USGI sea stories

[samari46]

I worked in a tank farm and were required to notify the Coast Guard whenever there was an oil spill in the water. Tanker had dumped their scrubbers into the east river in NYC. Since the regulations begin with "causing a sheen or discoloration in the navigable waters". They got notified,and we put out booms to contain the spill. Coast Guard shows up and has a 45 auto in a holster so we show them the ship with the boom deployed and they go on board to question the captain. Well we took samples and some were given to the CG on their boat. Anyway started talking to one of the CG sailors about his 45. Told him that the pistol he was carrying was older than he was. Since the gov't stopped getting them shortly after WWII. Sure probably more were made for Korea but just likely they were overhauled or rebuilt. Frank

[Land Owner]

Best CG story I know:

It is a Coast Guard requirement (with emphasis) that its recruits are AT LEAST 6' 0" tall...


+


+


...so they can wade to shore if their boat goes down.



I am qualified to harass my fellow Hooligans in this manner, as a deep water Ice Breaker Sailor from the Arctic to the Antarctic and all points in the Pacific Ocean in between - twice.

[Der Gebirgsjager]

I have to say that there's a lot of "sea stories" here about things that could never have happened.

Nope, not gonna be nice to someone who calls a bunch of men who have signed a check for "up to and including my life" made out to their country liars. Not gonna do it.


Cat

Gentlemen-- It's time for a reality check here. Neither maligning of members nor hostilities is called for. "Sea stories" were traditionally "Tall tales", in large part made up by old time sailors to entertain the naïve landlubbers around the fireplace on long winter evenings. There are very few real sea stories in this thread, and it possibly should have been entitled, "Unusual Military Experiences." A good example of the original meaning of sea stories is in post #202 by fibreoptik. Just enough factual content to lure an inexperienced person in to swallow the big improbability. Surely you don't believe that illegal aliens were being shot at with M-60s down on the border? That is a sea story. I know that everything I put in this thread is true and from actual experience, 1st hand knowledge--and I'm pretty certain 95% of the other posts are factual as well. Let's not turn a source of entertainment into one of bad feelings. Another Mod has removed one offensive post. No more, please.

[Burnt Fingers]

Gentlemen-- It's time for a reality check here. Neither maligning of members nor hostilities is called for. "Sea stories" were traditionally "Tall tales", in large part made up by old time sailors to entertain the naïve landlubbers around the fireplace on long winter evenings. There are very few real sea stories in this thread, and it possibly should have been entitled, "Unusual Military Experiences." A good example of the original meaning of sea stories is in post #202 by fibreoptik. Just enough factual content to lure an inexperienced person in to swallow the big improbability. Surely you don't believe that illegal aliens were being shot at with M-60s down on the border? That is a sea story. I know that everything I put in this thread is true and from actual experience, 1st hand knowledge--and I'm pretty certain 95% of the other posts are factual as well. Let's not turn a source of entertainment into one of bad feelings. Another Mod has removed one offensive post. No more, please.

How about a sword cutting the barrel off a 50 cal? That one is stretching the truth just a bit.

[Der Gebirgsjager]

Isn't that exactly my point? You apparently are able to distinguish fact from fiction. Do you, for some reason, find the story insulting? Sometimes one has to sort through the oysters to find the pearls.

[Catshooter]

How about a sword cutting the barrel off a 50 cal? That one is stretching the truth just a bit.

Burnt Fingers,

Now see, if you had phrased your other post like that I would have been fine with it. These are, after all, "Sea Stories" and everyone knows how stories can grow with the telling. We're only human after all.


Cat

[Der Gebirgsjager]

An excellent reply, Cat. At least someone is listening.

[MUSTANG]

Sometimes the Truth in the rear view mirror can be seen as incredulous and as a "Tall Tale" similar to Paul Bunyon and Babe the Blue Ox; but strangely enough "The Story is True" with no exaggeration. For example the following actually occurred as participated in by Myself:


Setting the stage:

In days of Old (as defined by those of us who are still alive, graying of the hair and beard) the Marine Corps had very few Women Marines. They were administrative clerks and in some limited technical fields. They reported locally to their command for daily duties and administratively to the WM (Woman Marine) Colonel in charge of WM issues at HQMC. They were only assigned to Major Marine Bases (No ship board service back then for Women), a legacy of the WW-I era slogan "Free a Man to Fight". There were less than 1200 WM's in the entire Marine Corps back then. They had their own Barracks for Women Only; enclosed by Chain Link fencing and Barbed Wire on the top, No Males allow inside except for maintenance issues with controlled access; and an armed Marine guard (or two or three) patrolling outside the fence line after hours until early morning. Often times more security on the WM Barracks than there was on the Armories.

