OK, Well, in my quest to keep you folks entertained while I sit with the boy on the throne I have asked Subvet to give me another of his Sea Stories. Which he did (of course).
Things are going well in the potty department and I will be bringing back my usual commentary on life with Thesaurus Thursday tomorrow. So come on back tomorrow or Friday to exercise your brain and funny bone simultaneously.
Make a note of what I said in the last post about how one sea story will lead to another...and another...and another.... Well, here's proof positive. Go and visit this fine gentleman as he's joined in the poop parade. I must say, I do think Sonarman takes the cake!
In the mean time, Here's Subvet's. I didn't need to edit this one at all.....
Another sea story (I'm on a roll now!)
In my previous post I inadvertently used some terms most people might not be familiar with. One poster (Ignorant Redneck) brought my attention to this. Sorry about that folks, when you speak a different language than most for years the chance of slipping back into it is always there.
In order to minimize any confusion over terms I'll begin with a brief glossary for this next tale of submariner derring-do. Here it is:
XO-Executive Officer. The second most senior man aboard a naval craft. He's the man who enforces all policies of the Commanding Officer (CO).
A-ganger-Member of the auxiliary division aboard naval vessels. They're mechanics who are responsible for the operation and maintenance of all non-propulsion machinery. Aboard submarines this is a real grab bag of items, all the hydraulic systems, pneumatic systems, potable water, atmosphere control equipment and plumbing/sanitary systems, and whatever else can be foisted off on them. A-gangers (along with Torpedomen) are also the most rude, crude, socially unacceptable reprobates of the crew. They don't get invited to too many formal dinner parties. John Belushi's character in "Animal House" would have been a great A-ganger if he'd just loosened up a bit.
Chief-A shortened way of saying Chief Petty Officer. These are the backbone of the Navy's enlisted ranks. They run the day to day operation of the various work centers. The top three enlisted paygrades in the Navy are Chief, Senior Chief, Master Chief. They train the crew and junior officers, enforce discipline, give personal guidance, counsel those with problems, bend steel in their bare hands and jump over tall buildings in a single bound.
Amine-A shortened version of monoethanolamine which is a chelating agent used in the CO2 removal systems (aka "scrubbers") to absorb CO2 from the atmosphere and emit it when heated in a boiler to be compressed and put overboard. Chemically it's a base that will eat rubber in a heartbeat. It also leaves a beautiful stain in leather upholstery and on custom paint jobs. Amine is loaded aboard submarines via an air driven pump placed in a 55 gallon drum of the stuff. These drums are NEVER to be directly pressurized with air.
EDOM-Engineering Department Operating Manual. A general guideline for all Engineering Department evolutions conducted aboard a submarine.
Sea Story-A personal recollection of things past. Said by many to resemble a fairy tale, the greatest difference being that a fairy tale begins with, "Once upon a time....." while a sea story begins with, "This is no shit....".
La Madd-La Maddalegna, Sardinia. The former location of a submarine repair facility in the Mediterranean.
Here's another sea story. It's a "no-shitter".
God must love the stupid, He's made so many of them.
Whilst aboard the USS OMAHA I met one of the dumbest A-gangers that could walk. "Bruce" was the sort that always knew he was right, no matter what the facts. In the course of his short time aboard he managed to make one man in particular his nemesis; the XO (if you're gonna go, go big).
One fine day the chief put "Bruce" in charge of loading amine. As anyone with more than two days assigned to A-gang knows you NEVER, NEVER directly pressurize a drum of amine with air. Not one to let common sense, the teachings of every auxiliaryman in the fleet and the boat's EDOM stand in his way; our hero ran a 100 psi air line topside through the weapons shipping hatch and proceeded to glory.
After cutting in the air he sprang an amine leak downstream of the drum. "Bruce" was anything but coolheaded under fire so he immediately shut the discharge line while still pressurizing the drum. Reliable sources claimed before it exploded the amine canister resembled a dark green balloon.
As Murphy's Law would have it, the XO's pride and joy; his cherry red MG convertible, was parked on the pier directly parallel to the shipping hatch. With the top down. After all was said and done the genuine leather upholstery had more stains than Granny Clampett's teeth. The paint job was no cause for joy either.
Years later I met the XO when he became the Commodore of the Squadron in La Madd while I was stationed there. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask how "Bruce" was doing, however I kept quiet. I don't mind being called crazy but I draw the line at "stupid".
Showing posts with label sea story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sea story. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
More Shit!
So, what happens when you get a couple old sailors together?
Having been there I can tell you. A) you go through more coffee than a double humped camel drinks before crossing the Sahara. B) there is a lot of chatter. I mean it. Old sailors talk more than old women! Here's how it goes. First there is a listing of the "Boats" they were on (by the way, Submarines are "boats", Navy surface craft ie things that don't dive are "ships")...then a listing of the people they knew.....which leads to "Did you hear about the time.................."
AAHHHH Yes, the SEA STORY!
And, of course, one will always lead to another as no sailor wants to be outdone by another's SEA STORY!
