Lt. Collins’ Flag Day Speech

(from “The Sand Pebbles”)

As I’m sure most of you know, today is Flag Day, a day meant to honor the United States flag and to commemorate the Flag’s adoption.

Unfortunately, it is apparently more popular now to stomp on or burn the Flag, or not to fly it, because it may offend some fringe group or other…

The United States Flag is the third oldest of the National Standards of the world; older than the Union Jack of Britain or the Tricolor of France.

The flag was first authorized by Congress June 14, 1777. This date is now observed as Flag Day throughout America.

The flag was first flown from Fort Stanwix, on the site of the present city of Rome, New York, on August 3, 1777. It was first under fire for three days later in the Battle of Oriskany, August 6, 1777.

It was first decreed that there should be a star and a stripe for each state, making thirteen of both; for the states at the time had just been erected from the original thirteen colonies. The colors of the Flag may be thus explained: The red is for valor, zeal and fervency; the white for hope purity, cleanliness of life, and rectitude of conduct; the blue, the color of heaven, for reverence to God, loyalty, sincerity, justice and truth. The star (an ancient symbol of India, Persia and Egypt) symbolized dominion and sovereignty, as well as lofty aspirations. The constellation of the stars within the union, one star for each state, is emblematic of our Federal Constitution, which reserves to the States their individual sovereignty except as to rights delegated by them to the Federal Government.

The symbolism of the Flag was thus interpreted by Washington: “We take the stars from Heaven, the red from our mother country, separating it by white stripes, thus showing that we have separated from her, and the white stripes shall go down to posterity representing Liberty.”

The following speech from a movie is appropriate for today’s Blog post. There are many Americans who respect and honor the flag, who get a tightness in the chest, and watery eyes when we they see the Stars and Stripes proudly flying from the yardarm of a Ship of War, or raised on the flagpole in some foreign land.

So this post is for those of you who are currently serving, have served, or who just respect and honor the Flag and what it stands for…

“Today we begin cruising to show the flag on Tungting Lake and the Hunan Rivers. I want all honors rendered smartly.

At home in America, when today reaches them it will be Flag Day. For us who

wear the uniform every day is Flag Day.

It is said that there will be no more wars. We must pretend to believe that.

But when war comes, it is we who will take the first shock, and buy time with

our lives. It is we who keep the Faith…

We serve the Flag. The trade we all follow is the give and take of death.

It is for that purpose that the people of America maintain us. And anyone of

us who believes he has a job like any other, for which he draws a money wage, is a thief of the food he eats, and a trespasser in the bunk in which he lies down to sleep.”—Lt. Collins

OLD SAILORS

Old sailors sit and jaw ’bout how things used to be.

Of things they’ve seen and places they’ve been, when they ventured out to sea.

They remember friends of long ago and good times they had back then.

Of money they’ve spilled and beer they’ve swilled, In their days as sailing men.

Their lives are lived in days gone by, with thoughts that forever last.

Of Dixie cup hats and bell bottom blues, the good times in their past.

They recall long nights with a moon so bright, far out on a lonely sea.

And thoughts they had as a youthful lad, when their lives were untamed and free.

They remember so well how their hearts did swell, when the flag fluttered proud and free.

And the stars and stripes made such a beautiful sight, as they plowed through the angry sea.

They talk of fresh bread Old Cookie would bake, and the shrill of the Bosun’s pipe.

And how the salt spray felt like sparks from hell, when a storm struck during the night.

They remember mates already gone, who’ll forever hold a spot.

In the stories of old when sailors were bold, and lubbers a pitiful lot.

They rode their ships through many a storm, when the sea was showing its might.

And the mighty waves tried to dig their graves, as they sailed on through the night.

Their numbers grow less with each passing day, their chits in this life called in.

But they’ve nothing to lose for they’ve paid their dues, And they’ll sail with their shipmates again.

I’ve heard them say before getting underway, that there’s still some sailing to do.

They exclaim with a grin that their ship has come in, and their God is commanding the crew .

The Ballad Of The Clampherdown

By Rudyard Kipling

It was our war-ship Clampherdown

Would sweep the Channel clean,

Wherefore she kept her hatches close

When the merry Channel chops arose,

To save the bleached marine.

