The Unauthorized Randy “Duke” Cunningham Page

The following is a true short story of life aboard the USS Constellation. The only smidgeon of relativity to this website is that part of it occured right next to Cunningham's stateroom. It eats up some bandwidth, and for that I am thankful to Dan Anderson for allowing some of these threads to exist.

Shenanigans, Hooligans, and Ensigns

The USS Constellation was a “floating city” of approximately 5,500 naval personnel when Cunningham and Driscoll became the first US Navy Aces of the war. All of those five thousand five hundred personnel have to live ~somewhere~ on the ship, right? When a new officer arrived on the ship, we may have been at sea, or in port. The more senior the officer, the bigger the berthing area, and that usually coincided with the amount of “stuff” he brought onboard. There is a procedure that is followed when you come aboard for the first time, and few newly arriving officers ever questioned the directions they were given, or from what authority those directions came. After all, they are “new to the ship”, don’t want to “make waves”, and do as they are told on their first day aboard. Unfortunately for some, that opens a whole new game that can be played by seasoned ships’ personnel. This is such a tale.

Arriving onboard in-port, the “newbie” walks up the Officer Brow (gangplank) and announces his arrival. Typically, the Officer of the Deck (O.O.D.) would welcome him aboard and have him stand-by while he gets further instructions. The O.O.D. would then call Lt. Crawford of S-5 Division to find out where the new officer was to find his berthing space. (S-5 Division consisted of personnel that attended to officers, cooked for them, cleaned their rooms, etc. By nature of tradition, most of the S-5 personnel were of Philippine decent, and had distinct accents) Lt. Crawford would then look at his list/schedule and tell the O.O.D. he would send a Petty Officer from S-5 division to the brow to escort the new officer to his berthing quarters. That Petty Officer was more often than not a guy by the common last name of “Santos”. We who had been on the ship for any period knew him best as “Santos Wardroom Two, sir”, because that is how he would rattle off his name when you called the wardroom, or when he introduced himself to you as you came aboard the ship. His rapid speech/enunciation almost deleted the spaces, hence it sounded more like Santoswardroomtwosir, with a matter-of-fact manner exhibiting authority and pride.

Stay with me now......

The bunkroom I was in (next to Cunningham’s) had 8 lowly Ensigns in it, myself included. Just like any other group of 8 people, each had his own personality/talent. Enter Ensign Bob Peterson. Now this guy probably taught Rich Little everything he knew. Peterson could pick out and mimic ANY habit/voice/mannerism of anyone he met. AND, yes, he had “Santoswardroomtwosir” down pat! Ensign Peterson would almost lie in wait for newly arriving officers. He usually liked to single out “Senior Officers” (that meant Lieutenant and above to an Ensign!)


Now, the Sting....

Let’s say, for example, that a certain Lieutenant Hitterman arrives on-board for the first time. He is a little nervous, as anyone would be, arriving at his new command. Fortunately, the O.O.D. makes him comfortable, telling him Santos will be down to escort him to his new bunkroom and familiarize him with the ship. Santos introduces himself to Lt. Hitterman as Santoswardroomtwosir, and takes him to his room....along with Seabags/Suitcases/Stereo Console/pictures of his Wife/and various other ~important stuff~. Santoswardroomtwosir then asks the Lieutenant if he needs anything else and departs. Lt. Hitterman brings all his gear into the room, and gets “squared away”, meaning he puts all his clothes in the locker, hangs the important pics, hooks up the stereo, etc. He’s all moved in and exhausted from the anxiety of the days events and could really use a nap. —-STOP/HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!!!!—- In the meantime, a certain Ensign Peterson (with some help from insiders) has determined the name of the new officer and his berthing compartment AND his phone number.

“Ring Ring”

Lt. Hitterman is just starting to relax when the phone rings:
“Lt. Hitterman, dees Santoswardroomtwosir, Meester Crawford make big mistake sir, you gotta get outa room right away sir. Big Commander coming aboard sir, and Meester Crawford put you in hees room by meestake. You hav to get ALL your stuff out of room, sir. You put in passageway, I come get you in twenty minutes sir. I'm very sorry for the meestake, but can you have all your things in the passageway in 20 minutes? Okay. You gotta hurry right away sir.” Click

The End.

True Story. The length of time the newly arriving officer would stand out in the passageway waiting for Santos varied from one individual to another, but they ALL bit!
.
And, as a tribute to Santoswardroomtwosir, this story lives on because of the memory of what a great sailor you were, along with all those personnel from S-5. Fair winds and a following Sea to all of you.

Best deal that I ever saw along this line was when I drove F-8s. The other F-8 squadron had a real piece of work for an operations officer - typical East coast type.

So he gets orders to the F-8 RAG at Miramar - "Oh, lucky them!" He had two cruise boxes to be shipped. His scheduling officer who dearly hated his entire being and his dog, shipped his cruise boxes the the F-8 RAG at NAS Cecil Field. It was months before they caught up with him.

The errant scheduling officer was punished by being placed in hack during an at sea period. Ready Room, State Room or Flying and no movies for a week and you can't bingo!

No one liked that Ops guy.

Zeros...think they run the world...sheesh.

AZ2

Not the world, but I can sure tell from your tone that a couple of Officers made your life miserable. Someone has to lead or you just have a gaggle. I simply cannot see an AZ2 running the maintenace program of a squdron, air wing, ship, air station, type command, or fleet. I know of one retired and very capable VADM mustang that went from aviation maintenance enlisted, to Line Officer and eventually to head East Coast and Atlantic Fleet aviation maintenace. You could have done likewise and taken one of a dozen programs so that you could have traded your crow for a commission and shown the world just how it was supposed to be done. You could have lite a candle or contined to curse the darkness . . . you chose in life to curse the darkness.

99% of the enlisted troops and officers respect each other and their respective jobs. The 1% are sh!ts and are not happy in any setting. If you don't understand that the military service operates well because of a cooperative and respectful relationship between enlisted and officer, you missed the boat. Sadly, that short coming has likely haunted your entire life.

Perhaps you should look inward and try and understand why you have such a struggle with authority in your life. I am sorry that you are in such pain. But you are the one opting to wallow in the pain.

Because I think officers are full of themselves? Get a grip. My life is just fine. I just never did buy into the "men" on one side and "gentlemen" on the other. Yes, Duke caused me some grief, but it was all redeemed when he was convicted. I did serve with some fine men, both khaki and denim, but the whole structure is made to step on the enlisted heads, don't fool yourself. I had many friends that were Stewards and we all had many laughs over the attitudes you fine fellers had over the Filipinos. Maybe YOU should look inward...

AZ2

AZ "Parva leves capiunt animas"

Yeah, that Latin sh!t is hard on some people. That Catholic boarding high school drove the Latin language.

As for AZ and others of his ilk, I say what I had on the back of my helmet - "oderint dum metuant." Roman legions carried it on their standards in the Gaul wars.

He hates Cunningham for making his life miserable. He!!, Cunningham was a @!#$ cat. In 12-years of active duty, I destroyed, shredded, at least 8-careers of EMs that thought they could sit on their a$$es to a 20-year retirement check.

Taz go tear up some liberty cards and bring me the pieces, please.

Nice! Swim the sh!t river . . . Saw a body floating in it one time.