Q: What's the difference between a Fairy Tale and a Sea Story?
A: One begins with "Once upon a time." the other begins with "Now this is no shit."
So, when I read Cookie's Sea Story that I posted yesterday I knew that Subvet would want to tell his own shitty tale. After much arm twisting and many reminders he finally typed it up for me. ;-)
If you haven't read Cookie's tale yet, scroll down to "Holy Shit!" and read it first as it gives a lot of background information that will help us Land Lovers understand what happened.
So, in his own words (mostly) here you have Subvet's Shitty Sea Story....
(I have edited this one slightly, if you want the cruder version go see Blowin San #1)
Well, Cookie started it all by telling a story of when he blew sanitaries all over Joe Negri, a TMCM who could chew rebar and shit it out as tenpenny nails.
Here's my modest contribution from my time in Uncle Sam's Canoe Club:
Let's face it, the only people more fascinated with their shit than sub sailors are baby boys. And baby boys are a lot less ingenious with spreading it around. I was aboard the USS OMAHA shortly before her commissioning back in 1978. We had left Electric Boat and were tied up at the State Pier in New London outboard the TINOSA. For some ungodly reason our bows both headed north.
As anyone familiar with early 688 class boats knows the sanitary overboard is located in the sonar equipment space, forward port corner of the sphere. (In first flight 688's there was another one in control but that's unimportant for this story.)
At the time the practice was to fit the drydock connection on the sanitary overboard with a yard or so of firehose attached to discharge directly into the river. The sanitary tank was to be pressurized ONLY to about 10-15 psi for this evolution. One midwatch a rather bored IC1 decided to pressurize the tank up to a couple of hundred pounds and let'er rip. Though weighted at the end with a couple of weights the fire hose stood at attention.
The angle was perfect to allow discharge towards TINOSA's weapons shipping hatch, coincidentally left open with the skid in place for the following day's weapons load. The only saving factor were the March winds, otherwise their torpedo room would have gotten a full load, instead they only got most of the load. As it was, dingleberries and paper flew all over the topside area, the sail, the topside watch, you get the picture.
My first indication of trouble as the leading A-ganger was the sight of a well papered State Pier when I arrived the next day. WTF immediately came to mind. Upon coming aboard I heard it all, including the threat (empty as it was illogical) that A-gang would go clean up TINOSA's torpedo room as it was our system that caused the problem. Fortunately the TINOSA moved outboard the submarine tender FULTON that same day to load her fish and we were left by ourselves. No one relished the thought of crossing over her to go on liberty. And that IC1? He went on to enter the Limited Duty Officer (LDO) program. Last time I saw him was in Charleston at the Weapons Station where he was a LCDR and the MPA aboard the tender there. Go figure.
Having been there I can tell you. A) you go through more coffee than a double humped camel drinks before crossing the Sahara. B) there is a lot of chatter. I mean it. Old sailors talk more than old women! Here's how it goes. First there is a listing of the "Boats" they were on (by the way, Submarines are "boats", Navy surface craft ie things that don't dive are "ships")...then a listing of the people they knew.....which leads to "Did you hear about the time.................."
AAHHHH Yes, the SEA STORY!
And, of course, one will always lead to another as no sailor wants to be outdone by another's SEA STORY!
Q: What's the difference between a Fairy Tale and a Sea Story?
A: One begins with "Once upon a time." the other begins with "Now this is no shit."
So, when I read Cookie's Sea Story that I posted yesterday I knew that Subvet would want to tell his own shitty tale. After much arm twisting and many reminders he finally typed it up for me. ;-)
If you haven't read Cookie's tale yet, scroll down to "Holy Shit!" and read it first as it gives a lot of background information that will help us Land Lovers understand what happened.
So, in his own words (mostly) here you have Subvet's Shitty Sea Story....
(I have edited this one slightly, if you want the cruder version go see Blowin San #1)
Well, Cookie started it all by telling a story of when he blew sanitaries all over Joe Negri, a TMCM who could chew rebar and shit it out as tenpenny nails.
Here's my modest contribution from my time in Uncle Sam's Canoe Club:
Let's face it, the only people more fascinated with their shit than sub sailors are baby boys. And baby boys are a lot less ingenious with spreading it around. I was aboard the USS OMAHA shortly before her commissioning back in 1978. We had left Electric Boat and were tied up at the State Pier in New London outboard the TINOSA. For some ungodly reason our bows both headed north.
As anyone familiar with early 688 class boats knows the sanitary overboard is located in the sonar equipment space, forward port corner of the sphere. (In first flight 688's there was another one in control but that's unimportant for this story.)
At the time the practice was to fit the drydock connection on the sanitary overboard with a yard or so of firehose attached to discharge directly into the river. The sanitary tank was to be pressurized ONLY to about 10-15 psi for this evolution. One midwatch a rather bored IC1 decided to pressurize the tank up to a couple of hundred pounds and let'er rip. Though weighted at the end with a couple of weights the fire hose stood at attention.
