I Kill Myself

“I Kill Myself”

By

I recall a time when my steady girl came through the door with a knife held high. I grabbed her arm holding the knife and with my other hand grabbed her by the waist and flipped her over me onto the bed I was sitting on. She may have been small but she was strong! I managed to pry the knife from her hand and put her outside the door locking it behind her.

The following morning there was a knock at the door. I got up and answered it. It was my steady girl. She seemed fine. She asked me for some money saying she was hungry. I gave her some money and told her to bring me back something to eat also. She turned and left.

She did not return in the few minutes that I was expecting. After about 45 minutes I went outside my door and peered down into the courtyard. I was on the second-floor balcony. Shortly she came stumbling across the yard. This was abnormal since she did not drink. She came upstairs where I was. I asked her what was wrong. She replied that she had taken the money and bought Valiums.

I knew Valiums were real cheap and had no idea how many she might have taken. I spied a bottle of cooking oil on the floor. I picked it up, removed the cap and handed it to her instructing her to take a drink. She began chugging the bottle down. I attempted to grab the bottle from her spilling oil all over her and me both. She let out a yell, “I kill myself!” With that, she took a leap over the railing. I grabbed for her, but with the oil on her and my hands, she just slid right through. Finally, I managed to clamp my fingers around her ankles and stopped her fall. There she was dangling upside down over the rails.

My buddy had been there the night before and I did not know whether he had gone back to the ship or stayed the night, but I began calling for him at the top of my lungs. My girl was kicking and hollering, “I kill myself!”

It seemed like an eternity, but within moments my buddy appeared in the courtyard in nothing but his underwear. He looked up and exclaimed, “Damn, Bill. You’re gonna kill her!” “Get the hell up here fast. I can’t hold her much longer,” I yelled back. My buddy came running at full speed. We managed to haul my girl back across the rail. I carried her into the room and laid her on the bed and held her down as she cried and yelled.

After a while, she fell asleep and when she awoke a few hours later she was back to her old self.

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Rating Traits IV

Rating Traits IV

By Garland Davis

Cryptologic Technician (CT): The people in this rate are so segmented that they barely know each other. They are decided into the Maintenance group, the Interpretive group, Networks, Collection, and Technician. Don’t ask what they do. They are so secretive that they don’t know what each other does. Their lunch is classified as Top Secret. I know they work in out of the way places. Here in Hawaii, they are either in a tunnel, a base out in the pineapple fields or behind chain-link at Pearl.

I once lived in a section of Navy Housing where three of my neighbors were CTs. They spent their lives looking over their shoulders. It seemed as if every other week a dude from ONI would show up with a badge asking questions about one or another of them. I was having a beer with my next-door neighbor and told him jokingly, “The next time that guy from ONI comes around, I’ll tell him you get drunk and beat your dog.”

He said, “For heaven’s sake, don’t even fucking joke about that!”

 

Information Systems Technician (IT), Submariners add S (ITS): We once called these dudes Radiomen. Most of the old time Radiomen communicated by dots and dashes, Morse code and had to be dragged into the modern, more technical communications world.

The job description for IT’s: Information systems technicians design, install, operate, and maintain state-of-the-art information systems. This technology includes local and wide area networks, mainframe, mini and microcomputer systems and associated peripheral devices. They also write programs to handle the collection, manipulation and distribution of data for a wide variety of applications and requirements. They perform the functions of a computer system analyst, operate telecommunications systems including automated networks and the full spectrum of data links and circuits.

The Radiomen I knew back in the day would have had difficulty understanding that.

I could have become a Radioman. I didn’t tell the classifier in Boot Camp  that I could read code. I learned it as a teenager. I remember very little of Morse now. A is dit-dah and all the others are different. I do remember what an old RM used to say frequently in the chow line, “ Three dots, four dots, two dots, Dash. They serve it in the Navy and call it Hash.”

 

Legalman (LN): Legalmen are the Navy’s paralegals. They assist Staff Judge Advocates in the proper administration of military justice and administrative law, such as courts-martial, nonjudicial punishment, and administrative separation. They were once called Legal Yeomen and would either help a falsely accused sailor out. But, keep in mind they work for Legal Officers and will assist that officer in hanging your ass.

 

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Kate Nesbit, Royal Navy

Kate Nesbit, Royal Navy

Posted on Facebook by Jonk Wilkins

This was a few years ago but worth repeating. She stands precisely 5ft tall in her everyday shoes and her smile is disarmingly sweet.

Kate Nesbitt doesn’t immediately fit the image of a fearless military hero, not off the battlefield at least.

