Torpedochief
05-02-2008, 06:59 PM
Fun With Sand Crabs
Or
Your Tax Dollars at Work
Part 1
Everyday I live I miss my times on the boats. Oh, there were times when I hated it. Other times I would ask myself, what person in their right mind would ever agree to climb into a 360-foot steel tube, filled with high-pressure air, 3000-pound hydraulics, missile fuel, explosives, radiation operated by twenty year olds. Now sink the whole thing in salt water. What could possibly go wrong here?
Strange how only the good times come back to me. I indeed recall hours of watch, followed by hours of paper work, field day, drills, and other duties. I smile when I think of those I sailed with but mostly I remember the times when we Sailors, tired, homesick, or just bored had the best fun with Sand crabs.
Now no offence to anyone but the definition of a sand crab is a person who goes near the water but not in it. Oh, how they love to come and see and tour a submarine but the thought of going to sea sends them back across the brow without even a backwards glance. Just remember if you ever tour a submarine. You are in another world. Our world.
For Weapons Department, Port Canaveral means only one thing, “WEAPONS LOAD.” While the QMs, ETs, IC, and the Nukes hit the beach, we get to rig the skid and spend the hot humid days loading torpedoes. Not only do we load them into the boat, we have to tube load and test each weapon. So the day begins at about 0400 and might end if you are lucky at 1700.
Things had not gone well on this day. Two of the Exercise ADCAPs had bad wires. The Loading Skid Harness gave us fits, and the crane was late. So after having stood the mid-watch- rigging the ship and the loading skid, handling weapons all day, we finally were about to wrap it up. Upper level was back together, base plate and skid legs bolted down, and the last lashing strap torques down. I had visions of my rack dancing in my head when we were treated to 35 Girl Scouts who just had to have a tour.
Now I’m tired, dirty, and mad. So here they come 35 little girls, one of whom had just thrown up in the Gyro space. Yeah I’m real happy now. Then I see the Scout Leader. Maybe 25 year old, short blonde hair, Green eyes full pouting lips and everything else well arranged. So I wipe my hands and try to fix my hair, (Yes I had hair then.)
I begin my explanation of the Torpedo room, how the tubes work and what the weapons do and don’t do, when the Scout Leader, gave me a look that I will never forget. It was one of those looks that men dream about and one that I reckon she had used before. She reached up and rubbed the top of the closest torpedo, she then looked at the tube and then back at the torpedo.
“I have a question,” she cooed, her voice soft and sultry.
“Yes?” I somehow managed.
“How does something so big, go into something so small?”
It was at this point I forgot my own name, where I was, who I was. The visions that flashed in my mind are probably illegal in at least three states.
Ah, but training got me through. The little man in my head recovered, and made the words come out of my mouth. “Hydraulics,” I stammered. “Any other questions?”
I knew this had to end before in my tired state I was going to say something stupid. So instead of saying something stupid I did something stupid.
Like I said we had just finished handling weapons. A few of the torpedo lashing straps get stuck after being on the weapons for weeks or months at a time. To free them we sometimes used a rubber mallet to tap the sides.
The mallet had yet to be put away and was on the pivot tray right in front of me.
So, one little lady, raises her hand very politely. “I have a question.”
“Yes sweetie?”
“Uhmmm what makes the torpedo explode?”
Now that little man in my head is a real jerk at times. I guess he thought this would be funny. The next thing I know I have the mallet in my hand and I say very loudly. “THIS!” and I slam the mallet on the nose cover of the weapon.
The first ten girls screamed, the others did not know what was going on but heck everyone else was screaming, so they joined in, except the one who threw up, because now she was again throwing up on the port hoist. That caused the two behind her to throw up and then scream. Those behind her wanted no part of it and ran. You see those movies where a herd of animals is spooked and they all run. Yep, now 35 screaming girls are trying to find a way out of my torpedo room. Three more slip in the vomit.
The two that ran out the back made it up the ladder and for some reason decided, the thing to do was hide. When you come up the ladder from the after end of the torpedo room, you are at the door that leads into after crews berthing. The decided that this might be a good place to hide.
Let me tell you about Smitty. He was an A-ganger. He was a true submariner, and a pro, but Smitty has two speeds, slow and reverse. If you add alcohol well it’s like watching a movie at a about three frames a hour. Smitty was also somewhat deformed at birth. His belly button was half way up his chest. Somewhere along the line, he thought it would be great to have a Cyclops tattooed on his body where the eye was his belly button. Smitty had just come back feeling no pain and was about to crawl into his rack, when….yep. These two little girls fling open the door and are met face to face with a living breathing ugly green Cyclops. Now the screaming really begins, including Smitty.
One hour later the girls were herded up, Doc gave Smitty something to help him sleep. I had my butt munching from the XO.
