After Action Report - Basic Training cont'd

Date: September 28, 2009

Subject: Basic Training June 1984-August 1984

From: ET1 Cole
To: shipmates, friends, and anyone else who'll listen

Purpose: Summarize the actions involved in Basic Training June 1984-August 1984

The first two weeks of basic training went rather quickly. This meant that the BMR phase of basic training would take a back seat to our part in graduation ceremonies. We would perform the last three graduations or so of basic training. We also had a second show that we performed for visiting parents and dignitaries prior to graduation. It was really moving.

The drill company consisted of the crack rifle team, drum and bugle corps and the fifty state flags. The crack rifle team had a great show that included spinning rifles and getting very close to the leader's face with some bayonets. How he kept his cool I'll never know.

Crack Rifle Team

I was in the fifty state flags and we did this really incredible bit called a sunburst. The flags would form three circles and each flag would be dipped. Then the American flag, unseen by the crowd would come shooting out from the middle during the playing of America the Beautiful.

The Sunburst

In drill company we got to skip what they call service week. Service week, the fourth to fifth week of basic training meant one thing for BMR companies but something altogether different for a drill company. The BMR companies had to work in the galley (cafeteria). Either in the scullery (dish washing) or in food preparation. There were some administrative jobs but most everyone worked in the galley.

Not so for the drill company. We did a half time show for a San Diego Soccers match and a halftime show for a Chargers and Cowboys game. We had seats on the 50 yard line. It was great.
We still had plenty of classes, PT (physical training), the gas chamber and the smoke house. We also had to memorize our twelve general orders. Things like...'I will not leave my post until properly relieved.'

Gas chamber training is designed to get you to be able to don your gas mask and to make a proper seal. Then they demonstrate what it would be like should you not have a mask. So we march into the gas chamber WITH our gas masks on and properly sealed. The tear gas is set off. We were then instructed to remove our masks as a group. Amid the snot, phlegm, tears and burning you have to recite a general order. Let's just say that 3 or 4 words is enough to let you know that if you're ever in that situation you hope to have that mask.

gas chamber

Even worse than that was the smoke house. The smoke house simulates a shipboard fire. A shipboard fire is a sailors worst nightmare. In fact later while stationed on the USS Proteus in Guam, the USS White Plains also homeported in Guam had a fire onboard. In basic you're taught to pay attention to detail. Unfortunately improper tagout procedures led to the death of 6 sailors. We met the White Plains after they had been towed to the Philippines so that we could help make repairs.

On May 9, 1989 while underway in the South China Sea enroute to Guam the White Plains experienced a major Class Bravo fire in the main engine room while conducting underway fuel replenishment with the combat replenishment ship USS Sacramento (AOE-1). The fire resulted from the ejection of a valve stem on the fuel transfer system which sent a high pressure spray of fuel over the boiler and consequently ignited into a fireball. There were 6 fatalaties and 161 injuries reported as a result of the fire.

A fellow from church, Jon Rummel was killed along with 5 others. Fires on a ship are the worst thing that can happen.

putting out a fire

We were trained over and over in the basics of firefighting. We extinguished a real fire and learned how to don an OBA (oxygen breathing apparatus) and to duck walk. Still I wasn't prepared for how frightening the smoke house was. We dressed in firefighting slicks and held on to the coat tail of the fellow in front of us. As we approached the simulator we were to duck walk (literally walk like a duck). This would allow us to breath as the smoke would rise. We were instructed that the smoke in the smoke house would be a fraction of what we would encounter in a real shipboard fire and would not require an OBA. As we entered and walked through several hatches of the smoke house it was readily apparent how absolutely frightening this could be. You couldn't see, it was diffiult to breathe and you had to rely totally on the man in front of you. Somewhere ahead of me a man panicked and ran out leaving everyone behind him, including me without a guide to get out. The instructor finally came and ushered us out (he was wearing an OBA).

smokehouse

The simulator drove home the message. Though my face was blackened and I was having trouble breathing I knew this was one thing I hope I never experienced.