But there are probably few people a critically injured soldier would rather meet in the chaos of a desert gunfight than this 21-year-old blonde in full flight.

Bravery: Kate Nesbitt receives the Military Cross from the Prince of Wales during investitures at Buckingham Palace in London. And the sight of her sprinting through an Afghan war zone under heavy machine-gun fire is almost certainly one that Lance Corporal John List will remember for the rest of a life he now owes to her astonishing display of courage

Kate, a medical assistant serving as an Able Seaman with the Royal Navy, raced 70 yards to the stricken soldier’s side as he nearly choked to death from a gunshot wound to the mouth. She cut open a temporary airway and treated him for 45 minutes as rockets whizzed overhead and bullets thudded into the ground nearby.

Yesterday her ‘inspirational’ bravery was rewarded at Buckingham Palace when she became the Navy’s first woman to be invested with the Military Cross. Then, with a few modest words, she underlined the remarkable spirit of loyalty that bonds Britain’s servicemen and women on the front line. ‘I promised my friends and comrades I’d be their medic,’ she said. ‘I promised I’d be there if they ever needed me. They needed me that day – so when the call came, that’s just what I did.’

Kate, from Whitleigh, Plymouth, stepped into the history books as only the second woman to be awarded the MC, one of Britain’s highest gallantry awards, as well as becoming the only MC Wren. Presenting her award, the Prince of Wales bowed to what he called her ‘extraordinary’ heroism.

Her citation read: ‘Under fire and under pressure, her commitment and courage were inspirational and made the difference between life and death.’

My UTMOST RESPECT young lady.

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Rating Traits III

Rating Traits III

By Garland Davis

Ocean Systems Technician (OT): A Chief at the club in Yokosuka told me that these people hang out in a cave at CFAY and spend their career looking at squiggly lines on burnt paper. He thought it might be some kind of voodoo ritual.

Jerry Juliana is the only one of these dudes I ever met. As far as I know, he may be the only one that exists. I once asked him what they did. He said if he told me, he would have to kill me. Actually, all he said was, “Imagine a Sonarman with superpowers who worships at the feet of the god Per Diem.”

The closest I could determine OT’s are the ugly progeny of an immoral “hook up” by a Sonarman and an Airdale. They have airplanes and go on Dets. Dets is short for detachment. Look in one’s blank eyes to see the real meaning of detachment.

OT’s Dets are something like cruises and deployments that we real sailors make. The reason they use airplanes is so they can get to the good liberty ports and get some pussy before all us good looking fleet sailors get there.

Gunner’s Mate (GM): Often referred to as Cannon Cockers of Muzzle Fuckers, GM’s maintain the ship’s noisemakers and fireworks. As soon as a Snipe or a hardworking cook want to have a smoke on the foc’sle, they ring that fucking bell and swing the gun mount back and forth. They seldom, if ever, fire the damned thing but every time we get near an ammunition ship they load ammunition. Maybe they are eating it or snorting the gunpowder.

During sailing days, many gunners started their careers as powder boys, which meant they brought the powder charges from the magazines to the guns. It is said that the renowned British Admiral Horatio Nelson began his career as a powder boy in a Ship of the line.

Missile Technician (MT): I don’t know much about these guys except they hang out in missile houses and do hundreds of daily PMS checks. So, I’ll tell you a couple of stories about them;

It was a lazy Sunday morning and whoever had the duty in the forward missile house was doing firing system checks. The way I understand it is there are a couple of blue missiles with internal electronics that are run out and the firing circuit is energized. Feedback from the missiles on the rail tell if firing would have been successful had there been a real, or white missile on the rail. The forward missile house requested permission from the bridge to conduct firing checks. The Captain, who was relaxing in his chair suddenly jumped up screaming, “Belay missile checks!” There were two white missiles on the rail!

I ended up with an MT2 as a permanent Mess Deck Master at Arms.

We did a four missile firing exercise while in the IO. Afterward, Chief Missile Tech came into the mess and said, “I would rather fire a missile than jump my old lady.”

His wife met the ship when we returned to Yokosuka. Let’s just say that she would have at least garnered Honorable Mention at any Ugly Party I ever attended. Chief BT left the mess, went to the Oil Shack and called the mess on the sound-powered phone asked for the MTC and told him, “I would rather jump burners than jump your old lady!”