She had one bow-gun of a hundred ton

And a great stern-gun beside.

They dipped their noses deep in the sea,

They racked their stays and stanchions free

In the wash of the wind-whipped tide.

It was our war-ship Clampherdown,

Fell in with a cruiser light

That carried the dainty Hotchkiss gun

And a pair of heels wherewith to run

From the grip of a close-fought fight.

She opened fire at seven miles —

As ye shoot at a bobbing cork —

And once she fired and twice she fired,

Till the bow-gun dropped like a lily tired

That lolls upon the stalk.

“Captain, the bow-gun melts apace,

The deck-beams break below,

‘Twere well to rest for an hour or twain,

And botch the shattered plates again.”

And he answered, “Make it so.”

She opened fire within the mile —

As ye shoot at the flying duck —

And the great stern-gun shot fair and true,

With the heave of the ship, to the stainless blue,

And the great stern-turret stuck.

“Captain, the turret fills with steam,

The feed-pipes burst below —

You can hear the hiss of the helpless ram,

You can hear the twisted runners jam.”

And he answered, “Turn and go!”

It was our war-ship Clampherdown,

And grimly did she roll;

Swung round to take the cruiser’s fire

As the White Whale faces the Thresher’s ire

When they war by the frozen Pole.

“Captain, the shells are falling fast,

And faster still fall we;

And it is not meet for English stock

To bide in the heart of an eight-day clock

The death they cannot see.”

“Lie down, lie down, my bold A.B.,

We drift upon her beam;

We dare not ram, for she can run;

And dare ye fire another gun,

And die in the peeling steam?”

It was our war-ship Clampherdown

That carried an armour-belt;

But fifty feet at stern and bow

Lay bare as the paunch of the purser’s sow,

To the hail of the Nordenfeldt.

“Captain, they hack us through and through;

The chilled steel bolts are swift!

We have emptied our bunkers in open sea,

Their shrapnel bursts where our coal should be.”

And he answered, “Let her drift.”

It was our war-ship Clampherdown,

Swung round upon the tide,

Her two dumb guns glared south and north,

And the blood and the bubbling steam ran forth,

And she ground the cruiser’s side.

“Captain, they cry, the fight is done,

They bid you send your sword.”

And he answered, “Grapple her stern and bow.

They have asked for the steel. They shall have it now;

Out cutlasses and board!”

It was our war-ship Clampherdown

Spewed up four hundred men;

And the scalded stokers yelped delight,

As they rolled in the waist and heard the fight,

Stamp o’er their steel-walled pen.

They cleared the cruiser end to end,

From conning-tower to hold.

They fought as they fought in Nelson’s fleet;

They were stripped to the waist, they were bare to the feet,

As it was in the days of old.

It was the sinking Clampherdown

Heaved up her battered side —

And carried a million pounds in steel,

To the cod and the corpse-fed conger-eel,

And the scour of the Channel tide.

It was the crew of the Clampherdown

Stood out to sweep the sea,

On a cruiser won from an ancient foe,

As it was in the days of long ago,

And as it still shall be!