I don't hate Cunningrunt for making my life miserable, we each make our lives what they are. My life is far from miserable. I was always known as the one who kept a positive attitude, even when pushing 500 pound bombs though narrow passageways. When we got extended on line, I helped my shipmates to keep their minds on the task at hand, and not worry about a few more days at sea. I hated him for being a weasel, and not giving me a chance to give my side of a very one-sided story. Now why don't you just crawl back under your helmet and wait for God to take you to heaven in his golden chariot. I spent enough time in the USN to know YOUR type of leadership skills. You know NOTHING about me, but with all of your breast-beating, I know a lot about you. You think that you can change my beliefs with an email? And you DON'T think that you are full of yourself. I had one more year of active duty than you, SO WHAT! I've given my side of the Duke's story, and now you want to convert me, and make me respect, fear, or appreciate you? Don't hold your breath, zero-boy...your chest isn't really big, it just looks that way because you push it in people's faces, just like Dukey Stain. I really enjoyed this site until it became an "old officer's club". I know you jet jockeys look down on admin types, I was called all kind of names. But I never took it seriously. Anyone who is GIVEN a title, doesn't DESERVE respect. It must be earned. Putting moronic Latin phrases on your helmet just shows how important you think you are. Get a grip. You are the next Cunningham waiting for your time in the hole...idiot.

nice rant.

>>>True Story. The length of time the newly arriving officer would stand out in the passageway waiting for Santos varied from one individual to another, but they ALL bit!>>

Well WE would get the newbees this way: The scheduling officer would put them on the schedule for "flight simulator", which was somewhere down in the bowels of the boat. The E-men down wherever that was got a kick out of this Zero looking for the Flight Simulator.

The other nifty thing the JO's would do if a newbee JO came aboard was to talk about going bowling tonight. Would you like to join us???? Well we meet at....again somewhere down in the deep bowels of the boat. That got an even bigger laugh from the ships E-men when this newbee Zero was asking where the bowling alley was.

<<<99% of the enlisted troops and officers respect each other and their respective jobs. The 1% are sh!ts and are not happy in any setting. If you don't understand that the military service operates well because of a cooperative and respectful relationship between enlisted and officer, you missed the boat. >>

Not sure I'd give it that HIGH of a mark, but certainly is WAY up there.

Victor Belenko...the fellow who stole the MiG back in the mid 70's never could believe that America was really what we were showing him...all the choices of cars, food, clothing, EVERYTHING. So he thought he would pull one on America and PROVE that the USSR told the TRUTH about America.

He requested to see carrier ops, knowing full well that America would refuse. A-HA!!! There, you SEE!!!.

Well America said FINE. and flew him out to one at see of the East Coast. What he saw just amazed him.....all the teamwork, all the coordination. NO drunks...as in the USSR (they mixed alcohol into the fuel, so the ground crew were always drunk) and only THEN after he saw American Carrier ops in action did he accept America for the FREEDOM that we really have.

He said that there is NO WAY the USSR could ever have successful carrier ops.

From the book "MiG Pilot" by John Barron. Excellent read.

MORE:

I was....lessee if I can remember the title.."Aviation Safety And Survival Equipment Officer". Ejection seats, parachutes, survival stuff, LOX. 15 men, 1 chief. 2 shithead men who read the manual and did as little as possible....ONLY what the manual "required". Really bad-@!#$ guys. CO requested that the parariggers make VF-96 logo'd helmet bags for the aircrew. These clowns refused, reading the manuals of what was "required" and esp. what was NOT..and they refused. Their chief read the manuals and shrugged his shoulders....What can we do...THEY are right. I gave them a ripping eval and they protested to the chief who then went over my head as the eval would have given them a "general discharge"...and boy were THEY ever getting out ASAP, as they had AZ's attitude. The OINC of maintenance changed their evals to give them "honerable".

It was pure hell trying to deal with them...they ALWAYS challenged you and whether your request was OK ...by the book....Yanno...just do the #$#$ JOb... NO SIR...It is NOT REQUIRED. GAWD.


The rest, and MOST of VF-96 Officers and Enlisted, gave 125%, well over and above the call. THAT is why 96 was awarded "best in the Navy"....not once, but TWICE in a row....never happened TWICE before.

Well, Randy was among the MOST RESPECTFUL of the MEN on our 1970 cruise, and during the 8/69-9/71 time I was flying with him.

So AZ...I have to agree with Paul...you created your own problems because I don't for one second think Randy changed his attitude once the Connie left San Diego.

Cunningham was indeed known for looking out for the EMs. He even invited and paid for his plane captain, who is African-American, to come out to San Diego for the Air Museum event with they hung his F-J on the wall - that he shot down his first MiGs with, chasing the MiG-17.

He also bucked the old Navy way and treated black officers no different than white officers - Sneakers Nesbey is a perfect example. He is black and Cunningham gave him a fair shake and he made 0-6.

In the Med I came across a couple slugs from both the Wardroom and Mess Decks, we got rid of them in time. But in Westpac, in that war effort, it was 125% contribution by all hands at all time, or you were gone on the COD the next morning. One minute he is here, and the next minute he was gone like a f@rt in the wind. I doubt that AZ ever loaded bombs on an aircraft, I doubt he ever lifted a 500 lb bomb with that damn breaker bar. But myself and many officers helped the red shirts load those planes from time to time. That for sure was not in the book, but it was the only way that we could make our sorties.

In a perfect world we would have a classless society and Carl Marx wrote well of such a society. Trouble is, it does not work with humans. We need leaders or we just have a gaggle. The Navy is the great performing service that it is, even with all of its faults, because of leadership by its Officers and NCOs and the mutual respect. But POS have nothing coming.

Well, since you guys know it all, the rest of us should just take our business somewhere else. Must be nice to have such big brains and still be able to put helmets on over them. See ya later jerk-offs.

LB - You are simply casting pearls amongst the swine.

If I were making book on what happend to ole AZ2 is that after Cunningham got finished with him, that he left the service quickly and did not leave the service as an AZ2. Perhaps a striker and with a G.D. Any LTJG legal officer could have handled that one.

Holy Mackeral, what did I start here with a funny little story of silly stuff that goes on in time of war? And, it was a tale of Zero's Screwing Zero's!

AZ, if you're still on-board and haven't been able to jump ship, put all this stuff in perspective. Have fun in life. Leave the other options for others.

SO, the original thread was "Shenanigans, Hooligans, and Ensigns". Trust me on this one, it goes BOTH ways. AZ2, you, of all people, would have loved to have been there. If you detest the "Zero's" as much as you say, Hank Aaron and Barry Bonds ain't got nuttin' on you! So, here's the true story, circa 1971-2 Yankee Station:

It was one of those ~not often enough~ "Stand Down Days", whereby we got a day off to take it easy. Having been at sea for 30 days or so, and not knowing exactly how many more days we'd be at sea, all kinds of chicanery occurs. Captain J.D. Ward liked to call it "Laughin' and Scratchin". Those were times when bars/stripes/scambled eggs/shoe color/denim/khaki just didn't mean so darn much.

On this particular "Stand Down Day", I was sauntering through the ship, and happened upon the Hanger Bay. As I came through the bulkhead to the Hanger Bay, I observed a big circle of sailors (enlisted AND officers). The circle was maybe 100' in diameter, with guys packed shoulder-to-shoulder. Standing room only, for sure. I managed to get up close enough to see over the shoulders of some of the guys to see a lone sailor in the middle of the circle with a cardboard box on the deck. I asked a fellow shipmate, "what the heck is this". He said, "aw, Ensign, the guy caught a "Sea Bat", a very rare species, and you should see it... They are just a terrible looking species of Bat". Well, I work my way towards the sailor in the middle with the cardboard box with a couple "eyeholes" cut in the box to look through to see the "bat". I bend over to have a look at this creature, and WHAM! The sombitch sailor done hit me in the arse as hard as he could with a broom!
You think that hurt me? Not one-zillionth as much as all the guys laughing at me. I "bucked-up", swallowed my pride, and joined the circle. A fellow officer walked up and asked me what the heck was going on. I said, "Ensign, you ain't seen nothing if you ain't seen a ~Sea Bat~.... that guy caught one, and you gotta take a look, it's UGLY!

Laughin' and Scratchin'... not a bad way to spend these few years on this planet.
RazMaTaz
a "short-timer" fer sure

The Sea Bat!

