Official Big E Rx Site

Bill Isom Comes Aboard ....

Hi Ram,

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 Great memories.

Bill Isom, RC 11,22,14,23,TPL,STAO, QA The only thing I missed on my tours was office bitch.

wisom@comcast.net

3/8/04

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!

Memorable Character?

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.

Anon

3/9/04

"50 Knots" and "The Rooster Tail"

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 date. RRA)

Richard Allen, May 63 - Oct 67

3/15/04

Bobby P. Comes Aboard!!!!

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 whole affair.

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 Karachi Pakistan

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

Bob

As for the contact list:

Pellegrino, Robert L. (Bob)

RC14 for most of the four years short tour in MAA and RA Div

E-mail rge_geo@hotmail.com

3/15/04

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 club;)

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.)

3/15/04

Somewhere on 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.

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 luck.

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"

3/16/04

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 Zoo"….

Next thing we knew we were on our way to beautiful Diego Garcia. But that is another tail in the annals of Analingus….

Louie Wingo

3/16/04

Yes, anyone 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!

"Super Dave" Comes Aboard!!!

Hey KP!

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 address is

davis002@nycap.rr.com

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.

Crazy Club

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 example.

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.

Super Dave

3/17/04

Greetings Super 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 were the 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 and something 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.

Leave Before The 'Prise (Class 7401 Heads West)

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 greatly magnified.

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.

3/17/04

NAM-Blaaah ......

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 awards:

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 - williamsjo@iwon.com

3/24/04

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 it going?"

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 secret.

Bill Patric

3/24/04

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?)

GWebeus@aol.com

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 Day?"

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 little episode…..

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.

3/25/04

Absolutely 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 sometime:)

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 story….

Louie Wingo

3/26/04

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 well.

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 someplace.

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 signing logs.

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 you think.

Eric

3/26/04

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.....

3/26/04

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 evening.

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.

3/29/04

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 made plans...

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!!! Impossible!

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!"

3/29/04