Soon after being promoted to Sergeant I was detailed for the month as "Sergeant of the Guard". Since I had pulled a 30 day guard duty assignment not 3 months before it was a bitter sweet assignment (Being SOG was "Status"; but kiss liberty good bye for 30 days when assigned to Guard Duty). So about 2 weeks into the tour as "Sergeant of the Guard"; about 0200 (2:00AM) we got a radio call from the Corporal of the Guard who was out inspecting guard posts. He was very agitated over the radio saying " He's got a knife!! He's holding her hostage!!. I got on the radio and said "Say Again". The Cpl of the Guard responds "He has a Knife and is holding a Female Marine Hostage. He says he will cut her if we come any closer !!. Over the Radio I calmly but loudly stated: " Corporal. I want you to pull your .45, rack the slide and chamber a round; aim at his head and if he does not put the knife down I want you to put a round in his Brain Pan !!" The corporal of the Guard came back on the Radio a couple of seconds later yelling "He dropped the Knife - He dropped the Knife". MP's were called and the "From Off Base Civilian Puke" was taken by the MP's who then turned him over to the Police Off Base. Turns out he was a two time looser the Corps did not want to deal with (a. Deserter from Military (not USMC) and b. An escapee from jail).

So next morning 1st Sergeant comes in to review the Guard as was the custom every day, Tells me to go see the Sergeant Major, and has me hand over the Guard to another Sergeant. The Sgt Maj read me the riot act of how if the Corporal of the Guard had shot the "Scum Bag" or the WM had been hit there would have been "H$$$ to Pay".

After being dressed down for about 5 minutes the Sgt Maj told me that I was relieved from Guard Duty, restricted to base for the next 24 hours, and that I had better be in the NCO Club when it opened that evening. So I went back to the barracks, got some sleep (not much sleeping the day/night before) and went to the NCO Club as directed that evening. The 1st Sgt and Sgt Major were there, and bought several rounds for us that evening = discussions of "Politics in the Military" and congratulations on a "JOB WELL DONE" as the Sgt Major stated.

Sometimes there is a difference between "The Official Record", the Stated Position" and the "Reality" and How people within the system see things. That evening drinking a couple of beers bought by a couple of "Old Salts" as a young Marine Sergeant are fond memories.

[Catshooter]

It's also good to remember that truth, in all no kidding reality, really can be stranger than fiction. If ten years ago you had read a book describing the events of 2020 you wouldn't believe it! Especially one describing what politics had become. Sheesh!


Cat

[MUSTANG]

For me, the "Guard" changed its uniforms and insignia to make us look like a Bus Driver's convention, returning to work for the Federal Department of Transportation rather than the years of service under the Secretary of Defense at the culmination of the Vietnam "conflict". Our Ice Breaker was reassigned from private mooring across from Howard Hughes' Spruce Goose Hangar and USNS Hughes Glomar Explorer in Long Beach, to the Navy Base in Los Angeles.

Marines, as Gate Guards, suddenly had Hooligans coming and going with "metallic insignia" of rate on their collars for Enlisted, the New Guard "look", as was previously reserved only for Officers. It was gratifying, though not deserved, to be saluted by the Marines on every entry and exit from the LA Naval Base.

Land Owner. Thanks for your story; brought to memory a revelation from 2 of our 3 sons last year while they were visiting with their families. Back about 3 or 4 decades ago I was still in the Corps as an Officer (my "Mustang" Avatar is related to having served both Enlisted and Commissioned). Our youngest son was in the Army for 5 years as an Intelligence Analyst and the middle son is a mechanical Engineer working in Silicon Valley as Manager of a major Company's Cellular Division. Any way last summer they ADMITTED to mom and dad some of their Youthful Transgressions. Seems that 3 to 4 decades ago they were visiting us at our Off Base home and they borrowed the car to "Go Shopping". From their recent admission; I now know they drove to the Base. The youngest got a thrill out of "Being Saluted" by the Marine Gate Guards (Remember he was Enlisted Army) and the middle son evidently egged it on. The two of them evidently drove in one gate and out other gates several times; until on the 5th or 6th drive through the Marine Guards Stopped them and gave them a grilling. They finally sheepishly admitted what they had been doing and promised to go home and not do it anymore.

