Navy Pride
DP Veteran
- Joined
- Jul 11, 2005
- Messages
- 39,883
- Reaction score
- 3,070
- Location
- Pacific NW
- Gender
- Male
- Political Leaning
- Very Conservative
Brings back a lot of memories:
> I had to tote a full sea bag around the parade field for two hours
> after a small infraction in boot camp. It was sure heavy!! I tried
> to carry to carry it a couple dozen ways. I never put wet leggings
> under my mattress again!
>
> Ben Lewis
>
>
>> THE SEA BAG........
>>
>>
>> There was a time when everything you owned had to fit in your sea
>> bag. Remember those nasty rascals? Fully packed, one of the suckers
>> weighed more than the poor devil hauling it.
>>
>> The damn things weighed a ton and some idiot with an off-center sense
>> of humor sewed a carry handle on it to help you haul it. Hell, you
>> could bolt a handle on a Greyhound bus but it wouldn't make the damn
>> thing portable.
>>
>> The Army, Marines and Air Force got footlockers and we got a big ole'
>> canvas bag.
>>
>> After you warped your spine jackassing the goofy thing through a bus
>> or train station, sat on it waiting for connecting
>> transportation and made folks mad because it was too damn big to fit
>> in any overhead rack on any bus, train and airplane ever made, the
>> contents looked like hell. All your gear appeared to have come from
>> bums who slept on park benches.
>>
>> Traveling with a sea bag was something left over from the "Yo-ho-ho
>> and a bottle of rum" sailing ship days. Sailors used to sleep in
>> hammocks. So you stowed your issue in a big canvas bag and lashed
>> your hammock to it, hoisted it on your shoulder and in effect moved
>> your entire home and complete inventory of earthly possessions from
>> ship
>> to ship. I wouldn't say you traveled light because with one strap it
>> was a one-shoulder load that could torque your skeletal frame and
>> bust your ankles. It was like hauling a dead linebacker.
>>
>> They wasted a lot of time in boot camp telling you how to pack one of
>> the suckers. There was an officially sanctioned method of
>> organization that you forgot after ten minutes on the other side of
>> the gate at Great Lakes or San Diego. You got rid of a lot of issue
>> gear when you went to the SHIP.
>>
>> Did you ever know a tin-can sailor who had a raincoat? A flat hat?
>> One of those nut hugger knit swimsuits? How bout those roll your own
>> neckerchiefs... The ones the girls in a good Naval tailor shop would
>> cut down and sew into a 'greasy snake' for two bucks?
>>
>> Within six months, every fleet sailor was down to one set of dress
>> blues, port and starboard undress blues and whites, a couple of white
>> hats, boots, shoes, assorted skivvies a pea coat and three sets of
>> bleached out dungarees. The rest of your original issue was either in
>> the pea coat locker, lucky bag or had been reduced to wipe down
>> rags in the engine room. Underway ships were not ships that allowed
>> vast accumulation of private gear.
>>
>> Hobos who lived in discarded refrigerator crates could amass greater
>> loads of pack rat crap than fleet sailors. The confines of a canvas
>> back rack, side locker and a couple of bunk bags did not allow one to
>> live a Donald Trump existence. Space and the going pay scale combined
>> to make us envy the lifestyle of a mud hut Ethiopian. We
>> were the global equivalents of nomadic Monguls without ponies to haul
>> our stuff.
>>
>> And after the rigid routine of boot camp we learned the skill of
>> random compression packing... Known by mother's world-wide as
>> 'cramming'. It is amazing what you can jam into a space no bigger
>> than a breadbox if you pull a watch cap over a boot and push it in
>> with your foot. Of course it looks kinda weird when you pull it out
>> but they never hold
>> fashion shows at sea and wrinkles added character to a salty
>> appearance. There was a four-hundred mile gap between the images on
>> recruiting posters and the actual appearance of sailors at sea. It
>> was not without justifiable reason that we were called the tin-can
>> Navy.
>>
>> We operated on the premise that if 'Cleanliness was next to
>> Godliness', we must be next to the other end of that
>> spectrum... We looked like our clothing had been pressed with a
>> waffle iron and packed by a bulldozer.
>>
>> But what in the hell did they expect from a bunch of jerks that lived
>> in the crews hole of a 2250 Gearing/Fletcher
>> can. After a while you got used to it... You got used to everything
>> you owned picking up and retaining that
>> distinctive aroma... You got used to old ladies on busses taking a
>> couple of wrinkled nose sniffs of your pea coat then getting up and
>> finding another seat...
>>
>> Do they still issue seabags? Can you still make five bucks sitting up
>> half the night drawing a ships picture on the side
>> of one of the damn things with black and white marking pens that
>> drive old master-at-arms into a 'rig for heart attack' frenzy? Make
>> their faces red... The veins on their neck bulge out... And yell,
>> "Jeezus H. Christ! What in god's name is that all over your seabag?"
>> "Artwork, Chief... It's like the work of Michelangelo... My ship...
>> Great huh?" "Looks like some damn comic book..."
>>
>> Here was a man with cobras tattooed on his arms... A skull with a
>> dagger through one eye and a ribbon reading 'DEATH BEFORE SHORE DUTY'
>> on his shoulder... Crossed anchors with 'Subic Bay 1945' on the other
>> shoulder... An eagle on his chest and a full blown Chinese dragon
>> peeking out between the cheeks of his butt. If anyone was an
>> authority on stuff that looked like a comic book, it had to be this
>> E-7 sucker.