Lessons Learned: Attention to detail. Training is a serious business, it can mean life or death. Drill company was a blast and seeing Dan Fouts in a football game, in the middle of basic training...priceless.

Action Items: more basic, Capt. Marsha Evans - we meet again, wash outs

Appendix: Personnel Involved: Co. 84-926, Chargers, Cowboys, Soccers

After Action Report - Basic Training Jun 84-Aug 84

Date: September 23, 2009

Subject: Basic Training June 1984-August 1984

From: ET1 Cole
To: shipmates, friends, and anyone else who'll listen

Purpose: Summarize the actions involved in Basic Training June 1984-August 1984

We finished our initial outfitting and were commissioned. Now we had to cross the bridge from R and O over to the main part of RTC (Recruit Training Command). It wasn't far but it felt good to finally get this show on the road.

As we marched we came across individuals and companies who were in different stages of their training and when we saw those guys wearing the white web belt, I know I felt jealous. They were on the downhill and we were just beginning. We learned that if you were not in company formation you had to run to each of your destinations.

One individual we came across was a high school acquaintance of mine name Ronnie Blondheim. I hadn't known he had joined the Navy but THERE he was. He dated a girl I knew. Ronnie somehow recognized me in all my navular (sic) glory and shouted, "Hey EB, you dropped your comb." One day Ronnie, I'll catch up with you.

The first two weeks or so were the same for a drill company as it was for a BMR company. We learned close order drill with M-1 Garand rifles. One time we screwed up and Parker made us hold those rifles over our heads until my arms felt like wet noodles. He was a good example though, he held one up to. Only it looked like he didn't have to put any effort into it and he never gave the appearance like he needed a break. On the other hand you could hear the company groaning and complaining after a few minutes.

We also had breaks called smoke and cokes. It's self explanatory, have a cigarette and drink a soda. Often times we shined our boondockers (boots) during these breaks. It was also a time to relax, however short it was. Sometimes we turned in our dixie cups for washing. This was done by several people in the company who washed them by hand. They called these jobs collateral duties. They were in addition to all the regular chores we were assigned, like making our racks (beds) and shining our shoes.

We were all assigned collateral duties. There was a RCPO (recruit chief petty officer). Our RCPO was a little scrawny guy named Bomar. His job was to make sure we got to each assignment on time and basically when the drill instructor wasn't around he was in charge. There were various other duties assigned such as yeoman and master at arms. I was assigned two jobs, Religious petty officer and my other task was to put the Plan of the Day on the chalkboard every night for the next days training.

Now religious petty officer ended up being a cool job. It was my task to pray every night at TAPS (bedtime) and to organize anyone who wanted to go to church on Sunday. Church became popular as basic training wore on. Why? Well not for the reason you'd think. It was the one place you were allowed to sleep in basic training and believe me you needed it. So as time wore on I was leading quite a contingent to church.

My other task, not so fun. I had to use dental floss and masking tape to make a sort of template so that all the letters were the same height and so that there was a same amount of space between lines. There couldn't be any smudges. I spent many a nights trying to get that thing perfect so I didn't get in trouble.

Speaking of trouble, I ran out of masking tape one day and asked Parker for another roll. He went to the company next door and came back with it and told me not to lose it. Guess what? Yep, it got lost.

I went to marching party for that one. What's marching party you ask? About 10 pm everyone who screwed up had to put his watch cap on and meet on the grinder with all the other brigands for an hour of calisthetic hell. Hello Dolly's, 8 count body builders, push ups....sit ups...running in place...I survived but I vowed to stay out of trouble.

Nighttime was the one time when we could write letters and study. I had met April in February of 1984 and before I left for basic training in June had already told her that she was going to be my wife. She wasn't as sure. I wrote her a letter from basic training asking her what she would say if I asked her to marry me. To this day she still claims that wasn't a proposal.

We also spent occasional hours training for our drill company routines. I was in the fifty state flags. Most of these practices were getting used to marching with the flag. The more complicated stuff would come later.