Kids; even when we think they should know better (or that they have grown up) in their mid 20's - they can still make you shake your head. In my case more than 30 years after.

[Der Gebirgsjager]

This thread has gotten so long, so many pages of posts, that I can't remember if I told this one or not. The real problem is that to tell it I'll have to be very careful about language, and you may have to kind of use your imagination.

The story is brought to mind by Mustang's tale of the Woman Marines. The situation was pretty much the same in the Army. The only WACs I saw were on one visit to the HQ building. They resided in a long barracks inside a chain link fence with floodlights, exactly as described by Mustang. That was a Ft. Hood, TX. No guards were posted that I am aware of, but there were signs attached to the fence saying that it was absolutely off limits. It was said by some that if you trespassed and the WACs caught you they'd either beat you to death, love you to death, or maybe both. But, as already noted, WAC sightings, even during the daytime were rare enough to comment on.

So I ended up in a walled Kaserne in Germany where there were no military females at all that I was aware of. One evening I was strolling down to the Pass Gate and encountered a female all dressed in a white uniform. I was kind of in shock. As we approached I was looking her uniform over trying to determine exactly what she was, it was already getting dark, and before I could reach an opinion here it came: "Private! Don't you salute a blankety-blank Officer?" "Yes, ma'am," as I snapped to and rendered the demanded courtesy. "Ma'am? You're calling me ma'am? Do you know that ma'am is a contraction of Madam, and that a Madam runs a (different words--best I can do) house of ill repute? Do I look like I run a house of ill repute to you?" "Uh, uh... no Sir." "Sir? Do I look like a Sir to you?" Actually she didn't-- she was a rather attractive short haired blonde in her late 20s. This was all delivered in a tone pitch just one or two decibels lower than a scream. Now I didn't know what to call her, but knew that it wasn't "ma'am or sir." So I just said, "What should I call you?" "Address me by my rank, Private!" Since I had first seen her approaching I had not ceased to try and figure out what that was, and nearest I could tell she had tiny Lt. bars on her lapels, not on her epaulets. "Yes, Lieutenant!" "Lieutenant? I'm not a Lieutenant! I'm a Warrant Officer. Don't you know what a Warrant Officer is?" "No Warrant Officer. I've never seen one before." "Private, who is your commanding officer?" "Capt. John Morris, Warrant Officer." "I'm going to tell him that you do not know your Army ranks. You can leave now!" I did leave, sort of in shock. Never heard any more about it. I guess she either worked at or was visiting the dispensary, the white uniform probably indicating medical personnel. I never ran into another one, female soldier or Warrant Officer during my remaining 3 years. Whenever this memory returns I'm kind of This lady really had a bad mouth.

[Winger Ed.]

When I went overseas in '76, the Marine Corps and Navy had about .1% women on active duty.
If you were on a small base, there might be one or two, more often there wasn't any.
If you saw one at all, she was always in Dispersing, Admin., or Supply.

While I was overseas, they raised the allowable number from a tenth of a percent, to about one full percent.
When I got back, it seemed like they were everywhere.

At the time, they still weren't allowed to serve on a ship, submarine, or go into any of the combat specialty fields like Infantry,
Artillery, Armor, or able to become pilots.
If they weren't a nurse or doctor--- they'd not be allowed anywhere close to a war zone.

Back then, they were still mostly in offices, but a few were turning up in aircraft or vehicle maintenance, even a few were MPs
on big bases where there was enough guys to meet requirements for deployments, and still leave them there.

I remember guys that worked in the same MOS that had a concentration of WAVEs and WMs were already
complaining about the women taking up all the shore duty billets,
and they found themselves on the USS Big Gray more and more often.


At Quantico, we had 3-4 in Aircraft Maintenance, and one was in the Flt. Equipment shop.
When my shop had a opening, it was like wrestling with the devil--
but she was the best qualified, had the security clearance, and I got her into the 'cage' on the Marine One crew.

I never regretted it for a minute.
She became the first WM in Marine Aviation to earn, and be awarded the Presidential Service Badge.
And after I got out, she became the first WM to take over a shop in the Maint. Dept. of the Executive Flight Detachment,
and did a fine job as my replacement Work Center Supervisor for the three more years she was there.

