BRAC

It was no surprise to me that the SUBASE was on the BRAC list. This base is small, located in a high cost of living area, logistically isolated and, in my opinion, has little community support. As a Sailor, it sucks to live here. This is the only place that I have literally felt unwelcome by the community. If this base is to close, the only folks who will miss us are the predatory lenders, liquor stores, and body art studios. I think the deciding nail in the coffin is the fact that this base is logistically isolated. There is no Fleet and Industrial Supply Center in the region, the nearest one is in Norfolk as is the Priority Material Office Detachment, Defense Distribution Depot, etc. Bayonets and bravery may win battles but logistics wins wars. If this base is actually to close, I say good riddance to the Northeast. They can just kiss my fuzzy A$$!

TO THE TYRANT NEVER YIELD

Goof Balls

Speaking of goof balls, another interesting thing happened while I was being “medicated for my injuries”. After five days SIQ I had to go in for a follow-up with our Command pecker checker. My Bride drove me in and dropped me off by our clinic. She planned to go to the exchange for a little bit and then come back buy for me. I on the other hand, being hopped up on goof balls figured she went home and since I was feeling all happy and tingly was gonna put in a productive days work. The details are still a little hazy in my mind cuz I was stoned but apparently my staff immediately realized that I was in no condition to anything but be hopped up on the goof balls. My deputy loaded me into his truck and gave me his cell phone so I could call my Bride and have here come back for me. In the meantime he would drive us to the Nautilus Museum where he was attending the commissioning ceremony of an old friend and I could wait in the truck for my Bride to pick me up (It was all right, he cracked the windows and left me a drink). Apparently, I fell asleep in his truck because three hours later when he came back to his vehicle he was mighty surprised to find me still in it.

During the several hours when I was blissfully asleep my Bride was in panic mode. She went back to the clinic about 45 minutes after she dropped me off and was told by the staff that I went home. That of course couldn’t be true since she was my ride home. She then went to our quarterdeck and had the watch find one of my Sailors who also told her that I went home. At this point she became unhinged. She had the Command Duty Officer, the Duty Chief Petty Officer and the Duty Master at Arms all standing tall while she chewed them up one side and down the other about losing a LCDR hopped up on goof balls. Eventually she had SUBASE Security and our entire Master at Arms force scouring the water front looking for me. They can’t find me of course cuz I am happily asleep in my assistants truck in the museum parking lot. When my Assistant found still in his car he was able to get hold of my Bride and let her know I was alive and he took me home. I am still taking a huge ration of sh*t at the department head meetings for the whole sorry affair. As for the watch team, the duty officer pass down now includes standing orders not to piss off the Chop’s Bride.

Mmmmm…Goof balls…Grgllllargh

TO THE TYRANT NEVER YIELD

Road Trip

Where have I been for the last month or so…Oh, here and there. I had to take a trip to England about a month ago. Spent most of my time in Plymouth but we did get a day to play in London. It was a great deal of fun but I truly hated driving there bouts. Not only are the roads narrow and the markings and signage are less than helpful but those Yayhoos insist and driving bassackards. English roads need a lot more traffic lights and way fewer traffic circles. I swear my life and that of my Chiefs were in jeopardy every time I came near one of those fool whifferdills of death! However, I must say that I have been grossly misled concerning English cuisine. I have always been told English food sucks with the supporting horror story of all kinds of offal being passed off as cuisine. I’ll tell you though; my first meal in a pub in Plymouth completely opened my eyes to the truth. My plate had parts of not one, but THREE dead animals on it. A steak, a lamb chop, a ham steak, a sausage, and a fried egg complete with fried potatoes! Nary a green leafy to be seen! Damn I was impressed. That’s dinner the way it was meant to be. The highlight of the trip happened at a party thrown by the Wardroom and Goat Locker of the boat we were “helping” (You know, we’re from higher headquarters and we’re here to help! BWAHAHAHAHA). Imagine if you will, a bunch of liquored up Sailors on the roof patio of an English pub and then a couple of seagulls on the next roof over decide to get it on with a little feathered fornication. The situation kinda got outta hand…In retrospect, it was all really pathetic. What can I say…political correctness has brought us a kinder, gentler Navy.

During the last weekend in April I managed to wreck my Bride’s Urban Assault Transport Vehicle with the whole family on board. Manage to get us T-boned by a pick up truck. The impact was directly on the driver side door where I was seated attempting to be vigilant but oblivious all the same. We were extremely fortunate as I was the only one hurt. I got a concussion from my unexpected rendezvous with the side window and a strained back and shoulder from the torsion. The pecker checkers put down for a week and loaded me up with valium. While I was hopped up on the goof balls and a week or so before I was to leave for England, I get a call at home from the TYCOM to let me know that they needed a body of my qualification for an IA job in Iraq and I and about 9 others were being considered. I promptly volunteered and much gnashing of teeth ensued. Needless to say, my Bride is boiling to the point of apoplexy. You can’t believe how pissed off she was. Amazingly she wasn’t pissed at me for volunteering; she was pissed at Uncle Sugars Navy cuz they asked me while I was stoned on goof balls. Then the standard military decisiveness kicked in. First it was your definitely going, expect to be at CRC in two weeks. Two hours later it was “your not going so go to England” and so on for the entire four days before I actually left for England. The first night I was in England the word was that I could expect to be selected and be prepared to leave when I get back from England. The “your going/your not going” cycle went on for six more days until finally I got the word that they conscripted one of the other targets. On one hand, I was glad not to be leaving my family for another extended period but I was still disappointed that I would not be going to Baghdad. My specialty area in operational logistics and transportation and Iraq is where they need logistics and transportation expertise and that is where I feel drawn to be. Apparently, I was judged too valuable to the Sub Force to allow me to actually go and deliver combat capability through logistics on the pointy end of the spear. I tend to disagree. No one could ever convince me that I could not be replaced by a monkey with slightly above average intelligence

TO THE TYRANT NEVER YIELD