I went to RTC San Diego and was assigned to company 214 on July 9, 1971. I was a bit over weight, so I became "chow runner' which means I had to run every time the company showed up for mess call and ask permission for the company to come in and eat. NOT a job that had any HONOR, to be sure.
The barracks we had were in the "new" barracks, three floors high and we could overlook the Marines boot camp next door. It was interesting to watch as three companies of new jar heads went double-timing it past our barracks in 90 degree heat wearing full sweats, all yelling OOOHH RAH! OOOHH RAH! as they ran, and right behind them was a meat wagon to pick up the ones who passed out.
Between all the marching, school classes, gas chamber tests and learning on the USS Recruit which side was Port, Starboard, bow, stern, deck, overhead, bulkhead, door, hatch and porthole and SHOTS to make sure we didn't feel any other things for a couple of days, there were a few things that broke the monotony.
After we left "Squirrel Island" (some called it Worm Island), we found our company in the top floor of the last barracks overlooking Rosecrans street in San Diego. There was a gal that lived on the top floor of an apartment building over on the other side of Rosecrans street. She was a demented little thing and LOVED to torture us new sailors. She would do a strip tease in front of her sliding glass doors just about every evening. Of course, she was NOT HOME on our one day of liberty at the end of boot. Mean bitch.
One day, we had come back from some exercise and were sitting outside the barracks on the patio having a smoke break. A car pulled up at the curb and three Chief Petty Officers got out. Someone yelled "Attention on deck!" and we all popped tall. One chief asked, "Which company is this?" We all yelled, "COMPANY TWO FOURTEEN, SIR!"
He told us to go back to sitting down and relaxing, and then these three chiefs went in to the ground floor barracks. Now, the windows were all open, as it was hot and summer, but what happened was really kind of scary.
Bunks, lockers, pillows mattresses, skivvies, shoes...you name it came flying out of the windows, and it sounded like a brawl was taking place inside company 208's barracks. The Chiefs came out at the far end.
One yelled, "COMPANY TWO FOURTEEN!" and we all popped tall again and yelled "YES SIR?" He then said, " Listen up. You will ALL go through that barracks, you WILL drag your feet and make AS MANY black heel marks as you can! AND you WILL pay attention to what happens when you fuck up! UNDERSTOOD?"
A mass "YES, SIR!" came from all of us. We then went through that barracks and scuffed our shoes as best we could and we looked at what appeared as a fight scene between a tornado and a hurricane. At that moment, I was very glad I wasn't in company 208.
We, as I said earlier, had the top barracks on the very end of the row. I believe they have been torn down now, but anyway, we had field day on Sundays. Clean real good and make it all nice and pretty. I was not real busy, as the barracks was pretty well taken care of, so I had an idea that would keep ME busy, and out of the way, too.
Right outside the door of ALL those barracks was a fire plug fitting. It was all dark colored with tarnish and verdigris. I spent several hours polishing and shining that thing. That tarnish and crap was thick and hard to clean off, but by golly, I "Got R Done"!
For the remainder of our time at boot, we would come marching back to the barracks and that ONE LONE FIRE PLUG could be see for blocks!
On my one day of liberty from boot, I went up to the San Diego Zoo. We were all wearing "Tropical White Long", or our short sleeved shirts and white pants. I happened to be up on a terrace overlooking the Orangutan's area and watched a sight of fun and horror take place. One large Orang had his right foot up on the side of a water pool and was taking a handful of his own crap, putting it in his mouth and then he would mash it up, spit it out into his hand and then, put it back in his mouth and mush it up some more. When he had reached the desired consistency, he then FLUNG IT OUT ALL OVER WHOM EVER WAS IN RANGE! Like I said, I was up on the terrace, well out of range. Some of my boot buddies had some laundry problems that night.
We won so many academic flags we were "Honor Company" that session.
My fire plug was my crowning glory.
Comments