Shore patrol in San Diego. The patrol chief assigned pairs to roam the streets and bars downtown. I didn’t enlist in the navy to be a policeman, so whenever I reported for patrol duty, I always had a scowl on my face. I think that made me look tougher than I was. That night I was paired with the lead patrolman. He was a tough guy. He had a truck to ride in; that made me happy not having to walk. We got a call from a downtown locker club ( a place where sailors kept their civilian clothes, had laundry done for them and could buy various sundries.) We rolled over there to diffuse a heated dispute between the sailor and the proprietor. The lead patrolman spoke to the owner, we took the sailor into custody and led him out the door. The patrolman told me to frisk the sailor. I was not keen on that, but I followed his order. I found nothing. The lead asked: did you check his boots? I hadn’t thought about that. I checked his boots and he had a switchblade knife in one boot. I was young and found that to be frightening. We hauled the prisoner over to the shore patrol brig and put him in a cell.
My next several shore patrol duties were many in Subic Bay, Philippines. Those were a long 12 hours from noon until midnight. Before going on duty we underwent training in the use of a nightstick. Shore patrol was more dangerous in the P.I. than any in the USA. The nightstick training was short and to the point. We could not use the stick on the head or the body above the knee, which made it sort of useless. One thing about shore patrol was you never knew your partner, so you never knew if he would back you up or not. I was lucky in all those many shore patrols in the P.I.
One shore patrol in Subic bay was not ashore in town, but on a small Island in the bay. It was on Grande Island. When we were in port, the navy rented the island for sailors on liberty, they also stocked it with all the hamburgers, hot dogs and deserts a sailor could eat and it had free beer, all one could consume. To get to the island, we traveled from the USS Kitty Hawk on WW-2 landing craft. They were flat botton boats used for assault troops. The boats pulled up to the shoreline and opened a large flat platformthat fell to the ground and a sailor coulld walk off of it and be on the shore. The trips over to the island were pleasant, but going back to the ship was a far different story. The boat held 30-40 sailors. By the time the day was over, everyone of them was drubk as they could be. They were standing on the flat bottom and there was only 2 shorepatrolmen, me and one on the opposite side of the craft. We stood on an 8 inch wide runner that went from stem to stern. Going back to the ship, the drunks decided to pull me off the platform and likely beat on me. There were arms all over, trying to pull me off the platform. That was the only time I ever used my night stick. I was clacking wrists one after another trying to save myself. After enough of them had swollen wrists they gave up on me. We got back to the ship and those who could walk, drag themselves up the gangway and reported back to the ship.
The next and last shore patrol I remember was in Hong Kong. That was fun. I was assigned to go with 2 British Royal Marines. Britain was still in control of Hong Kong back then. These two were tall and well built and strong. They would have been great poster boys for recruitment into the royal marines. They had a truck (in Britain they call trucks Lorries.) We cruised around the town and only picked up one sailor for drunk and disorderly conduct. The truck had one bench style seat, they filled it so I sat in the back of the truck. It was covered and had a gate to lock people in. The sailor we picked up was pleasant all the way back to shore patrol headquarters on the pier. He was processed and we took him back to the cell. When he saw that cell he would be locked up inside he went crazy. He wanted none of that, but the royal marines handled the situation well.
The next call was for an Army Ranger drunk in a bar downtown. We talked to him and he seemed docile enough, he just drank too much. We took him to the shore patrol brig, for his safety. It was common downtown for muggers to assault drunks and take their wallets. The chief said to put him in a cell so he could sleep it off and release him the next morning. The chief added two other patrolmen to escort the Ranger to his cell. The chief thought the Soldier might go into a rage and kick all of our asses. He didn’t. He was very calm.
One thing I learned in my many times on shore patrol was that a docile sailor or marine on the street can go crazy when they see a jail cell and one who was in a fighting mode on the street melts like a lamb when he sees the cell door. I never understood that phenomen.
The rest of that night was calm and the lead patrolman and I went to several bars, supposedly to check and make sure there was no trouble. The real reason was he knew every barmaid from San Diego to 20 miles up the coast. He was hitting them up for dates when he was off duty.
Only once was I really scared. Midnight was the end of liberty for all sailors and marines. The last cattle trailer to leave the gate at Subic Bay was the worst one to be on. That’s when the real dregs climb aboard the last trailer leaving for the ship. There were about 20 marines, 20 black sailors and 20 southern rednecks on the trailer and all of them were drunk. It was a powder keg waiting for a spark to ignite the fire. I was one of the three sailors on shore patrol that were there to control 60 drunks that did not like each other. The cattle cars traveled about 40 miles an hour going back to the ship. It was not uncommon for a load of drunks returning to the ship to toss the shore patrolmen out of the cattle car at 40 miles an hour. I was very frightened the entire trip back to the ship and relieved that I was unharmed and still alive after that harrowing trip back to the ship.
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