In the Presence of Greatness

Having just finished my crewmember preflight, I was climbing into the aircraft one day for a routine mission off the coast when the ordinance man who was loading our depth charges and sonobouys casually asked me if I would like to live “on the beach” with him and a couple of other guys from the squadron. “Not sure, Russ, but I’ll think about it.”
“Ok. Have a good flight. Its a party out there man. Join us. We need someone to share the rent. You won’t regret it. Lots more fun than living in the barracks.” he said.
I wound up sharing a trailer with a another ordinance man from our squadron named Fred about 10 miles down the coast from North Island in Imperial Beach. Russ lived with a Warrant Officer in the adjacent trailer. Oh we did party. We prowled the local bars, preying on Westpac widows and anything else we could scare up in IB, sometimes closing the bar down at 2am when we struck out, sitting on the doorstep till they opened up again at 6am. Those two trailers were always rocking.
One night Fred and I were entertaining a couple of ladies in our trailer when Russ pokes his head in the door.
“Russ! You have the duty today. What the hell are you doing here Man?”
“Came to party my Man. No sweat. Just for a little while and I’ll be back before I’m missed.”
That is something I would never have done. The penalty is too great. Courtmartial and brig time for abandoning a watch. Major NO-NO. Our squadron enlisted were pretty wild. Three were currently guests of the Marine Corps for yelling insults at the Admiral as he was passing by on the adjacent golf course. And our squadron leading Chief was a hound dog; always after us. He had a mission from the new Captain to straighten us out. In short, he was a pit bull babysitter. He was all over us.We couldn’t even jump out the barracks windows anymore without him chewing on us for it. No way it made any sense to be off base on a duty day, but there he was. We got plowed that night, as usual. Russ passed out on the floor and Fred and I and our ladies retired to get some snuggles and sleep. Next days muster was at 0800.
“For shit sake. Russ is still passed out Fred.” I yelled pulling on my dungarees.
“Go on Chuck. I’ll get him awake.”
I took off for the base. Parked in the lot across from the barracks.
The Leading Chief was pacing back and forth outside of the front door. I squared my hat and checked my shirt buttons as I approached.
“Where’s Ackerson? You seen Ackerson?”
“No Master Chief. He had the duty last night. Have you looked in his bunk?.
“Of course I looked in his bunk Michael. What the hell do you think I’m doing out here? He’s not there!”
“Well, maybe he went to chow Chief.”
“Chow hell. Chow has been over for 45 minutes. Where is he?”
“Dunno Chief” I replied casually as I could walking past him into the building.
As soon as I was around the corner I hi-tailed it out the back door, across the field behind the barracks row and down to the main gate. I spotted Russ’s car in line waiting for the gate guard to pass him through.
He waved smiling out the window as I ran up to the car. He was still wearing his civvies.
“Russ! Chief Bannister is standing in front of the barracks waiting for you to show Man. “
“Hmmm”, he replied, scratching his chin.
“Ok. Thanks.” was his only response.
I ran back to the barracks and joined the gathering crew of sailors waiting to see what was going to happen. I knew what would happen if Russ rolled up to the barracks in his civvies. What did happen next was beyond belief and bordered on the edge of insanity. It was like it came from outer space. Something so out of the ordinary and foreign to sailors so used to the structured obedience of Navy life. Russ showed us a side of him til then hidden, which only lurked in the dark corners of quick and independent thinking; a rebellious part of his nature that only emerged in men within sight of the horrific. In battle timid men have thrown themselves on hand grenades to save their comrades; an action that not even they knew existed within their souls til the moment. Others fought with a ferocity never before experienced in the face of adversity. In the following moments Russ showed us what few of us realized we were capable of. He showed us how to survive in the face of overwhelming odds.
The front door of the barracks swung open and Russ stepped out, in full working uniform, hat on the back of his head, stretching and yawning, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. All of us were struck silent as the Chief turned to confront him.
“Where have you been! You had the Duty and were supposed to be in either your bunk or in the hangar. Where were you last night?”
Russ feigned total surprise at the Chief’s affront.
“I was in the barracks all night Chief. I just got up.”
“You weren’t in your bunk! Your bunk is fully made and hasn’t been slept in!”, the Chief yelled.
“No Chief. I slept in Kowalski’s bunk last night. I was tired after my watch and layed down with my clothes on. When I put my arm under my pillow something smeared my arm. Someone shit under my pillow Chief.”
“What! the chief was red in the face leaning into Russ’s dimunitive defense.”
“No shit Chief. I cleaned myself up and went to sleep in Kowalski’s bunk ‘cause I knew he is on leave.”
“Bullshit! the chief thundered as he barrled by Russ and through the doors.
All of us followed as the Chief charged down the hallway to Russ’s bunk. He lifted the pillow and there smeared on white sheets and dangling from the pillowcase was indeed a load of excretment. We couldn’t contain ourselves. Our legs gave out on some of us and collapsed in uncrontrolled laughter. One of us managed to get out: “No shit Chief?. Didn’t he really mean to say ‘Yes shit Chief’. Russ was standing there facing the chief and not cracking a smile. The Chief grew beet red to the point of losing it; like a ship crippled by straffing gunfire, a mighty squarerigger dismasted by chainshot from a full broadside. He stood there, shaking, fists clenched, staring into Russ’s worrisome and humble look, glanced at us rolling around on the floor and stormed out; a pipsqueek in the presence of greatness.

