Harassing the new guys

[jimlongley]

There are many ways of harassing the newbies aboard ship - sending recuits for any number of items that really don't exist, such as "DF Bearing Grease", a "Binnacle Alignment Tool", a "Fister Plate Bolt", and many other such things.

I had been a volunteer fireman before I joined the Navy and I had had my share of trips for "Hose Stretchers", "Siren Winders", and "Nozzle Wrenches", so I was somewhat reticent to accept such errands at face value. Also, by the time I got aboard ship I had been in the Navy for about eight months, going through gunnery school and had heard all kinds of tales of people being sent for "BT punch", "Gig Line", and "a length of Chow Line", so while not truly salty, I had some idea of what to look out for.

Having been in the gun gang for a whole two weeks, the salty E-5 Second Class GM who ran the gun mount I had been assigned to, decided to ship me off on a fool's errand, and decided that we needed a "Bucket of Steam" for cleaning up some of the small parts from the gun.

I had been hanging out with my peers in the gun gang at the ice cream parlor on the pier, and I knew that they had dry ice in the freezers there, so I grabbed a bucket and a towel and scooted over to the pier, across a tender - the Yosemite AD-19 - and cadged a chunk of dry ice from the young lady at the ice cream parlor.

I went back aboard my ship, having first to explain to the wary quarterdeck watch on the tender what my mission was, and then the quarterdeck watch on my own ship, and proceeded up to mount 52 after first stopping in the mess decks for a paper cup full of water. When I arrived at the mount, I pulled back the towel just enough to pour in the water on the dry ice, and had instant steam.

I climbed into the mount and told Whitey that I was sorry it took so long, but that I had had to persuade the black gang (the boiler room) to light off a boiler for me to get the steam, and turning up from cold iron took a while (I had only been gone about 15 minutes, lighting up a boiler would have taken a couple of hours), but they knew that he really needed the steam, and then I handed him the covered bucket.

The expression on his face as he pulled back the towel and steam began to boil over the side of the bucket was purely classic, and our E-6 First Class GM was passing by as this went down and just roared with laughter.

Whitey left the ship for a new command, and E6, shortly after that, and I don't know if he ever forgave me.

[phddan]

We use to send the greenhorns to get a "falopion tube extractor" from the tool crib.
Or prop wash.

Dan

[AEA]

Red Running Light oil.......

Go tell that Sea Painter on the Port side he can come up now.......

Sea Bats (on the fantail at dusk)

[anygunanywhere]

We use to send the greenhorns to get a "falopion tube extractor" from the tool crib.
Or prop wash.

Dan

During one pre-patrol upkeep period we had a non-qual (not qualified in submarines, lower than whale waste, they breathe valuable air and take up valuable space) state emphatically that he wanted to strike for sonar. I, being one of the ever helpfull Sonar Technician First Class (SS) submarine qualified, asked my dear friend and steaming mate Willard Ray Wyatt (STS1(SS)) and supply petty officer to send said striker to the tender to pick up 1000 feet of aforementioned fallopian tube.

PO1 Wyatt filled out a PRI9999 chit and sent him to the suppply ofice where the boat's supply chief signed the chit, sent the striker to the tender supply. We are calling ahead of the striker. The tender sends him to the tender supply officer, who sends him to squadron operations, then to tender deck division (have to involve everyone). Eventually he was sent to squadron supply. Squadron supply told him he needed the squadron supply officer's siggy and that the officer was on our boat eating lunch with our skipper.

The striker made his way back onto the boat and proceeded to the wardroom, knocked on the door, entered.

The captain asked him what he wanted. He said he had a PRI9999 chit for the sqadron supply officer to sign. The officer told him to bring it over so SHE could sign it. SHE asked the seaman apprentice what it was for and he proudly blurted out "1000 feet of fallopian tube, Maam!".

The skipper almost choked on his lunch. She actually, I was told, suppressed a laugh.

The skipper immediately glared at the weapons and assistant weapons officers and told them to handle the situation. Needless to say they knew who did it. I was told under no uncertain terms that I was never to send anyone for fallopian tube, at least while the squadron supply officer was onboard.

Ahh, the good old days.

Next crew reunion is in San Diego next April.

Thanks, Jim for starting this thread.

Anyganywhere STS1(SS)

[anygunanywhere]

We use to send the greenhorns to get a "falopion tube extractor" from the tool crib.
Or prop wash.

Dan

During one pre-patrol upkeep period we had a non-qual (not qualified in submarines, lower than whale waste, they breathe valuable air and take up valuable space) state emphatically that he wanted to strike for sonar. I, being one of the ever helpfull Sonar Technician First Class (SS) submarine qualified, asked my dear friend and steaming mate Willard Ray Wyatt (STS1(SS)) and supply petty officer to send said striker to the tender to pick up 1000 feet of aforementioned fallopian tube.

PO1 Wyatt filled out a PRI9999 chit and sent him to the suppply ofice where the boat's supply chief signed the chit, sent the striker to the tender supply. We are calling ahead of the striker. The tender sends him to the tender supply officer, who sends him to squadron operations, then to tender deck division (have to involve everyone). Eventually he was sent to squadron supply. Squadron supply told him he needed the squadron supply officer's siggy and that the officer was on our boat eating lunch with our skipper.

