A Sailor’s Thoughts, part 2…

A continuation from yesterday…

The guys who seemed to get away with doing the least, always seemed to be first in the pay line and the chow line.

General Quarters drills and the need to evacuate one’s bowels often seem to coincide.

Speaking of which, when the need arises, the nearest head is always the one which is secured for cleaning.

Three people you never screw with: the doc, the paymaster and the ship’s barber.

In the summer, all deck seamen wanted to be signalmen. In the winter they wanted to be radarmen.

Do snipes ever get the grease and oil off their hands?

Never play a drinking game which involves the loser paying for all the drinks.

There are only two good ships: the one you came from and the one you’re going to.

Whites, coming from the cleaners, clean, pressed and starched, last that way about 30 microseconds after donning them. The Navy dress white uniform is a natural dirt magnet.

Sweat pumps operate in direct proportion to the seniority of the official visiting.

Skill, daring and science will always win out over horseshit, superstition and luck.

We train in peace so that in time of war the greater damage will be upon our enemies and not upon ourselves.

“Pride and professionalism” trumps “Fun and zest” any day.

The shrill call of a bosun’s pipe still puts a chill down my spine.

Three biggest lies in the Navy: We’re happy to be here; this is not an inspection; we’re here to help.

Everything goes in the log.

Rule 1: The Captain is always right. Rule 2: When in doubt refer to Rule 1.

A wet napkin under your tray keeps the tray from sliding on the mess deck table in rough seas, keeping at least one hand free to hold on to your beverage.

Never walk between the projector and the movie screen after the flick has started.

A guy who doesn’t share a care package from home is no shipmate.

When transiting the ocean, the ship’s chronometer is always advanced at 0200 which makes for a short night. When going in the opposite direction, the chronometer is retarded at 1400 which extends the work day.

If I had to do it all over again, I would. Twice.

When I sleep, I often dream I am back at sea.

Good shipmates are friends forever. (this one is so damn true)…

I’m sure some of these sentiments cross over to other services, as shared times in small spaces tend to bring out both the best AND worst in folks…  You remember the good folks, good times, and the bad tends to fade over the years…

Thanks for reading!

h/t JP and a bunch of others

A Sailor’s Thoughts, part 1…

This one came over the transom via the mil-email chain and via JP…

Some random and rambling thoughts accumulated from various quarters over the years. A bit of introspection from an “older” sailor.

OldSailor

A sailor will walk 10 miles in a freezing rain to get a beer but complain mightily about standing a 4 hour quarterdeck watch on a beautiful, balmy spring day.

A sailor will lie and cheat to get off the ship early and then will have no idea where he wants to go.

Sailors are territorial. They have their assigned spaces to clean and maintain. Woe betide the shipmate who tracks through a freshly swabbed deck.

Sailors constantly complain about the food on the mess decks while concurrently going back for second or third helpings.

Some sailors have taken literally the old t-shirt saying that they should “Join the Navy. Sail to distant ports. Catch embarrassing, exotic diseases.”

After a sea cruise, I realized how much I missed being at sea. We are now considering a Med cruise visiting some of my past favorite ports. Of course I’ll have to pony up better than $5,000 for the privilege. To think, Uncle Sam actually had to pay me to visit those same ports 50 years ago.

You can spend two years on a ship and never visit every nook and cranny or even every major space aboard. Yet, you can know all your shipmates.

Campari and soda taken in the warm Spanish sun is an excellent hangover remedy.

E5 is the almost perfect military pay grade. Too senior to catch the crap details, too junior to be blamed if things go awry.

Never be first, never be last and never volunteer for anything.

Almost every port has a “gut.” An area teeming with cheap bars, easy women and partiers. Kind of like Bourbon St., but with foreign currency.

If the Guardia Civil tell you to “Alto,” you’d best alto, right now. Same goes for the Carabinieri, gendarmes and other assorted police forces. You could easily find yourself in that port’s hoosegow. Or shot.

Contrary to popular belief, Chief Petty Officers do not walk on water. They walk just above it.

Sad but true, when visiting even the most exotic ports of call, some sailors only see the inside of the nearest pub.

Also under the category of sad but true, that lithe, sultry Mediterranean beauty you spent those wonderful three days with and have dreamed about ever since, is almost certainly a grandmother now and buying her clothes from Omar the Tent maker.

