A Veteran's Journey

Trivia Questions (Answers @ end)

1. In what movie (and who said it) did we hear the line, “We have many traditions. In my career, I have encountered most of them. Some are good, some not so good. I would, however, not be here today were it not for our greatest tradition… Honor, sir.”?
2. Who said, “Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.”?
3. What song (and who sang it) contain the following lyrics?
   All the leaves are brown
   And the sky is grey
   I’ve been for a walk
   On a winter’s day
   I’d be safe and warm
   If I was in L.A.

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I’m a sucker for traditions, especially military traditions. While I only spent four years in the Navy, I was fortunate to have experienced many time-honored traditions.

“Traditional” Military Traditions

Some Hollywood movies actually do a decent job of showing “traditional” military traditions; other movies, meh. In the Navy, these movies may introduce you to a Burial at Sea or Manning the Rails. But, there are many (MANY) other traditions that you may not know about.

Reveille, Retreat, and Taps

Most everyone is familiar with the term “Reveille.” It signals the beginning of the day, usually 0700. I wrote a blog earlier about Reveille and Other Alarm Clocks Over the Years.

“Retreat” signals the end of the work day, 1700 hours. In civilian terms, 5:00 p.m. During Reveille and Retreat, if you’re outside, military personnel stop and turn in the direction of the flag. If in uniform, they salute the flag. Reveille and Retreat are methods of paying respect to the U.S. flag, our country, and to our fellow military personnel, past and present.

“Taps” is a signal for the end of the day, at 2100 or 2200 hours (9:00 or 10:00 p.m.), depending on the branch of service. Taps is also a signal to begin “quiet” hours. It’s a bugle call, meant to honor all military service personnel who paid the ultimate price.

Boarding & Disembarking a Navy Ship

When a sailor boards a ship, she or he first faces the stern and salutes the flag. Then s/he turns to the officer on watch at the brow, shows his military ID card, salutes the officer and asks, “Permission to come aboard, sir?” The officer on watch smartly returns the salute with, “Permission granted.”

When disembarking a ship, the reverse occurs. The sailor shows his military ID, salutes the officer and asks, “Permission to go ashore, sir?” Again, the officer on watch returns the salute with, “Permission granted.” The sailor then salutes the flag and walks off the brow.

Both officers (Forward Brow) and enlisted personnel (After Brow) follow this tradition. As a Petty Officer, I’ve stood duty on the After Brow and watched many sailors, drunk as a skunk, stagger up the After Brow and still manage to salute the flag and the officer on watch.

Burial at sea

A couple of weeks before USS Kitty Hawk left for Westpac ‘75, I had the opportunity to witness one the Navy’s oldest traditions: a Burial at Sea. On April 24, 1975, the late Lieutenant J. J. King was committed to the sea from Kitty Hawk.

Those attending the ceremony wore their dress whites, initially standing at attention, then at parade rest. A burial service at sea typically includes a few prayers, a reading of scripture, the committal, and the benediction. Then the Marine guard fires three volleys, followed by a lone bugler playing Taps.

I watched this solemn and momentous ceremony from Vulture’s Row, an outside observation deck on the port side of the ship’s island.

Manning the Rails

When a ship comes back to home port from an overseas tour, sailors “Man the Rails,” another formal Navy tradition. Everyone who participates dresses in the Uniform of the Day. Sailors line up arm’s length, called “Dress Right,” around the edge of the flight deck, facing out.

If the ship was coming into port, we’d stand at parade rest unless there was a special memorial, such as passing the Arizona Memorial in Pearl Harbor. Then, we would come to attention at the appropriate time. Honoring those sailors aboard USS Arizona who gave their lives was a memorable event which I’ll never forget.

Returning from Westpac

When Kitty Hawk returned to San Diego from Westpac ‘75, we manned the rails. I felt a sense of pride and was happy to be coming back to the states after being away for six months. In this case, since we returned in December, the Uniform of the Day was winter blues.

Approaching the pier at North Island, we saw hundreds of Navy wives and children waving with signs of “Welcome Home, We Love You.” The signalmen on deck were signaling to their wives, who, in turn, signaled back. We didn’t have cell phones back then, so everyone with anyone was desperately looking, trying to spot a familiar face in the crowd. Then you could see the joy in their eyes and the frantic waving, “I’m here, I’m here.”

The new fathers got off the ship first, greeting the moms and their babies with open arms and tears—lots of joyful tears. Some of the older guys who stayed on the ship teared up. Even though I was still only 20 years old without a wife or girlfriend, it was an emotional and touching scene.