That was a great thing about having a Dad that was a Senior Chief - Oh, AZ you would have loved the sh!t out of this chief. He came out of the old pre - WW2 Battleship – the Maryland - and then carrier Navy. His whole career he was a Boatswains mate – not a whimp Aviation Boatswains mate, but a real deck ape. He came up the hos’pipe and had a tattooed Rooster on one foot and a Pig on the other – he would never drown. He was trained that the Chief took care of all malcontents . . . the division officer, department head, the XO and for damb sure the CO never got involved and most of the time, never knew about it. His entire career he was nicknamed “Pappy.”

Anyways, ole Dad when he was young and stupid in WW2 caught a Navy Cross for doing something that he just as easily could have been court marshaled for. He disobeyed orders, and saved his shipmates. Well a NC is not an auto into the Naval Academy, but with the Admirals he was tight with, like Byrd(the arctic and Antarctic explorer and Dufeck(Naval Aviation) it was enough to get me into trade tech on the Severn River. Damb sure my grades and athletic ability did not get me in.

Anyway so before I leave for my Plebe summer the old retired hackie sets my backside down on the patio at home and tells me all the stuff to look our for as a stupid midshipman on Summer cruise or a fresh Ensign in the Fleet. Not to help me out, but so that the chiefs will not get a laugh at another chief’s expense because his son was so stupid. So I got the word about Sea Bats, Snipes, Prop Wash, Shaft alley watch, boat officer watch – at sea, Hotel Street in Pearl, Lovejoys in Freemantle, Lucy’s Tiger Den in Bangkok, The Cave Bar in HK and all the cat houses and bars in Po City, etc., etc.

But the best trick he pulled off, and I do not know how they pulled it off, only chiefs that know many chiefs in the Goat (with a capital “G”) network could have pulled it off, I requested and got F-8s out of the training command and he was horrified. I go to VF-124 transitioned to the Gator at Miramar. But upon completion of the RAG, I got orders to an East Coast F-8 squadron deployed. That was a trick! So I land aboard on the COD out of Naples and get to squadron admin and there sits the Leading Chief, Sam Flowers. I had known the man all of my life, he used to change my crappy diapers. My Dad had been his senior PO when Sam reported aboard from Boot Camp.

I saw then the long arm of the Goat Locker in this entire thing. So I get this wonderful guy, the Leading Chief in this East Coast F-8 squadron aside and say something like, “OK, Sam, tell me about this entire matter, please? His reply was something like “Pappy wanted you to get a Med cruise of traps and hours and a-whorin’ in the Med, before you went on to that war.” “He wanted someone to look after you.” “I just happened to be sitting in an F-8 squadron that needed a nugget stick, the rest was old fashioned magic.”

I have no doubt that the Goat Network got me into a much safer a/c, the F-4, with its 2-man crew and better carrier performance, after that cruise in F-8s. I never asked for the transfer. My ole man, Pappy, did not like the F-8. And with his almost 30-years in the old Navy, he had the connections that likely kept me alive. This total action required the cooperation of Chiefs in Washington, Miramar and NavAirLant.

I’ve since buried both of these two old casehardened, grizzled Neanderthals. I often go to Point Loma to visit with them both. They were the old Navy tour de force before and during WW2 and Korea and early Vietnam. They were not PC in the least. But these were the guys that made that Navy work. I was fortunate growing up the brat of a Navy Chief, because I saw how the Navy worked and who made it work and especially saw that the Navy was about teamwork, or the job simply could not get done and unnecessary deaths and terrible injuries would follow.

I thanked them both for looking after me.

<<>>

Or the 2 LT in the other services, eh? One of the BIG advantages we aviators had is by the time we finished flight schools and actually had to become "leaders" of our men, we were all jg's and had been able to observe how things really work and operate, so it was much easier to not look and actually BE really stupid.

'cept those chiefs tried their best to trip up those young jg/s.

Great story there, Paul. You were so fortunate to have such a great "Pappy".

And you are right, I was fortunate to get to the Fleet as a JG. When the briefing went down, I had no interest in aviation, or he would not have worked so hard to get me into boat school. He saw too many Aviators get it in horrible ways in the War. He thought, hoped, prayed that I will simply take the line officer route, keep my nose clean, make a nice comfortable career, and retire on 20 or 30 with a nice pension.

When I picked flight training, I never briefed him in. And I know it made him sick. When I resigned my commission, I do not think that he ever forgave me for that. My commission, and yes even those wings, meant more to him than to me.

But the old guy, from my days crapping my diapers, briefed me in on the Navy - the good, bad and the ugly - and the pride one durives from serving well and how it was supposed to be done. "Pappy" trained more JOs and POs and "guided" more senior officers in his almost 30-years in the Navy than one can imagine.

As I sat as a young Naval Officer trying to figure out how to manage a personnal situation I used to think back to him; and in my first squadron, Sam Flowers and I would have a little Chief - JG chat. I had two wonderful mentors and it is too bad today that every JO is not issued such mentors.

The Navy needs more of these tough old birds. It took 15 or 16 years in those days in the old Navy for them to put on The Hat. None of this 6 or 7 year b.s. They were proud of their days "learning the trade."

But that type is all gone today.

LB - They did kind of soft peddle that AOCS to you guys, didn't they!

I arrived at Plebe summer camp in the best physical shape that I had ever been in, hair cut to a butch and ready to take abuse. Hell, I had lived with a Navy Chief for Father, I could handle abuse. Some guys reported in with tennis rackets! And wondered aloud where the O-club was. I just eased away from them, because when it hit the fan I did not want to be in the splatter pattern. I followed the advise I was given by the old man, "Keep my big mouth shut; do not look directly at the Marine DIs; begin and end every sentence with "Sir;" eat when given any opportunity; drink plenty of water, use more salt on my food to off-set the loss from so much exercise; wait to be assigned, do not volunteer; do not jump in the front rank unless assigned; study and memorize Reef Points ahead of academics; brace for the 'Dear John' that was coming; and, fade, fade into the woodwork."

That advise served me well.

Hey Paul-
I tried to send you an off-line reply, but email to your "wealth/yahoo" address bounced. reply to:
hewett@jps.net

Raz

That be the song . . . .

Paul (—-.wavecable.com) on Date: 06-19-06 19:51 wrote;
"...leadership by its Officers and NCOs and the mutual respect. But POS have nothing coming."

POS? What does that mean?

<>

Well Paul, since YOU said it, I'll let you 'splain that to the boy.

LMAO

;>)

Just got back to the Casa. Been off playing golf. My game really stinks. I understand that the game got the name "Golf" because "Sh!t" was already taken!

Richard, a POS, is standard Navy ligo for a "Piece of Sh!t." It's a Facon code about 503. REMFs, CAG Staff, FLAG Staff and Slackers were POS'.

Remember that I flew North Vietnam when it was really a lot of fun from 1966 on. A great POS statement that I heard out of CAG and FLAG Staff, especially AI (Air Intelligence - An Oxymoron) types, more than once at an IOIC ALPHA Strike Briefing, "They (NVA) do not know that we are hitting this target and the air-defense will be minimal." My reply more than once, "Well, if this is all true, jump in my back seat and give my RIO the day off!" POS for sure. In 3 tours, not one POS took me up on the offer much to my RIOs chagrin!

Aviator term, like ''Boat." Has nothing to do with the sacred nautical terms. BTW with all that black shoe service, can you name for me the only "rope" on a U.S. Navy vessel, everything else being lines, housers etc? But there is one (1) rope.

Clue: it has nothing to do with marlinspike seaman ship.

Clue: Get a copy of Reef Points and you will find it there.

And petty officers, the Navy's NCOs are abbreviated, POs, not POS.

Can you also tell us what a "Hold Back" is?

A Carrier is a "Boat." However, I too do love Sewer Pipe Sailors - Sub Pukes - calling the "Targets."

Yep, we know that a hold back is a perfect candle holder . . . a better use than ever intended.

Also, more trivia, cam anyone tell us, other than those that wear Wings and land and take off from a "Boat," how much does that "Blue Bomb" weigh?

