Boot Camp Bits
September 1963 I started Navy Boot Camp. It was quite the experience for a group of young men. There was a cast of characters that rivaled some movies. One I remember was named Brody. If this guy were a light bulb, his head would have had “4 watt” printed on it. Our Company Commander (the Petty Officer in charge of our training) had previously selected an RCPO (Recruit Chief Petty Officer) and for some unknown reason taken the duty away from him and gave command to Brody.
The last thing before lights out at night was always company muster so the Navy would know if someone had decided to terminate his enlistment earlier than his contract stated. As each name was called that man would answer the call with “present, or yo.” The first night Brody was calling roll he called his own name. When no one answered, he called again. Still he heard no answer. Everyone stared, in total disbelief. Brody was furious that someone was not paying attention, so he shouted at the top of his voice, “Brody!” Then a big grin swept across his face, he had just realized why no one had answered his call.
The next morning, we were ordered by Brody to “fall in outside on the grinder.” (The grinder is a paved lot for sailors to assemble, line up and practice marching.) We all lined up at parade rest, ready to march away to the mess hall. Brody called us to attention and led us away. Now I must tell you the Navy starts the day long before sunrise, but there are outside lights. Well Brody led us off, and soon I could sense everyone knew we were not headed in the right direction. In fact we marched until Brody led us down a dead end street and up to a fence. He had a strange look on his face, and I would guess the reason was he was wondering where that fence came from? In his mind it wasn’t there the day before.
That night at muster I wondered if he would duplicate his mistake of the night before. It didn’t take long and sure enough, he called his own name again. The barracks exploded with laughter, everyone but Brody, thought it was very funny. Brody didn’t last too long as RCPO. The next day he was marching us the wrong direction and made us late for a class on seamanship. That finished his career as RCPO and the original RCPO reacquired his job.
There was another guy I remember named Barry. He was a tall thin lad, very quiet. He was terrified of needles, not at all an uncommon thing in men. I wondered why anyone who was afraid of needles would join the Navy. Shots were as common as push-ups. We received shots for anything and everything because no one knew what vaccines they had or where they would be going. As soon as Barry got close enough in line to see the corpsmen with the needles, he got woozy. When Barry was there before the corpsman and the needle began to head in his direction, Barry would pass out! Soon there was a standard routine, one man on either side of Barry to catch him when he collapsed.
I must admit corpsmen did get a tad sadistic at times after administering shots for hours at a time they must have needed some entertainment, so they would slap the area where the needle was about to strike, making the muscle involuntarily flex, causing a painful wince on the part of the sailor. It must have brightened an otherwise dull afternoon.
Back to Barry, I don’t know why a guy who couldn’t swim would join the Navy, much less someone who was terrified of water! Every day the swimming was scheduled, Barry would head for sickbay. It became a cruel joke. He would pack his “ditty bag” and head for sickbay as we left with our swim gear.
The swimming was the best part of boot camp for me. We learned and practiced all sorts of techniques for floating using as little energy as possible, simulated swimming under burning oil and surfacing for air without getting burned, using a Mae West life jacket and lifesaving in the water. We hit the pool at different times in dungarees, white uniforms, underwear and the symbol of the Navy, the white hat. We learned how to use any part of the uniform to stay afloat and stay alive. One never knows when a torpedo will impact one’s ship and force one to enter the water in any complete or partial uniform. It’s difficult perhaps to imagine how a sailor’s white hat can keep him floating, but it will as long as he wets it, turns it down like a bell, holds on to it, and keeps it underwater, tucked into his belly.
One thing we did a lot of was learn how to pack a sea bag, wash our own clothes by hand and then hang them up with “clothes stops.” A clothes stop was an approximately 9 inch long narrow rope used to tie to an article of clothing and then hang the item on a line to dry. It was a peacetime Navy then and tradition was important. The Company Commanders would check those clothes lines and they had to be perfect from end to end. There would be 100 t-shirts on a line and each one had to be lined up exactly with the one next to it. When November rolled around at Great Lakes, you could push one t-shirt at the end and all 100 would move in a frozen lineup. Later we were happy to be allowed the indoor drying rooms for our clothes. They were maintained at near 90 degrees to dry all the clothes and the heat felt good against the outside temperature near Lake Michigan in the early winter.
The worst part of boot camp for me was Firefighting School. There were makeshift buildings with no windows, simulating ships on fire, that would have a part filled barrel of diesel fuel that was lit on fire so the boot camp sailors could form a hose crew, then go into a pitch black, smoking environment, find the fire, then put it out. As I think about it, water isn’t the best thing for a diesel fire, but that’s what we did. I may have the fuel wrong, but I remember the choking heat and being covered from head to toe with soot and filth. The instructors never told us all of the hazards we could run into onboard an aircraft carrier or a destroyer. They did not mention hazards like exploding ordinance and deadly choking gasses and scenes like on the Forrestal in 1967.
There is a site with a more complete story of the bravery of crewmembers on the Forrestal that fateful day, July 29, 1967 when 134 men lost their lives fighting the worst fire ever aboard an aircraft carrier. Do a search on Google to read about the Forrestal. Just type in Forrestal and follow the link. Once you begin to read the story you won’t be able to stop.
Copyright Bill Weber 2006-2019 and beyond.