Lessons Learned: Avoid losing masking tape when it means you have to work out if it's lost. When you write a proposal, write it like you mean it.

Action Items: Basic Training cont'd - Dallas Cowboys halftime show, San Diego Soccers, more drill, gas chamber and smoke house

Appendix: Personnel Involved: Co. 84-926, EN1 Parker, me, Ronnie Blondheim, D. Bomar, April

After Action Report - Starting Basic Training

Date: September 23, 2009

Subject: Basic Training

From: ET1 Cole
To: shipmates, friends, and anyone else who'll listen

Purpose: Summarize the actions involved in Basic Training June 1984-August 1984

I don't recall the processing at MEPS the day I left for Basic Training. I do remember it was the first time I was going to fly on an airplane. I was 20 years old and weighed approximately 130 lbs dripping wet. I remember there were 3 of us leaving from Phoenix that day. Elijah Rahman was one of them. He was a fellow I would meet up with periodically in my career. I still have a copy of the orders with his and my name on it. He was off to be a Hospital Corpsman (HM) and I was going to be an ET.

We landed in San Diego and I remember there was a sailor at a booth who told us where to wait for the bus to basic training. It was already dark and there were very few of us there initially. About 9 p.m. a bus arrived and all hell broke loose. Somebody yelled at us to form a height line. None of us even knew what that was. Basically we were to line up tallest to shortest and get on the bus in that order. We finally managed to figure it out and off we went. Not a block later we were pulling into RTC/NTC San Diego. (Recruit Training Command/Naval Training Center San Diego).

The bus doors opened and someone speaking a foreign language started to yell at us. When I say foreign it was actually a Filipino First Class Petty Officer (E-6). He was hard to understand. Process of elimination eventually took over (I wasn't the first one off the bus). Turns out he wanted us to follow the foot prints painted on the deck (ground) and we had better be in a hurry. You could tell who was a drill instuctor because they wore a red augillette. Eventually we learned to call them red ropers.

We lined up and filled out a post card to our families letting them know we arrived safely. The Filipino First Class was screaming something about 'iv you don't peeeesss you cunnut go to reck'....(if you don't piss, that is pee in the bottle for the drug test, then you can't go to bed) They then asked us if anyone had ever played a musical instrument. Having played saxophone in school I raised my hand. They separated us and then marched us off to get our initial outfitting.

The initial outfitting included hygeine items etc that we put in a ditty bag. (I keep 25 years of love letters from my wife in this same ditty bag) This took most of the night, till about 3 am or so. Included in our ditty bag was a stencil with our names and last 4 of our social security number. We used the stencil to mark every last stitch of clothing we were issued. It became obvious later why when we learned that our clothes were turned in to laundry community style.

At about 5 am they woke us up to eat and go back and get our seabags with other uniform items etc. This part of basic training was called R and O, Receiving and Outfitting.

As with everything the Navy does, going to eat also involved a ceremony. We had to march to a podium, request permission to eat and wait our turn. Sometimes behind several other companies. This often involved standing at parade rest with short bursts of marching to our next place in line.

Eating at the galley (chow hall, cafeteria) was an occasion in and of itself. The taller guys got more time to eat. As soon as one guy got up to leave we all had to leave. Us little guys always ate in a hurry, something I still do to this day.

The seabag included our initial set of uniforms (minus the cracker jacks AKA dress blues). We also got our working uniforms called dungarees, known for the bell bottom pants and our dixie cups or white hats. The dixie cup is the traditional white hat that you see a sailor wearing. The dungarees were marked for hemming, and tailored when we turned our uniforms in. All of this was paid for out of our first few paychecks. We got other things......like our first haircuts.