The angle was perfect to allow discharge towards TINOSA's weapons shipping hatch, coincidentally left open with the skid in place for the following day's weapons load. The only saving factor were the March winds, otherwise their torpedo room would have gotten a full load, instead they only got most of the load. As it was, dingleberries and paper flew all over the topside area, the sail, the topside watch, you get the picture.
My first indication of trouble as the leading A-ganger was the sight of a well papered State Pier when I arrived the next day. WTF immediately came to mind. Upon coming aboard I heard it all, including the threat (empty as it was illogical) that A-gang would go clean up TINOSA's torpedo room as it was our system that caused the problem. Fortunately the TINOSA moved outboard the submarine tender FULTON that same day to load her fish and we were left by ourselves. No one relished the thought of crossing over her to go on liberty. And that IC1? He went on to enter the Limited Duty Officer (LDO) program. Last time I saw him was in Charleston at the Weapons Station where he was a LCDR and the MPA aboard the tender there. Go figure.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Holy Shit!
Let that title be a warning. What follows is a sea story from Cookie. And I never ask sailors to clean up their sea stories. (Takes all the fun out of the story!) And this one is STINKING hilarious!
I laughed so hard at this story that I had to repost it. It'll keep y'all occupied while I work on my sewing/potty training projects! Ummm WARNING no beverages, no snacks, and go pee before you read this one!
Enjoy! and thanks Cookie!
Speakin of bein in real deep shit ......
As most of ya already know, I'm an old Bubblehead (Submariner), and I posted this here post bout a year or so ago and received 33 comments regarding this completely true story...and alot a folks got a real good laugh outta it...so...fer those of you who are new readers or mighta missed it ( like Subvet, his "War Department and Sonarman)...here t'is agin...Enjoy!
Ohhh Man...I'm in reeeal deep shit this time....
Well Sir...as of late...several of my close feller bloggers have been humorously nostalgisizin bout funny past experiences in their live...so here's a true account of something I did while stationed about the submarine the USS Piper SS409.....most of you old bubbleheads will probably enjoy this story....and hopefully ....ya won't be able to relate to it frum experience.....
Now...fer you folks that aren't in the know... at first this story might get a little boring and technical...but it's necessary for me to explain some things to y'all so's ya will understand just what was happenin....bear with me please, it'll be well worth it. On the old fleet boats (WWII Submarines)..all the various water and sewage piping drained into the Sanitary Tanks...things like the sinks, showers, coffee urn, heads (toilets), urinals, skuttlebutts (drinking fountains) and few other extraneous systems having to do with water/sewage.
Now Sir...this tank had to be emptied (blown) overboard just about everyday during a certain duty watch...and there was a very explicit way to do this that entailed closing every valve..frum every line and every pipe that ran into the Sanitary tanks throughout the entire Boat....and there was a check-list that y'all had to use to make sure you had in fact closed every single drain valve in the boat.
Once all the drain valves goin to the Sanitary Tanks were closed...the sailor would then proceed to a pressurization station in the After Battery compartment...and open several other valves...one of them being the "Outer" Sanitary Tank valve...this being the underwater valve that was outside the boat. Once completed...he would then pressurize the Sanitary tank by putting about 20 lbs of compressed air pressure into it.... thus flushing all sewage out of the tank and overboard into the ocean. Now y'all can see why all the other valves had t'be shut first....so's nuthin could blow back up the lines. I know this has been kinda boring to y'all....but stay with me.......
Now Sir...I had done this procedure many ....many times...and had never had a problem...but on this particular evening...sumthin went wrong. One could tell when the Sanitary Tank was emptying out by watchin a "Yarway" guage on the bulkhead (wall)...and when the tank was empty...you would secure the blow by turning off the air pressure....close a couple a valves at this station...and Re-open all the drain valves throughout the boat.
Well Sir, on this one disasterous and infamous evenin...I put 20 pounds a pressure in there as yur supposed to...and nuthin happened! The guage didn't budge. Tapped the guage...nuthin. Re-adjusted all the valves at that station...nuthin. OK...now what? Well...what the hell...let me give it 25 pounds of pressure....still nuthin. Godamnit...what the f*#k is goin on here? Checked all the immediate valves to make sure that they were in the correct positions....gave the system another 25 pound shot....nuthin. OK you SOB...here's 30 pounds a pressure......take that.....nuthin. The guage wasn't droppin one iota......
Totally flummoxed....I re-re-checked evrythin agin...gave it pressure....still nuthin. OK...damn you...y'all wanna play rough...here's 40 f*#kin pounds a pressure (twice the amount yur sposed t'use). Ah Ha...the guage jumped and then started goin down...the tank was finally emptying. At about that same moment in time...a crewmember nicknamed "Wingnut" cause a his big ears...came running through the After Battery yelling "SECURE THE BLOW....SECURE THE BLOW"!
I immediately shut the pressure valve off, looked at "Wingnut"....and asked.."what's wrong?" He looked at me...and with a broad-ass grin goin frum one a his huge ears to the other said... "Man...I'm real glad I ain't you". What are y'all talkin bout I asked agin. Now.....laughin uncontrolably and holdin his sides....Wingnut barely got it out that I needed get into the Crew's Mess right away..."the COB wants to see you"......
