Religion, Sex, the Navy, Sex, and Me

By: Garland Davis

My father wasn’t a religious man. He didn’t attend church although he would listen to the radio preachers while repacking a wheel bearing or patching a tire tube. My mother didn’t attend church either. She always felt that the other parishioners looked down on her because she was a “Damned Davis” a family of drunks renowned for bootlegging and distilling moonshine whiskey. She would go to the summer “tent meetings” when a traveling evangelist would pitch his tent in a field though.

Consequently, none of my siblings or I have ever had a religious bent. Shortly after my father’s death, an aunt insisted that my brothers and I attend church. For a while that fall, I looked forward to Sunday mornings at the Oak Knoll Methodist Church. No, I wasn’t getting religion. The pastor had a pair of twin daughters. Brenda and Linda would kiss you, show you their titties, and sometimes let you touch and play with them and “dry hump” you under the stairs that led from the basement classrooms up to the church. I never knew which one I was with. Couldn’t tell them apart and it really didn’t make a lot of difference.

I spent so many Sunday morning under the stairs with one, or the other, of the twins while the choir was practicing that I still sometimes get a boner when I hear Amazing Grace.

My mother asked me once why I went to the bathroom so much on Sunday afternoons.

I soon went to work in a local drive in restaurant and had to work on Sundays. That ended my Sunday mornings seeking religion. I missed Brenda and Linda but I needed the money. Many years later after I enlisted in the Navy, I learned that with money I could easily replace Brenda or Linda with Maria, Junko, or Han.

Between the twins and enlisting, I had a few incidents with girls. There was a girl named, believe it or not, Peggy Sue who was about three or four years older than me. She went to the vocational school where I was studying bakery science. One of the other students dared me to stick a wad of bread dough down the front of her blouse. I just couldn’t do it. The blouse was so full there just wasn’t room for anything else. The girl had a crush on me but I was too inexperienced, naïve, and just downright dumb to know what to do about the situation.

There was a girl named Sandy who came into the restaurant where I worked. She was so beautiful that I would get tongue tied just taking her order. I didn’t know at the time that there are certain girls whose beauty just naturally affects your tongue.

Oh, if I could relive my teens and still retain the knowledge I have of women today, there wouldn’t be a need for those numerous and prolonged trips to the bathroom.

It wasn’t until Westpac that I was introduced to commercial sex. You know, the Olongapo Wedding Night with the meter running. The concept of paying for sexual gratification, along with drinking beer and other beverages assured me that my decision to go to the Navy was the right one.

As far as religion in the Navy, it was there if you wanted it. It seems the Chaplains understood sailors and their ways and if not approving accepted the inevitable.