Below the fold, a story of intestinal infortitude from naval aviation’s front lines: The story of how a young lieutenant junior grade competed for a new callsign in Operation Enduring Freedom.
You’re not going to want to read this if you’re the delicate sort, nor if bathroom humor with the occasional Anglo-Saxon thrown in offends.
It’s not all beer and skittles in the fleet.
Ladies, Gentlemen, and Bunkopotamus,
Here is how it all went down. It was an early morning OEF flight. Early as in wake up at 3 for the brief. Had my usual breakfast of scrambled eggs with everything the wardroom grill has to offer, then with my usual drowning of texas pete and jalepenos. Delicious.
Went to the mass brief, the crew brief and the man up without incident. I had no indications of poopage. You must understand I eat this breakfast almost every day, so I do not blame it for the incident. I went to the head before we walked but only had to pee. I didn’t grab a bag nasty because I do not want to play sandwich roulette. I did bring a butterscotch crumpet which our
MMCO gave me because he is from Philly. Anyway, I manned up and we launched without incident. The first half of the mission was uneventful.
But around hour 3 and a halfish, on the way back, my stomach wasn’t feeling so hot. I was RO, and thought I just had a stomach ache in addition to my need to pee. I went to the AEC and tried to piss in the tube. But I had that awful revelation, that I couldn’t pee without pooping. No big deal I thought, I can hold my pee, I have held it for longer than this. So I went back to my seat. 15 minutes or so later and I realized that this poop wanted out. I squirmed to try to stave off the need to dump. After 30 minutes or so of battling, I had to run to the AEC again. I let my crew know that I wasn’t doing so hot. I brought my trusty hefty bag with me, just in case. Once in the AEC, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to do this. I squirmed, and returned to my seat, not sure
how this all was going to end. Upon returning to the seat, I asked the CICO if it was possible to coordinate with flight to let me hot switch out as soon as we landed, because I was borderline having an aeromedical emergency. They said it would be no problem, much to my relief. Finally we were in marshal, waiting our turn to land on the boat and for myself, an end to my nightmare. I was feeling awful, and wasn’t sure if I could make it. Finally, with 10 minutes until the recovery was to begin, I couldn’t take it anymore. I asked the pilots when we would be heading down, and they announced the current launch’s planes were still on deck. A feeling of sheer terror came over me. I knew it was time.
There was no fighting this anymore. It had to go. I grabbed my hefty bag and dove over the CICO and ACO to get the AEC. I slammed the door shut and tore my gear off. I had my vest off and was working my harness off when it started. A fart that was much more than a fart. I was sharting in the AEC. I was in full panic mode. I got the rest of my harness off and pulled down my flight suit. I squatted and carefully grabbed the bag and let it rip. I simultaneously felt relief and panic, happy as I was to get it out, I was terrified I might not get it all in the bag. Once it was all out, I carefully set the bag down and assessed my situation.
I was standing in the AEC, with my flight suit at my ankles, my gear everywhere, with wet poo juice on my underwear. I knew the underwear had to go. I tried to get my zoom bag off without taking off my boots. No chance paddles. I untied my boots and carefully stepped out of my mess. I had a moment of clarity while I realized how crazy it was that I was in the AEC in nothing but my socks. I wiped with my underwear, and threw them in the bag. I carefully put everything back on, shaking from squatting and the trauma of the previous 2 hours. My new obstacle was what to do with the bag. I carefully sealed it up. I forgot to mention I received a knock on the AEC door and was handed toilet paper. It was too late by that point. I came out of the AEC and found out I was now the ACO, because the ACO had moved to the RO seat. I immediately asked the CICO, who is also the XO, if I could toss the bag out of the hatch. He didn’t think it was a good idea, in case it didn’t quite clear the plane. I also found out the toilet paper was from CAG. Yes, I shit myself on a flight with my XO and CAG. Go big or go home. I strapped in
and prepared for landing. Now all I could think about is what am I going to do with this bag, and will it survive the trap? Luckily it did and we landed uneventfully. As the engines spooled down, I asked XO what I should do with my creation. He cryptically said not to bring it in the boat, so I knew what I had to do. I walked out of the plane, went straight to the nearest catwalk and said goodbye to the bag of foulness.
I went straight to my room because I needed to clean up. In full flight gear. Because my uniform was sanitized, I didn’t have my room key. I pounded on the door until one of my roommates opened it. I quickly explained what happened and that I needed to shower and change before I debriefed. And that I would need to hand wash my flight suit later.
Obviously by the time I got down to the ready room to debrief, everyone knew what had happened. I told everyone exactly how it went down, as you read it here. I am not sure what callsign will result from this, but here are some popular ones:
DASH (Dumb Ass Shit Himself)
SHARD (SHitting retARD)
Bubblegut (the AT shop, who I work with a lot and therefore give me a lot of shit(no pun intended) came up with this one. I think they could do better)
Prior to this, I was being called Special and Big Ugly Dumb Animal (BUDA).
(Name withheld out of professional courtesy. You’re welcome.)