Humor in Uniform: Part II

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In a moment of clarity I remembered another funny story. It wasn't very funny at the time but after a few years....

I tried to find the thread but was unable to thus, here's yer Humor in Uniform: Part II.

In June of 1962 Navy boot camp was 16 weeks long. My company, 319-62, Naval Training Center, San Diego California, started training on June 18th, one day after my 18th birthday. The first two week you are not doing any training per se. During this time you are just getting all your shots, haircut, uniforms etc and getting used to everyone screaming at you, telling you how stupid you are and casting aspersions on your ancestry.

I'll never forget that fist morning: 2 hours before day light and I'm standing in formation with my fart sack (Navy euphemism for mattress cover) tied around my waist and wondering what the hell I was doing here. If I had expected a warm welcome and pleasant associations I was crestfallen to say the least.

Buy the end of that time period I was waking up every morning to the sound of a metal garbage can being thrown down the stairs and seeing dried blood on my pillow from where the scabs on my sunburned ears had cracked open and bled during the night.

At the end of the first two weeks we moved from our temporary barracks to our "permanent" barracks. Now we were getting down to some serious class room time and Lot's and lots of physical abuse. All to the steady cadence of personal insults and profanity and the occasional punch in the bread basket.

By the first week end in our permanent barracks I was sore in places I didn't even know I had. That Saturday we were marched in formation to the PX for what ever necessaries we needed like tooth paste, Shaving cream, etc. I treated myself to a box of 5 Rum Crook Cigars.

Big Mistake....COLOSSAL MISTAKE!

Sundays in Navy boot camp in the summer of '62 started with mandatory attendance at a non-denominational church service after which we were free to hang around the barracks and write letters and wash uniforms etc. Our company commander lived out in San Diego and was rarely with us on Sunday. It was the only day out of 7 that was completely unstructured. It always went by quickly and seemed like it took forever to come back around again.

I guess all you "squids" are familiar with the legendary "SMOKING LAMP". Our RCPOIC (recruit chief petty officer in charge) would announce, "The smoking lamp is lit" I'm lookin' around and I don't see no smokin' lamp, or any other kind of lamp? What the hell is a smoking lamp? Eventually I was able to figure out that there wasn't actually such a thing as a smoking lamp. It was just a symbolic term used to indicate whether or not we had permission to smoke. I gotta say I felt pretty stupid...looking all that time for the dang smokin' lamp. But at least I spared myself the embarrassment of asking some one about it. Some how I didn't think that would be a good idea.

So. Here I am on my first Sunday in permanent barracks, church is over, the Company commander is nowhere around, the smokin' lamp is lit, and I have a brand new package of rum crook cigars. :cool:

The RCPOIC is runnin' around lookin' for volunteers for little jobs of busy work and There was a cluster of vacant barracks buildings near by so I slipped off and found a secluded spot nestled in between a couple of them.

I don't know why they put pockets on the utility uniforms recruits wear. You NEVER put ANYTHING in ANY pockets. NOT EVER. But I sat down on the ground and leaned back against the building. I opened the cigars and took one out. I put the box in my shirt pocket and lit the one I'd taken out.

Ambrosia!

After a few minutes as I sat there enjoying my cigar I noticed a Chief petty officer walking down the sidewalk across the street. I froze. What in the wide wide world of sports was he doing walking around in a group of vacant buildings?!?

I cupped the cigar behind my leg and tried to disperse the smoke while moving as little as possible. But I forgot about the other cigars that were in my SHIRT POCKET. :eek:

This Chief kept on walking and looked neither left nor right. When he got even with me the pucker factor was a solid 10. But he walked on past and I began to relax.

Then he executed a snappy about face and looked right at me and called me to attention. Just about then I remembered the cigars in my shirt pocket. Too late. He walked up to me and began chewing me out. Right in my face just like Sargent Carter yelling at Gomer Pyle. Blowin' spit all over me and waving his hands around like he wanted to punch me.

After a few final remarks about my mother he ordered me to break the fire end off my cigar. That done he had me put it in my mouth and chew it up and swallow it. (although it didn't stay down very long. Just kind of hit bottom and bounced right back up). I was ordered to remain at attention the whole time I was callin' "ralph".

He let me recover from that and then he had me get a "butt bucket which is a small pail used for cigarette ashes and butts. He made me unwrap all the remaining cigars and light them all at once and get them going real good. Then he dumped the sand out of the butt bucket and put it over my head and made me smoke the four cigars at the same time.

