So it was Perth, West Australia, and the year was 1999. Just before entering port, I had casually reminisced in the hearing of one or two junior officers of my mess that there had been a loverly photo in my first ready room back in 1987. Two young ladies a-wearing US naval officer summer white uniform tops and not much else, guests of the admin, like. This was of course back before we had female officers at sea aboard aircraft carriers, either for the wearing of summer white uniform shirts, or to take offense at such proud and may I say artistic displays of feminine beauty being so prominently displayed, especially juxtaposed (or just posed) in martial accoutrement. If only for the horrible sexism that was in it.
Our first night ashore there was an official function, and the skipper and myself, then serving as his exec, were required and desired to deliver ourselves in the uniform of the day to that function, which – this being Australia after all – had none of the customary drudgery and rubbery chicken so common to such affairs. We returned to the admin happy and content, hanging our uniforms in the closet for the duration of the stay, our military duties largely discharged, the blackshoes professional surface warfare officers for their part having to content themselves with only the odd opportunity to conduct fire drills and cleanliness inspections back aboard ship.
The third night ashore, the entirety of the officer’s mess made its serpentine way into town in civilian clothes for to dine on the local comestibles. A sweet young thing stepped up to our table, and – anticipating as we were the West Australian brogue – asked us in a pleasant Midwest accent what we’d be wanting, at all?
Gobsmacked ain’t in it, so quickly did the boys fall in instant love. A couple of them swooned right into their plates, or would have done had not their dearest friends and fiercest rivals for the young lady’s attention so rudely shoved them out of the way. The lass and another American girl of her acquaintance – college students taking a year off, it turned out – were asked to come by the admin for to grace us with their presence, wit and sparkling conversation, and so they did. Squadrons of dashing and hospitable US naval officers being but an intermittent treat in that utterly remote part of the world.
The skipper and I parted ways with the younkers not long thereafter, for they were dissolute wretches and wicked rogues to a man, but indifferent company ashore, and all too liable to lead us into social catastrophes and unintentional blunders of the sort which might require Official Notice by the powers invested with officially noticing such things. Especially when perpetrated (or even attended) by, as who should say, senior officers hoping gamely to make a career out of it, the terrible odds to the contrary notwithstanding. That and of course we had to stop by the local orphanage for to do some charity work for the convent nuns before winding down our evening over a cup of warm tea with perhaps just a little milk at the Christian Science Reading Room, as was our inevitable custom.
Don’t call us saints, the skipper and me, for we couldn’t abide the comparison, neither then nor now. It’s just that there are all kinds of duty, and we humbly accepted our own.
So another day went by ashore, and if there were more than the usual number of smirking glances and antic gestures exchanged between the junior officers when they came in sight of us their betters, well we thought nothing of it, for most of them had a merely simian sense of humor.
Upon returning to the ship aboard which we had the honor to serve, we found that a certain digital photograph entitled “how was your admin?” had been snapped whilst ashore, and then circulated around the local network at such a dizzying pace that it had somehow found itself circulating off the local network, spilling over the rim and and bouncing around back home again.
Quotha the Hobbit, in a telephone exchange which practically dripped icicles, it was that cool: “That looks like your uniform.”
To which I replied, “Er, em; what? By God, you’re right – it does!”
JOs: You can’t tell them anything.
Betcha you were glad you had a few days before you got home…made sleeping not only easier, but safer
Damn good story, Lex, damn good yarn.
And here I thought JO’s NEVER played jokes on you when you were senior, you being so feared and respected, of course. I’m sure you once said that. And I believed you. It’s crushed, I am!
She fills it out rather nicely, much better in it than you we are afraid to say. Only critique: not enough diversity – they’re both good looking.
Note to self: steal skipper’s blues he always has hanging in his office.
Immediately.
Bu…but, but, but, Dearheart,….who ya gonna believe, me or your lyin’ eyes?
The Hobbit: I COMPLETELY understand, Dear, Suurrr they were…..and yes, of COURSE you were. And no, I’m SURE you didn’t……know, that is……You don’t have to explain ONE SINGLE THING, Not.At.All……….dear
Several comments:
I tried to blow up the photo in hopes of seeing name tags. Apparently, Lex had the good sense to not allow that and cut the photo off above said name tags.
I can tell that the Skipper’s name tag is very visible just below the Sherif’s Badge, however the X.O’s name tag is obscured by by some lovely long hair. Good planning Lex.
Lastly, I spent half of my CO’s tour laughing my a$$ off at the antics of my JOs and the other half worring about their antics getting me fired. It was great.
I pilfered our OPSO’s hat for a young lass @ our mandatory fun the first night in port. My fellow JO’s never ratted me out.
He was a dick and it looked better on her.
Lex, next time I see you for a pint, remind me to tell you about the time my Skipper got kidnapped by one of our VF squadrons while in Thailand, and ended up tied to a chair in his underwear being interrogated by some ex-pat’s from Chicago about a missing drinking flag.
Those lovelies have some very fine un-officer-like-qualities.
Very funny Lex;
I lived (worked) in Perth for about a year; nice town. I can see the cricket grounds in the back of the photo, across the Swan; stayed in an apartment a stone’s throw from there on Hay street.