While you're at it, what is a "Wagon Wheel" have to do with Aviation.

You see Richard, not only do we wear the correct color shoes, brown, we also have our own lingo. And POS is part of that lingo. Also other phrases like:

"Run the Deck." Does an shoe (black shoe) know what running the deck means?

How about "Hawking the Deck."

How about "Spotting the Deck."

How about, what is "The Net" - there are two of them.

And come on, some one tell me what rope is on a ship. Do not go to eBay and buy a copy of "Reef points." By the way, it is a black shoe term, what is a "Reef point?"

Having survived, and that is exactly what is was, surviving my Plebe b.s. year, I know exactly what Adm. Stockdale was speaking about. If you understand that a guy is in one hell of a tough school, and does not have time to study academics very much the first year, it is survival mode.

I was at MCRD about 2 months ago with a retired Marine Col. that also flew F-8s and Fox-4s. Gawd, the place is a morgue. No civilians, no wimmins civilians or military; closes at 2200 every night that it is open; not open on Sunday or Monday.

You cannot get through the gate without a sponsor with an ID card. 9-11 and the over-reaction by the military certainly closed down that and other hunting grounds.

The bar tender did not know what a Flaming Hooker, a Skip and Go Naked or a Slow Jim Tripp were. Sigh, the Flamming Hooker and Skip and Go Naked were the drinks at the CRUD. (Richard - CRUD another Naval Aviator term)

By the way LB, the Slow Jim Tripp was named for one of the early pioneer back seat guys in F-4s. He started out in Druts (Richard - DRUT another Naval Aviator term) in the Korean War. He was an enlisted radar operator and had 3 night kills in the old Drut. Ole Pappy Jim Tripp - was a VF-101 RAG (Richard - RAG another Naval Aviator term) fixture for about 8 years, while he made his 30 as a LCDR - calmed down many a young nugget on night carrier quals. Too dambed old and valuable to go to the war.

Another old one, formally EM, out of DRUTS Korean War was Jim Webster. Another LCDR they kept in the RAG to make 30. Saved a lot of nuggets butt$, Wings, egoes and aircraft on carrier quals.

Freaking "Uniform Races!" What was bad was when a couple of upper classment would team up against you. Often I was sent for a uniform change, on the way back to the first guy, the second guy intercepted me and told me I was out of uniform and go change to another. The only answer was "Aye, Aye, Sir!" This sh!t would go on for a bad long while. The only thing that saved me was that I came into the Academy in the best physical shape possible. I could take any physical abuse that they handed me; but so as to not draw more, I had to make it look like they were kicking the sh!t out of me with the physical stuff. For me the mental abuse was tough, very tough.

I had 2 pair of upper classmen that tried to "ride me out." At the end of my Plebe year, these 4 were amongst the first to congratulate me for making it.

I seldom said, "I'll Find Out, Sir!" That meant that I had to go back to them. I most always pulled an answer out of my a$$.

Upperclassman: "Sh!thead Paul, who was Admiral Dewey's Chief of Staff at the Battle of Manila Bay?"

Plebe Paul - Pause. "Sir the Chief of Staff was Captain William Fogle, USN, Sir!"

Many times it worked. Other times I was a F_cking idiot and give me so many push-ups and get the F_uck out of my sight! I did not have to go look up the answer and I did not have to go back to the a$$hole for more abuse. It was gaming the system.

The Military Academy - West Point - was just as tough as Boat School back then. Can't take wing wipers too seriously.

Yep, the idea was to develop the team work spirit. The Academy and AOCS both did an excellent job of it. I'll telling you though, going to UCLA living at the beach, would have been a lot more fun. Then do AOCS.

"I'll telling you though, going to UCLA living at the beach, would have been a lot more fun. Then do AOCS."

Although I have tremendous respect for you guys and what you went thru, I will take quality of life anyday Went to the U of Hawaii, 2-yr AFROTC, lived in Europe, winter chalet in Switzerland all while flying Phantoms.

Bob Wilson you are a @!#$! A Whorin' around Europe while we had to be satisfied with a table job at New Pauline's . . . . disgusting.

I'm telling you, I screwed the pooch. I knew it after a couple serious night landings as I sat in my freaking, stinkin' J.O. bunkroom with one idiot pounding pud in his bunk and another f@rting and snoring in his (at the sametime, quite a trick) . . . and I said to myself, "Idiot, you could have had 12,000 foot runways, a BOQ room to yourself, except when you wanted to bunk with some AF Nurse with compliant ways and not had to live to 10 -12 months aboard a stupid ship with a bunch of people that you were forced to socialize with."

You see, back then, I could have taken a commission in any service, not just the Nav.

Bob Wilson, you are a pig!

Yeah, he missed out on the Flip-a-pino bar girl with bad teeth, smelling of stale cigarettes and breath of the raw fish that she had for lunch. If you could get it up for that, you got a ''Green Winnie'' or the Navy Commendation medal. Then again, if she had been doing load outs (headers) for a couple hours, pass on the breath description, "just get under the table sweet heart!"

Bob's a whimp.

Aw, you guys are killing me! I'm homesick real bad.
You Brown Shoes had too much class. Ya didn't have the nerve to get off the main drag. I believe it was the 007 Club that had the 'mature ladies' (read no teef), and looong table cloths for good cover........

Raz 'one sick Ensign' MaTaz

And THE WORST, aside from landing in a hailstorm when I thought the plane would be torn apart....was at DEN.....violent turbulence over the mtns, and even more violent over the planes to DEN.....looked out the window at a HUGE dust storm that skewed up into a huge funnel cloud.

Pilot was perpendicular to it...and IT being between us and the runway. I thought GOOD BOY....he's going to circle until it moves out....but suddenly he turns RIGHT INTO IT. I told the lady in the seat next to me..."If you thought it was rough before, HANG ON....tighten your seat belt....and I did mine tighter than I ever have.

He hit that funnel and the plane rolled 60+ degrees one way, then the other. EVERYBODY ('cept me) was SCREAMING. I was just holding on for dear life. Even as he was letting down and the ground was coming UP, the plane was being pitched around.

Pilot somehow managed to land in a violent storm, rain, hail, wind....the wind felt like it was going to tip us over even on the ground.

Unlike most flights, Pilot did NOT open the door as pax were deplaning, and all pax were either scared as hell or pissed as hell...most were BOTH.

But HEY.....he made his SLOT TIME!!!!! As well as the ON TIME stats.

Raz was definately not the "Church and Cathedral Tour Guide!" "No teef," I loved them!

Those girls could do things with that freaking money maker that would gag a maggot. AI puke going down on one, it figures.

Raz, you missed your calling. You should have been leading fighter sweeps into Po City.

Speaking of marrying them, sailors were not the only ones that attemped or did marry them. He!! it was the first compliant, read no Western hang-ups, trim they had ever had . . . forget that everyone else had had it also. You get off the boat at the carrier pier in Cubi and head downtown into Po City, and you are off some farm in Iowa, and see that action, I could understand it.

Anyway the other squadron on my last cruise had a RIO - LCDR. He was on his 3rd tour. Well, he fell in Luv with one of those scuzzy bar hookers. He let it be known far and wide that on the next in-port period, that he was going to marry her and set up a little "scuz nest" in Po City. Of course, his skipper went freaking nuts. So before we pull back into Cubi, they toss his a$$ on a COD and fly him to Clark. They off load him there, under security and escort him onto a magic carpet back to the world. They then put him at VF-101 at Oceana, flying a desk, no flying.

Come to find out that he only wanted out of the war, and his skipper had laid down the law in an AOM that if anyone hooked up with one of those hookers, it was back to the states and a ruined career. Well, he got back to the states, did not have to resign or toss his wings. He never flew again. They transferred him to desk jobs like at Key West or in Iceland for his remaining 6 or 8 years to retirement.