Now fer those a you unfamiliar...the COB is the "Chief of the Boat"...the most senior and experienced enlisted man on a submarine...he's next to God...his power is legendary....even the Captain listens to him when he speaks. Now...the COB on our boat was a grizzly old character named Joe Negri...and it was said that he'd been in the Navy so long that he had been First Mate on Noah's Ark... and he ate torpedo explosives fer breakfast and washed it all down with diesel oil....this guy was in the Navy when the ships were made of wood...and the men were made of steel...y'all gettin a mental picture yet....?
Now Sir....when I entered the Crew's Mess....I was greeted with a scene very reminiscent of....
...the only difference was that the bear...otherwise known as the COB....Joe Negri...the most Senior Chief Petty Officer in the United States Navy....was standin there with a coffee cup danglin from his hand and he was completely covered in SHIT!...frum his head to his toes...shit was drippin of his weathered old chief's hat, his nose, his chin, his ears, his eyebrows, his belt buckle..everywhere. The crews mess and galley was covered in shit...the deck was covered in shit....and when I seen what I had done....and the look on the COB's face....I almost added somemore shit to the scene myself via the back a my pants.
Well Sir...once old Joe got done tearin this here bubblehead a brand new asshole and callin me names I ain't never heard of before...or since...he stormed outta the Mess Hall bellowin t'me over his shoulder that he damned sure wasn't through with me yet....
There was dead silence fer a few seconds after he stormed through the hatch inta the Control Room...except for some expletive statements like "What the F*#K smells?" coming from Officers in the Control Room, then...all the crew members who had been in the Mess Hall when the proverbial shit hit the fan...or rather the COB...broke into hysterical laughter.
Some crew members told me that the scene of the shit explosion occurred somthin like this....
Several guys were sitting in the galley quietly havin a cup a coffee or playin Cribbage when they heard a very loud noise that sounded like "Sproing!" (that was the sound of the drain line valve from the coffee urn to the Sanitary Tank breaking under double it's intended pressure). At about the same time...the COB happened to come around the corner to get a cup of coffee...he put his coffee cup under the serving spicket on the urn and pulled it....KABLOOM....shit that was bein pushed by 40 pounds of pressure...hit the bottom of his coffee cup and exploded up and out like Mt. Vesuvius and instantly covered him from head to toe....then shit continued to blast into the galley through the still open spicket and the broken glass tubes on the front of the urn. They said that the COB had the most horrified, puzzled, surprised, disgusting, confused and angry expression on his face...all at the same time...that they couldn't even mimic what his face looked like. The rest is history.......
Now...it don't take genius to figure out just who had to clean up all the shit. The coffee urn...a total loss...oh it was fixed and cleaned...but ain't nobody would ever drink outta it after that...includin me....the boat had t'get a new one.
Now Sir....I originally stuck t'my story that I had only used the required 20 pounds a pressure...nuthin more. Musta been a faulty valve said I. This always left a doubt in some minds as to just how much I was to blame fer the whole thing....
Well Sir...now...for the first time in 42 years...I'm finally fessin up. Joe...if'n yur out there somewhere readin this....I apologise to y'all fer all the shit I gave ya (sorry...couldn't resist).....and I deserved every "shit" detail and wurk assignment y'all gave me fer the next three months...as well as how ya restricted me to the boat with no leave or liberty....as well as all the chippin & paintin assignments ya gave me...as well as all the extra watches I had to stand....and the extra "Mess Cookin"(KP) duties....and the "bilge watches"...and all the ass chewin's that followed...no sir...I deserved it all Joe...and may God Bless ya where-ever you may be......you were a man's man.
ADDENDUM:
My good buddy Sig over at Signal94 has quite an imagination...and after he read my account of this comedic episode in my life...he wrote these lyrics some months back when the above was just posted...it's done to the Theme from the Beverly Hillbillies....
Cookie's Big Adventure
Come and listen to m’ story ‘bout a man named Gene
Cruising under water in a fleet submarine.
Then one day he’s trying to blow a little air
Into a high pressure steel derrière.
A sanitary tank that is…
Fulla beans...Submarine ass beans I reckon…
Now it won’t flush and Gene’s pumpin’ harder
Sending lotsa pressure into the Piper’s poopy larder.
Building up a force that is close enough to earn
A blown safety valve inside the galley’s urn.
Sit yerself down sailor...Pour a cuppa joe
It’ll be yer last…
So the next thing ya know all hell's a breaking loose
With butt torpedoes from every man’s caboose.
With all that pressure every turd is liquefied
“The COB wants ta see ya!” and Cookie nearly died.
Scared he was... Dunno what's happenin ..’What's that funky smell …
Well the COB’s like a maniac, he’s in an awful snit.
Screamin’ and yellin’ while he’s covered in sub shit.
But Cookie cleaned the mess he made and finally settled down;
And now he’s a blogger of no little renown.
Thanks for stoppin’ by now.