[gbrown]

This is going to take awhile, so please bear with me. My father, mother and uncles were all products of the Great Depression. Dad, born 1909, Mom, 16, uncles 23 and 26. All had it tough, all I can say. Dad joined the Army Reserve in 36 or 37. Was in the Coastal Artillery. When called up in early 41, discharged, as he was married with pregnant wife. His unit was sent to the Phillipines mid 41. I was close to not being here. Dad was an Ironworker, worked in the shipyards in Lake Charles, LA. Asked my mom, what am I going to tell my son, when he asks me "What did you do in the war, Dad?" Started pestering all recruiters. Navy needed specialized people. Finally got into the navy in 43. He went thru basic in Idaho. Huh? Wanted the Seabrees, but couldn't make it for various reasons. Ended up repairing landing craft at Treasure Island in San Francisco Bay. Look at his stripes--in service 1943-1945. How was that? Wow. Came out CPO 3? I'm not that familiar with Navy rank. Uncle 1, Shornden McCloud, born 23.
Champion bowler in the Midwest in the mid 30s. Joined the Army 1941 or 42. Was sent to OCS, then flight training. Trained in P-38s, sent to England, 43. Knocked down by his wingman, who panicked, and turned hard, slicing off one of my uncle's tail pieces. He parachuted down, only to be confronted by angry villagers whose town was bombed by bombers who couldn't bomb their targets. A local police officer saved him and kept him in his house for several days until the Army showed up. Treated him as a member of the family. After the war, the officer committed suicide. I read the letter from the wife to my uncle. Heart rending. Uncle spent a year as a POW. Not good, as Germany was running out of food and fuel for its own citizens, much POWs. A month b4 the collapse/surrender of Germany, they are herded out of the camp and start marching. It was difficult, in that they had people they had to carry, help, etc. One morning, they woke up in the snow by the side of the road, their guards are gone. Senior officers decide to continue on in the direction they were going. German people came out to the roadside with what food they had to help them. Finally ran into the advancing allies. I asked him,"What do you remember most about that?" The food, was the reply. Other Uncle--Naval enlisted uniform. Bill. Had a rough childhood, was like 5-6 or 5-5. Had the little man syndrome, as he was pushed around, bullied. In high school, he beat the snot of a bigger guy who bullied him. Judge basically told him, reform school or military. Grandfather signed for him. I was told he went in at 16. Not sure. He was on Jeep carriers or escort carriers. Off Okinawa, they were hit by Kamikazes. He and his best friend were by a cable, for personnel safe up front. A Kamikaze hit the deck and slid forward. Everyone scrambled, when the dust settled, best friend was gone, body never found any remains. Both uncles had PTSD, I have no doubt. Just wasn't recognized or diagnosed at that time. Both had a rough life. True American Heroes, as my Dad was. Have to add photos later, sorry.

[MstrEddy]

Winger Ed,
I was also an Air Winger, and I'm Eddy, so I guess I could be Winger Eddy...
I'm also a Mustang, as I went from enlisted to officer.
I have done active duty and Reserve.
And, I also went from the Corps to the Air Force.
All told, this September I celebrated 38 years in uniform from when I first set foot on the yellow footprints at Parris Island. I'll be retiring from the AF Reserve in January. The image below is from a FB post I made on September 24th.

My story is from Boot Camp, back in 1982. We were probably a week out from graduation and we would be routinely dropped for incentive PT for no apparent reason, as we were not messing up too often in those days. Back then the favored exercise when the DI dropped us was mountain climbers. Well, we're in the barracks and IPT wasn't really hard anymore, the DI tells us to drop "mountain climbers, left, right..."
I do a few, and I stand up at attention. The DI zeroes in on me... "What's wrong Martinez?"
"Sir, Private Martinez requests permission to speak to Drill Instructor Coronado"
"What's wrong Martinez, you don't want to exercise?"
"Sir, Private Martinez requests permission to stop mountain climbing"
"What, you're tired"
"Sir, Private feels he has reached the top of the mountain -sir!"
You could have heard a pin drop, everybody froze. The DI froze, he then turned around abruptly, marched into the DI hut, slammed the door, and then we all heard the loud guffaws and laughter. Everybody, breathed a sigh of relief and started laughing. A few minutes later, he got his game face back on, he comes back out, addressed us --
"Well privates, I guess Martinez is right, you've reached the top of the mountain, no more mountain climbers - push-ups! Up-down, up-down!"
We were all laughing as we did the push-ups!
That was the best IPT we ever did in Boot!

[Winger Ed.]

I was at 1stBN Parris Island from Jun '73 until Sept.
Probably the hardest part of Boot Camp was not be allowed to laugh. You had to keep a straight face, not matter what was going on.
We saw things that would make a dog laugh--- but we couldn't.