I think he was going to make me smoke them all up but I was choking and gagging and puking and would have certainly died without relief so he took the bucket off my head and slapped the cigars out of my mouth. Cussed me out some more and told me to double-time back to my company. Which I was happy to do.

I resumed smoking cigarettes after about a week but it was at least 10 years before I smoked another cigar...and it was NOT a rum crook.
 
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I had never used a blade razor before and always an electric shaver. the DI's were doing our first foot locker inspection. the DI looked at the shaver and said it wasn't clean enough. he then closed the foot locker and locked it. then he picked up it and THREW it down the stairs. since I was on the second floor it bounced a lot on the way down.

if you were at Lackland AFB for basic training in August of 1969 you might have met SSGT Mings. he was the one that had a crook in his neck and his head was at a 45 degree angle. he got the nickname of "craneneck". we were smart enough to not call him that to his face.

he was also from Oklahoma and since there was several us from Nebraska we were kind of singled out for special attention. probably one of the reasons by foot locker got thrown down the stairs.
 
In a moment of clarity I remembered another funny story. It wasn't very funny at the time but after a few years....
Sundays in Navy boot camp in the summer of '62 started with mandatory attendance at a non-denominational church service









I was a tender 17 going on 18 when I went to Great Lakes IL. and I remember a few things from that.

One of the best was on Saturday night we were told we would have a choice of Protestant or Catholic services to attend on Sunday. He then further bellowed out YOU WILL GO EVEN IF YOU consider yourself a atheist, here you will be either a Catholic atheist or a Protestant one. I do not know if w had any of the Jewish faith in our company because that religion never was brought up.
 
My story, like WALKIN' JACK'S, is about the not so touchy- feely Navy Boot-camp of the '60's. It also takes place in RTC San Diego. My Company Commander was a First Class Signalman named SM1 Taylor. SM1 Taylor was a destroyer sailor, he stood maybe 5' 5", weighed maybe 125#soaking wet and was the most squared-away looking sailor you would every hope to see. SM1 Taylor was movie star handsome and looked like he stepped out of a recruiting poster. He had a nose that had been broken more than a dozen times, it pointed hard to port while the rest of his face was head on. SM1 Taylor was hardcore career Navy. He let you know right off that this was his Navy and you were some lowlife scum visitor that he might let visit if you got your act together.

4013 was the designation of the disciplinary company. If you failed to adapt to the rigors of bootcamp, you were set back in training and sent to 4013 until you either conformed or were booted out of the service. It was not a pleasant experience but graduates of 4013 would rejoin a new company to continue training.

My company was housed in a two story cinder block barracks at Camp Nimitz, on the second floor. SM1 Taylor's office was at the top of the stairs. A fresh boot, recently completing a tour with 4013 and set back to SM1 Taylor's company was ordered to report to his new company. He stood outside the office door with his seabag on his shoulder. He stood there until SM1 Taylor recognized his presence and ordered him "ENTER". The boot just stood there. SM1 Taylor ordered "ENTER" and "REPORT". The boot responded with a surly ,"I don't haveto do S----, you arn't my boss". The new boot found himself at the bottom of the stairs, seabag and all, from there to sickbay with a broken arm and more than a few bruises and then home to civy street.
 
I went to boot camp in San Diego in 1969. One night, shortly after arrival, I decided that I needed a smoke...of course it was lights out, and we were all supposed to be in our racks. I got up and went into the head and lit up. I don't know if he had a sixth sense or what, or it was just my bad luck, but the DI comes out of his room off the squad bay and comes into the head, and there I am... :eek:

Well, of course he hauls me into the squad bay, and makes everyone else stand tall at the end of their racks. He makes me stand on top of the trash can, and makes me eat the entire pack of cigarettes, pack and all. Of course, I barfed it all up, all through the "feast." Then I had to clean it up, all the while the company was standing tall at the end of their racks.

After I was finished barfing and cleaning it up, the DI announced that since we were all awake, we could just head on out to the drill field for some PT and whatever else he could think of. I don't remember what time it was, but it was the middle of the night.

You can imagine how popular I was with the rest of the squad. I didn't smoke another cigarette for a long, long time.
 
I also was at boot camp in San Diego back in 1964 (Nov). When XMAS came, most of us just stayed while the place was basically shut down. About the only thing I remember about my 3 months other then as noted, the abuse, was the USS Never Sail that we trained on. Then got my first set of orders to the USS Oriskany CVA-34 across the bay. Yep, you could see her inside the boot camp compound across the bay tied up at North Island. Went back to the training center 4 years later for "B" school (nine months advance electronics), then on to Mare Island for Crypto school for 3 months. Enjoyed my time in the Navy and retired in 1985 as RMCS.
 