Ya’ll come back now, Ya hear?
For those of you who've asked.....Subvet's blog is titled "Blowin San #1". It refers to Blowing Sanitary Tank #1...Now you know what that means. Subvet assures me that he only blew OUT of the Sub as opposed to IN it... :-)
I laughed so hard at this story that I had to repost it. It'll keep y'all occupied while I work on my sewing/potty training projects! Ummm WARNING no beverages, no snacks, and go pee before you read this one!
Enjoy! and thanks Cookie!
Speakin of bein in real deep shit ......
As most of ya already know, I'm an old Bubblehead (Submariner), and I posted this here post bout a year or so ago and received 33 comments regarding this completely true story...and alot a folks got a real good laugh outta it...so...fer those of you who are new readers or mighta missed it ( like Subvet, his "War Department and Sonarman)...here t'is agin...Enjoy!
Ohhh Man...I'm in reeeal deep shit this time....
Well Sir...as of late...several of my close feller bloggers have been humorously nostalgisizin bout funny past experiences in their live...so here's a true account of something I did while stationed about the submarine the USS Piper SS409.....most of you old bubbleheads will probably enjoy this story....and hopefully ....ya won't be able to relate to it frum experience.....
Now...fer you folks that aren't in the know... at first this story might get a little boring and technical...but it's necessary for me to explain some things to y'all so's ya will understand just what was happenin....bear with me please, it'll be well worth it. On the old fleet boats (WWII Submarines)..all the various water and sewage piping drained into the Sanitary Tanks...things like the sinks, showers, coffee urn, heads (toilets), urinals, skuttlebutts (drinking fountains) and few other extraneous systems having to do with water/sewage.
Now Sir...this tank had to be emptied (blown) overboard just about everyday during a certain duty watch...and there was a very explicit way to do this that entailed closing every valve..frum every line and every pipe that ran into the Sanitary tanks throughout the entire Boat....and there was a check-list that y'all had to use to make sure you had in fact closed every single drain valve in the boat.
Once all the drain valves goin to the Sanitary Tanks were closed...the sailor would then proceed to a pressurization station in the After Battery compartment...and open several other valves...one of them being the "Outer" Sanitary Tank valve...this being the underwater valve that was outside the boat. Once completed...he would then pressurize the Sanitary tank by putting about 20 lbs of compressed air pressure into it.... thus flushing all sewage out of the tank and overboard into the ocean. Now y'all can see why all the other valves had t'be shut first....so's nuthin could blow back up the lines. I know this has been kinda boring to y'all....but stay with me.......
Now Sir...I had done this procedure many ....many times...and had never had a problem...but on this particular evening...sumthin went wrong. One could tell when the Sanitary Tank was emptying out by watchin a "Yarway" guage on the bulkhead (wall)...and when the tank was empty...you would secure the blow by turning off the air pressure....close a couple a valves at this station...and Re-open all the drain valves throughout the boat.
Well Sir, on this one disasterous and infamous evenin...I put 20 pounds a pressure in there as yur supposed to...and nuthin happened! The guage didn't budge. Tapped the guage...nuthin. Re-adjusted all the valves at that station...nuthin. OK...now what? Well...what the hell...let me give it 25 pounds of pressure....still nuthin. Godamnit...what the f*#k is goin on here? Checked all the immediate valves to make sure that they were in the correct positions....gave the system another 25 pound shot....nuthin. OK you SOB...here's 30 pounds a pressure......take that.....nuthin. The guage wasn't droppin one iota......
Totally flummoxed....I re-re-checked evrythin agin...gave it pressure....still nuthin. OK...damn you...y'all wanna play rough...here's 40 f*#kin pounds a pressure (twice the amount yur sposed t'use). Ah Ha...the guage jumped and then started goin down...the tank was finally emptying. At about that same moment in time...a crewmember nicknamed "Wingnut" cause a his big ears...came running through the After Battery yelling "SECURE THE BLOW....SECURE THE BLOW"!
I immediately shut the pressure valve off, looked at "Wingnut"....and asked.."what's wrong?" He looked at me...and with a broad-ass grin goin frum one a his huge ears to the other said... "Man...I'm real glad I ain't you". What are y'all talkin bout I asked agin. Now.....laughin uncontrolably and holdin his sides....Wingnut barely got it out that I needed get into the Crew's Mess right away..."the COB wants to see you"......
Now fer those a you unfamiliar...the COB is the "Chief of the Boat"...the most senior and experienced enlisted man on a submarine...he's next to God...his power is legendary....even the Captain listens to him when he speaks. Now...the COB on our boat was a grizzly old character named Joe Negri...and it was said that he'd been in the Navy so long that he had been First Mate on Noah's Ark... and he ate torpedo explosives fer breakfast and washed it all down with diesel oil....this guy was in the Navy when the ships were made of wood...and the men were made of steel...y'all gettin a mental picture yet....?
Now Sir....when I entered the Crew's Mess....I was greeted with a scene very reminiscent of....