The next day we bought about $500 in cookies.
Or
Your Tax Dollars at Work
Part 1
Everyday I live I miss my times on the boats. Oh, there were times when I hated it. Other times I would ask myself, what person in their right mind would ever agree to climb into a 360-foot steel tube, filled with high-pressure air, 3000-pound hydraulics, missile fuel, explosives, radiation operated by twenty year olds. Now sink the whole thing in salt water. What could possibly go wrong here?
Strange how only the good times come back to me. I indeed recall hours of watch, followed by hours of paper work, field day, drills, and other duties. I smile when I think of those I sailed with but mostly I remember the times when we Sailors, tired, homesick, or just bored had the best fun with Sand crabs.
Now no offence to anyone but the definition of a sand crab is a person who goes near the water but not in it. Oh, how they love to come and see and tour a submarine but the thought of going to sea sends them back across the brow without even a backwards glance. Just remember if you ever tour a submarine. You are in another world. Our world.
For Weapons Department, Port Canaveral means only one thing, “WEAPONS LOAD.” While the QMs, ETs, IC, and the Nukes hit the beach, we get to rig the skid and spend the hot humid days loading torpedoes. Not only do we load them into the boat, we have to tube load and test each weapon. So the day begins at about 0400 and might end if you are lucky at 1700.
Things had not gone well on this day. Two of the Exercise ADCAPs had bad wires. The Loading Skid Harness gave us fits, and the crane was late. So after having stood the mid-watch- rigging the ship and the loading skid, handling weapons all day, we finally were about to wrap it up. Upper level was back together, base plate and skid legs bolted down, and the last lashing strap torques down. I had visions of my rack dancing in my head when we were treated to 35 Girl Scouts who just had to have a tour.
Now I’m tired, dirty, and mad. So here they come 35 little girls, one of whom had just thrown up in the Gyro space. Yeah I’m real happy now. Then I see the Scout Leader. Maybe 25 year old, short blonde hair, Green eyes full pouting lips and everything else well arranged. So I wipe my hands and try to fix my hair, (Yes I had hair then.)
I begin my explanation of the Torpedo room, how the tubes work and what the weapons do and don’t do, when the Scout Leader, gave me a look that I will never forget. It was one of those looks that men dream about and one that I reckon she had used before. She reached up and rubbed the top of the closest torpedo, she then looked at the tube and then back at the torpedo.
“I have a question,” she cooed, her voice soft and sultry.
“Yes?” I somehow managed.
“How does something so big, go into something so small?”
It was at this point I forgot my own name, where I was, who I was. The visions that flashed in my mind are probably illegal in at least three states.
Ah, but training got me through. The little man in my head recovered, and made the words come out of my mouth. “Hydraulics,” I stammered. “Any other questions?”
I knew this had to end before in my tired state I was going to say something stupid. So instead of saying something stupid I did something stupid.
Like I said we had just finished handling weapons. A few of the torpedo lashing straps get stuck after being on the weapons for weeks or months at a time. To free them we sometimes used a rubber mallet to tap the sides.
The mallet had yet to be put away and was on the pivot tray right in front of me.
So, one little lady, raises her hand very politely. “I have a question.”
“Yes sweetie?”
“Uhmmm what makes the torpedo explode?”
Now that little man in my head is a real jerk at times. I guess he thought this would be funny. The next thing I know I have the mallet in my hand and I say very loudly. “THIS!” and I slam the mallet on the nose cover of the weapon.
The first ten girls screamed, the others did not know what was going on but heck everyone else was screaming, so they joined in, except the one who threw up, because now she was again throwing up on the port hoist. That caused the two behind her to throw up and then scream. Those behind her wanted no part of it and ran. You see those movies where a herd of animals is spooked and they all run. Yep, now 35 screaming girls are trying to find a way out of my torpedo room. Three more slip in the vomit.
The two that ran out the back made it up the ladder and for some reason decided, the thing to do was hide. When you come up the ladder from the after end of the torpedo room, you are at the door that leads into after crews berthing. The decided that this might be a good place to hide.
Let me tell you about Smitty. He was an A-ganger. He was a true submariner, and a pro, but Smitty has two speeds, slow and reverse. If you add alcohol well it’s like watching a movie at a about three frames a hour. Smitty was also somewhat deformed at birth. His belly button was half way up his chest. Somewhere along the line, he thought it would be great to have a Cyclops tattooed on his body where the eye was his belly button. Smitty had just come back feeling no pain and was about to crawl into his rack, when….yep. These two little girls fling open the door and are met face to face with a living breathing ugly green Cyclops. Now the screaming really begins, including Smitty.
One hour later the girls were herded up, Doc gave Smitty something to help him sleep. I had my butt munching from the XO.
The next day we bought about $500 in cookies.