I was assigned Hong Kong Shore Patrol duty one evening so I reported to the Patrol office at the pier. I don’t know why, maybe it was that perpetual scowl I had in those days, but I was assigned to ride with the British Marines that night. The truck they drove had only two seats in the front so I got to ride in the cage in the back with whomever we picked up and took to Shore Patrol headquarters. Those two British Marines were burly types permanently stationed in Hong Kong and they had the cool sounding British accent. They were fun to be with and were very interested in exchanging their crummy British cigarettes for my American smokes. The evening went well; we only picked up two sailors and returned them to the brig at the pier for safekeeping until the barge would take them back to the ship.
Late that night, when it was time for the last ferry back to the ship they returned me to the pier. The Shore Patrol on duty were released for that last ferry to our ship when we were given a package to deliver to the brig on board. It was a young sailor who was absolutely wild, high on drugs that made him super strong and aggressive, so much so that we had to handcuff him and carry him down the pier like a huge wriggling python. He fought all the way down the pier and onto the ferry where we handcuffed him to a rail.
The ferry left the pier headed out to the ship in the harbor. The harbor water was a little choppy, making for a gentle rocking motion. I was up on the top deck, sitting there minding my own business when a sailor stood up in the front row of chairs and had that look in his eyes, along with an unsteady walk that told me he was extremely drunk and looking for a place to puke. I could see his stomach pull in the first time but he held it in. Then he raised his hand to cover his mouth and I knew what was going to happen next. I jumped from my chair trying to get out of range, but the hand over his mouth only added to the pressure of his stomach contents hurling out of his body. It was like a lawn sprinkler spraying everywhere! I was quick enough to get out of the range of the big stuff, ending up with just a few small spots on the bottoms of my trousers and shoes, but some of those passed out in close range really got a shower. I often wondered when they woke up the next morning if they questioned what that terrible smell was on their dress blues. He had sprayed twenty guys, none of which even moved; they were so unaware.
The ferry arrived at the ship and the Shore Patrol had to wake the drunks and load them onto the gangplank. The belligerent one was un-cuffed from the rail, re-cuffed and escorted to the brig where the Marine detachment welcomed him with open arms. He was a little less wild by that time. I saw him three days later in the chow line and it appeared that the Marines had taken the wind out of his sails. I don’t know what they do down there but it does have an effect on young sailors. I understand there was quite a bit of exercise involved in those vacations to the brig and there’s nothing like eight or ten hours of Marine physical training a day to show a sailor how good he has it back in his division or squadron. Those brig rats were very quiet in the chow line and polite too. They all stood in silence until everyone had his tray filled and was at the table before any of them were given permission to sit and eat. They ate in total silence.
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