Fiddler’s Green

By Robert ‘Okie Bob’ Layton

2017

For he came to me with an offer, if I agreed to take a trek

A trade to a blissful situation, from this life I call a wreck

Take a step toward the hereafter and view the eternal shore

And cross the turbid river upon a vessel once more

and when the ferry traverses, you will feel the swells beneath your feet

On the far side, mates are waving yearning for you to greet

An end of journey worth taking, For here lays the green

My friends are awaiting, It’s awhile since I have seen

And it will all come back as if it was yesterday

Good memories will flood your senses, worries will go away

And lasses will dance unending and the fiddle it will play

The flow of grog will be constant, when I take that step some day

Salty

By Garland Davis

How do you know you’re Salty? Being salty took a lot of work when you could still feel boot camp behind you and your white hats were not yet soft and pliable.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This probably doesn’t apply to those who man today’s ships. Those of my generation who may be reading this idiotic nonsense and remember their first enlistment, you know you were not Navy until (1) Your white hats got soft, you put wings in them by folding down the sides and cocked down over one eye or wore them on the back of your head. (2) You tossed out your boot camp issue official genuine bonafide navy neckerchief, that thing you stuck a dime in and rolled up like three feet of garden hose, went out and bought a flat pressed ‘greasy snake’ and wore it with a knot an inch above the ‘V’ in your jumper. (3) You came to realize that chief petty officers were not God’s direct representatives on earth. This dawned on you the first time you found one face down drunk and you got him in a cab and back to the boat landing. After all, he was a shipmate. And last, (4) you knew what it felt like to be three sheets to the wind, standing on a pier in a place you’ve never been before and will never be again, wondering what the hell you did with your white hat, drinking stuff out of passed-around bottles, and singing songs that would make your mom blush. The stuff in the bottles could be fermented monkey piss for all you care… And the launch lays alongside… And the cox’n yells,

“Okay girls, it’s late and I don’t intend to put up with any shit from you fucking idiots!”

And you help men with whom your heart will be forever linked, in the boat and head ‘home’.

Let’s see, where was I. Oh, yeah the steps to becoming salty.

Drag your sea bag full of dungaree uniforms to a laundromat and give them a wash in a heavy Clorox solution to attain that salty faded look. Run them through a couple of times. Better but still not what you have in mind. You finally ask the Leading Seaman how he gets that faded, almost white color and soft texture to his dungarees.

He clues you into Seafarer brand dungarees. You must agree, they look so much better than the dungs you were issued in Boot. He then shows you how to tie them off to a line and drag them in the ship’s wake for a half hour, then bribe the laundrymen to wash, starch and press them. You are getting close to that salty look. After a dozen or more trips to the laundry, your white hats begin to take on that soft pliable, comfortable feel.

A trip to Hong Kong and you spend much-needed liberty funds on sharkskin whites and a set of gabardine blues with a side zipper in the jumper, dragon liberty cuffs, and the “greasy snake” neckerchief. By this time, you have a Third-Class crow on that jumper.

You salute the OOD with pride as you request to go ashore. You ARE Salty and you strut down the pier because you know it.

That’s when you’re Navy and Salty.

The Destroyer

By Anonymous

Over the green hills the bay lies and after the harbor, the sea,

And a grim, gaunt, gray destroyer is steaming there swiftly and free

With a roll that strains her stanchions and a pitch that peels her paint.

She bucks on the crest of the billows, she washes her side in the trough,

She ships twenty tons of ocean, and then like a dog, shakes it off;

Her seaman cling tight to the lifelines, her snipe gang is gasping for air.,

From mess cook to skipper they curse her—but no rank outsider would dare!

The smoke boils down black on her taffrail, the white foam unrolls in her wake,

The hissing steam throbs in her boilers for she has a commitment to make;

She lurches and trembles and staggers, alive from antennae to keel,

She reeks of burned oil and hot bearings, and rings with the pulsing of steel,

Wild winds play symphonics topside, below crash the drums of the sea,

And far to the west of the sunset, Vietnam calls to her and to me;

She’s battered and brine-caked and crowded—they call her a salty old can—

But those aboard grin as they curse her, and each DESTROYER sailor is a man!

Primer on Tools for Snipes

Compiled By Garland Davis

This is designed to familiarize members of the engineering ratings with the tools they’ll be working with.

Hammer: Originally employed as a weapon of war, the hammer nowadays is used as a kind of divining rod to locate expensive items and parts not far from the object we are trying to hit. Can also be used to locate the fingers of your other hand.  Any handy wrench may also serve as a hammer.

Mechanic’s Knife: Used to open and slice through the contents of cardboard cartons delivered from Supply; works particularly well on boxes containing gasket material and textile-like materials.

Electric Hand Drill: Normally used for spinning steel Pop rivets in their holes until you die of old age. Can also be used for drilling holes in the wrong places.

Hacksaw: One of a family of cutting tools built on the Ouija board principle. It transforms human energy into a crooked, unpredictable motion, and the more you attempt to influence its course, the more dismal your future becomes.

Vise-Grips: Used to round off bolt heads. If nothing else is available, they can also be used to transfer intense welding heat to the palm of your hand.