They were looking for musicians because at the time they had two different sets of companies. The BMR (Basic Military Requirements) and the drill companies. Because I had played an instrument, I was selected for a drill company. We had to wait an extra week or so in R and O while enough fellas arrived to form a drill company. They had us audition by playing a trumpet. I should say trying to play a trumpet. Now anyone who knows the difference between a woodwind and a brass instrument knows it's apples and oranges. They had us sight read. Well I couldn't play a trumpet so I was assigned to the 50 state flag team. Those fellas who couldn't play an instrument and met the height requirement were put on the crack rifle team. All the others became part of the drum and bugle corps.

The funny part about hanging out in R and O is I was still a green belt. A green web belt designated the fact that you were still in the first 4 weeks of basic training. After 5 weeks you got the coveted white web belt. While in R and O we were tasked with handing out the second issue of uniforms to the companies entering their 5th week. Here we were in our first week and we were telling these guys to move it and to not dawdle. Our dungarees weren't even hemmed up yet and we were already acting like a drill instructor.

After there were enough men to form the company we were officially commissioned as Company 84-926. EN1 Parker was our drill instructor. (He made Chief while we were in Basic Training). We called ourselves Parker's Pride.

Prior to the commissioning ceremony we learned rudimentary marching techniques. This ceremony meant standing out on the grinder (marching field) in San Diego when it was hot. Eventually we all got a 'grinder reminder'. A grinder reminder was sunburn line that showed when you took the dixie cups off your head.

One thing for sure the Navy stands or falls by some of it's traditions. Early on in my career I loathed the tradtional ceremonies. As the years wore on in my career I learned to appreciate them much more. Like the playing of Anchors Aweigh when the ship pulls in and out of port, or the unique song each ship plays when UNREP (Underway Replenishment) is completed.

Lessons Learned: Naval heritage and tradition should be treasured. Leaving home for the first time was exciting. Standing for 45 minutes without moving - priceless.

Comments: The first week or so of boot camp was a bit of a culture shock but not something I didn't expect.

Action Items: more Basic Training After Actions to follow, letters and my soon to be wife

Appendix: Personnel Involved: Co. 84-926, EN1 Parker, me, Elijah Rahman, drill instructors

After Action Report - Signing Up November 1983

Date: September 23, 2009

Subject: Signing Up

From: ET1 Cole
To: shipmates, friends, and anyone else who'll listen

Purpose: Summarize the actions involved in my enlistment November 1983 - June 1984


I was driving home from the toolbox factory in November of 1983 thinking, "I'm not making toolboxes for the next 20 years." What was I going to do though? I tried college, had to work full time at night to pay my way and slept through the classes for the one semester I attended.

Driving home that night it occurred to me that the military made sense at this point in my life and despite the fact that I considered myself a non-comforist pulled into the recruiting office and went straight away to the Navy. The thought was that I wanted to be able to learn a skill I could use on the outside. My father had been in the Army and had counseled me that if I were to join the military, make sure you get a skill you can use on the outside.

The recruiter was a good enough guy, he was an FC1. (Fire Controlmen First Class). He didn't have to talk me into anything. I was ready to go. He simply asked me what I was interested in. Out of the blue and without much thought I said, "...electronics." I put that down on my interest sheet and he made the arrangements for my processing.

When I got home that night and explained my plans to my parents I got a mixed reaction. My dad was cool with it. He had served a few years in the Army during the late 50's. The only advice he gave me was, 'don't join the Army.'. My mother on the other hand seemed concerned, I'm sure like all mothers are when their child comes home and says they're joining the military. To top it off my younger brother joined a couple of months later. I don't think my mother has ever forgiven me for that.

Later that month I took the ASVAB (Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery) after work and did well enough that the recruiters wanted me to take the nuclear power test. I told them I wasn't interested and so on the last day of November 1983 I raised my right hand and took the oath of enlistment at the MEPS (military entrance processing station). The MEPS was located in an old high school on 7th Ave and Van Buren in Phoenix. It remained there until my own stint as a recruiter in the early 1990's. When I spoke to the classifier (the person who helped you find a job in the Navy) he said there were no electronics jobs available. One job that was available was Radioman (RM). Honestly at this point I didn't care what I did in the Navy, I just wanted to go. Unfortunately to take that job meant I had to spend nearly a year in delayed entry. It meant I wouldn't take off for Basic Training until October of 1984. I took the job anyway.