Back then LCDRs were guaranteed 20-years and retirement. Do not know if it is true today. He sat out the balance of his 20 for retirement, did not get killed in that war or die around the boat and walked away with his rocking chair money. He got the heck out of that war, thanks to one skipper's xenophobia towards those LBFMS.

The ways to get out of that war were only limited by one's imagination. Get drunk, pop your skipper or CAG - happen quite a bit, you were gone. Divert without permission, you were gone. Screw the skipper's wife, you were gone. Steal a truck and drive it off the pier, you were gone. Miss the ship a couple of times, you were gone. Buy a cheap ring for a filipino hooker and you were gone.

But then another guy I still know gets banned from the Cubi O'Club - figure that one out; and he makes 0-6. Go figure . . . well, his wife's Dad was a 3-Star.

Iceland? Nice!

Speaking of Cubi... Tell me some tales Brownshoes of that mock-up landing machine whereby you had to pull the handle of the tail hook at the PRECISE moment to hook the wire or get a dunking. We snuck down there one time when no brownshoes were around. Them kinda 'cocktail lounges' are my kinda bar.....No glass in the windows, concrete everything. Jeez, a beer bottle could get hurt in there. Well?
Raz

I never caught the wire. I wound up in that piss filled pool twice and never tried it again.

A lot of money was won and lost on that machine.

Thanks. Puresome is a good man, always has been.

The bar is The Long Bar at the Raffles Hotel and he is right.

“One-Punched Into A Lifetime Of Benefits”

Cubi O’Club, circa 1973…
Ltjg. Miller and Ltjg. Madruga, both Blackshoes, are trying to get every drop of liquid in them that the Barkeep can dispense. Miller has a polo-type shirt on him with that “Penguin” logo on the breast. A Brown Shoe walks over to him, and says “I don’t like Penguins”, to which Miller replies; “Oh yeah, well I don’t like Brown Shoes”. That did it! Wham Bam Jam Bif Bif Bif as Miller receives a number of staggering punches from the Pilot. Ltjg. Madruga, a rather large guy, sees what’s going on and comes over to save Ltjg. Miller. He says to the pilot, “Hey, stop beating on my buddy!”. The pilot replies, “Okay!” BAM! And with that, Madruga goes down for the count, striking his head on the floor for the ‘lights-out’ nap.

So, I’m laughing about the incident with Miller about 25 years later and he tells me: “That lucky SOB Madruga is still collecting 30% disability to this day from that punch!”

After hearing that, I went out and filled my wardrobe closet with nothing but “Penguin Shirts”.

Raz “Pick Me!” MaTaz

More fun links to 'PO and Cubi

http://www.ghspaulding.com/cubi%20bar%20cubi%20cat.htm

http://www.a4skyhawk.org/2G/cubi-taylor.htm

http://www.subicbaypi.com/subic_photo_girls.htm

Great links to photos. Somehow I sense Raz in the back of many of the photos crawling on the floor and howling at the moon. And the refrain from the bar girl riding him like a cowgirl, "Oh, Waz, I luv you no sh!t baby!" "You take me to America, I'll talk dirty to you fo' ever!"

Raz, if her name was Evelyn, I will be sorely disappointed. She told me that she "Luv'd me no sh!t and would luv only me forever." Come to think of it, she would have been a better catch that my first wife; and my Mother could have had someone to clean her house and do the laundry.

Or jeeze I could have finished off my 20, and retired to the PI. Lived like a king on the retirement money and had ole Evelyn doing all that magic sh!t that so few round eyes go for.

Raz, you dog!

"Bob is not only a Pig..but HEY...My SECOND favorite country on the planet is Switzerland. Wish I could post pics here of Glacier Express, Bernina Express, Junfrau Region, Murren, Lucern, St. Moritz, Andermatt, Zermatt, Zurich.

OTOH, ol' Bob never got any of those WAR MEDALS that you can't even trade for a simple cheese fondue in CH for."



LB, you are so right about the War Medals you all so heroically earned. I very much enjoy reading this group's war stories. My short military career was a cakewalk to what you all had to endure.

My favorite place is Wengen overlooking the Lauterbruennen Valley (most beautiful in the world) which I first discovered in the mid '70's and return every other year.

I hear ya all about those 12K long runways. The landing my copilot made this afternoon at LGA might qualify for a "carrier-like" landing.

bobwilson, you did not miss a damb thing . . .

The article is by Gerald "Jerry" O'Rourke, a great guy and one of the founding father's of the Navy F-4.

Before the standardization move of Fleet air groups for both coasts, fighter squadrons did have nose numbers (Modex numbers) other than 1XX and 2XX. After the standardization order, the nose numbers were assigned based on the mission, fighters, light, medium and heavy attack etc.

Paul 'Cruel Shoes' wrote:
(Somehow I sense Raz in the back of many of the photos crawling on the floor and howling at the moon. And the refrain from the bar girl riding him like a cowgirl, "Oh, Waz, I luv you no sh!t baby!" "You take me to America, I'll talk dirty to you fo' ever!")

Somewhere I got this picture of one of those girls in a cute little cheerleader outfit...no panties on, up in a watchtower looking over 'Po town. Raz is looking up at her longingly..or looking up at her "whatever" , but afraid he'd fall....She has a leather strap and calling out:

Come on you cute Waz...ya know ya want it. @!#$ on waz...come and get it...no s•it waz, I talk dirty to you and even strap ya to my cute little boobs. You wascal, Waz.

Haven't a clue as to where that vision came from.... ;>)

I knew that you knew her, you dog! You knew about being tied up! The saddle, spurs and I see a cattle prod, forget finding a 12v battery out of some Jeepney! Actually, Evelyn was into baby oil and silk ropes. She loved to play ''Helicopter."

God damb Ensigns! "Oh, you so young and cute . . . Taz, if you luv me you buy me hair spray at the Exchange!"

Some how LB I see Raz leading a fighter sweep to the Po City high school gathering up all of the booty . . . or is that bounty?

Everytime I see in the newspaper that some poor jerk is going go off to prison for banging a 14-year old, I shake my head. Half a world away and a different view on the world.

Israel strikes Lebanon.

When I was just a kid Aviator driving F-8s in the Med, we pulled into Beruit. This was the very early 1060' . . . no war etc. Beruit was one of the very BEST liberty port in the Med.

So this very young JG catches the first liberty boat into the beach, and the place is lovely. Truly, Paris of the Eastern Med. The wimmins are simply lovely with doe eyes and a compliant body English. So we head for the St. George Hotel. Purported the place where St. George slayed the dragon. Walking out on the huge patio surrounding the swimming pool are all these topless wimmins sun bathing. Right then, at that instant, I thanked the stars for lining up and allowing me to be there. God that place was wonderful. A true hunting ground, weapons free, place of "vigor" for a Nasal Radiator. Wonderful companionship, excellent dining and shopping.

The wimmins were either European or any Arab-European mix that you could think of. Especially, English, French, Italian and Spanish.

After we left Beruit, we pulled into Cannes, France. You wonder why some guys made a career of Med cruises? I know of 3, no 2, retired Navy captain Aviators that never went to Vietnam, but made it to -6 and a career of Med cruises. These guys had some footwork!

Makes me sad to see Beruit in such big trouble. I hope that Margarete, you Arab-Spaniard hybred, feels a bit sad about Beruit's fate and a tug of good memories also.

Even Taz could have scored with someone decent enough to bring home to Mom!

er, I aint that old, 1960s!

I have never seen more beautiful women. Walk into a lamp post, fall down, lovely. The Arabic ones with the emerald green, or Elizabeth Taylor blue eyes, were something. Toss in topless around the pool at the St. George and damb, it was like a dream. We had our Admin there and a couple of us also took our own rooms.

I was proud to be defending freedom and democracy . . . .

We had an LT-LDO maintenace type names Gilmore. He was about as good looking as the J-58 that he specialized in and dumb as a sack of rocks, even he was seen running one of these lovelies into his stateroom, she was giggling all the way, and getting her "qaulified in port."