The striker made his way back onto the boat and proceeded to the wardroom, knocked on the door, entered.

The captain asked him what he wanted. He said he had a PRI9999 chit for the sqadron supply officer to sign. The officer told him to bring it over so SHE could sign it. SHE asked the seaman apprentice what it was for and he proudly blurted out "1000 feet of fallopian tube, Maam!".

The skipper almost choked on his lunch. She actually, I was told, suppressed a laugh.

The skipper immediately glared at the weapons and assistant weapons officers and told them to handle the situation. Needless to say they knew who did it. I was told under no uncertain terms that I was never to send anyone for fallopian tube, at least while the squadron supply officer was onboard.

Ahh, the good old days.

Mail buoy watch.

Any quantity of waterline.

Chilled water to the handrails.

Calibrate the parrallel vectors.

Align the framus.

Sticky buns on mid-watch.

Tracking sperm whales, schools of shrimp, listening to dolphins talk to one another.

Keeping watch for the soviet nuc boats and diesel boats on the battery.

Grabbing hold of Mrs. Anygun and kissing her after 105 days, seeing how much our sons had grown and realizing how much I missed.

*sigh*

Next crew reunion is in San Diego next April.

Thanks, Jim for starting this thread.

Anyganywhere STS1(SS)

[KBCraig]

Can of squelch oil.
Bucket of prop wash.
Hank of flight line.
Box of grid squares.

[OverEasy]

An old airedale checking in.
I arrived at my first duty station after 1600 hours on a friday. The guy on duty said the whole shop was down at the EM club and he would take me by to meet them on the way to check in at the transit barraks. We arrived at the EM club, he handed me off to one of the guys from the shop. This guy walked me over near the bar and said: "Wait right here and I'll go get the guys". As he left he pinched a guy standing at the bar on the rear. When the guy turned around I was the only one behind him. Lucky for me he was not drunk enough to just haul off and throw a punch. We had a lively discussion while all my "new shipmates" looked on.

I couldn't check in until monday and my newfound friends didn't want me to sit around the transit barraks all weekend. So, saturday evening, my second day at my 1st duty station in a foreign country, they said "we are going off base, come on along". "Don't worry about not having an ID card or not being checked in to the base, the Marines never check IDs at the gate." I got in the car and went with them. We had a great time. We were almost back to the base, when all of a sudden there were BIG Bright flashes in the sky followed by BIG Booms. Everyone in the car was excited! Had WWIII started witout us? Nobody new. They let us in the gate without checking IDs.
We found out monday that a reserve unit was doing areal photography at night and the BIG flashes were 'flash' for the pictures. It scared everybody on the base and all the locals too and it was never done again! RESERVES, you know what I'm talking about.

So, the first two days were real exciting! The remaining 3 years went by pretty slow and uneventful.
Regrds, OE

[macktruckturner]

We sent a new joe on a mission for a box of grid squares just after I pinned on SGT in '06. Apparently his Dad was a retired CSM. PVT Joe Snuffy came back w/ a 1:50,000th map, cut up into grid squares - all in a box. Said "I guess you didn't have any serious work for me to do, so I spent all day getting you the grid squares, enjoy!" No one expected that one, so we had him put the map back together and laminate it.

The best in the mechanized world though is checking for soft spots in the armor on tracked vehicles, or getting exhaust gas samples.

[The Annoyed Man]

Not a military story, but I used to run Tech Inspection for the old ARRA - a motorcycle roadracing sanctioning body in southern California back in the 1980s and 90s. There was a guy who raced in our club with a good deal of Yamaha factory support, and his bikes were always immaculately prepared by his crew chief and then wheeled over to our station for inspection. (This crew chief later went on to be Crew Chief for Yamaha USA's factory superbike racing effort.) Anyway, one morning he brings the bike over to tech, and as usual, it's perfect. As he's wheeling the bike away back to his pit, I say, "Hang on a second... ...your Johnson Rod is dragging!" ...and he actually stopped, tilted the bike a bit, and looked to see what needed fixing.

I grinned at him, and he grinned back and went about his business. He was a nice guy and a true professional who knew how to take a joke.

[ScubaSigGuy]

You guys were nice! We used to duct tape the new guys to the rolling Halon bottles, write on thier foreheads with grease pencils and leave them on the flightline for long enough for all of the trucks to drive by and give them a little grief (usually reserved for the no-striper know-it-alls).

We also sent them looking for K9P lubricant, left handed smoke shifters, a yard of flightline, aircraft ignition keys...etc.

We used to call the Maintenance Operations Center and ask them the current ambient alititude, or the ambient barometric temperature... you get some interesting anwers at 0330 on grave shift.

One of the funniest I have seen was when guy safety wired a particularly annoying arimen's boots together while he was wearing them.

The funny thing is we usually had some pranks for someones last day if we liked them. We didn't waste any time getting started because it usually involved ice water and being taped to an office chair and maybe some condiments... the good thing was we would send them home after they were cut loose an hour or two into the day.

Ahhh the memories. Thanks for starting this thread Jim.