Went Army 12 days after my 18th birthday. Didn't take long to realize this wasn't my cup of tea but was resigned to do my three years. Knew they could do a lot of things to you, but they couldn't stop the clock.

Trained as a unit at Redstone Arsenal, AL in the summer. Running around in the boonies I was always afraid of getting snake bit. A nearby outfit had one day a week they got the afternoon off to hit the swimming pool.

I asked one of our sergeants if we could have some pool time. His response "the only pool you'll be going to is the motor pool"
 
We were getting ready for an inspection and a SFC and SSG decided to see how we were doing. My locker was a mess but my bunk and boots and shoes were squared away. When the SFC looked at my boots and bunk he called the others in the squad bay over and told them that this is how he wanted all of them to look come inspection day. He stated that he was not even going to look in my locker as he was sure it was squared away. Thank God he did not ask me to open my locker or I would have been assigned every extra duty assignment for a while.
 
I too went to SanDiego boot camp in July 1962. I was a very competitive rower- crew / racing shells in Philadelphia and as soon as I saw we had pulling Whaleboats and were going to race them ,I was overjoyed. I went to my company commander a CPO and I begged him to let me be the coxswain and promised him I would win the race for him. He agreed and we put together a crew and practiced every day rowing up and down that long canal . I never did lay a hand on an oar but spent all my time teaching the crew and getting us all whipped up into good condition.
Well the big race day came and as promised we blew away every other company and won by a huge margin.
My crew which had stoically taken my abuse and constant haranguing insisted that I finally take an oar and see what it was like, well I am very embarrassed to say after all my years in a racing shell with a sliding seat and outriggers, I could`t do doodle squat with that darn navy oar. But my crew forgave me and we all had a huge laugh and got the Whaleboat ribbon for the co. flag.
 
stevano, I was there april and may of 69. before we got off the bus my buddy and I thought it would be funny to take off our shoes and socks. we did, but it didn't turn out funny. as SSgt Hall walked in front of me he looked down and saw my bare feet. I think they all eat onions and garlic just before a new group of recruits arrives. he got all up in my face wanting to know where my (*&^(*%(* shoes were. I told him my recruiter told me they would give me shoes when I got here. he asked where I was from and I told him TN. he asked where in TN. I said Rutherford, TN SIR. he leaned over and whispered in my ear that Thomas Pate's sells shoes boy. Thomas Pate's is a clothing store that opened right after WWII and is still there on the third generation. come to find out that SSgt Hall was from about 15 miles east of my home town. a couple of weeks later we had a good laugh about it. ran into him a couple of years later in Viet Nam and sat down at his table in the mess hall. I reminded him of who I was and about the lack of shoes. we had a few beers together later that evening. lee
 
I had never used a blade razor before and always an electric shaver. the DI's were doing our first foot locker inspection. the DI looked at the shaver and said it wasn't clean enough. he then closed the foot locker and locked it. then he picked up it and THREW it down the stairs. since I was on the second floor it bounced a lot on the way down.

if you were at Lackland AFB for basic training in August of 1969 you might have met SSGT Mings. he was the one that had a crook in his neck and his head was at a 45 degree angle. he got the nickname of "craneneck". we were smart enough to not call him that to his face.

he was also from Oklahoma and since there was several us from Nebraska we were kind of singled out for special attention. probably one of the reasons by foot locker got thrown down the stairs.

My son was at basic in Lackland when someone across the open topped wall was getting reamed out good. "Look at this razor, this thing is filthy. Look at those long hairs. Did you shave your pubes with that?"
At this point my son looses it and get his Sargent in his face. He ends up doing a hundred pushup while saying "there is nothing funny about basic military training".
 
I grew up next to a large Army base, I knew to not irritate the superiors, folks with rank. Model recruit. Most folks wouldn't have believed that about me. Summers I worked construction on the base, saw many a recruit pay the price for whatever infraction the DI saw. I also dated some of the DI's daughters, some of them had a look like, well sort of like they could barehanded carve you up like a lab frog.

Sir, yes sir.

I did see a few blanket parties, a recruit in the next company was thrown down a flight of stairs to show what would happen if any one erred.

We all missed out on smokes and our trip for more cigs, candy and sodas due to a guy going on sick call and was caught smoking on the bus. The 2nd time a few days later got him a blanket party. We voted to send him back, the Sgt said we are almost thru, he's learned his lesson, so we let him stay. After the blanket party the guy could not talk right, said his jaw hurt, couldn't open it very wide, did not want cigs nor to go on sick call.