By early 1984 I was working at a car dealership in downtown Mesa. The recruiters were trying desperately to get me to take the nuclear power test. They called my parents and told them I was passing up a good opportunity. I had to get references from my work etc just to take the test. I really wasn't interested and thought I'd never qualify anyway. In high school I only took Geometry and Algebra I. The nuke test was a combination of math and physics. Finally I consented and took the exam. I didn't pass it but it got the recruiters off my butt.

By May of 1984 I was tired of waiting. I wanted to get on with my Navy career. I called the recruiter and told him I didn't care what I did in the Navy just "GET ME OUT OF HERE." He called me back on a Monday and said I could be a Boiler Technician (BT) and leave that week. I guess I was more selective than I thought because I said no. He called later that same day and asked if I would like to be an Engineman (EN). Now enginemen were diesel mechanics and at the dealership there were a couple of guys who had been EN's in the Navy. They were making decent money and so I consented. He said I would leave on Thursday, so I planned a party on Wednesday night.

Well Wednesday night rolled around and the recruiter called in the middle of the party. "Hey man, I know you were interested in electronics, how'd you like to switch to Electronics Technician (ET)?". "yeah sure," I said. The only stipulation he said was that I had to sign up for an initial enlistment of 6 years instead of 4 because the first two years were spent in electronics schools. You also started out as an E-2 and when you finished the electronics technician "A" school you were promoted to E-4. "No problem", I said, "do I still get to leave tomorrow?". "Yes," he replied.

"See you in the morning.".

That call changed my life and set me on the course for the next 20 years. Had I stayed an EN I doubt seriously if I had stayed in the Navy.

Lessons Learned: Minor details make a huge difference.

Comments: Though I wasn't sure what an ET did or if it was even a good choice for me it made all the difference in the type of duties and duty stations available to me.

Action Items: prepare next After Action Report - Heading off to Basic Training

Appendix:

Personnel Involved: Me, parents, recruiter, classifier

Flogging w/Interludes

Go to Sea Once More...

Shipmates

USS Proteus (aka the Old Pro) - I served aboard her from 1988 - 1990. In September 1999 the ship was placed out of active service and laid up at the National Defense Reserve Fleet at Suisun Bay, California. Finally in 2008 she was turned into razor blades.

Don't Forget Your Old Shipmate

Safe and sound at home again, let the waters roar, Jack.
Safe and sound at home again, let the waters roar, Jack.

Chorus
Long we've tossed on the rolling main, now we're safe ashore, Jack.
Don't forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

Since we sailed from Plymouth Sound, four years gone, or nigh, Jack.
Was there ever chummies, now, such as you and I, Jack?

Long we've tossed on the rolling main, now we're safe ashore, Jack.
Don't forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

We have worked the self-same gun, quarterdeck division.
Sponger I and loader you, through the whole commission.

Long we've tossed on the rolling main, now we're safe ashore, Jack.
Don't forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

Oftentimes have we laid out, toil nor danger fearing,
Tugging out the flapping sail to the weather earring.

Long we've tossed on the rolling main, now we're safe ashore, Jack.
Don't forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

When the middle watch was on and the time went slow, boy,
Who could choose a rousing stave, who like Jack or Joe, boy?

Long we've tossed on the rolling main, now we're safe ashore, Jack.
Don't forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

There she swings, an empty hulk, not a soul below now.
Number seven starboard mess misses Jack and Joe now.

Long we've tossed on the rolling main, now we're safe ashore, Jack.
Don't forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

But the best of friends must part, fair or foul the weather.
Hand yer flipper for a shake, now a drink together.

Long we've tossed on the rolling main, now we're safe ashore, Jack.
Don't forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

Edmund Fitzgerald Tribute

The Happiest Day in the Life of a Plebe

...as opposed to the most stressful.