A sailor can, and will, sleep anywhere, anytime.

Do not eat Mafunga, ever! (Or Balut)…

Yes, it’s true, it does flow downhill.  (Anybody that has ever been to Naples can vouch for that)…

In the traditional “crackerjack” uniform you were recognized as a member of United States Navy, no matter what port you were in. Damn all who want to eliminate or change that uniform.

The Marine dress blue uniform is, by far, the sharpest of all the armed forces.

Most sailors won’t disrespect a shipmate’s mother. On the other hand, it’s not entirely wise to tell them you have a good looking sister.

Sailors and Marines will generally fight one another, and fight together against all comers.

If you can at all help it, never tell anyone that you are seasick.

Check the rear dungaree pockets of a sailor. Right pocket a wallet. Left pocket a book.(ALWAYS a book)

I have always been amazed at the reading material in any squadron or ship I’ve ever encountered, everything from Aristotle to Mack Bolen and everything in between…

More tomorrow!

h/t JP

Range Time!!!

Tired as I was, I had an offer I couldn’t turn down, so off to the range with Murphy and Proud Hillbilly today…  After all, we’re supposed to fire a round at noon!!!

So we did…

1871 NY militia 50 70

Murph was good enough to bring this ‘little’ piece of history out, it’s a 1870ish NY Militia 50-70. And we all fired it!  What a kick in more ways than one!!!

And the range was CROWDED!!! Including some new shooters, which is great to see!

But, I’m a tad puzzled… There were some folks there that were doing basically mag dumps of ARs and what looked like M92s… and they did it more than once…

As Murph said, if you’re shooting faster than a SWAT guy, you ain’t hittin’ s**t… Which after watching I agree with!!!

Is this a ‘new’ thing I’ve missed, or just folks that get off doing that???  ‘I’ can’t afford that, and kinda like to actually ‘aimed’ fire… Just sayin…

Oh yeah, and the ‘guard’ dogs???

2014-04-19 15.22.51

Yep, they barked… until we got inside, then it was the attack of the pet me, no pet ME, dogs… And reloading the slobber gun about every 10 minutes… Pants are now covered in dog hair and slobber, but what the heck, I like the pooches… 🙂

And I’m fading fast, so I’m going to try again to get a decent night’s sleezzzzZZZZZ

1000 words…

Or a picture…

This is a very sad story about a bear.  Everybody should heed the warnings not to feed wildlife because they become dependent and don’t forage for themselves any longer. It is such a tragedy to see what has been done to our country’s wildlife. The photo below captures a disturbing trend.

image001-1

Animals that formerly were self-sufficient are now showing signs of acting like humans. They have apparently learned to just sit and wait for the government to step in and provide for their care and sustenance.

This photo is of a black bear in Montana. He’s nicknamed Bearack Obearma. It is believed that he has become a campground organizer.

h/t JP

Grumpy…

Who knew… I guess I’m just suffering from early onset grumpiness…

But the good times apparently have an expiration date. The men found that their happiness began to diminish around age 70, which NPR dubs “the approximate moment when grumpiness kicks in for men.” The study, published in March’sPsychology and Aging, shed some light on why the men, who were between the ages of 53 and 85 during the 15-year study, found that life improved at first, then started to be a downer around 70.

Read the whole thing HERE on Foxnews.com.

Couldn’t have ANYTHING to do with how tired I am…

The Grey Man…

Since I’ve had quite a few requests…

Here’s a rough map of the Cronin spread, not to scale, but to give you sense of the layout…

Cronin Ranch Main

And yes, I’m AM working on volume #2…

Here’s a sample chapter, uneditied… so no comments about my lousy punctuation ;-P

Another Day at the Office

The old man, Sheriff Rodriguez, Texas Ranger Clay Boone, and Bucky Hendrix from DHS were taking a break and brainstorming who might be lying in the bar ditch when the old man suddenly cussed and trotted over to his car.  Reaching in, he pulled out a file from his gear bag and flipped through it rapidly. He pulled one piece of paper out and hurried back to the group, “I knew something about this was bugging me, it was that damn BOLO from Brewster County that came out Tuesday morning.  Jose you need to make a call, I think we’ve found Eddie Guilfoile junior.”

Clay started cussing viciously, startling all the others, “Gahdammit, this ain’t good at all, his old man is in Huntsville doing three to five for smuggling marijuana and this has all the signs of a cartel hit.  I need to make some calls.”