...the only difference was that the bear...otherwise known as the COB....Joe Negri...the most Senior Chief Petty Officer in the United States Navy....was standin there with a coffee cup danglin from his hand and he was completely covered in SHIT!...frum his head to his toes...shit was drippin of his weathered old chief's hat, his nose, his chin, his ears, his eyebrows, his belt buckle..everywhere. The crews mess and galley was covered in shit...the deck was covered in shit....and when I seen what I had done....and the look on the COB's face....I almost added somemore shit to the scene myself via the back a my pants.
Well Sir...once old Joe got done tearin this here bubblehead a brand new asshole and callin me names I ain't never heard of before...or since...he stormed outta the Mess Hall bellowin t'me over his shoulder that he damned sure wasn't through with me yet....
There was dead silence fer a few seconds after he stormed through the hatch inta the Control Room...except for some expletive statements like "What the F*#K smells?" coming from Officers in the Control Room, then...all the crew members who had been in the Mess Hall when the proverbial shit hit the fan...or rather the COB...broke into hysterical laughter.
Some crew members told me that the scene of the shit explosion occurred somthin like this....
Several guys were sitting in the galley quietly havin a cup a coffee or playin Cribbage when they heard a very loud noise that sounded like "Sproing!" (that was the sound of the drain line valve from the coffee urn to the Sanitary Tank breaking under double it's intended pressure). At about the same time...the COB happened to come around the corner to get a cup of coffee...he put his coffee cup under the serving spicket on the urn and pulled it....KABLOOM....shit that was bein pushed by 40 pounds of pressure...hit the bottom of his coffee cup and exploded up and out like Mt. Vesuvius and instantly covered him from head to toe....then shit continued to blast into the galley through the still open spicket and the broken glass tubes on the front of the urn. They said that the COB had the most horrified, puzzled, surprised, disgusting, confused and angry expression on his face...all at the same time...that they couldn't even mimic what his face looked like. The rest is history.......
Now...it don't take genius to figure out just who had to clean up all the shit. The coffee urn...a total loss...oh it was fixed and cleaned...but ain't nobody would ever drink outta it after that...includin me....the boat had t'get a new one.
Now Sir....I originally stuck t'my story that I had only used the required 20 pounds a pressure...nuthin more. Musta been a faulty valve said I. This always left a doubt in some minds as to just how much I was to blame fer the whole thing....
Well Sir...now...for the first time in 42 years...I'm finally fessin up. Joe...if'n yur out there somewhere readin this....I apologise to y'all fer all the shit I gave ya (sorry...couldn't resist).....and I deserved every "shit" detail and wurk assignment y'all gave me fer the next three months...as well as how ya restricted me to the boat with no leave or liberty....as well as all the chippin & paintin assignments ya gave me...as well as all the extra watches I had to stand....and the extra "Mess Cookin"(KP) duties....and the "bilge watches"...and all the ass chewin's that followed...no sir...I deserved it all Joe...and may God Bless ya where-ever you may be......you were a man's man.
ADDENDUM:
My good buddy Sig over at Signal94 has quite an imagination...and after he read my account of this comedic episode in my life...he wrote these lyrics some months back when the above was just posted...it's done to the Theme from the Beverly Hillbillies....
Cookie's Big Adventure
Come and listen to m’ story ‘bout a man named Gene
Cruising under water in a fleet submarine.
Then one day he’s trying to blow a little air
Into a high pressure steel derrière.
A sanitary tank that is…
Fulla beans...Submarine ass beans I reckon…
Now it won’t flush and Gene’s pumpin’ harder
Sending lotsa pressure into the Piper’s poopy larder.
Building up a force that is close enough to earn
A blown safety valve inside the galley’s urn.
Sit yerself down sailor...Pour a cuppa joe
It’ll be yer last…
So the next thing ya know all hell's a breaking loose
With butt torpedoes from every man’s caboose.
With all that pressure every turd is liquefied
“The COB wants ta see ya!” and Cookie nearly died.
Scared he was... Dunno what's happenin ..’What's that funky smell …
Well the COB’s like a maniac, he’s in an awful snit.
Screamin’ and yellin’ while he’s covered in sub shit.
But Cookie cleaned the mess he made and finally settled down;
And now he’s a blogger of no little renown.
Thanks for stoppin’ by now.
Ya’ll come back now, Ya hear?
For those of you who've asked.....Subvet's blog is titled "Blowin San #1". It refers to Blowing Sanitary Tank #1...Now you know what that means. Subvet assures me that he only blew OUT of the Sub as opposed to IN it... :-)
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
One Night in Toulon
OK, this is my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE of all Subvet's Seastories!!
On the last boat I was assigned to, the USS Archerfish (SSN 678), we made a run to the Mediterranean. The nice thing about a fast attack sub versus a boomer is you'll get to see more in the way of liberty ports. Your fast attack is a submarine along the philosophical lines of a WWII U-boat. It's a torpedo carrying wolf of the sea. A boomer is a submerged launch platform for ICBM missiles, think of the movie "Hunt For Red October". The Red October was a boomer. Fast attacks are more politically correct, have a lower security classification and don't need to stay on station in the event the world goes to war and we want to nuke some country. So the liberty runs are better.