First Letter Home

[In extremely hastily scrawled handwriting....]
Dear Mom, Dad & Victor, June 16, 1975 (but actually July 16, 1975)

Am going through indoctrination period and they keep our time so tight that I only have 5 minutes to write before going to bed. I arrived alright. This indoctrination is murder! Am already wishing for Christmas leave to come home & see everybody! Victor, take care of my room and my stereo and guns for me. Dad, I brought so much civilian clothes, I don't know what to do with it. Hope your clerk job came through, Mom. Ooops lights out!

Love,
Farmer John

PS Won't be able to mail for few days, sorry.

write at
M/S Farmer John
Box #xxx USMMA
Kings Point, New York 11024

please keep this in case I lose it: combination to box E3-U3

The SWATH Boat

This is a poor picture of the MHS-1 (Mine Hunter SWATH 1). I was part of the original crew and helped to outfit her with the latest side scan sonar, ROV's and navigation equipment available at the time. She made her home at EODMU 7 in San Diego. The unit now has two boats.

A couple of things made this vessel special. The SWATH technology made the boat stable in very high sea states. She was computer controlled with fins and cunnards along the submarine shaped lower hull

You can read a paper here written in part by my skipper Wayne Neely. It was exciting for me because I have always been enamored with technology. At the time this vessel was cutting edge.
It was also built in record time with a shortened procurement process. This allowed the Navy to take advantage of COTS (commercial off the shelf technology) and we got our gear in near record time. (2 years from concept to hitting the beach).

Although my rate is misidentified in this article you can read about a cruise we made in 2000 in which we lifted the MHS-1 onto the Mt. Vernon and took her all over Southeast Asia.

SS Santa Mariana - Prudential-Grace Lines
Seldom does an American merchant seamen experience the rare privledge of working on an American passenger ship, because frankly, they're money losing propositions for their owners. Most American ships are engaged in travelling from US port to US port (like San Francisco to Honolulu) and therefore protected from foreign competition under the Jones Act. One of the few American passenger ships to survive operating in worldwide trade into the 1970's was the SS Santa Mariana, and this only because she was a "rule beater". She wasn't designed exclusively as a passenger ship, she was also designed as a cargo ship. She carried 99 passengers, because that meant that she only had to have one doctor aboard. A normal freighter didn't need any doctor aboard so long as she carried twelve or less passengers. And every 100th passenger on a passenger ship required the shipping company to hire an additional doctor for the staff, an expensive proposition in this country.

The Santa Mariana was a plum assignment and my new shipmate Ray, who had sailed with me on the SS President Johnson that previous summer, had pestered our MARAD Rep in San Francisco for months begging for a chance to sail on her. It was also a golden opportunity to circumnavigate South America and go through both the Panama Canal and the Straits of Magellan, at the southern tip of South America, during the North American "winter" months (which would mean "summer" south of the equator).

When we boarded the ship in San Francisco, the Mariana was not in the aforepictured configuration, as the aft gantry crane had been removed in Seattle so as to allows us to deliver a Boeing Jetfoil to a Venezuelan company in Lake Maracaibo. So aside from a hold full of agricultural products from California's fertile central valley, we were also carrying spare jet engines and enough spare machine parts to outfit a small navy.

As soon as Ray and I stowed our gear in the Cadet's Cabin, I hunted down the Chief Engineer and introduced myself. The Chief turned out to be a gnarly old greybeard, slightly overweight, who dressed in an oil stained pair of coveralls looked like he belonged in the grease pit down at the local service station. His attire took me a bit by surprise, since it was the first time I had ever seen a Chief Engineer who looked like he had spent any time at all in the Engine Room. Usually, the Chief spends his days in his office, approving overtime for the other Engineer's and reading the latest Zane Gray Western.

The Chief greeted me warmly, and promptly explained that the ship was having some problems maintaining the required temperatures in the refrigerated cargo holds, which explained his more than casual dress. He then walked me down the hall to introduce me to the 1st Asst. Engineer, turned me over to my "real boss", and told the 1st to make good use of the cheap labor. The First laughed, and when the Chief left, gave me the "real reason" for the Chief's less than fashionable attire.