The sheriff looked at the BOLO and walked back to the body, “Yeah, red and white striped shirt, blue jeans, six-one.  Let’s measure what we’ve got and see.”

The sheriff held the tape against the bottom of the left foot, which had set pretty straight, and the old man measured to the top of the body then added another eight inches. “Yep, six-one or two. Let’s go ahead and release the body to the coroner and you make the call.  I’d have Sheriff Garcia send a car out to the house and see if the head or hands are in the mailbox or on the front porch, or hell, maybe sitting in the car seat.”

Bucky came over, “None of the pocket lint tests positive for anything, shoes are clean; I think this is a payback killing.”

Jose hung up and said, “Hector is going to send a unit and he’s going personally to see if he can get a better description of the shirt and pants.  Turns out the kid was an athlete, starting tight end on the football team and point guard on the basketball team.  He was pretty much the opposite of his old man.”

The Sheriff motioned to the ambulance crew that had been standing by, “Go ahead and bag the body, we’ll be taking it to the Coroner in Brewster County since it’s closer and Doc Truesdale is out of town.  If it is the Guilfoile kid, then so much the better.”

The crew bagged the body, loaded it on the stretcher and eased back on the road heading to Alpine.

Clay and Bucky came back to the car, with Clay saying, “Looks like the old man got in a beef with a cartel type in the Goree block last week.  That whole situation is screwed up, Goree is used for non-violent offenders to train horses, but they run all the illegals through there on the way to deportation.  Apparently the cartel types sent an enforcer to take care of him, but he cut the enforcer up with his own shiv.  Apparently the enforcer was known as Smiley, so Guilfoile gave him an ear to ear smile, then dared any of the rest of them to come get him.  As soon as the guards came on the yard, he dropped the knife and just stood there.  They rolled him up over to the Walls unit and his parole hearing was supposed to be today.  I think they’re gonna let him out in the next day or two, probably Monday.

Bucky chimed in, “Yeah Fast Eddie, as he’s known, is a Cedar chopper and he’s always been on the fringes of whatever illegal stuff needs to be moved.  Low level type, just wants to put food on the table.  But he’s one of those cat quick little shits and apparently has quite the temper.

The old man asked, “If he’s a little shit, how do you explain a six-one kid?  And they’re gonna let him out?

Clay kicked at a rock, “Well, he’s married to an Irish girl named Iris that came over from the old country and apparently she tops him by at least four or five inches.  I’m thinking her side of the genes won.  As far as letting him out, he’d had a perfect record for the last three years, and was a trustee.  Hell, he’s the one that trained my buckskin Dusty!”

The old man shook his head, “Well, Bucky I think this one is going to fall into your and Clay’s bailiwick as a cartel job, and it appears we’ve got a hit team working this side of the border. Normally that crap stays out in Arizona, but if it’s coming here, there must be some indicators we’re missing.”

Clay said, “That’s the problem, we’ve had no indications of anything out of the ordinary. I’m going to Huntsville on Monday to see if I can tease out who and what cartel group this guy that Guilfoile had the beef with is associated with. Bucky, can you check with EPIC and see if they’ve got anything?”

Bucky nodded and made a note on his pad.

The old man looked at his watch and decided to head back to town for lunch rather than go home, since he figured the women were all still there.  He hit the truck stop on I-10 and grabbed a burger, then went to the office and worked on the report from the crime scene.  He downloaded the pictures and formatted them into the document and thanked his stars they’d gone digital.  Ten years ago, he’d have had to go to the lab, print the pictures; wait for them to dry, cut and paste them into the report; and if somebody wanted another copy, he’d have to do it all over again.   By the time he had all the forms filled out, the evidence logged and the reports emailed to the various agencies, it was almost 6:00 PM.

He got up and groaned, rolled his shoulders and tried to get the kinks out, John Cronin you’re getting too old for this shit he thought.  Halfway succeeding, he stopped by dispatch on the way out and told them he was going home, and that he would be out of town Monday and Tuesday.  Lisa noted the information in the log and wished him a good evening.

As he drove home he debated how much to tell Jesse; then decided what the hell, she needed to know and he was tired of her bitching about not being in the loop.  He also made a mental note to get Francisco to make sure all the rear accesses to the property were locked all the time.  He figured he’d better let the neighbors know too, since Hwy 18 was a major cut through from I-10 to I-20.