>>
>> Sometimes I look at all the crap stacked in my garage, close my eyes
>> and smile, remembering a time when everything I owned could be
>> crammed into a canvas bag. Maturity is hell.
> I had to tote a full sea bag around the parade field for two hours
> after a small infraction in boot camp. It was sure heavy!! I tried
> to carry to carry it a couple dozen ways. I never put wet leggings
> under my mattress again!
>
> Ben Lewis
>
>
>> THE SEA BAG........
>>
>>
>> There was a time when everything you owned had to fit in your sea
>> bag. Remember those nasty rascals? Fully packed, one of the suckers
>> weighed more than the poor devil hauling it.
>>
>> The damn things weighed a ton and some idiot with an off-center sense
>> of humor sewed a carry handle on it to help you haul it. Hell, you
>> could bolt a handle on a Greyhound bus but it wouldn't make the damn
>> thing portable.
>>
>> The Army, Marines and Air Force got footlockers and we got a big ole'
>> canvas bag.
>>
>> After you warped your spine jackassing the goofy thing through a bus
>> or train station, sat on it waiting for connecting
>> transportation and made folks mad because it was too damn big to fit
>> in any overhead rack on any bus, train and airplane ever made, the
>> contents looked like hell. All your gear appeared to have come from
>> bums who slept on park benches.
>>
>> Traveling with a sea bag was something left over from the "Yo-ho-ho
>> and a bottle of rum" sailing ship days. Sailors used to sleep in
>> hammocks. So you stowed your issue in a big canvas bag and lashed
>> your hammock to it, hoisted it on your shoulder and in effect moved
>> your entire home and complete inventory of earthly possessions from
>> ship
>> to ship. I wouldn't say you traveled light because with one strap it
>> was a one-shoulder load that could torque your skeletal frame and
>> bust your ankles. It was like hauling a dead linebacker.
>>
>> They wasted a lot of time in boot camp telling you how to pack one of
>> the suckers. There was an officially sanctioned method of
>> organization that you forgot after ten minutes on the other side of
>> the gate at Great Lakes or San Diego. You got rid of a lot of issue
>> gear when you went to the SHIP.
>>
>> Did you ever know a tin-can sailor who had a raincoat? A flat hat?
>> One of those nut hugger knit swimsuits? How bout those roll your own
>> neckerchiefs... The ones the girls in a good Naval tailor shop would
>> cut down and sew into a 'greasy snake' for two bucks?
>>
>> Within six months, every fleet sailor was down to one set of dress
>> blues, port and starboard undress blues and whites, a couple of white
>> hats, boots, shoes, assorted skivvies a pea coat and three sets of
>> bleached out dungarees. The rest of your original issue was either in
>> the pea coat locker, lucky bag or had been reduced to wipe down
>> rags in the engine room. Underway ships were not ships that allowed
>> vast accumulation of private gear.
>>
>> Hobos who lived in discarded refrigerator crates could amass greater
>> loads of pack rat crap than fleet sailors. The confines of a canvas
>> back rack, side locker and a couple of bunk bags did not allow one to
>> live a Donald Trump existence. Space and the going pay scale combined
>> to make us envy the lifestyle of a mud hut Ethiopian. We
>> were the global equivalents of nomadic Monguls without ponies to haul
>> our stuff.
>>
>> And after the rigid routine of boot camp we learned the skill of
>> random compression packing... Known by mother's world-wide as
>> 'cramming'. It is amazing what you can jam into a space no bigger
>> than a breadbox if you pull a watch cap over a boot and push it in
>> with your foot. Of course it looks kinda weird when you pull it out
>> but they never hold
>> fashion shows at sea and wrinkles added character to a salty
>> appearance. There was a four-hundred mile gap between the images on
>> recruiting posters and the actual appearance of sailors at sea. It
>> was not without justifiable reason that we were called the tin-can
>> Navy.
>>
>> We operated on the premise that if 'Cleanliness was next to
>> Godliness', we must be next to the other end of that
>> spectrum... We looked like our clothing had been pressed with a
>> waffle iron and packed by a bulldozer.
>>
>> But what in the hell did they expect from a bunch of jerks that lived
>> in the crews hole of a 2250 Gearing/Fletcher
>> can. After a while you got used to it... You got used to everything
>> you owned picking up and retaining that
>> distinctive aroma... You got used to old ladies on busses taking a
>> couple of wrinkled nose sniffs of your pea coat then getting up and
>> finding another seat...
>>
>> Do they still issue seabags? Can you still make five bucks sitting up
>> half the night drawing a ships picture on the side
>> of one of the damn things with black and white marking pens that
>> drive old master-at-arms into a 'rig for heart attack' frenzy? Make
>> their faces red... The veins on their neck bulge out... And yell,
>> "Jeezus H. Christ! What in god's name is that all over your seabag?"
>> "Artwork, Chief... It's like the work of Michelangelo... My ship...
>> Great huh?" "Looks like some damn comic book..."
>>
>> Here was a man with cobras tattooed on his arms... A skull with a
>> dagger through one eye and a ribbon reading 'DEATH BEFORE SHORE DUTY'
>> on his shoulder... Crossed anchors with 'Subic Bay 1945' on the other
>> shoulder... An eagle on his chest and a full blown Chinese dragon
>> peeking out between the cheeks of his butt. If anyone was an
>> authority on stuff that looked like a comic book, it had to be this
>> E-7 sucker.
>>
>> Sometimes I look at all the crap stacked in my garage, close my eyes
>> and smile, remembering a time when everything I owned could be
>> crammed into a canvas bag. Maturity is hell.