Evidently, our Chief was in "hiding". He had experienced an intimate encounter with one of the female passenger's who had not understood his casual attitude towards shipboard intimacies, and who was now making a project out of making the Chief's continued love-life miserable. She had even developed the bad-habit of calling at his cabin in the crew section of the ship and seemed quite determined to make an honest man out of the wiley old Chief. The First joked that some of the seahags aboard the Mariana, as he called all of the rather geriatric group of female passengers on the ship, had more sea time than either the Chief OR the First put together.

It wasn't until later that evenning when I went to a "movie" in the passenger section of the ship that I would discover just how true the First's comment had been. Of our 99 passengers, I'd have estimated that at least 70 were females over the age of 70, and so I doubted that I would be partaking in many of many future opportunities for passengers and ship's officers to mingle. Asides from this fact, I hadn't brought any formal dinner-dancing type attire... just some khaki's and a few greasy boilersuits. In fact, I would later find, there wasn't a single woman aboard within thirty years of my then young age. No, this wasn't going to be any episode of the "Love Boat"... at least, not unless you might consider four month's in a Rest Home to be a reasonable facsimile of an episode of Fantasy Island.

This will be a series of stories about Chief Jeff. Chief was a walking accident. I like to think the Navy promoted him to a place where he could do the least amount of damage, but then I'd be insulting the chiefs. Well he could have been an "O". Sorry FJ.

In September of 1997 I was stationed at EODMU-7. (Explosive Ordnance Disposal Mobile Unit 7) I was part of an Area Search Detachment. Basically we played Jacque Cousteau using side scan sonar and remotely operated vehicles.

When Capt. Craig Buttons flew his A-10 into the mountain at Gold Dust Peak in Colorado in April of that year the Air Force was concerned that he may have dropped his general purpose bombs in the alpine lakes on Gold Dust Peak. This is where we came in. We could search the lakes using our technology and our divers.

Well the first day up the mountain was basically a dog and pony show. Every MSM network was flying up after us to video and do an interview. So off we go.

While there was a lull in the action Chief decides he needs to take a dump. Well lo and behold he didn't have any toilet paper. Instead of ripping his t-shirt in half or using a sock or two our industrious Chief decides to use some of the local vegetation. Not only does this not do the job but he smears s*it all over his back. Then proceeds to bury his underwear in the nearby brush. Concerned that the skipper might be wondering where he is, Chief meanders down to the Mark V (that's a small rubber boat). He walks up behind me and starts lending a hand.

I kind of get a whiff of something foul and start to sniff the air. Then I start complaining about the smell.

Chief says "Can you smell that?"

EB: "WHAT is that?"

Chief: "uh uh it's me.."

EB: "Get off the boat, go somewhere else".

Meanwhile CNN,CBS,NBC all of them are landing by CH-47.

A female reporter walks up to Chief to ask him a question.

She started sniffing the air.

You should have seen the look on her face. Priceless.


Needless to say this was a caseable offense.

They no longer brace
It's been a while since discipline was required

Plebe Knowledge
"Plebe candidate, what is the mission of the United States Merchant Marine Academy?"

"Sir! Midshipman Fourth Class Farmer John, Sir! The mission of the United States Merchant Marine Academy is to graduate outstanding young Americans with definite ambitions to serve as leaders in the United States maritime industry. To impart to them the necessary academic background and fundamentals of a nautical and military education essential for a successful maritime career. And through effective teaching, training, and guidance, to send them forth to their calling with a deep respect and affection for the United States Merchant Marine Academy and it's Corps, Sir!"

"And plebe candidate, what can you tell me about the Academy flagpole?"

"Sir, Midshipman 4th Class Farmer John, Sir! The flagpole of the United States Merchant Marine Academy is 172' tall and is topped by a 2' figure of an eagle. The pole is made from copper-bearing hydraulically swaged steel. It's base rests in a 10'x10'x10' foundation of concrete. Sir!"