The flying was pretty easy, except the occasional Med Ocean storm. We did a lot of work with the Brits. No cross decking, but in port we got together a ton. Now the Queen's own knew how to go to sea. Each "flying officer" had an individual stateroom. Only difference was the size of the room and that was based on rank. They had a great mess that served great food and booze in port and at sea.

Best of all, they did not fly from or land on the carrier at night. No night ops. A "pinkie" was about it. Back then they had a he!! of an a/c - the "Buckeneer." Low level attack. That thing was built like a locomotive, and it did about 600 kts in the weeds as I recall. It had a BN sitting behind the pilot just like the F4. I caught a hop in one out of Malta. Looking up at the tops of the North African sand dunes was impressive.

We had a lot of exercises with the French, Italians and Spanish with very bs rules. Rules like no more than 2-sections of BARCAP up at a time; no limit on attackers; we could not use our air-to-air radar - the APQ-94; the ship could not report boggies outside of 50 miles from the ship. So it was pretty stacked against us. We usually saw the Mirage or Entendard when he was rolling in from a high perch that his GCI had vectored him to.

But you know, then we went in to Barcelona, or Majorca, or Nice or Cannes, or Turin or Naples and debrieded and had a week or so to party with them. A couple of times the Shang ran out of operating money so we had to stay in port in these places. It was terrible, I say, absolutely terrible!

After this great experience, I even got in some flying, I then went to that Vietnam sewer . . .

<<>>

Aside from an "exercise", in VN, we could call out a radar contact no matter what the range....but sailing thru the Sea of Japan, and launching the Alert 5 to intercept the Rusky Badgers, we could NOT call out a contact beyond 25 miles even though you could scope the large bomber at 100 miles +, and the Ruskys certainly knew that..geeze.

Interesting in that once you locked on, their ECM gear would slam your radar antenna to the side....or emit enough RF to overpower your lock and ability to see anything on the scope. But then their RF gave them away, so it was quite the cat/mouse game.

Certainly was FUN, though.....the hardest part was when you were on alert and they called LAUNCH THE ALERT 5.....all these guys would come up and try to toss their cameras at you...Gee, which 15 do I take with me/???

We had the same bs when we were intercepting ruskies in the Sea of Japan. The powers to be did not want Ivan to know our lock-on range. That was pretty funny because I one time I was sitting the the RR on some "in the ready room" standy by CAP bs and I was reading a Aviation Week and "Leak" Technology magazine. It had an article about the F-4J and its AUG-10 radar and clearly mention the lock on range being 60 miles. So much for our not letting Ivan the know.

As for the exercises and the bs rules in the Med, it was to ''level'' the playing field.

Tap Code? I assume a sort of 'Morse Code' for POW's to communicate? Without 'spilling the beans' to any Muslims or future enemies, can you enlighten me a little?
Raz

Raz you are a friggin' Ensign, if we told you, we'd have to kill you and I do not know how we would dispose of your body and console Evelyn too!

Am I relieved, or what? (not relieved of duty, but relieved of grief!). The last time I experienced the "Tap Code" was at a Junior High School Dance when some big sombitch tapped me on the shoulder like a jack-hammer and took my swinging Suzie away from me.

I discovered that the "Tap Code" exists to this day with some of my married friends. The only difference is that they use attorneys to do the tapping at our age......

I do not want you to whine. Try http://www.airsoftgent.be/dbase/tapcode.htm

Yep, I met that married tap code once myself. Her attorneys put more passion and interest into that divorce than she ever put into the marriage. Boy, never marry for money. They can afford more and better attorneys. She had 4 sharp shooters from the same firm working on the case. When they brought in the Forensic Accountants, I knew that I was in for a long, dismal and ardous time. But I immediately got smart and I tossed them all the real estate, and kept the business. They stopped digging for undisclosed assets . . . . just in time. We signed the papers, and I selected full A/B and got the heck away from it. But I "Got me a good lesson!"

Amen DD, a lot more.

One of my brothers that has has a track record with wives puts it this way. "The best thing about a hooker is seeing her walk her a$$ out the door for good, with all the money in her purse that she is ever going to get from you."

"Jaded" says I.

Taz your tap code crystal ball is as good as any I've heard. Obviously, the tap coders were thinking that "Kruel" shoes would have been terrible!

As for poosie at them Ranches, Fallon, Nevada, home of Fallon NAS, in the old days - one long runway, terrible facilities, but lots of bombing ranges. This was back when Taz and LB were still angling as to how to get in the drawers of cheerleaders. Anyway, Fallon had a gambling joint and cat house named "Mom's." Mom was an old pro turned Madam, @!#$ owner and saloon keeper. She has the usual set up, trailers with cribs. Back in the 60s the prices were $50.00 for 15-minutes. If you could keep getting it up and off for an hour, the rodeo was free. This was before the days of @!#$ etc. She had a T-Shirt that said something like, "I rode the Rodeo at Mom's for Free." That guy was a stud! I did not have this T-shirt. About 8 - 10 minutes at that Rodeo was about it for me. Like Willie said in that movie, the gals could "suck the chrome off a bumper."

In Bangkok they of course had Lucy Tiger Den. A bar, restaurant and cat house. Been there in the Dodge City section since before WW2 under other names. An old ex-pat CIA hand bought it and installed his Thai wife, Lucy, and the manager and madam. He sat out front drinking with Aviators and Air America pilots. Anyway, Lucy's had some great signs back in the cribs. One sign was "Long Time, Short Time, Same Price." And that was on a T-Shirt that I used to have.

Funny thing when my former wife bailed from the marriage, she cleaned out the safe in the house, threw my Academy ring from a balcony and into the ravine behind the house, burned my log books and cut up my T-Shirts from Lucy’s, The Pearl City Monkey Bar, The Cave in HK, Mom’s (the @!#$/bar/cat house shirt), New Pauline’s, the Miramar, and several others. The only reason that she did not get my flight jacket was that it was with me in my plane with my girl friend flying back from Tailhook in Vegas. I remember the plane, but I do not recall the girl friend’s name. As for my former wife, she obviously had no sense of humor.

Geez- The internet police will censure the mildest of words. My previous post I described what my ex-wife sprayed on all my clothes before we went to court, and the word was censured. I guess I'll have to resort to the "Tap Code". The spray she used comes in an aerosol can and is available at joke stores:

Tap 2 - 1
Tap 1 - 1
Tap 4 - 2
Tap 4 - 4

Oh, Taz, that wife of yours was angry!

When I got home from that Tailhook, the house had a different strangeness to it. As I walked in from the garages, the door was unlocked and the alarm system off. All the curio cabinets were emptied. The safe was emptied, the gold coins, the cash, my Rolex that she gave me and I never wore because it was simply too god awful gauche, heavy and ugly, was gone. Her stuff in the safe was all gone, everything gone.

Fortunately, my credit cards and business operating capital was in my name alone, because she cleaned out every bank account that she could think of; but you know that was OK. As I told my divorce attorney, “this is the price of freedom.” As I was walking out of courtroom, when the judge signed off on everything and it was over, with my attorney, I said out loud for all to hear the immoral words of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. “Free at last, free at last, oh, god almighty, I am free at last!” It brought a chuckle from the audience in the courtroom. I walked out of the courthouse, never having looked back at her and her having to look at my backside. Since in that day in that courtroom I never laid my eyes on her.

I should have known that I was in trouble marrying her, one time before I married her I asked her, “Just where do you think money comes from . . .?” Her response, “The bank.” Like a ghetto kid that thinks that milk comes from the store, she did not comprehend that money comes from work.

