Sea Stories

By Garland Davis

Now this ain’t no shit…

Story Number One:

We had been on the Gunline off the coast of Vietnam or chasing the carriers in the Tonkin Gulf for a ninety-day period that seemed like a year. Spirits rose and we began to believe we would once again taste a cold beer and feel a warm woman as the ship proceeded to the Naval Station at Subic Bay in the Republic of the Philippines.

The first night in port. I was a PO1 at the time. Many of the First Class PO’s were in Jolo’s drinking San Miguel at a pace that would make you believe we were trying to catch up for the ninety dry days. Well, they weren’t exactly dry, but that is a story for another time.

The BM1 came in, sat down and chugged a San Miguel and then started looking at the talent. He gestured to a girl to sit with him. He ordered her a lady’s drink.

He pulled her close and asked, “Sweetheart, do you do manicures? You know, trim fingernails and toe nails.”

“Of course,” the girl replied.

Boats said, “Good, we been at sea for over three months. I been jacking off in an old sock so much that my dick grew a toenail. Can you trim that mother fucker for me?”

Story Number Two:

The same Boatswain’s mate takes the young lady to a hotel across the street. A couple of hours later… or maybe it was the next day, he comes into the bar, chugs a San Miguel and says, “I took that girl up to the room. I paid a thirty P bar fine, I paid her thirty P’s for an all nighter and I put a stack of twenty P notes on the nightstand and told her that every time I got a nut she could take one.”

“What happened. How many P’s did the girl make?”

“Fuck if I know, but I finally gave the bitch fifty pesos to leave my dick the fuck alone.”

Story Number Three:

Many of my shipmates know Jack Coates. Jack was a retiree living in Olongapo. If I ever knew what his rate and rating were, I have forgotten them. I knew jack for many years before I ever saw him sober.   That’s also a story for another time.

I was sitting at an outdoor bar at Baloy Beach about nine o’clock on a Saturday morning nursing a hangover and drinking ice cold Pepsi Cola when Jack and another reprobate rode up in a tricycle taxi. Jack ordered three San Miguel beers from the young lady. He and his companion took one and he slid the third one in front of me.

I said, “Hey Jack, I’m drinking Pepsi here.”

Jack grabbed my Pepsi bottle and flung it across the street onto the beach and said, “Stewburner, when I’m drinking beer every body’s drinking beer.”

You can’t argue with logic like that.

After that beer was finished another was ordered and Jack told his friend to pay for it. He later ordered the third one and pointed to me and said. “Stewburner, you pay for this one. When I’m paying for the beer every body’s paying for beer.”

Story Number Four:

Jack Coates again. I walked into a bar in the Barrio and found Jack standing bare assed with his shorts down around his ankles.

I asked, “Jack, what the hell are you doing?”

“Hey Stewburner, I’m just familiarizing this young lady with the gear she is going to be working with.” Get yourself a beer, I’ll bet she has a cousin, sister, or Mama for you.”