1/2 Inch Wrench:  This ever elusive wrench is seldom ever seen in the hole. It can usually be found in the most inaccessible part of the bilges!  Can also substitute for a hammer.

Oxyacetylene Torch: Used almost entirely for lighting those stale cigarettes you found while bilge diving because you can never remember to buy cigarettes and lighter fluid for the Zippo lighter you have neglected to lose

Zippo Lighter: See oxyacetylene torch.

Whitworth Sockets: Once used for working on older British cars and motorcycles, How they ended up in the A-Gang shop is anybody’s’ guess.

Table vise: A table mounted device used for cracking nuts stolen during stores on load. May also be used for crushing and ruining parts while you work on them. A very important use of the bench vise is to clamp a misbehaving strikers head in it while you kick his ass. Very effective remedial attitude adjustment tool.

Drill Press: A tall upright machine useful for suddenly snatching flat metal bar stock out of your hands so that it smacks you in the chest or flings your coffee across the shop, splattering it all over the picture of the scantily clad LBFM someone posted over the Chief’s desk.

Wire Wheel: Cleans rust off old bolts and then throws them somewhere under the workbench with the speed of light. Also removes fingerprint whorls and hard-earned guitar calluses in about the time it takes you to say, “Mother Fucker.”

Hydraulic Floor Jack: Used for lowering heavy items to the deck after you have unbolted them from their supports, trapping the jack handle firmly under the front edge.

Eight-Foot Long Douglas Fir 2X4 Shoring: Used for levering said item off the hydraulic jack.

Tweezers: A tool for removing wood splinters. Can also be used for snatching out bothersome nose hairs.

Phone: Tool for calling the Shipfitter’s shop to see if they have another hydraulic floor jack.

Gasket Scrapers: Theoretically useful as a sandwich tool for spreading mayonnaise on horsecock sandwiches; but, also used for getting dog shit and grease off your boon dockers.

E-Z Out Bolt and Stud Extractor: A tool that snaps off in bolt holes and is ten times harder than any known drill bit.

Two-Ton Hydraulic Hoist: A handy tool for testing the tensile strength of ground straps, bolts, and hydraulic lines you may have forgotten to disconnect.

1/2 x 16-inch Screwdriver: A large prying tool that inexplicably has an accurately machined screwdriver tip on the end without the handle. Always in the way when you are searching for a Phillips screwdriver.

Battery Electrolyte Tester: A handy tool for transferring sulfuric acid from a battery to the inside of your toolbox after determining that your battery is dead as a doornail, just as you thought.

Aviation Metal Snips: See Hacksaw. Mostly used for miscutting sheet metal.

Trouble Light: The Snipes’ own tanning booth. Sometimes called a drop light, it is a good source of vitamin D, “the sunshine vitamin”, which is not otherwise found in engineering spaces. Health benefits aside, its main purpose is to consume light bulbs at about the same rate that the five-inch gun mount might use projectiles during a ninety-day gun line tour. More often dark than light, its name is somewhat misleading.

Phillips Screwdriver: Normally used to stab the holes in the orange juice cans stolen during the last stores onload and splash juice all over your shirt; can also be used, as the name implies, to round off Phillips screw heads.  Always in the way when you are searching for a flathead screwdriver.

Air Compressor: A machine that takes energy produced by a steam generator in the after engine room and transforms it into compressed air that travels by hose to a Chicago Pneumatic impact wrench that grips rusty bolts last tightened 40 years ago by a yardbird at the Hunters Point Naval Shipyard, and neatly round them off.

Grease Gun: A messy tool for checking to see if zerk fittings are still plugged with rust.

Church Key: An ancient tool once attached to the keychain of every male. Used to open steel cans when thirsty. Often used in conjunction with operating the next tool listed.

LBFM: Triple orifice stress reliever. Seldom found aboard ship, but are plentiful in the Southeast Asian port of Subic Bay. It is found they perform at an optimum level when dusted down frequently with copious amounts of Philippine currency. Can be costly! Careful, they are like puppies, cute and you can become attached to them. It is dangerous to operate multiple units unless the units are in agreement. The next tool applies in this situation.