Tis a different, albeit warm culture down there on Oz; made working offshore on oil rigs a bit more enlightening.
Semper Fi
I’m thinking the trip to Finland you described earlier was probably more hazardous from an annoying the Hobbit standpoint.
Ensigns: Sit around bitching that they have little money left to go out and have more fun.
Lieutenants: Go out and have a LOT of fun.
Commanders: Sit around worrying about just how much fun their Lieutenants are having.
Captains: Sit around telling stories about how much fun they had as Lieutenants.
What a great crew.
Spaz/
ALMOST makes me want to take back everything I said about soft-legs in the forces.
Now, VX, there’s an idea. Bring Women in as “Entertainment Officers.” Chosen for their very admirable cheesecake charms, they could make a great contribution to the morale of the troops. Just like the “Donut Dollies” of WW2. Keeps the reason you are fighting in front of you always.
Comjam, I really resemble that last remark.
In Seoul for a week, went to Itaewon yesterday. Then thought about the fact that in two years, it will be twenty odd ones since I first saw the place. WOW. That is a LONG time ago, and I was already a severly old fart then.
For the curious, Hooker Hill is still there, and Stompers is still at the top.
Emu export hey.
Only in WA….
No matter how saintly, a snap of the sort will render a verdict of guilty until proven innocent.
I enjoyed the story immensely. Especially since it wasn’t me.
I am guessing correctly that the JOs “borrowed” said Unis that appear as photographic evidence for purpose of a mild prank on their senior officers?
Hope your JO’s all got 3.0′s in “Goal Setting and Achievement”
Them girls still had stuff on under your blouses.
Concur.
Soundly.
Just goes to show y’all that any odd darned thing can show up one day wearing a naval flying officer’s uniform. No wonder we find them so strange and bizarre.
Cute, for the most part, bizarre overall.
Bwahahahaha……..
We enlisted aircrew types were always on the prowl for such “evidence” for to use a black,ail on the Division Officers, et al.
The most fun, however, was “tagging” visiting aircraft and ships with our squadron logo and a can of spray paint.
Lex,
That was a great cruise e had in 87 going to Perth, brought back many a memory. Glad it wasn’t as digitally advanced back then . Ah, being a JO……Tis true about being senior, it’s a drag having to be mature and growed up like.
Beats returning from liberty with bullet holes in back of the rental van…
- SJS
Beats returning from liberty without the rental van….
Yeah (sigh) they did that too… (‘Skipper – we rolled the van…’)
- SJS
>CopyPaste to: JO Shenanigans To-Do List<
Sweet, sweet memories of Perth. First experienced with fellow JOs, then on the next (and extended) stay – brought out the better half. Doesn’t get much better.
Thanks for sharing.
Navy piloting, a risque business.
Curtis/
That’s truly artfully funny! Definitely in my “wish I’d said that” category. (Of course you realize I hate your guts for this out of jealousy alone
)
VX,
Mais oui! I spent much of the day taunting the ultra-criminal AC boundary violator call sign/skippy but did come back here to note, in some good time that our sometime host had got his shotgun poster files back online and we must once again confine our poor selves to 10 words or less lest we sink into a well deserved obscurity….oh to sleep perchance to dream…I’m gonna try that soon. Ambien, uumm.
First let me say that I don’t for a second begrudge or otherwise deplore the so-called ” JO Shenanigans” reported above…(no church lady here)… and acknowledge and respect that they are part of a long and revered Naval tradition…
…God knows I’d go slightly/totally nuts myself as a result being cooped up on a ship with a herd of plug ugly swabbies like you Gomers…but thats just sweet little ole me…
…that said in my very short time on active duty…66-69 …other than RVN where all bets were off…I was stationd at major Army installations…Forts Knox, Bragg and Benning…tight-ass-vills all…stars, birds,foreign officers and rubber necking VIPs all over the flippen place…the rule spoken and unspoken then was that if you wanted to let off steam go sh*t-house and chase the Babes…do it as far away from the flagpole(Main Post) as possable…I know of budding careers (not mine) ruined for failure to abide by this simple rule…very different service cultures indeed…Best
Lex,
I do so enjoy you wry sense of humor that is wonderfully displayed in this post.
Tim,
The real fun was painting a helo from another squadron that overnighted to look like one of yours. Then watch the antics when the visiting aircrew tried to find their bird. Everybody on the ship was in on it. When they went to the filght deck their bird was on its way to the hangar. We kept them going for a few hours. The funniest part was when it ended up right where they had parked it. Every corrosion shop on the boat helped us paint that thing. We used masking tape to cover the original markings. With patch painting it would pass from about 5 feet away. Peel it off and the original paint was back.
… don’t know anything about that picture … a quiet port call … nothing really to see … very quiet at the library … don’t recall any particular shenanigans prior, during, or after … could’ve been the lions …
lamont/
Library? I always said we went to the Gov. Documents section to read transcripts from Congressional budget hearings, followed by a stop at the art museum…and you’re on the wrong continent, no lions in OZ, have to be those damned Dingos–even been known to steal babies, ya know….Let alone take candy from babes, er, babies.
A very example of the wicked rogue hisself!
I laughed so hard, milk came out my nose. Also, the can of Emu Export verifies the location.