Not much humor in that, just reality, if one puts his company in danger you are gonna get your jaw broke.

Pucker factor, last day, we had graduated, waiting for the bus with duffel bag, barracks cleaned perfectly. The barracks was to undergo an inspection we were told and if it failed we'd be pulled off the bus.

So the Corpopral who was monitoring us while Sarge was at the EM club downing a few, tld us we could go to the entrance of a barracks next door and buy a soda to go with our smokes. The 1st jack leg puts in his dime and immediately drops his Orange Crush soda. It shattered and orange soda covered the floor, we ran like hades and the time waiting for the bus seemed like years. All of us stared at the building until we were out of sight. We knew we would have missed the bus home if caught.

Well if someone here had to do extra time or push ups or lost cigs for a day over an Orange Crush, all I can say is sorry.
 
I went through Navy boot camp in Orlando at the tender age of 17 back in July to Sept '79. About six weeks into it, Hurricane David hit the East coast of Florida and they evacuated Patrick AFB and some other smaller bases to some empty Division RTC buildings. One of the buildings was next to ours, and suddenly it was full of military dependents with all of their kids, including a lot of teenage girls. At least 4 of the guys in my company got caught sneaking out to meet girls and out of 20 or so companies, there were a lot of others caught too. That was the big highlight of my time in boot camp.
 
In a moment of clarity I remembered another funny story. It wasn't very funny at the time but after a few years....

I tried to find the thread but was unable to thus, here's yer Humor in Uniform: Part II.

In June of 1962 Navy boot camp was 16 weeks long. My company, 319-62, Naval Training Center, San Diego California, started training on June 18th, one day after my 18th birthday. The first two week you are not doing any training per se. During this time you are just getting all your shots, haircut, uniforms etc and getting used to everyone screaming at you, telling you how stupid you are and casting aspersions on your ancestry.

I'll never forget that fist morning: 2 hours before day light and I'm standing in formation with my fart sack (Navy euphemism for mattress cover) tied around my waist and wondering what the hell I was doing here. If I had expected a warm welcome and pleasant associations I was crestfallen to say the least.

Buy the end of that time period I was waking up every morning to the sound of a metal garbage can being thrown down the stairs and seeing dried blood on my pillow from where the scabs on my sunburned ears had cracked open and bled during the night.

At the end of the first two weeks we moved from our temporary barracks to our "permanent" barracks. Now we were getting down to some serious class room time and Lot's and lots of physical abuse. All to the steady cadence of personal insults and profanity and the occasional punch in the bread basket.

By the first week end in our permanent barracks I was sore in places I didn't even know I had. That Saturday we were marched in formation to the PX for what ever necessaries we needed like tooth paste, Shaving cream, etc. I treated myself to a box of 5 Rum Crook Cigars.

Big Mistake....COLOSSAL MISTAKE!

Sundays in Navy boot camp in the summer of '62 started with mandatory attendance at a non-denominational church service after which we were free to hang around the barracks and write letters and wash uniforms etc. Our company commander lived out in San Diego and was rarely with us on Sunday. It was the only day out of 7 that was completely unstructured. It always went by quickly and seemed like it took forever to come back around again.

I guess all you "squids" are familiar with the legendary "SMOKING LAMP". Our RCPOIC (recruit chief petty officer in charge) would announce, "The smoking lamp is lit" I'm lookin' around and I don't see no smokin' lamp, or any other kind of lamp? What the hell is a smoking lamp? Eventually I was able to figure out that there wasn't actually such a thing as a smoking lamp. It was just a symbolic term used to indicate whether or not we had permission to smoke. I gotta say I felt pretty stupid...looking all that time for the dang smokin' lamp. But at least I spared myself the embarrassment of asking some one about it. Some how I didn't think that would be a good idea.

So. Here I am on my first Sunday in permanent barracks, church is over, the Company commander is nowhere around, the smokin' lamp is lit, and I have a brand new package of rum crook cigars. :cool:

The RCPOIC is runnin' around lookin' for volunteers for little jobs of busy work and There was a cluster of vacant barracks buildings near by so I slipped off and found a secluded spot nestled in between a couple of them.

I don't know why they put pockets on the utility uniforms recruits wear. You NEVER put ANYTHING in ANY pockets. NOT EVER. But I sat down on the ground and leaned back against the building. I opened the cigars and took one out. I put the box in my shirt pocket and lit the one I'd taken out.