Butterply Knipe: A tool your LBFM may try to use on you if you let her become too possessive by devoting your time and money exclusively to her and then operate another LBFM without her approval.

The Caine Mutiny

A Facebook post by Dave Petersen. Published with his permission

LIEUTENANT COMMANDER PHILIP FRANCIS QUEEG USN served as commanding officer of the USS Arthur Wingate Caine DMS-18 (or DMS-22 in the original source material). (Note: “DMS” stands for “Destroyer Minesweeper” and refers to a World War I era destroyer converted for high-speed sweeping. DMS’s of that era carry low registry numbers because they are among the first destroyers to launch.)

He succeeded to this command in September of 1943. On 18 December 1944, his executive officer, Lieutenant Steven W. Maryk USNR, relieved him of command under Artlcles 184, 185 and 186 of the Articles for the Government of the Navy, then the governing body of regulations for the Navy. (World War II, of course, predated the Uniform Code of Military Justice that now serves as the body of military law in all services.) That act occasioned a sensational court-martial of Maryk that, ironically, caused the Navy to shunt Commander Queeg into shore billets for the duration of the war.

Queeg graduated the US Naval Academy in 1936. As the court-martial of Lt. Maryk (see above) later disclosed, he did not bear up well under the hazing from upperclass midshipmen. He came out of the Academy determined to prove himself perfect and to give no one any cause for complaint.

In 1937 he served as an ensign aboard the destroyer USS Barzun, on assignment in the Atlantic, on patrol for German U-Boats. His service record includes one letter of commendation he earned on that cruise. The occasion: as crew’s mess treasurer (his collateral duty), he discovered a discrepancy in the ship’s cooks accounts, concerning a quantity of cheese for which the cook could not account. Queeg insisted on following the lead, though his executive officer told him to “forget it.” Queeg discovered that one sailor had made a wax impression of the key to the galley icebox and was helping himself to the cheese every chance he got. Queeg caught the sailor red-handed and saw him tried and convicted in a summary court-martial, and drummed out of the Navy in disgrace.

In September of 1943 he transferred to the Pacific and finally earned his first command: as commanding officer of the USS Caine. Queeg ran his ship “by the book.” And from the beginning, he had problems.

Among his first missions, he drew orders to tow practice targets for the battleships and destroyers in Pearl Harbor. After but a few such missions, he cut a towline by steaming over it in a circle. He did this because, of all things, he was reprimanding a sailor at length for having his shirttail out–and also reprimanding the ship’s morale officer (then-Ens. Willis Seward Keith USNR) and communications officer (Lt. Thomas Keefer USNR) for alleged lapses in supervising this sailor. (The source material identifies said sailor as Signalman Third Class Louis Urban USN, but the famous Humphrey Bogart movie identifies him as Water Tender Third Class “Horrible” Dlugatch USN.) Queeg sent word to Commander, Service Squadron Pacific that a “defective” towline had parted, leaving the target adrift. The service squadron’s commanding admiral, thoroughly irritated, cut orders to send the Caine and one other DMS to the San Francisco Navy Yard for overhaul and new radar installations. As soon as he brought the ship in, he had to report to Com Twelve to talk about losing the practice target. He managed to convince Com Twelve that he could still handle things aboard the Caine.

Shore leave at his home in Phoenix, Arizona with his wife, his son, and his family dog was a bit of a strain. The Navy didn’t help his mood any when it cut the leave short. Hastily he summoned the officers and crew back to the Caine, and steamed southwest for Pearl Harbor–minus some twenty-five of his crew, who would rather stand trial by court-martial for missing ship than sail with him. He didn’t care–or at least, didn’t let on.

Shortly after making Pearl, he got orders to take part in the Flintlock Maneuver, otherwise known as the Battle of Kwajalein. His specific orders: to shepherd a wave of LVT attack boats from their transport to a line of departure 1000 yards off the beach of Jacob Island. He ran a mile ahead of the attack boats, insisted on turning tail way short of the line of departure, dropped a yellow dye marker, and retired at high speed, leaving the LVT crews and Marines to grope their way to their landfall as best they could. Thereafter his officers habitually referred to him as “Old Yellowstain.”