September 1963 I started Navy Boot Camp. It was quite the experience for a group of young men. There was a cast of characters that rivaled some movies. One I remember was named Brody. If this guy were a light bulb, his head would have had “4 watt” printed on it. Our Company Commander (the Petty Officer in charge of our training) had previously selected an RCPO (Recruit Chief Petty Officer) and for some unknown reason taken the duty away from him and gave command to Brody.
The last thing before lights out at night was always company muster so the Navy would know if someone had decided to terminate his enlistment earlier than his contract stated. As each name was called that man would answer the call with “present, or yo.” The first night Brody was calling roll he called his own name. When no one answered, he called again. Still he heard no answer. Everyone stared, in total disbelief. Brody was furious that someone was not paying attention, so he shouted at the top of his voice, “Brody!” Then a big grin swept across his face, he had just realized why no one had answered his call.
The next morning, we were ordered by Brody to “fall in outside on the grinder.” (The grinder is a paved lot for sailors to assemble, line up and practice marching.) We all lined up at parade rest, ready to march away to the mess hall. Brody called us to attention and led us away. Now I must tell you the Navy starts the day long before sunrise, but there are outside lights. Well Brody led us off, and soon I could sense everyone knew we were not headed in the right direction. In fact we marched until Brody led us down a dead end street and up to a fence. He had a strange look on his face, and I would guess the reason was he was wondering where that fence came from? In his mind it wasn’t there the day before.
That night at muster I wondered if he would duplicate his mistake of the night before. It didn’t take long and sure enough, he called his own name again. The barracks exploded with laughter, everyone but Brody, thought it was very funny. Brody didn’t last too long as RCPO. The next day he was marching us the wrong direction and made us late for a class on seamanship. That finished his career as RCPO and the original RCPO reacquired his job.
There was another guy I remember named Barry. He was a tall thin lad, very quiet. He was terrified of needles, not at all an uncommon thing in men. I wondered why anyone who was afraid of needles would join the Navy. Shots were as common as push-ups. We received shots for anything and everything because no one knew what vaccines they had or where they would be going. As soon as Barry got close enough in line to see the corpsmen with the needles, he got woozy. When Barry was there before the corpsman and the needle began to head in his direction, Barry would pass out! Soon there was a standard routine, one man on either side of Barry to catch him when he collapsed.
I must admit corpsmen did get a tad sadistic at times after administering shots for hours at a time they must have needed some entertainment, so they would slap the area where the needle was about to strike, making the muscle involuntarily flex, causing a painful wince on the part of the sailor. It must have brightened an otherwise dull afternoon.
Back to Barry, I don’t know why a guy who couldn’t swim would join the Navy, much less someone who was terrified of water! Every day the swimming was scheduled, Barry would head for sickbay. It became a cruel joke. He would pack his “ditty bag” and head for sickbay as we left with our swim gear.
The swimming was the best part of boot camp for me. We learned and practiced all sorts of techniques for floating using as little energy as possible, simulated swimming under burning oil and surfacing for air without getting burned, using a Mae West life jacket and lifesaving in the water. We hit the pool at different times in dungarees, white uniforms, underwear and the symbol of the Navy, the white hat. We learned how to use any part of the uniform to stay afloat and stay alive. One never knows when a torpedo will impact one’s ship and force one to enter the water in any complete or partial uniform. It’s difficult perhaps to imagine how a sailor’s white hat can keep him floating, but it will as long as he wets it, turns it down like a bell, holds on to it, and keeps it underwater, tucked into his belly.
One thing we did a lot of was learn how to pack a sea bag, wash our own clothes by hand and then hang them up with “clothes stops.” A clothes stop was an approximately 9 inch long narrow rope used to tie to an article of clothing and then hang the item on a line to dry. It was a peacetime Navy then and tradition was important. The Company Commanders would check those clothes lines and they had to be perfect from end to end. There would be 100 t-shirts on a line and each one had to be lined up exactly with the one next to it. When November rolled around at Great Lakes, you could push one t-shirt at the end and all 100 would move in a frozen lineup. Later we were happy to be allowed the indoor drying rooms for our clothes. They were maintained at near 90 degrees to dry all the clothes and the heat felt good against the outside temperature near Lake Michigan in the early winter.
The worst part of boot camp for me was Firefighting School. There were makeshift buildings with no windows, simulating ships on fire, that would have a part filled barrel of diesel fuel that was lit on fire so the boot camp sailors could form a hose crew, then go into a pitch black, smoking environment, find the fire, then put it out. As I think about it, water isn’t the best thing for a diesel fire, but that’s what we did. I may have the fuel wrong, but I remember the choking heat and being covered from head to toe with soot and filth. The instructors never told us all of the hazards we could run into onboard an aircraft carrier or a destroyer. They did not mention hazards like exploding ordinance and deadly choking gasses and scenes like on the Forrestal in 1967.
There is a site with a more complete story of the bravery of crewmembers on the Forrestal that fateful day, July 29, 1967 when 134 men lost their lives fighting the worst fire ever aboard an aircraft carrier. Do a search on Google to read about the Forrestal. Just type in Forrestal and follow the link. Once you begin to read the story you won’t be able to stop.
Copyright Bill Weber 2006-2019 and beyond.
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