Anyway, while the A-fish was on this Med run we stopped in Toulon, France. The military base we tied up at was adjacent to an area known as "The Gut". Most naval bases are near something like this, Pearl Harbor had Hotel Street, New London had Bank Street, Charleston had Spruill Street. They're all loaded with bars, houses of ill repute, vice dens, etc. None of the shops normally sport a Better Business Beareau decal in the window.
So we were tied up and one of our electricians and a few junior officers were out having a toddy for the body one evening. On the way back, while crossing a street, a Renault bumped the electrician in the leg. Being drunk and wanting to be somebody our man immediately let out a roar, grabbed the front bumper and ripped it off the car (Renaults are built like crap, this guy wasn't the Hulk no matter what he believed then). He then turned his wrath towards the two occupants who were hastily exiting the vehicle. His fury was awesome, teeth like daggers and eyes bulging, the cords of his neck jumped out in stark relief to his double chin (he was pretty fat) while his hands clutched in spasmadic anticipation of his victims. As he took his first step towards the sure annhilation of his foes several things became apparent;
1) The car's occupants weren't trying to leave. They were clearing the vehicle for a better field of fire as they,
2) brought out their semiautomatic weapons as well as,
3) every bum, rag picker, prostitute and wino in view who dragged out their firearms, everyone aiming at our intrepid steely eyed killer of the deep who
4) belatedly realized he had walked into the middle of a major police sting and
5) French cops don't have much in the way of a sense of humor. At least these didn't.
6) Book 'im Danno (or Pierre, whatever).
The next day at the arraignment the electrician stood nursing his hangover between our boat's Executive Officer and the Chief of The Boat (COB). None of the three spoke French but as the baliff read the charges they realized our hero wasn't considered too threatening because a) the judge was laughing, b) the baliff was laughing, c) all the cops in the court were laughing and d) all the other criminals were laughing including one little madamesiellle who evidently yelled she'd have to go to the bathroom before she peed all over herself. Alas, too late cherie. Excuse moi.
The judge let him off with a five hundred dollar fine (or whatever that translated to in francs). Probably knocked it down in recognition of the entertainment.
On the last boat I was assigned to, the USS Archerfish (SSN 678), we made a run to the Mediterranean. The nice thing about a fast attack sub versus a boomer is you'll get to see more in the way of liberty ports. Your fast attack is a submarine along the philosophical lines of a WWII U-boat. It's a torpedo carrying wolf of the sea. A boomer is a submerged launch platform for ICBM missiles, think of the movie "Hunt For Red October". The Red October was a boomer. Fast attacks are more politically correct, have a lower security classification and don't need to stay on station in the event the world goes to war and we want to nuke some country. So the liberty runs are better.
Anyway, while the A-fish was on this Med run we stopped in Toulon, France. The military base we tied up at was adjacent to an area known as "The Gut". Most naval bases are near something like this, Pearl Harbor had Hotel Street, New London had Bank Street, Charleston had Spruill Street. They're all loaded with bars, houses of ill repute, vice dens, etc. None of the shops normally sport a Better Business Beareau decal in the window.
So we were tied up and one of our electricians and a few junior officers were out having a toddy for the body one evening. On the way back, while crossing a street, a Renault bumped the electrician in the leg. Being drunk and wanting to be somebody our man immediately let out a roar, grabbed the front bumper and ripped it off the car (Renaults are built like crap, this guy wasn't the Hulk no matter what he believed then). He then turned his wrath towards the two occupants who were hastily exiting the vehicle. His fury was awesome, teeth like daggers and eyes bulging, the cords of his neck jumped out in stark relief to his double chin (he was pretty fat) while his hands clutched in spasmadic anticipation of his victims. As he took his first step towards the sure annhilation of his foes several things became apparent;
1) The car's occupants weren't trying to leave. They were clearing the vehicle for a better field of fire as they,
2) brought out their semiautomatic weapons as well as,
3) every bum, rag picker, prostitute and wino in view who dragged out their firearms, everyone aiming at our intrepid steely eyed killer of the deep who
4) belatedly realized he had walked into the middle of a major police sting and
5) French cops don't have much in the way of a sense of humor. At least these didn't.
6) Book 'im Danno (or Pierre, whatever).
The next day at the arraignment the electrician stood nursing his hangover between our boat's Executive Officer and the Chief of The Boat (COB). None of the three spoke French but as the baliff read the charges they realized our hero wasn't considered too threatening because a) the judge was laughing, b) the baliff was laughing, c) all the cops in the court were laughing and d) all the other criminals were laughing including one little madamesiellle who evidently yelled she'd have to go to the bathroom before she peed all over herself. Alas, too late cherie. Excuse moi.