His interactions with his officers and crew went from bad to worse. Different projects mention different incidents, in different chronological order. But one incident stands out in the record: the Strawberry Incident. The details: Ensign Jorgensen, wardroom mess treasurer, managed to obtain a gallon of frozen strawberries from the crew of USS Bridge. That night, the officers helped themselves to a total of twenty-three helpings of ice cream and strawberries. And then Captain Queeg sent down for another helping of ice cream and strawberries. Whittaker, the leading steward, brought him the ice cream and said, “There [aren’t any more] strawberries.” At once Queeg jumped on this chance to investigate another theft. He refused to believe that Whittaker and his fellow steward’s mates had simply eaten the remaining quart of strawberries for themselves. He insisted on this narrative: that another sailor aboard the Caine had made himself a duplicate key to the wardroom icebox. He ordered all men aboard, officer and crew alike, to turn in every key they had. Then he ordered the officers to search the ship and crew for any stray keys. He little knew how bitterly he had heightened the resentment of himself on the part of the crew–or played straight into the hands of Lieutenant Keefer.

He found out soon enough on the morning of 18 December. The Caine encountered winds and seas the like of which he had never before experienced: Beaufort Force 10 to 12 winds and mountainous waves. He tried going down wind, to get out of the path of the storm, but the ship broached to three times in one hour. Then he froze to the engine-room telegraph. He barely felt it when Lt. Maryk actually shoved him aside. But when he realized the ship was now headed into the wind, he snapped out of his fog and insisted that Maryk turn the ship about. Not only did Maryk refuse, but he also put Queeg on the sick list as per Article 184. Thereafter Maryk steered the ship through the storm (and by one account, offered rescue to three survivors of a capsized ship, USS George Black).

Queeg did make one other attempt to resume command, on the morning of the nineteenth. He tried to stop Maryk from reporting his relief of command to the local Officer in Tactical Command (OTC). Queeg tried to get Maryk to erase the incident from the quartermaster’s log and Officer of the Deck’s rough log, this although every regulation in the book forbade such erasures. Maryk refused, on principle. So Queeg, furious, told Maryk to go hang himself if he wanted to, and get out of his cabin.

Directly the Caine next made port, the local commandant had Queeg examined. He then asked Queeg whether to let Maryk take the Caine to Lingayen Gulf, where the Fifth Fleet next needed her. Queeg agreed. Maryk got the Caine through, this although she came under attack from a kami-kaze suicide pilot.

Eventually the Caine and all her officers came back to San Francisco, where the local JAG set up a court-martial, assigned Lt. Cmdr. Jack Challee USN to prosecute, and recruited Lt. Barney Greenwald USNR to defend. The court-martial proved disastrous for Queeg. Having to tell his side of the Shirttail Business, the Yellow Stain Business, the Strawberry Business, and a few other “businesses” of that nature proved his undoing. He didn’t take it with any terrible surprise when the court acquitted Maryk of the charge (of either Making a Mutiny or Conduct to the Prejudice of Good Order and Discipline). But Queeg was right about one thing: Maryk would never get a major command ever again.

BLOG NOTE:

Herman Wouk’s The Caine Mutiny may be the greatest American novel of World War II. This 1951 study of men at war with a foreign foe and with each other spent 122 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list and received a Pulitzer Prize in 1952. Wouk adapted the novel, his third, into a hit play; The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial became a much-produced classic. The 1954 film based on the book starred Humphrey Bogart in his least typical and arguably greatest role as Lieutenant Commander Philip Francis Queeg, the paranoid bully who captains a beleaguered destroyer-minesweeper. The Caine Mutiny earned seven Academy Award nominations. Since then, Wouk’s story has been retold countless times on stage, in film, and on television.

Wouk’s fictional revolt rings true because he was writing from intimate firsthand experience during World War II with the conditions, ships, and character types he portrays.

Wouk was an established writer by the time of Pearl Harbor. He enlisted immediately after that attack, attending midshipman school at Columbia University and communications school at the United States Naval Academy in Annapolis. Wouk fought in the Pacific from early 1943 until the war ended, serving in eight invasions aboard the World War I–era destroyer-minesweepers Zane and Southard.