The old man pulled into the drive and was relieved to see the driveway was empty.  His thoughts bounced wildly from subject to subject has he drove down the driveway, Jack I wish you and Pat could see your little girl now, and I’m sorry she got hooked up with a Marine, but he’s a good kid and he loves her.  This whole wedding is getting out of hand, and thankfully there isn’t a coven of damn women here again.  How are they going to explain that kid’s death…

As the old man walked in the house and Rex slunk out of the office to come see him, “Yeah Rex, it’s me and you against all of them ain’t it.”  Rex wagged his tail and whuffed in agreement.  The old man took off his hat, gun and handcuffs and hung the belt on the hat rack next to the desk.  He looked at the desk and realized Jesse hadn’t even been in the office all afternoon.  Shaking his head, he headed for the kitchen with Rex following close behind.

Juanita and Jesse were sitting at the table, looking at one of what looked like a six-inch stack of books, and laughing.  He took that as a good sign saying, “I take it y’all made some progress today?”

Jesse looked up, “Papa, there is no such thing.  At this point I think we’re in a holding action, and I’m about to tell every one of the bridesmaids to wear what the hell they want!  I swear, I thought we all got along, but now I’m beginning to wonder if eloping might make more sense!”

He laughed and took the cup of coffee Juanita handed him, “Well, that would certainly be a lot cheaper!  Damn church is going to cost me a mint, and both the Padre and the Preacher are trying to hit me up to donate a little extra to the churches.”

Juanita slapped him lightly on the arm, “John, do not profane the church, you know the Padre is just doing what he does.

Francisco and Toby walked in and Francisco said, “Now what did the Padre do?”

The old man laughed again, earning glares from both Juanita and Jesse, “Oh the usual, trying to scam me out of my money!”

Exclamations of “John!” and “Papa!” sounded in chorus as the two women rounded on him.  He held up his hands, “Just joking, just joking!”

Francisco snuck up behind Juanita and kissed her on the neck, prompting her to jokingly say, “You smell like a horse, you will take a bath before you come to bed, otherwise it’s the couch for you!

Toby just smiled shyly and eased around to sit and pet Rex as the old man jumped in, “Juanita, you know I’m only paying for one bath a week for him, so I guess…

Juanita interrupted, “You want to be fed or not John Cronin?”

The old man bowed in defeat, and everyone laughed.  Juanita bustled around the kitchen with Jesse helping get dinner ready, and quickly the meal was on the table; they enjoyed chatting as they ate, and Toby reported he’d finished the two horses Ellington wanted broken.

As Juanita was dishing up the left over cobbler and adding ice cream, the old man decided now was as good as any time to update them on what had gone on today.  Some might find it strange to be discussing dead bodies over dessert, but Francisco was a reserve deputy sheriff as was Jesse, Juanita was an RN although not working as one, and Toby was a Montegnard from a family that had escaped from Vietnam so none of them so much as turned a hair at the change of subject.

They discussed lighting changes, including reactivating the motion sensors at the driveway and the back gate, and putting the sodiums down by the bunkhouse back on line.  The old man decided to reactivate the motion lights at the corners of the house and just live with the occasional animal that wandered by at night and tripped them.  He and Francisco decided to close the back gate and open up the honey pot north of the house just in case somebody tried to sneak in that way. Opening the gate at the cattle guard, and putting down a couple of feed lot panels cum punji stakes just inside the cattle guard would stop any car or person stupid enough to try that entry.  On the south side, just in case anybody tried to come across the pasture, they’d stake out some tag ends of barbed wire rolls across the likely lines of approach to the pasture gate at front of the house.  The old man reminded Toby that he would have to be more careful in both those pastures in the future.

After dinner he adjourned to the office and saved a copy of the incident report from earlier onto his hard drive and copied it to one of those ‘thumb’ drives as people were calling them.  He figured with multiple copies, his butt was covered.

Going back for another cup of coffee, he casually threw out, “Oh, DEA and CBP want me down at Laredo to assist with another class of new officers, so I’m going down tomorrow and will be down there Monday and Tuesday teaching.

Francisco smiled and nodded, while both Juanita and Jesse glared at him again, “Hey, they asked me, I didn’t ask them, besides Charlie’s on vacation and if I don’t do it that leaves Bucky and you know how bad an instructor he is.”