My last few hours there, we were hanging around the barracks after graduation waiting for the bus to leave.
One of our drill instructors sent me with a note to his buddy whose platoon was on the deck above us in the same barracks building.
And I was to wait for a answer, then bring it back.

I went up, delivered the note, his platoon was playing 'typhoon', with everything dumped out on the deck, and stirred around.
Including all the fart sacks had been pulled off the mattresses, and a Private was inside each one.
They were all out in the pile of everything doing 'bends and thrusts'.
What ya saw in the squad bay was about 80 fart sacks jumping, flopping, and bobbing around all over the place.

I guess I passed my final exam. I pretended not to see it, and the DI pretended to not know it was going on.
That was one of the funniest things I'd ever seen in my life----- and I didn't laugh.

[popper]

TAD at NAS Corpus aft picking up the Carla junk on base got transferred to BOQ. Two Waves had day duty, I got nights.
ran telemetry for a missile shot and had to lock the skipper out of compartment, CPO ordered. Receiver dumped chart paper on the floor at 60"/sec. Other than Rus aircraft overhead, nothing going on.

[Winger Ed.]

Watching the President's campaigning the last few weeks really makes me glad I'm not back at Quantico now.

Presidential movements require a bunch of things happening before, and along the way for their trips.
Doing a motorcade is so involved, security wise, with checking the route, putting Police Officers
on every overpass, every free-way on & off ramp, stopping and clearing all other traffic, and on & on,
they use the helicopters as much as possible.

Pres. Trump is doing rallies at airports to simplify the process.
They shut down just that airport as AF one comes, is on the ground, and goes.
Out in the desert, they'd leave it at one airport, take the helicopters to another, do a rally and come back.

It save hundreds and hundreds of hours of overtime and hassle for the police and security folks.

I was at Quantico for Pres. Carter's re-election campaign.
From the summer of 1980 until after the election,
our hanger there was pretty empty from the birds being on all the trips.

Afterwards, and everybody had a chance to slow down and catch their breath--
we had a small get together at one of the guy's house.

His wife told us all fall, she felt like a hooker.
She said, her husband would show up, spend the night,
leave some money on the dresser, and be gone again for another few weeks.

[Lloyd Smale]

For me, the "Guard" changed its uniforms and insignia to make us look like a Bus Driver's convention, returning to work for the Federal Department of Transportation rather than the years of service under the Secretary of Defense at the culmination of the Vietnam "conflict". Our Ice Breaker was reassigned from private mooring across from Howard Hughes' Spruce Goose Hangar and USNS Hughes Glomar Explorer in Long Beach, to the Navy Base in Los Angeles.

Marines, as Gate Guards, suddenly had Hooligans coming and going with "metallic insignia" of rate on their collars for Enlisted, the New Guard "look", as was previously reserved only for Officers. It was gratifying, though not deserved, to be saluted by the Marines on every entry and exit from the LA Naval Base.

yup i was in then too. I remember a few chiefs that actually retired because they took there kakis away. We were training at little creek amphibious base in norfolk and when i had blues on i was always getting saluted by the navy sailors. between the fact you wore a suit like an officer and had that gold coast guard emblem on your hat you were always getting saluted. When i wore my p__ cutter hat with that emblem on it i even had officers salute me. Happened so much the navy guys I was training with started calling me Lieutenant for a nick name.

[Lloyd Smale]

Nope, not gonna be nice to someone who calls a bunch of men who have signed a check for "up to and including my life" made out to their country liars. Not gonna do it.


Cat

couldnt agree more

[samari46]

We were on a med cruise back in 65, stopped in Naples and all the bun boats would come alongside to get out rags trash,old clothes and any scrap metal. They had a block and tackle set up for the navy regulation 32 gallon trash cans. One of the guys humped a boiler feed pump shaft. Ties a rope to it and over the side it goes. Well it slipped the knots and went down like a torpedoe. Straight through the main deck and outside the hull. He starts screaming and the boat is getting lower in the water. Not fast but it was of some concern. So they brought his boat to where the big cranes lifted the jets. Put it on deck and some guys from the carpenter shop showed up to make repairs. All this takes a couple hours. And this Italian who had been screaming the last two hours is still yelling. One guy says in Italian "shut up, we broke your boat so we fixed it" and if you don't stop screaming we'll throw you and your boat over the side and you'll be next. Got real quiet after that. Another day in sunny Naples. Frank