders, we were escorted to
Rx berthing and told to find empty racks. Pickings were scarce and I
chose what must have been the second worst rack in all of Rx
berthing. Later that evening, when Willy checked aboard, he ended up
with THE worst rack! After picking our racks, we changed into
civvies to hit the beach. Rx berthing was like a class reunion for
us. A big gang of us 7401 guys left the boat together in search of a
few cold ones. We got as far as a little chicken stand near the Navy
Exchange. There we ordered a shit load of fried chicken and Coors
beer. Us "East of the Mississippi" types had grown up
hearing that Coors beer was the "Nectar of the Gods" We
sat at these little picnic tables and ate fried chicken, drank Coors
and felt like we were kings! Conversation revolved around how big
the E was and where the hell it was going to take us. Bets were made
(and soon forgotten) as to who would be first to get a social
disease. When the sun started going down we retired to the EM club,
drank more Coors and watched the Bills and Raiders on Monday Night
Football (This was when O.J. was still just a running back.)
Somehow, we made our way back to the ship
relatively sober. I stripped down to my skivvies and climbed into my
miserable excuse for a bed. The ship was leaving on Westpac at 08:00
the next morning and the berthing area was exactly the as you would
expect under the circumstances : Noisy, drunks coming in at all
hours, the very condition I would soon take for granted. Amazingly,
despite all the commotion, beer farts, and my own excitement, I
believe I actually got a couple hours of sleep.
A New Arrgh! Tale - The Bender (or "Breaker")
I was selected to go to BE&E School instructor
duty in Orlando after ETA school. While there, I was made "Deck
PO", which meant that the Chief in charge of multiple buildings
would have lil 'ol me for his point man to keep the nubbies in line.
He put the fox in charge of the hen house!
One evening, I was pretty hung over from the night
before (nothing unusual there) but I wasn't feeling quite myself. I
also had planned to go to the west coast near Tampa (Venice) to
visit some retired kin folk from NY the next day. So, I decided to
take it easy, and actually decided not to drink at all, but just sit
there and read a book. The plan was to go to bed early. The best
I was reading when my roommate came in. He did his
usual shower and get ready to go out things, then asked what I was
doing in bed. I told him I was taking the night off. He laughed, and
went to his locker. He took out a bottle of Southern Comfort, and
said something like "Jim... it has our name on it... it's
calling you..." etc. You get the drift. I wasn't responding,
and he was getting frustrated. Could it be that Jim (I wasn't known
as "Arrgh!" yet) was serious? NO DRINKING TONIGHT!!!
He set at the desk next to my bed and poured a
shot, pounding it down, and then refilling the shot glass. He said
"This one's yours" but I wouldn't even look at him. I was
hoping he'd get the hint and just leave without me. But NO!! He puts
the shot glass to my lips and starts tipping it back. It's either
swallow the SC, or let it pour all over the bed. That did it! I said
"You want to drink that, eh? Well, I'll show you some drinkin,
boy!" Then we started the "I can drink the bottle down to
here" game, where you scratch the label with your fingernail,
and chug down the booze. I was handling him without any trouble. Two
hours later, we were jammin' with the stereo blasting, playing air
guitars to Van Halen's first album (it was new back then). There was
a knock at the door...
Another friend had just walked over from the
liquor store on base, and had a case... yes, a CASE of Canadian Mist
whiskey. Not exactly top shelf, but he came in, and gave each of us
a bottle. Keep in mind, now, I had just finished up the bottle of
Southern Comfort with my roommate. The drinking began in earnest.
The next thing I knew, I woke up. I was on the
floor, face down (yes, DB, face down) and man, was my head spinning!
Looking around slowly while groaning, I noticed a huge pile of wood
fragments... what was that? I found my glasses and put them on,
trying to get up. I stepped on an empty bottle of Canadian Mist near
me and nearly went down. Loud groaning and moaning came forth, as I
was still absolutely smashed drunk, my body protesting over each
movement. I looked around... no vomit anywhere. But, why was I all
wet and cold? I shuddered as I realized that I had pissed myself in
my unconscious stupor. Fortunately, I was face down when I passed
out. One of my other roommates said "I hope you are going to
clean this place up, man!" I tried to focus on the pile of
splinters, realizing what it was from the color. It was the heavy
oak chair that they put in each room for the desk, or at least what
was left of it! Absolutely every piece was broken, including the
inch and a half think bottom.
My liquor soaked brain couldn't comprehend... I
said aloud "What happened?" By then, one of my other roommates
(the one with the Southern Comfort) was awake, and looking at me
staring blankly at the floor, he started laughing hysterically! I
asked again about the chair, and he said "Don't you
remember?" It was a question which I heard over and over again
during my Naval career, for some reason. I claimed no knowledge of
what happened, and he said "Last night, after you finished your
bottle of Canadian Mist, you started screaming "Arrgh!"
and picked the chair up over your head, and started smashing it down
on the floor! We couldn't stop you because you started to threaten
us with chair parts, so we just stood back and watched you destroy
the chair. And a fine job you did, too!" He was correct about
the chair being destroyed, but I proclaimed my innocence! I said
"Hey, man, I know I must have passed out about 10:30 last
night". That was the last time I had any memory of. He said
"Oh, no! You were still awake at 3 PM, when you demolished the
chair! I'm surprised nobody called the MAAs". I asked "Did
I puke?" He said "Nope! I'm proud of you, man! You held it
all in. Well, almost" as he looked at the pool on the floor
where I had been passed out.
Needless to say, this incident frightened me. Keep
in mind, I weighed about 120 pounds when this happened. I was stone
drunk the whole next day. Generally speaking, I was a happy drunk.
No fights, violent behaviors, etc. What could have triggered this
mayhem? Apparently, I didn't like oak chairs. I was having serious
problems trying to move and speak. Have you ever been drunk so long,
you wished it would just stop and you could be straight again?
That's where I was that day.
I didn't get caught over the chair thing, but got
rid of the evidence, and took the chair from an empty room down the
way. But lest you think I got away with something, let me tell you
of the rest of the day...
I was headed to Venice, and had to ride a
Greyhound bus for a couple of hours first. On the hot, sweaty,
smelly bus, with only one small bathroom (which I needed frequently)
was a kid about 9 sitting across from me. He had a small, portable
tape player, and was playing his favorite song (disco, which I hated
vehemently) over, and over, and over again. After a while, the
batteries started dying, and the thing was playing all slow, out of
time, and warbly sounding. Did the kid take the hint and shut it
off? Oh, no! And I wasn't about to say anything to him about it,
because he was sitting with his dad, who looked like he could play
tackle for the Chicago Bears. The man was HUGE, and all muscle.
Somewhere along that trip, I developed a new
drinking rule. No more hard liquor! I had actually scared myself
pretty bad there. Can you imagine the blood alcohol content of a 120
pound guy with a bottle and a half of hard liquor in him? Without
puking? I would have probably spent the night in the ER, getting a
blood transfusion if anyone with any brains had been there. So, I
decided that from then on, it was only beer for me (with an
occasional shot for good measure).
The meek, mild, timid and subdued "Arrgh!"
Bill Burns Comes Aboard ....
2MMR, 1976 - 1980
Comes Aboard ....
Please add my name to the roster of former USS
Rinaman, William, M-Div 1967-1970, email@example.com
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