Jesse nodded ruefully, “Yeah, for somebody that knows as much as he does, he couldn’t instruct his way out of a paper bag.  You would think they’d send him to school or something!”

The old man said, “Well he is a sector supervisor, so technically he’s not supposed to be teaching just management.  But if you stuck Bucky in an office, he’d go nuts.  Anyway, with this new administration, they’re trying to revise the instructional courses to make them politically correct; so if we’re going to tell the newbies the truth, now is the time to do it.”

Francisco said, “Truth is good, politics is not.  But we know that don’t we?”

Jesse giggled, “Oh God, I can’t imagine Bucky as politically correct, nor Aaron or Matt!  Felicia called today the Marines have been heard from!  Matt heard from Aaron and they are still on track to be back in thirty-eight days.  Felicia said Matt already has his leave approved, and she’s put in for vacation, so the three of them will drive here in Aaron’s truck then Matt and Felicia will fly back.”

The old man teased, “So double wedding? Is that the hold up?”

Juanita laughed, but Jesse just cocked her head, “Uh, probably not, but I think they’re getting serious, although they both say they’re only friends.  But I know from Angelina that Felicia is pretty damn serious about Matt.  She’s asking Angelina what the family would think, so I’m betting if there aren’t any problems we’ll be doing this again in a year for her and Matt.”

Juanita said, “That would be good, Felicia needs to remarry and Matt needs a good woman.  I think you’re right Jesse.  Do you know yet how many Marines are coming for the wedding yet?”

Jesse said, “I think three plus Matt to match the number of bridesmaids.  When we add Trey and Beverly that gives us five of each; that’s supposed to be lucky, so that’s what we’re going with.

Juanita said, “In that case, we’ll put Trey and Beverly in the guest room here, and give the girls the old house.  We can clean up the bunkhouse and put all the Marines there.”

The women went back to chatting about details and the old man made a graceful exit to go pack.

At breakfast the next morning Toby was wearing the Gerber Bowie that the old man had given him for Christmas, so he understood what was going on.  Francisco was still working with Toby on both English and Spanish, but it was a slow process, and Francisco realized he was learning Degar almost as fast as Toby was learning Spanish.  Their conversations now veered through three languages and he envied John for the ability to speak Degar as fluently as he did.

Jesse had switched to jeans and had her Python on her hip, the old man looked at Juanita and she just patted her apron with a smile.  Francisco and the old man discussed ranch business and they decided that either Francisco or Toby would be around the ranch at all times.  Juanita and Jesse decided to split up the off ranch requirements like shopping and Jesse’s work by having Juanita vary her times into town and where she shopped, and Jesse decided to vary her times to and from work and use the Suburban instead of the GTO for the time being.

The old man ruffled Rex’s fur and said, “And don’t forget Rex, he knows friends and he’s not a bad watch dog as long as he’s not getting fed by the bad guys.  In this case an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure!”

Everbody laughed at Rex, who looked at the old man with an injured expression.  The old man said, “Okay, I’ll be back late Tuesday, and I’ll call before I come into the driveway.”

 

NRA AM get together…

Okay folks, we’ve got a place…  26th of April, 1800-2000 (6pm to 8pm for you non military types)…

Thr3e Wise Men, it’s out in Broadripple, highly recommended by the local experts.  Location guide HERE.

It’s a craft beer/Pizza place, and we have two rooms reserved, headcount 50ish, right now 44 signed up.  We can probably squeeze a few more in, and looking forward to seeing good friends again this year!

Thanks to all who responded promptly and thanks to the locals in Indy for the shoe leather to find us a good place!

I’m just getting this out now for a heads up/planning note, will resend a bit closer to the actual date as a reminder!

Sometimes you just gotta laugh…

Just got an advertising email from Amazon for books…  Guess what one of them was! 🙂

The Grey Man… LOL

Well, at least Amazon is ‘helping’ me a bit…

Thanks to those who are continuing to read and give me good reviews!!!

Spread the word…

Let freedom ring! And it’s a good excuse to go to the range too!

April 19th, 2014... 12 NOON Eastern Standard Time Every gun owner in the USA is asked to fire their weapon at the same time. Spread the word, share everywhere.
April 19th, 2014… 12 NOON Eastern Standard Time
Every gun owner in the USA is asked to fire their weapon at the same time. Spread the word, share everywhere.
h/t JP