Jerry’s Story

Jerry’s Story

By Garland Davis

I have known Jerry longer than anyone here, with the possible exception of his brother. (Actually, his stepbrother, as you will learn) I will attempt to tell his story before the UFO Aliens or their Air Force caretakers come for me.

Jerry had a rude awakening. Really rude. He was sleeping in his alien sleeping thingamabob when his Mama crashed the UFO. She was usually a very careful, conservative driver, but not that fateful night that was to change the sleepy New Mexico town of Roswell forever.

See, his dad hadn’t come home, and his mom was half drunk on high-quality Piscean Rotgut and suspecting that her old man might be fooling around with that three tittied floozie from Aldebaran 4 she headed to Sol 3, known as Earth by its barely sentient occupants, the biggest hot sheet planet in the galaxy.

She entered the atmosphere too fast and the speed dampers couldn’t bleed enough of the momentum off before she slammed into the ground. She hit her head and was rendered unconscious. Jerry was evicted from the craft and crawled away into a pepper patch. Being hungry and the only thing he could find that resembled a nipple was a Jalapeno pepper. They were a poor substitute for the zestiness of Mama’s titties and barely managed to overcome his hunger. After eating he went back to sleep and missed all the lights and furor as the soldiers impounded the UFO and arrested his mom for driving drunk. (She still hasn’t sobered up and is in the drunk tank at Wright-Patterson (who the fuck was Patterson) Air Force Base. Meanwhile, his dad is carousing on the moon Barrio of a little-known planet called Subic in the Aldebaran system.

The following morning the pepper farmer found Jerry and thinking him a lost monkey from the circus, took him home and raised him with his own children. Jerry turned out to be a pretty normal boy. The biggest problem they had was toilet training him. He was so obstinate they had to do it at gunpoint.

Jerry blended in with humanity if you call being so big that he only fits comfortably in the largest Peterbilt trucks. But he developed the damndest affinity for chili peppers of all kinds. I think a psychologist would describe it as compensating for the early loss of his mama’s titties.

Y’all know the rest of his story. He joined the Navy because sailors provided the perfect cover for someone who doesn’t fit in any place in a civilized society. He is now using a Facebook group called Cranky Old Bastards for cover.

As a matter of fact, I am not sure if they all aren’t aliens.

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Asia Sailor’s New Year’s Resolutions

Asia Sailor’s New Year’s Resolutions

By Garland Davis


It is the time of year when many of us reflect upon the year almost gone and previous years of our lives. We Monday Morning Quarterback the events of our lives and the outcomes of our actions that precipitated these events. That is when we resolve that things will be different in the new year, that we are turning over a new leaf. The new year will become the template for the remaining years of our existence.

There are a Normal Person’s (NP) New Year’s resolutions and then there is the Asia Sailors (AS) New Year’s resolutions.

Clothing and Dress

NP resolution – To dress more fashionably in the coming year by purchasing clothes recommended by men’s fashion magazines.

AS resolution – Learn to sew buttons so I don’t have to keep buying new dungaree shirts.
– Have Liberty Cuffs put on my Dress Blues in Hong Kong

Money and Finances

NP resolution – Start a savings program to accumulate enough money to visit…wherever.
– Become more conscious of values when shopping

AS resolution – Leave money on the books for Subic next month.
– Stop fooling my money away at the Ship’s Store buying soap and shit
– Stock up on enough Sea Stores to cover the yard period.
– The Yoko Exchange is selling perfume at a way reduced price because they are overstocked. It may come in handy in Subic.
– Stop drinking that expensive ass Suntory and stick with Nikka and Akadama. No reason to buy the expensive stuff. It all tastes the same when you puke it back up.


Relationships

NP resolution – Join the Church group to meet acceptable young women.
– Make sure my breath is clean for a possible good night kiss.

AS resolution – Friday, take the train up to Yokohama. Hear that there is lots of Widow action at the Seaside and Zebra clubs as well as the local action in China Town.
– Rub some stick deodorant on my nuts in case I get a BJ. I want it to be a pleasant experience for her also.
– Jones will be TAD to school while we are in Subic. Make a run on his Steady.

Health and Fitness

NP resolution – Join a health club and try to lose five pounds.

AS resolution – Ain’t no reason to try to lose weight when all those gut robbers in the galley feed you is Creamed Shit on a Shingle for breakfast and fake Mashed Potatoes and fatty Roast Beef and lumpy fucking Gravy for the rest of the meals.

General Topics

NP resolution – Add new resolutions or adjust resolutions as circumstances dictate.

AS resolution – Fuck a bunch of resolutions!