Navy Truisms

By Anonymous

• A Sailor will walk 10 miles in a freezing rain to get a beer but complain about standing a 4 hour quarterdeck watch on a beautiful, balmy spring day.

• A Sailor will lie, cheat and scam to get off the ship early and then will have no idea where he wants to go.

• Sailors are territorial. They have their assigned spaces to clean and maintain. Woe betide the shipmate who tracks through a freshly swabbed deck.

• Sailors constantly complain about the food on the mess decks while concurrently going back for second or even third helpings.

• After a cruise, a Sailor will realize how much he misses being at sea. And after retiring from the Navy considers going on a cruise and visiting some of our past favorite ports. Of course we’ll have to pony up better than $5,000 for the privilege. Just to think, Uncle Sam actually use to pay us to visit those same ports years ago.

• You can spend three years on a ship and never visit every nook and cranny or even every major space aboard. Yet, you can name all your shipmates and every liberty port.

• Campari and soda taken in the warm Spanish sun is an excellent hangover remedy.

• PO2 / E-5 is almost the perfect military pay grade. Too senior to catch the crap details, too junior to be blamed if things go awry.

• Never be first, never be last and never volunteer for anything.

• Almost every port has a “gut.” An area teeming with cheap bars, easy women and partiers, which is usually the “Off-limits” area.

• Contrary to popular belief, Master Chief Petty Officers do not walk on water. They walk just above it.

• Sad but true, when visiting even the most exotic ports of call, some Sailors only see the inside of the nearest bars/clubs.

• Also under the category of sad but true, that lithe, sultry Mediterranean or Asian beauty you spent those wonderful three days with and have dreamed about ever since, is almost certainly a grandmother now.

• A Sailor can, and will, sleep anywhere, anytime.

• Yes, it’s true, it does flow downhill.

• In the traditional “crackerjack” uniform you were recognized as a member of United States Navy, no matter what port or part of the world you were in. Damn all who want to eliminate or change that uniform.

• The Marine dress blue uniform is, by far, the sharpest of all the armed forces.

• Most Sailors won’t disrespect a shipmate’s mother. On the other hand, it’s not entirely wise to tell them they have a good looking sister either.

• Sailors and Marines will generally fight one another, and fight together against all comers.

• If you can at all help it, never tell anyone that you are seasick.

• Check the rear dungaree pockets of a Sailor. Right pocket a wallet. Left pocket a wheel book.

• The guys who seemed to get away with doing the least, always seemed to be first in the pay line and the chow line.

• General Quarters drills and the need to evacuate one’s bowels often seem to coincide.

• Speaking of which, when the need arises, the nearest head is always the one which is secured for cleaning.

• Four people you never screw with: the doc, the DK, PC and the ship’s barber.

• In the summer, all deck seamen wanted to be signalmen. In the winter they wanted to be radiomen.

• Do snipes ever get the grease and oil off their hands?

• Never play a drinking game which involves the loser paying for all the drinks.

• There are only two good ships: the one you came from and the one you’re going to.

• Whites, coming from the cleaners, clean, pressed and starched, last that way about 30 microseconds after donning them. The Navy dress white uniform is a natural dirt magnet.

• Sweat pumps operate in direct proportion to the seniority of the official visiting.

• The shrill call of a bosun’s pipe still puts a chill down my spine.

• Three biggest lies in the Navy: We’re happy to be here; this is not an inspection; we’re here to help.

• Everything goes in the log.

• Rule 1: The Chief is always right. Rule 2: When in doubt refer to Rule 1.

• A wet napkin under your tray keeps the tray from sliding on the mess deck table in rough seas, keeping at least one hand free to hold on to your beverage.

• Never walk between the projector and the movie screen after movie call and the flick has started.

• A guy who doesn’t share a care package from home is no shipmate.

• When transiting the ocean, the ship’s chronometer is always advanced at 0200 which makes for a short night. When going in the opposite direction, the chronometer is retarded at 1400 which extends the work day.

• When I sleep, I often dream I am back at sea.

• If I had to do it all over again, I would. TWICE!

GOOD SHIPMATES ARE FRIENDS FOR LIFE!