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The Oil King

The Oil King

By Garland Davis

Oil King: The MM or BT selected for this position must display unique qualities. He must be capable of understanding liquid measures greater than the amount of that in a 50¢ picture of beer at the Club Alliance. He must also understand and be able to do arithmetical calculations as they relate to large quantities of petroleum products, feed water, and potable water. The part that really stretches the imagination, he must possess the ability to learn and perform complicated chemical tests of said liquids to ascertain purity. He must plan for refueling operations to know how much fuel is required and into which tanks to allocate it. During refueling, he is busier than a three-legged cat with diarrhea digging holes to shit in.

Things go wrong!

I was serving in an Ocean Going Tug during the late sixties. Ships this small didn’t have a Supply Corps Officer. Supply consisted of a Storekeeper, two Commissarymen, and one Steward. One of the officers was assigned collateral duty as Supply Officer. I was the senior Petty Officer in Supply. My first two years aboard, the Bos’n was the Supply Officer who pretty much let supply run itself. After he left, a brand new Ensign who had no conception of his primary Communication Officer’s job was assigned collateral duty as Supply Officer and decided to make his mark there.

The Ensign decided the Mess Decks needed retiling. I am sure you all remember, in those days, you either had a putrid green tile or a red and black checkerboard pattern. He arranged through SRF for the job to be done. Against our recommendations, he picked a white tile made by a Japanese company from a catalog at SRF.

NOTE: This was before the days when the flammability of habitability space equipment and fixtures was a big concern. END NOTE

The day after our new white mess deck was laid, we were taking Diesel from a Yard Oiler (YO). We were moored to the pier and the YO to our outboard side. The tank was located under the Mess Decks with the sounding tube amidships on the after bulkhead. The EN1 was taking soundings and yelling out the door to the YO. The Warrant machinist stopped to see how it was going. Just long enough to distract EN1, and we had a gusher of diesel through the sounding tube into the mess deck. All in all, enough to cover the deck.

When we started to clean it up, we discovered the fuel oil had degraded the tile. It was no longer tile but a gooey substance resembling hot Mozzarella cheese on a pizza and came away like big wads of bubblegum. It took all night to get it all scraped up and the metal deck cleaned.

Two days later the EN1 and I, assisted by an FN and a mess cook laid a red and black checkerboard.

The Ensign wanted to believe that EN1 had ruined his beautiful white tile deliberately.

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Mess Deck Master at Arms

Mess Deck Master at Arms

By Garland Davis

Mess Deck Master at Arms: The perfect MDMAA is a psychotic son of a bitch who is so eaten up with OCD that his folks had to toilet train him at gunpoint and doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. He needs the psychotic demeanor to abuse the mess cooks to do their work and the crew to maintain order in the mess line and the mess decks. Presenting a willingness to commit violence on anyone who pisses him off is beneficial. There are so many details to pay attention to that the OCD condition is extremely helpful. The ability to not care what others think is a necessary trait because everyone hates his guts.

The XO hates him because the Mess Decks and scullery never meet his expectations of cleanliness and sanitation. The mess cooks hate him because he is a hard taskmaster who insists the work be done correctly.. The crew hates him because he won’t let them grab-ass or yell in the mess line, because he won’t let them delay after eating and forces them to give up their seats to others waiting to eat, because he won’t let them hang out in the Mess Decks or use the tables to do paperwork between meals. The CMAA hates him because he can’t control him like he does the other Neanderthal thugs in the MAA Force.

It is a frustrating duty. Anyone going fore or aft must pass through the mess decks. The entrance to an engineering space is in the mess deck and as soon as the deck is stripped and fresh wax laid, while waiting for it to dry every fucking engineer on the ship has to go into and out of that space and everyone aft must go forward and vice versa. The ladder down to supply is in the aft port side of the mess decks and everyone else just has to get to supply. And, of course, they cannot wait until the wax is dry.

The best MDMAA’s usually come from Deck, Weapons, and Engineering Departments. Not so much from the other departments.

The best MDMAA I ever saw was a BM1. He was large enough to create fear in everyone. I saw the XO back off and take another route instead of walking on BM1’s clean deck. He maintained silence in the mess line. If you weren’t talking to the food server, you kept your mouth shut. His solution to someone jacking his jaws in the line was to bounce the malefactor off the bulkhead, two or three times.

I always took a couple of hours to counsel Petty Officers assigned to MDMAA. I tried to make sure they understood that it was probably the only job, short of Command Master Chief, they would have that was a pure leadership position. I also made sure they understood that after three months I would submit a special evaluation on their performance that could be a crucial factor in their future promotions.

I have had Chiefs and Division Officers pissed at me because I gave a poor leadership rating to “one of their best” PO1’s. I’ll not piss anyone off here by telling you the ratings.

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