Today she is a very, very wealthy woman (her family money – damb sure she never worked a day in her life) in her middle 60s. She lives alone in her palatial home in Orange county . . . with servants. She never remarried . . . I tell you Raz, after she finished me off and I survived and flourished after her taking everything, she was finished with marriage. You see many of them never figure the “unsinkable spirit in men.” He!!, if I could get through Boat school, flight training, the Vietnam war and Navy politics and still have a wit or 2 about me, a California divorce – while troublesome and I lost my Citation SP – was a walk in the park.

The motto of old VF-21, the world famous Free Lancers, (or Free Loaders as they were often called) the squadron patch was a heraldry lion on a shield, said it all, “Non Illegitimi Carbonium – “Don’t let the bast@ards wear you down.”

I’ll tell you one thing, after that experience, I thank my stars daily for my wife today. It is such a pleasure to have a partner, a bud and a consigliore.

I’m out of here, I’m a dot . . .

40th! God bless, that is great. Not may of those around.

Hey, Taz, Dan is pretty quick about cleaning them off the site, but you have been getting several messages from your Commie Ruskie and Romanian "girl friends" that are in love with your reputed huge . . . bank accounts. However, unlike Evelyn, they do not know what the motor oil, saddle and cattle prod are for . . . and they do not know a green label San Miguel from a brown label . . . or, for that matter also, what a San Miguel is.

Paul,
I'm already having a tough enough time keeping my reputation (and the stories) straight. It was Motor Oil, a Saddle, and JUMPER CABLES, not a Cattle Prod!

'wired up' in Kalifornia!

I always got cattle prod confusied with jumper cables . . .

Sometime, I will have to tell the brief version of a bunch of us sitting around the pool at the Peninsula Hotel in HK and my RIO picked up what he thought was my American Express card and ordered food and drinks for everyone. Everyone pigged out, got drunker and loved my largess. I warmly accepted all the Kudoos because I know that my American Express card was locked up in the safe in our room.

The Luft only discovered when the bill arrived from American Express some weeks later, that he had actually picked up CAG Ops American Express card! (We heard the scream from CAG Office all the way from Ready 2!

Wow! Did it hit the fan then. I thought that it was very funny. I finally had to loan my banana some money to get him out of hock. Then came the @!#$ game when my RIO cleaned out CAG Ops, paid me back my money and then lost his Accutron Astronaut watch to me in the @!#$ game. Then he whined so must over the next several days that I gave him back his damb watch.

Moral of the story: Motor oil, a saddle and jumper cables with Evelyn in some scuzzy crib in Po City, was easier than boozing it up around a fine hotel pool in HK with your RIO or playing @!#$ with him.

But he could talk on the radio, navigate, and would always lose at ship, captain and crew.

Boy, Dan has improved the explative words software so that common variants do not work any more!

John-
Great Monkey Memories!
What squadron/ship in '71?
Scott

The Cubi monkeys! You know, I bet they had to open a re-hab for them.

American Express was one business that also mourned the end of the Vietnam war. It made a ton of fees off of us.

HK Suits. I was briefed in on this before I went by an old china hand from the commercial world, not the military world. I purchased then, and still do purchase suits, from Charles Chin and Sons, Ltd. Kawloon. The place is now run by the sons and still provides excellent quality clothing. Not cheap, but very good quality. They were notable during Vietnam for using a silk blend thread that does not rot. Even through they have fitted me for decades, I still get 2 fittings at my hotel or in their shop. They can do a perfect Canali knockoff in the best Sheffield 150 – 170 weight wool for me in 3-days for about 1/2 the price. New clients, that they have not fitted before, take about a week.

Since the suits are knock-offs, I call them “Canuckies.” Like we call the knockoff Gucci shoes, “Gucckies.” I proudly wear Cankuckies and Gucckies all of the time. This was one of the good things that I brought away from all of that stupidty called the Vietnam war.

I meant 1/3rd the price of a real Canali.

A Fingers & Muggs kind of guy!

Great story about Muggs. He and Fingers were written up for Navy Crosses for popping those 2-MiGs in the same engatement - 1v2. Well, the awards came through AFTER Fingers (then known as Jack Ensch) had been taken prisoner when he and Mike Doyle were shot down at that damb Northeastern MiG Cap position. Unfortunately, we lost Mike. Another waste.

Anyway so the Navy sez to Muggs, "well let's have the ceremony and give you your Cross." "We'll take care of Jack when he gets out." Muggs says "Nope, I'll wait for mine until Jack is released." And that is what happened. They got their Navy Crosses together. That was a class act thing to do, waiting for Fingers - Jack Ensch - to be released.

John-
My gal and I thoroughly enjoyed touring the Midway last year, AND those serving on her got my respect. The Connie seemed to have a few more inches headroom 'here and there', which probably accounts for less skull injuries going through hatches during GQ. At least you have a memorial to go to....the Connie will probably end up being scrap or a reef somewhere.

As for:
"Sailor! Bar-B-Que, Bar-B-Que! Bar-B-Que MONKEY MEAT!!!!!!!"
Yeah, I bit on that one a few times. Not bad with the right marinade/drunk on San Miguel. It brought Shishkabob to a new level. I got into a psedo-intellectual discussion about the possibility it was Monkey Meat and a ~relative~ of ours. For what it's worth, I seriously doubt that it was Monkey Meat. My logic?: It is a heck of a lot easier to catch a Dog than a Monkey. And drink sailors are more likely to eat meat advertised as "Monkey", than "Dog".

As gullible as I was, I would have bought it advertised as "Sea Bat"!!!

Scott

As I said before, we are a$$'d (did I beat his software?) off the ship during the Pueblo incident to a Korean AFB for flight operations. Outside the base the street vendors sold rat on a stick and that is exactly what is was. Skinned, gutted and head chopped off and you had the # 1. We noted which ones that Koreans bought from and bought there. Like you said Taz, the right marinade and being pretty loaded helped with the first bite. Growing up eating a lot of rabbit, it reminded me of rabbit. So for me, it was fine. Protein to an Asian is protein. But I never got the runs or puked it up, so it was OK.

I never landed on a small boat and that 4 degree glide slope with the F-4. Of course, that is all we had for the F-8 except CQ. So I CQ the gator on the Sara, CVA-60 call sign "Fairfield" or "Pier 60" as she was called because she seldom went to sea or could stay at sea because of breakdowns. Her propulsion system was a mess. Add to that list America’s, Independence’s, Ranger’s and today, Kennedy’s. Those big boats’ propulsion systems were doomed when they missed and engine overhaul yard period. Anyway, going from a F-8 CQ on a big boat to a 27-Charlie, was CQ all over again. Sometimes, nightly!

It seemed that the F-4s had as good or better boarding rate on the 27-Charlies, as on the big boats. But I know that it had to be a lot more work with that glide slope. Simply taking off that much power, to start down, and leaving a great deal of it off, had to be very strange. A lot of bolters had to be “high all the way,” “over-the-top” “flat at the ramp. “too much power” and “over corrections.” But I bet there was little problem with line up! The pilots must have worked on line up, so much more then we had to on the big boats, all the way down.

As for Muggs and Fingers not being fans of Cunningham even way back then, they were members of a huge club. Most of us did not appreciate his act.

The Midway museum is indeed a wonderful tribute to the men that served in her.

Well, the things that I always heard about Cunningham, that I recall are:

1) He did poorly in the RAG.
2) He worked very hard at his trade. 3) He studied the Intel on the enemy more than anyone else.
4) He could move the A/C around the sky.
5) That until Willie came along, no one wanted to fly with him.
6) His landing grades were average to below.
7) He used his shoot downs as his vendification of self and to revenge slights aimed his way in the past.
8) He was mercurical.
9) He was not bright by a long shot.
10) He was not loyal.
11) He was very fortunate to have gotten those kills considering how he faught at least 3 of the engagements. Those victories could have just as easily been defeats.

But as I always said, "Yep, perhaps all true, but he still has 5 stars on the side of his A/C."

Good points all. Remember, that my points were made "what I heard." I was never in a squadron, AG or on a ship with him. I never flew against him, we were out when you were in, etc. Anytime I ever saw him was at the Club . . . and LB & John, you know what that usually was.