The Barracks

by Chuck
Before they started the insane practice of billeting Waves on the upper deck of our barracks, we were always on the lookout for stray women. Heck, we were young sailors and seldom interested in anything else. The structure the Navy demanded was necessarily tolerated, but we were to a man, devoted to doing our job the best we could, and looking for women and partying. It was almost like a virus, always with us. Most of us cared for little else. Still, we were young, quick and in possession of talents and spirit totally unrealized and untapped by the Navy as the following two incidents clearly illustrate.

We were all lined up in front of our cubes for a Captains inspection. Maybe it was a new Skipper coming aboard. I barely remember. What I will never forget is the action and palaver going on in the cubes before and after the Captain’s eyeballs left each cube. Our cubes were formed by two double bunks surrounded by multiple lockers in an open space measuring about 50’ wide and 150’ long. Along the top and bottom walls were multiple windows, about one for each cube. The inspecting party had a view up and down the space between the opposite cubes of sailors in their dress blues standing at attention, awaiting inspection. From their point of view it couldn’t be noticed that there were a lot less sailors than supposed to be standing in front of their cubes. If they could have viewed us straight on it would have been obvious, but from the flank impossible to see anything but a sea of blues and dixicups all lined up down the hallway. I was taking my turn standing at attention when I heard one of my bunkmates open the window. I turned to see a young girl walking down the sidewalk by the barracks. “Hey. How are you Honey?” said one of the sailors half out of the window.
“Hi,” she replied. “I’m looking for Mike Thompson. Is he anywhere around?”
She was good looking and wore a blouse tied at the middle with pedal pushers that showed off her figure. Her sandy shaded hair was thrown back in a pony tail. Her pedal pushers were laced with sew on patches. Peace symbols and flowers in style in the early ‘60s. Hell. It was the early 60s.
“Well yeah. He’s in here somewhere. Come on in and we’ll look for him.”
At that he pulled her in through the open window.
“Have a seat for a while Hon., he whispered. “We’re in the middle of an inspection. As soon as its over we’ll look for Mike. Where you from?”
“Oh, I just drove down from L.A. I met Mike in a club and he told me he would show me around if I wanted to see San Diego. So just in town for a couple of days.”
Their conversation grew quieter and within another 5 minutes I heard muffled moans and turned to advise our two lovebirds between the sheets that they had about 5 more minutes.
“Hey man, they are two cubes down.”
“While getting dressed and straightening up the bunk she asked him if it would be ok if she stayed in the barracks till the inspection was over.”
“No Baby. You got to go, but we’ll look for Mike after the inspection.” and out the window she went and he and the other two cubemates joined me, smartly at attention as the Captain’s party approached. The Captain bounced a quarter on one of our bunks and smiled approvingly.
Yeah. It was the 60s.
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