Ambrosia!

After a few minutes as I sat there enjoying my cigar I noticed a Chief petty officer walking down the sidewalk across the street. I froze. What in the wide wide world of sports was he doing walking around in a group of vacant buildings?!?

I cupped the cigar behind my leg and tried to disperse the smoke while moving as little as possible. But I forgot about the other cigars that were in my SHIRT POCKET. :eek:

This Chief kept on walking and looked neither left nor right. When he got even with me the pucker factor was a solid 10. But he walked on past and I began to relax.

Then he executed a snappy about face and looked right at me and called me to attention. Just about then I remembered the cigars in my shirt pocket. Too late. He walked up to me and began chewing me out. Right in my face just like Sargent
5e2356d8348f5c88df7f70f7073bcc7e.jpg
:D
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:D
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:D
Carter yelling at Gomer Pyle. Blowin' spit all over me and waving his hands around like he wanted to punch me.

After a few final remarks about my mother he ordered me to break the fire end off my cigar. That done he had me put it in my mouth and chew it up and swallow it. (although it didn't stay down very long. Just kind of hit bottom and bounced right back up). I was ordered to remain at attention the whole time I was callin' "ralph".

He let me recover from that and then he had me get a "butt bucket which is a small pail used for cigarette ashes and butts. He made me unwrap all the remaining cigars and light them all at once and get them going real good. Then he dumped the sand out of the butt bucket and put it over my head and made me smoke the four cigars at the same time.

I think he was going to make me smoke them all up but I was choking and gagging and puking and would have certainly died without relief so he took the bucket off my head and slapped the cigars out of my mouth. Cussed me out some more and told me to double-time back to my company. Which I was happy to do.

I resumed smoking cigarettes after about a week but it was at least 10 years before I smoked another cigar...and it was NOT a rum crook.

Sorry but, your story reminds me of:
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b1f9675c2b09a16b88e9411b46985bcb.jpg


I just hope your meeting with that CPO, was a bit nicer?:D

Sorry, I HAD to do it.
Cant find the image I want-so ill end it with:
Screen+Shot+2014-04-05+at+21.14.20.png

images
:D
 
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I had never used a blade razor before and always an electric shaver. the DI's were doing our first foot locker inspection. the DI looked at the shaver and said it wasn't clean enough. he then closed the foot locker and locked it. then he picked up it and THREW it down the stairs. since I was on the second floor it bounced a lot on the way down.

if you were at Lackland AFB for basic training in August of 1969 you might have met SSGT Mings. he was the one that had a crook in his neck and his head was at a 45 degree angle. he got the nickname of "craneneck". we were smart enough to not call him that to his face.

he was also from Oklahoma and since there was several us from Nebraska we were kind of singled out for special attention. probably one of the reasons by foot locker got thrown down the stairs.

I was looking for something appropriate but-nada.
 
Lackland basic 1952 we had an 8 ball in our flight, always messing up.
DI said if he didn't straighten up "or something" none of us would ever
get out of there. The 8 ball was on the 2nd floor and I was on the 1st
so I don't know exactly what happened, but the story was he "accidentally
fell" out of the 2nd story. He went to the hospital and everything was
peaceful afterwards. Never saw or heard from him again.
 
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Lackland basic 1952 we had an 8 ball in our flight, always messing up.
DI said if he didn't straighten up "or something" none of us would ever
get out of there. The 8 ball was on the 2nd floor and I was on the 1st
so I don't know exactly what happened, but the story was he "accidentally
fell" out of the 2nd story. He went to the hospital and everything was
peaceful afterwards. Never saw or heard from him again.

The Army and Navy had guys get thrown down stairs or the blanket party, for those who don't know, 6 or 8 guys threw a wool blanket over the goof off and held it, 50 or so guys would punch the lump under the blanket. Some guys put a bar of soap in a sock. Screams soon went to whimpers. Goof offs never wanted a 2nd one.

So it looks like the AF guys had precision parachuting.
 
The Army and Navy had guys get thrown down stairs or the blanket party, for those who don't know, 6 or 8 guys threw a wool blanket over the goof off and held it, 50 or so guys would punch the lump under the blanket. Some guys put a bar of soap in a sock. Screams soon went to whimpers. Goof offs never wanted a 2nd one.

So it looks like the AF guys had precision parachuting.

There was one blanket party done when I was at boot camp.


If you want to see a good visual of a blanket party, check out a flick of a few years ago! There was one in the Classic "Full Metal Jacket''
 
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