But like I have said a gazillion times, his is the only modern jet ace, and likely the last.

I never liked the guy . . . but I am so very sad to see his demise. Such a waste. I will always be sad about it. I have never gloated over what happened to him; I just have a morose feeling over it.

I expressed these feelings to a shrink friend of mine on an Alaskan cruise that a bunch of us went on. I told him the feelings above and that I did not even like the guy . . . why do I feel the way that I do? He looked at me for a while, took a sip of his drink and said, "You take being a member of that Band of Brothers very seriously - even though you hated that war, you were amongst a Band of Brothers." "It was the first sibling relationships that you ever had; of course, you mourn his ''fall from grace" as you would if one of your real blood related brothers failed so horribly."

And you know, that fits. Just as I am still sad about so many guys that I knew that did not make it back.

Well, Taz guess what happened today?

So my company buys a lot of machine tools and fasteners, by the ton. So today I am trying to find the top of my desk after those few days off, and my assistant (NOT a secretary) rings me up and says that a certain manufacturer of tools that I buy from in the Philippines' new rep is in the outer office and would like to meet with me if I had the chance.

So, I said of course, and walked out to the outer office to make the meet. Low and behold it is a 30ish Filipina named EVELYN! I chuckled to myself, thinking of you and the motor oil, saddle, battery cables and case of hair spray. So the 3 of us head into my office to chat. My assistant sits in and makes notes of all my meetings at the plant.

So I talk to Ms. Evelyn de la Cruz y Diego and find that she has been in the machine tool business all her life. Her family owes a machine shop - in the old days made Jeepneys - Po City! Seems her Uncle owns the machine tool business that I buy from in the Parañaque City area of Metro Manila.

She is too young for us, so I casually ask her her family names. She is the only Evelyn, not named for an aunt or grandmother. Her Mother is from Po City also, is in her 60s and good health - god bless - and her name is Minilynn. Fortunately, Mom was a school teacher.

Taz, it gets spooky sometimes, this world is so small.

“Whoops Captain…”

The following is true story of the USS Constellation at sea during the 1971-72 WestPac Cruise in the Gulf of Tonkin. The Officer of the Deck on that night was a newly-qualified OOD. For sake of liability, I will change his name and refer to him as “Ltjg. Madrigal”.

Conducting Air Operations aboard an aircraft carrier during time of war is an intensive and energy draining routine. The only light respite from the operation usually occurs in the middle of the night. The mid-watch is a normally boring and un-eventful time to be on the bridge, and is generally a good way to break in a freshly qualified Officer of the Deck. Such was the job of Ltjg. Madrigal that night.

The Captain of an aircraft carrier has an enormous job, with the ultimate responsibility for the safety of the entire ship and its crew. Captains seem to be able to get by on a few hours of sleep daily, oftentimes augment it with catnaps in the Captain’s chair on the corner of the bridge. The Officer of the Deck is the officer responsible for carrying out the orders of the Captain in his absence. Of course there is a small berthing space behind the bridge where the captain will sleep, but it is only a few footsteps away from the bridge itself so that he can be in close proximity in emergencies. Everyone knows the captain needs his rest, and the OOD’s try not to awaken the captain unless absolutely necessary.

The orders from the captain to an OOD on the mid-watch might be something like this:
Maintain course 170 degrees at 12 knots for 3 hours, at which time, turn the ship to course 350. The captain of course tells him other standing orders and anything else pertinent, but always says “wake me up if there is anything you are concerned with or that I might need to be aware of”. The OOD also has the authority to turn the ship as needed to maintain safety, or in an emergency. The problem herein lies the fact that newly qualified OOD’s are hesitant to invoke that authority unless absolutely necessary for fear of upsetting (or awakening) the captain. Such was the position of Ltjg. Madrigal that fateful night:

Madrigal was standing the mid-watch as OOD and had a Junior Officer of the Deck (JOOD) and Junior Officer of the Watch (JOOW) along with him to assist him on the darkened bridge in the middle of the night. The JOOW informed OOD Madrigal that they were getting an “intermittent weak radar contact” ahead of them. The OOD asked what the course and speed of the contact was, and a few minutes later was informed that it appeared to have a minimal speed/course undetermined, BUT that is was “CBDR”. (CBDR, is an abbreviation for “Constant Bearing, Decreasing Range”….also known as a Collision Course). About that time, the forward starboard side lookout reported seeing a “faint white light, intermittently” ahead of the ship. Madrigal was getting concerned as the contact appeared closer in the radar scope and more reports of the white light coming closer. Still, for some reason, the radar reflection (blip) was faint, as well as the white light. Madrigal, being hesitant to disturb the captain, did not want to turn the ship. Instead he waited until the last minute and finally called the captain to alert him:
-Ring ring ring-
Captain: “Yes, this is the Captain”
OOD Madrigal: “Captain, this is the OOD. Sir, we’ve been getting a weak intermittent
radar signal ahead of the ship, and the lookouts are reporting seeing a faint white light intermittently. Sir, the contact is CBDR and I’d like permission to turn the ship….WHOOPS Captain, it just went under the bow!!!!!!”

The Captain scrambled to the bridge, but the collision occurred before he arrived. No one aboard the aircraft carrier even felt the collision, although anyone near the lowered
starboard side elevator (huge elevator platform used to raise and lower aircraft from the hanger bay to the flight deck) knew we’d hit ~something~. But what was it?????

Well, the eighty foot (80’) long Chinese fishing junk was the unfortunate recipient of a haircut by the Constellation’s elevator. She was a wooden sailing junk, and the lowered elevator of the Constellation managed to remove any of the ships uppermost sail rigging, ie: both masts, booms, etc. Many of the junks crew were injured, but fortunately no casualties. They were all taken aboard the ship and provided medical care until we could transfer them.

So, the wooden hull explained the weak radar contact, and the high sees explained the intermittent effect as it rose up and dipped down in the large swells that night. As for the white light, it was not uncommon for these type of sailing junks to have no running lights. Most likely the light was a flashlight held by one of the concerned fishermen as the 85,000 ton Constellation bore down on her.

Oh, so what happened to Madrigal you ask? The lucky bast’d got to go into the Phillipines for an official inquiry into the collision at sea. The inquiry lasted for weeks. By the time we got to port a few weeks later, Madrigal was known as the “Major of Olongapo” amongst to local ladies of the night. Rumor has it that most of the OOD’s were trying to find a wooden junk of their own after seeing Madrigal’s reward! “WHOOPS Captain!”

Was Christianson the CO for that one?

Love it. I figured midway thru the tale that it would be a fishing boat.

We were sailing thru the Sea of Japan and there were dozens of bright white lights, and we came upon dozens of Japanese fishing boats...they used the bright lights to lure fish to them. Captain kept blowing the horn to get them to move out of the way because the added and big concern is we were also unrepping fuel at the time (sailing side-by-side and connected to a refueling ship)

We passed within a few feet of some of the boats, the fishermen holding up rather large fish as if they wanted to trade for something.

Quite an experience seeing that.

My pal Gene Tucker - MiG killer in an F-4 - was skipper of the Coral Maru. Had been up about 30-hours with air ops and ship handling crap. Leaving the usual orders, including call me if anything gets with 15-miles of us. Goes to the at sea cabin to get some well needed rest.

Same thing. This time however the OOD had a great paint on the target and did not awaken Gene until collision was eminent. The other ship, a Jap cargo vessel, hit the port elevator and carried it away.

Gene was, of course, relieved and retired. He was one of the great guys that should have made flag. As a parting insult in these cases the Navy has the "Offending" commanding officer answer a list of questions. One question is, of course, "How could this event have been prevented?" Gene answered, tongue in cheek, "The CO must never sleep while the ship is at sea.

Hey AZ since you know so much about running the Navy, how would you have prevented these two (2) collisions?