By Garland Davis
It has been a while since I have told a BT2 story. Many of my readers have been asking for more of his exploits. Mostly, other BTs. So here goes.
It was one of the ships we served in during the sixties and the Vietnam thing. We had been double toured on the gunline and were looking forward to some Subic liberty. The current skipper was a Bible Thumper who felt that Subic was a little too risqué and asked for a port call to Hong Kong instead. I guess no one had ever explained Wanchai or the Roof Tops to him.
BT2 was pissed because we had to steam at anchor instead of tying up to a pier and taking services from the beach. He had duty the first day, and I loaded stores and spent the afternoon and night in the Bakeshop baking enough desserts so I could take a couple of days off.
I was in the mess decks having coffee shortly after breakfast when BT2 came down from turning the duty over to his relief. He said, “The next boat is in forty-five minutes. That’s enough time to shit, shower, and shave. I’ve got my blues under my mattress, pressed and ready to go. Meet you on the Quarterdeck. First stop: Pinky’s. I want to get a stencil on my left arm to balance the one I got on my right arm the last time. Oh, by the way, that new fireman, the one they call Bigfoot, the boy who has the biggest Gawdamn feet I’ve ever seen on a human being, is coming with us. I promised to show him the ropes and where he can get some pussy off Suzie Wong.”
“Every other hooker in Hong Kong calls herself Suzie Wong. “I said.
“I know that, but he don’t. The boy can dream, can’t he?” he asked as he headed to Snipes berthing.
About forty minutes later, we met on the Quarterdeck. He was trailed by the biggest, most ungainly-looking Redneck I had ever seen. Bt2 said, “Bigfoot, this is the Stewburner. He is a pretty good Doughhead if you can keep him sober. Be careful if you eat any of the bread he bakes. One night, I caught him rubbing two slices of bread on his dick and singing ‘Grow, grow, with Langendorf bread.’ Stewburner, this is Bigfoot.
I looked. The only person I ever saw with feet that big was a basketball player named O’Neal.
We caught the one lunged liberty boat with the Chinese kids staring at us from under the forward deck and the mother cooking on the charcoal brazier while Papa piloted the craft. It was the family Rice Bowl.
We made Fenwick and, of course, stopped at the China Fleet Club for a beer that turned into six. From there, we stumbled over to Pinky’s tattoo parlor, where BT2 got a Woody Woodpecker stencil on his left arm. Since then, numerous times, the asshole has asked respectful women and some disrespectful ones, “You want to see my pecker? Before they lose it and slap the shit out of him, he lifts his sleeve to show them Woody.
When we left there, Bigfoot was hobbling along on his heels. BT2 had told him that sailors had a pig tattooed on their left foot and a chicken on their right foot. Sailors believed this would prevent them from drowning. He failed to tell him that the tattoos were supposed to be on top of the feet and had them tattooed on the bottoms of his feet. I guess all the free beer the tattoo parlor was providing numbed his feet. He tried to get Bigfoot to tattoo his dick, but the boy was reluctant. He felt it might mess up his assignation with Suzie later in the evening.
To make a short story longer, we had met a Radarman and an ET from the ship while at Pinky’s. They convinced us to go with them to the Hilton. There was a fashion show, and the ET was sweet on one of the models.
We ended up at a bar somewhere on one of the upper decks of the Hilton. We were drinking beer and watching the girl’s parade in the colorful dresses when BT2 discovered that every time the dressing room door opened, it revealed models in various conditions of undress. So, we all kind of moved our chairs around where we could see the door each time a model entered or exited the dressing room.
Now they didn’t ask us to leave. The waiter just brought the check and informed us that the bar was closed. We all chipped in and paid the exorbitant bill and commenced to unass the place. I heard a commotion and looked back to see what was happening. Two Chinese waiters were trying to take the table away from the Bt2 and the RD.
BT2 said, “The damn bill was so high, we thought we had bought the fucking table!”
They gave them the table and we left. Wanchai and all the Suzie Wong’s awaited!