"Is that all, plebe candidate?"

"Sir, Midshipman Fourth Class Farmer John, Sir! It is all I can remember, sir!"

"Is that one of your permitted answers, plebe candidate Farmer John?"

"Sir, Midshipman Fourth Class Farmer John, Sir! No, Sir!"

"Then why can't you tell me where the pole came from or when it was erected?"

"Sir, Midshipman Fourth Class Farmer John, Sir! No excuse, Sir!"

"Fine then report to the flagpole at 2am tonight with your rifle. Perhaps if you must guard this flagpole with your life you'll soon learn to tell me everything there is to know about it. Do you understand?"

"Sir, Midshipman Fourth Class Farmer John, Sir! Yes, Sir!"

"Good, I'll meet you there. Be prepared to tell me all about this pole when you arrive. Do you understand me, plebe candidate?"

"Sir, Midshipman Fourth Class Farmer John, Sir! Yes, Sir!"

"Good, but how come you aren't bracing, plebe candidate? I can see light between the back of your neck and this bulkhead. I believe I can even fit this paper between the back of your neck and the bulkhead. Are you doing this just to piss me off, plebe candidate? Don't you respect me?"

"Sir, Midshipman Fourth Class Farmer John, Sir! No, Sir! I mean, yes Sir! I do respect you, Sir!"

"Then show it and BRACE, MISTER! Heels to the bulkhead! Shoulders, back! Head back! Neck touching that bulkhead! I want to see CHINS, MISTER!!!"

"Sir, Midshipman Fourth Class Farmer John, Sir! Yes, Sir!"

"That's better! Now don't forget our date."

"Sir, Midshipman Fourth Class Farmer John, Sir! No, Sir!"

"Carry on"

"Sir, Midshipman Fourth Class Farmer John, Sir! Yes, Sir!"

USMMA Battle Standard
dedicated to the 142 USMMA Cadets who lost their lives in WWII
They also served....The United States Merchant Marine in WWII

Service.......Number serving....War Dead....Percent........Ratio
Merchant Marine ..243,000*..........9,521**.......3.90%........1 in 26
Marines................669,108...........19,733..........2.94%........1 in 34
Army...............11,268,000........234,874..........2.08%........1 in 48
Navy.................4,183,466..........36,958..........0.88%.......1 in 114
Coast Guard.........242,093................574..........0.24%.......1 in 421
Total.............16,576,667..........295,790...........1.78%........1 in 56

Deeds, not words!
I reported for my first day of indoctrination and training at the United States Merchant Marine Academy on July 15th, 1975. It was warm, wet and rainy that summer morning on the North Shore of Long Island, and frankly, I had no idea as to what to expect as I was being driven from my sister-in-law's parent's house in New Hyde Park towards the academy at Kings Point. The last time I had been to this place was in June of 1970, when I had sat in the parking lot in front of Tomb Field by the Main Gate in a Taxi cab with my family for what seemed like hours waiting for my brother, then a Plebe, to get permission to spend fifteen minutes to visit with his family before the rest of us caught a flight out of Kennedy and headed to Des Moines. We had all just disembarked from the SS Santa Rosa in the port of New York, my dad having just retired from the USAF after twenty-five years, and we were on our way back home to California and my older sister's wedding after spending four years attached to the USAF Mission in Venezuela. Needless to say, that was then and this was now. What lay behind that gate then, as now, remained a mystery.

The mystery, however, was quickly dispelled once we drove through the gate and stopped in front of OOD's office. I jumped out out of the shelter of the car and lurched into the rain to pull my father's old worn-out B-4 bag from the trunk. My sister-in-law's father rolled down his window and offered his hand and wished me well. I perceived from his rather somber expression that he was feeling sorry for me. He had been a WWII veteran, and perhaps knew better than I what was forthcoming. I believe it was at that point, looking into the expression on his face, that I realized that my life, as I had known it, was over forever. After shaking my hand, he hurriedly rolled his window up and drove off.