As a young teenager I actually considered being a hermit, or a ‘mountain man’, with minimal human contact.
There were reasons for this that I won’t get into…”Why not?”Skully, not now. Can’t you see I’m blogging here?”No disrespect meant, Cap’n, but don’t you think that mebbe, just mebbe, your readers might be curious as to why a young teenager would even consider bein’ a hermit?”
I doubt it Skully. Most readers come here for the sea stories, not childhood stories. Besides, it’s not that interesting and it stems from tragedy, although tragedy isn’t the only reason.
“I’m interested.”
Another thing, Skully, is that writing these posts takes energy. Particularly the tragic/sad/depressing stuff, which takes a lot more out of me than the joyful/happy stuff, and leaves me physically and emotionally exhausted.
You know I don’t have much energy to spare.
“I know. I’m sorry Cap’n. Are you gonna tell your fellow Coons ‘that story’ sometime?”
There’s a lot of folks far worse off than I am, Skully, including many of my Bro’s and Sista’s under the pelt, so I’m not going to get into my medical problems.
“I think yer makin’ a mistake Cap’n. Tragic stuff can be liberatin’, even healin’, and “you know who” thinks it’s a good idea.”
{Sigh} Okay, look, Skully. If I get a request for those tragic tales, by at least 12 different readers (trolls don’t get a vote), then I’ll write about it, but only if.
Now would you please let me finish this story? And quit making unpiratey remarks while your at it.
“Just sayin’ is all.”
Now, where was I? Oh yeah. Anyways, the idea to be a hermit kind of fell to the wayside because for one thing, I didn’t have the money to buy a cabin at the time.
There were also some people I still wanted to see as often as I could, such as my Grandparents, and my brothers and Mom, occasionally.
But, the fact remained, I wasn’t what you would call sociable, and to this day I avoid crowds like the plague.
I was polite to a fault. Civil, yes. But I wasn’t a “people person.”
I could make friends, and I wanted to, but it was a slow process. Then again, in hindsight, perhaps not slow enough sometimes.
0700- “All hands to quarters for muster, instruction and inspection.”
The LPO, OS1 Mike checked his list with those of us who were there.
“Where’s Nathan?” Mike asked.
“He’s on watch,” Chief replied.
“He isn’t scheduled for watch,” Mike said.
“I know. His relief hasn’t shown up,” Chief said.
A LTJG showed up, and I assumed he was our division officer.
“Attention!” Mike ordered. Mike saluted the LTJG and said, “all present and accounted for sir.”
The LTJG returned Mike’s salute and accepted the muster report, quickly looking it over.
“Ops (Operations department head) wants to inspect everyone after Officers Call,” LTJG said.
“We have a lot of work scheduled sir, and we want to get some needleguns and sanders before they are all gone,” Chief said.
“I understand, Chief. But the XO isn’t happy with overall crew appearance, so everyone is getting inspected by department heads today. I’ll try to get Ops to inspect OI division first, but there are no guarantee’s,” LTJG said.
“Thank you sir,” Chief said, a troubled look on his face.
“I better get to Officers Call. Get everyone as ready as you can,” LTJG said, walking briskly away.
After he left there was a lot of mumbling and complaints.
“What does the XO expect? We’re in the yards.”
“We bust our asses for 12 hours a day!”
“Can’t keep anything clean!”
“Yeah, Chief, all this f*ckin’ dust!”
“I haven’t had time to get a haircut, Mike.”
“The ship’s barber was booked yesterday.”
“I’m still trying to get paint off my boots.”
“Use the turpentine, it works better than paint thinner.”
“All my dungarees have paint on them!”
“Mine too!”
Were just some of the statements I heard.
“Quiet!” Mike shouted after a few minutes.
“You all get a uniform allowance, and even though it isn’t enough, your still responsible to show up to quarters in clean uniforms. When you’re painting put masking tape over your boots. Who is the supply petty officer? Janson? Order a set of coveralls for everyone. I don’t want to see you guys trying to get a haircut appointment a week or two after you need one. Get one in town if you have to,”
Mike said, looking back and forth at everyone.
“Anyone got 5 bucks I can borrow?” Quipped one seaman to scattered chuckles.
“Why the surprise inspection? I mean, we’re in the yards for cryin’ out loud!” Another seaman complained.
“I don’ think the XO really cares about how hard we work, jes’ so long as we look good,” said another seaman with a deep southern drawl.
Everyone laughed at that one.
“Officers call,” said the petty officer of the watch over the 1MC.
“Next time I’ll put on some extra aftershave,” said a petty officer third class.
“We have a new man. This is OSSA Conrad. Rick, I want you to stick with him today so he doesn’t get lost. He still needs to finish checking in,” Mike said.
“Roger that,” Rick said. “Welcome aboard!” He continued, smiling.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Fresh meat!” Someone behind me said, followed by laughter.
“Shh! You’re not supposed to have fun during surprise inspections,” Chief said.
“Seriously,” he continued, “I expect you all to be ready for inspection every morning. No more excuses. Understood?”
“Aye Chief”, I said, along with some of the others.
“Attention on deck!” Mike ordered.
The Divvo (division officer) and Ops arrived and Chief saluted.
“OI division ready for inspection sir,” Chief said.
“Okay Chief. Let’s make this quick,” Ops said, turning to the first man.
“Paint on your boots and uniform. You need a haircut. You need to shave, boots need shined, buckle polished, uniform wrinkled, your cover has paint on it…”
Mike wrote down all the discrepancies as Ops rattled them off. I was one of the few that didn’t have any “hits”, but I didn’t feel good about it. I could understand some of the complaints.
After the inspection Ops gave us the third degree. Sort of.
“Most of you are a disgrace to the uniform, and don’t get me started on the haircuts!
There is no excuse! I understand there has been a problem getting enough coveralls and I will personally make sure that is expedited, but you men need to do your part also, and I expect that you will. Tomorrow there will be another inspection. You will all be clean shaven, beards and mustaches trimmed to Navy standards, and boots and belt buckles shined. Those of you who show no improvement will stay for 2 hours of EMI (extra military instruction), everyday, until the discrepancies are fixed,” Ops said.
“The XO will be conducting some surprise inspections of his own, and I expect you all to be ready when he does. I appreciate your hard work, and I know it’s harder to get the little things done with our extended hours due to the strike, but you men are part of the greatest Navy in the world. You can meet and exceed any challenge!
Let’s show Todd Shipyards and the rest of the Navy how tough you men are! Help each other out. Work and play as a team! Understood?” Ops exclaimed.
“Aye aye sir!” I said in (almost) unison with everyone else.
“I can’t hear you!” He said.
“AYE AYE SIR!” We shouted in unison.
“Very well! Carry on!” Ops said, leaving to go to his next inspection.
Wow. He got me fired up!
“What a bunch of bullsh*t,” I heard whispered behind me.
“Navy. Never again volunteer yourself,” someone else said.
Apparently, not everyone felt the same way I did.
“Everyone meet in CIC. Dismissed,” Chief said.