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An Homage to Whiskey

An Homage to Whiskey

By Jerry Collins

Much has been said and shared here about Whiskey. Brands rise and fall. Old standbys fall out of favor and an old remembered rotgut rises to the top. It’s kind of like old sailors. As we age and fall apart at the seams, our palette and interest in potables seem to sharpen. One may remember Ocean as no better than fortified seawater and another remembers Evan William’s as a poor sub for Jack Daniels.

Scotch was not a young man’s drink of choice, although I did have a taste for it and imbibed a bit in ports across the world. Brandy’s and Cognacs…. whiskey and scotch’s bastard french cousins…. don’t get better with age and, thus, do not imbue our palette with the same mystery as we taste a 10, 12, 16 or 25-year-old golden dram of Scots liquid heaven.

Then there are the bastardizations of the like, Drambuie and other herb-infused madnesses. Did I mention Rye? I should have! Rye and some Bourbons mix well with sodas… never juice! Maybe water… juice is for bar girls. Anyway, where was I going with this?

Whiskeys and Scotches and bourbons and Ryes, in old dusty bottles and chipped discolored oaken barrels are not much different than old wrinkled bent graying Sailors that share them with each other over a lie or two.

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“The Sailor’s Christmas”

“The Sailor’s Christmas”


Twas the night before Christmas, the ship was out steaming,
Sailors stood watch while others were dreaming.
They lived in a crowd with racks tight and small,
In a 80-man berthing, cramped one and all.
I had come down the stack with presents to give,
And to see inside just who might perhaps live.
I looked all about, a strange sight did I see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stockings were hung, shined boots close at hand,
On the bulkhead hung pictures of a far distant land.
They had medals and badges and awards of all kind,
And a sober thought came into my mind.
For this place was different, so dark and so dreary,
I had found the house of a Sailor, once I saw clearly.
A Sailor lay sleeping, silent and alone,
Curled up in a rack and dreaming of home.
The face was so gentle, the room squared away,
Twas a United States Sailor I visit today.
This was the hero I saw on TV,
Defending our country so we could be free.
I realized the families that I would visit this night,
Owed their lives to these Sailors who stand so willing to fight.
Soon round the world, the children would play,
And grownups would celebrate on Christmas Day.
They all enjoyed freedom each day of the year,
Because of the Sailor, like the one lying here.
I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve on a sea, far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.
The Sailor awakened and I heard a calm voice,
“Santa, don’t cry, this life is my choice.”
“Defending the seas every day of the year,
So others may live and be free with no fear.”
I thought for a moment, what a difficult road,
To live a life guided by honor and code.
After all it’s Christmas Eve and the ship’s underway!
But freedom isn’t free and it’s sailors who pay.
The Sailor says to our country “be free and sleep tight,
No harm will come, not on my watch and not on this night.
The Sailor rolled over and drifted to sleep,
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent, so still,
I watched as the Sailor shivered from the night’s cold chill.
I didn’t want to leave on that cold dark night,
This guardian of honor so willing to fight.
The Sailor rolled over and with a voice strong and sure,
Commanded, “Carry on Santa, It’s Christmas, and All is Secure!”

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Christmas Memories

Christmas Memories

By Ken Ritter

Just sitting here tonight, deep into the “sauce”, and reminiscing of other Christmases when I was a young Sailor… Some spent at sea, and others spent in the “Sailor Bars” and ”Pleasure Palaces” of various “Ports Of Call” throughout Asia. Many of us, I’m sure, have spent Christmas in some of these more infamous dens of iniquity…

Marilyn’s in Subic City
Whisper Alley in Okinawa
Tanpopo’s In Yokosuka
4 1/2 Street in Yokohama

plus others to numerous to mention… and have stories to tell of the various “weird and wonderful” places we’ve been, things we’ve done, and “presents” we’ve received on Christmases when we were young, that only another Asia Sailor will understand, or even believe… Hell, I’m not Catholic, but one Christmas I even went to Mass with a little College girl in Angeles that I was particularly fond of at the time, but as they say, that’s a whole ‘nother story… I will say there were a lot of young girls there, many were undoubtedly Bar Girls, and I spent the entire time watching them and the Priest, and trying to imagine what it would be like sitting there hearing the confessions of these Ladies…

Anyway, it was a great life, and I’m sure every one of us would do it again in a heartbeat… Ahh… to be a young Asia Sailor again, in the Navy and Asia as we knew it… but as the Chris LeDoux song goes… “…son, it was great, but it ended too soon
Now I’m just an old man with nothin’ but memories…”

MERRY CHRISTMAS SHIPMATES, hoping Santa is good to you and brings you sweet dreams of your more memorable Christmases past…

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