The judge let him off with a five hundred dollar fine (or whatever that translated to in francs). Probably knocked it down in recognition of the entertainment.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
RATS ON THE PIER
Subvet, believe it or not, has Seastories. After 22 years in the Navy, he probably has hundreds of them. I've heard most, if not all, of them. He very kindly agreed to type up this one for me. It's 1 of my 2 absolute favorites. In the 9 years I've been with Subvet he's told this story in my hearing about a zillion times and I still die laughing! So enjoy, and remember, it's TRUE!
Thanks sweetie!
RATS ON THE PIER
"Larry" was a Chief Petty Officer who came onboard the Daniel Webster back in 88. He could have walked off a recruiting poster, always had a sharp and squared-away uniform, mirror-bright shoes, trim, physically fit and about 6'2" with a no-nonsense "don't mess with me" look about him. He was black with the deep skin tone of someone who probably didn't have too many white boys in the ancestral woodpile. All in all he cut an imposing figure.
Everyone has a skeleton in their closet though. His came out in a few months.
Seems he grew up in the slums of Brooklyn, NY and was no stranger to rats. He had an almost phobic hate of them.
So, Larry got assigned to his first sub and went to Naples, Italy. When you pull into the pier area of Naples you'll always wonder what died. Turns out that’s the normal smell, Naples is a pit. Nice looking city, very scenic, but still a pit. Lots of vermin.
While standing duty as one of two sentries on the topside of the sub one night Larry noticed that the garbage from the nearby dumpster had spewed over to the vicinity of the brow (portable gangplank looking structure used for access on and off the sub). The rats in the dumpster were making their way through the garbage, after a while they began walking on the brow. Soon they began crawling over the brow toward the two sentries. The other sentry was armed with a .12 gauge shotgun, Larry was carrying a holstered .45 caliber pistol.
Seeking to deter the rats, the other sentry took the butt of the gun and tried to sweep the rats back. The rats of Naples are aggressive, they immediately attacked with one of them landing on the chest of the sailor. Showtime!
He ripped the rat off his chest, reversed the shotgun and began blasting the vermin. Crouching beside him, Larry began laying down a field of fire with his .45, ejecting one clip and loading the other in as fast as possible. The dead and dying littered the brow. After running out of cartridges, Larry ran to the microphone for the ship's comm box on the portable stand by the brow. Keying the mike to the below decks announcing system he cried, "Rats on the pier! Send up more ammo!" as his compadre continued blazing away.
After they'd stopped firing (no ammo) and the sailors below decks judged it was safe the duty officer came up and surveyed the carnage. Our intrepid heroes were immediately relieved of their firearms and taken off duty. Something about starting an undeclared war on the local wildlife and needlessly expending ammunition. At that time the loss of any cartridges/shotgun shells required a full, detailed report on how and why. Bet THAT one made for an interesting reading!
For some reason this story followed Larry to every boat he was on thereafter.
Thanks sweetie!
RATS ON THE PIER
"Larry" was a Chief Petty Officer who came onboard the Daniel Webster back in 88. He could have walked off a recruiting poster, always had a sharp and squared-away uniform, mirror-bright shoes, trim, physically fit and about 6'2" with a no-nonsense "don't mess with me" look about him. He was black with the deep skin tone of someone who probably didn't have too many white boys in the ancestral woodpile. All in all he cut an imposing figure.
Everyone has a skeleton in their closet though. His came out in a few months.
Seems he grew up in the slums of Brooklyn, NY and was no stranger to rats. He had an almost phobic hate of them.
So, Larry got assigned to his first sub and went to Naples, Italy. When you pull into the pier area of Naples you'll always wonder what died. Turns out that’s the normal smell, Naples is a pit. Nice looking city, very scenic, but still a pit. Lots of vermin.
While standing duty as one of two sentries on the topside of the sub one night Larry noticed that the garbage from the nearby dumpster had spewed over to the vicinity of the brow (portable gangplank looking structure used for access on and off the sub). The rats in the dumpster were making their way through the garbage, after a while they began walking on the brow. Soon they began crawling over the brow toward the two sentries. The other sentry was armed with a .12 gauge shotgun, Larry was carrying a holstered .45 caliber pistol.
Seeking to deter the rats, the other sentry took the butt of the gun and tried to sweep the rats back. The rats of Naples are aggressive, they immediately attacked with one of them landing on the chest of the sailor. Showtime!
He ripped the rat off his chest, reversed the shotgun and began blasting the vermin. Crouching beside him, Larry began laying down a field of fire with his .45, ejecting one clip and loading the other in as fast as possible. The dead and dying littered the brow. After running out of cartridges, Larry ran to the microphone for the ship's comm box on the portable stand by the brow. Keying the mike to the below decks announcing system he cried, "Rats on the pier! Send up more ammo!" as his compadre continued blazing away.
After they'd stopped firing (no ammo) and the sailors below decks judged it was safe the duty officer came up and surveyed the carnage. Our intrepid heroes were immediately relieved of their firearms and taken off duty. Something about starting an undeclared war on the local wildlife and needlessly expending ammunition. At that time the loss of any cartridges/shotgun shells required a full, detailed report on how and why. Bet THAT one made for an interesting reading!
For some reason this story followed Larry to every boat he was on thereafter.
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