A few wives had flown to the Philippines, Hong Kong, or Japan for a brief visit with their husbands. But this was the first time most had seen each other in six months. It was truly wonderful to see so much love and affection in one place.

Pollywogs & Shellbacks

During Westpac ’75, more than once we heard scuttlebutt that we were heading south to Christchurch, New Zealand. But, alas, that never happened. Since Westpac ’75 was my one and only Navy cruise, I never had the opportunity to cross the Equator. Hence, I’m still a Pollywog.

If you haven’t heard that term before, stay with me here. It’s going to get interesting.

Whenever a Navy ship crosses a certain point on the globe, all sailors who’ve never done so are “initiated” into an unofficial fraternity of sailors who’ve been there before. The most famous example of these ceremonies is the moment a ship crosses the Equator at any point in the world. Those who have crossed the Equator and celebrated this ceremony are called “Shellbacks.”

The Court of King Neptune

Officially, it’s called “Crossing the Line,” but sailors know it as “The Court of Neptune.” The uninitiated (known as “Polliwogs“) must bow before King Neptune (usually the ship’s captain) and entertain his queen, Davy Jones, the Royal Baby, and his dignitaries.

The older and more experienced salts, at least those who were Shellbacks, took over the ship, including the officers. If the CO had not previously crossed the equator, he was a Pollywog too, and would take part in the ceremony.

It would start early in the morning. Even though the Pollywogs expected something to happen, they didn’t know when or where. The Shellbacks in each division would take care of their own, getting them up out of their racks by various means, including using shaving cream, talc powder, eggs, salt water, or any combination of the above.

Shellbacks would dress in different types of costumes and put on face paint, each to his own. Many dressed to look like pirates. Pollywogs would usually turn their uniforms inside out.

They were taken to either the hangar deck or the flight deck (if on an aircraft carrier), depending upon the conditions of the ship’s mission. There they would be subjected as a group to other various harassments, including swimming on the flight deck on their bellies, constantly being sprayed with salt water from a fire hose, or worse.

There would often be a ritual of crawling through a sewage tube, made from old rotting vegetable material the galley had been brewing for a few days, and crawling up to the Royal Baby—the biggest, fattest, hairiest, and ugliest sailor on the ship. There, you would have your face rubbed in his belly full of axle grease or something equally disgusting. I know the activities varied from ship to ship, but you get the idea.

All of this was in good fun, of course. When you completed the ritual, you received a certificate, signifying you had become a Shellback. This is something that sailors cherish their entire lives. You think you’ve gone through hazing when joining a fraternity or a sorority? This is hazing like you have never seen nor heard. Note that the Shellback ceremony may have changed since my time in the 70s.

Lesser Known “Traditions”

Balloon Shaving Cream – Sometimes we just wanted to have fun with a new recruit, especially if said recruit copped a pompous attitude. One of the more painless methods of humiliation was what we called, the “balloon shaving cream” trick.

Several of us would gather around the recruit’s rack in our berthing compartment. His privacy curtains would already be down. We would fill up a balloon with shaving cream, blow it up a little, then while guys held the curtains down, one of us would open the corner flap and let the balloon loose in his rack.

Once the balloon finished its “duty,” we would all split and run in different directions—he didn’t know what hit him. I have to admit, that was one of the funnier things we did on the ship.

Launching the Shooter’s Boots – After our one-year retrofit in the Bremerton Shipyards (1976), we returned to San Diego. One of the catapult officers (“Shooters”) retired from the Navy. During a “family cruise day,” he brought his ten-year old son on board, took him around and introduced him to everyone. He was a cool little kid–very confident and cocky, just like his dad.

One of the traditions on an aircraft carrier is that when the Shooter retires, he launches his flight deck boots off the catapult.

It was heartwarming to watch the Shooter and his son go through the routine of a standard cat launch, including the final salute to the boots, the hands in the air, swinging fingers, and then the launch of the boots. His son had such a great time mimicking his dad and it brought back a lot of memories of me and my dad when I was that age.

Changing Duty Stations – It was a tradition to “hose down” a short timer on his last day of duty before he transferred to another duty station. That meant a bunch of us would wrestle him down out in front of the Crash Barn (NAS Agana, Guam) and hose him down.

Sometimes we’d use a garden hose, but most of the time we tried to get him with one of the crash truck hoses. I found it quite funny since this would probably be the last time we ever saw these guys.

Promotion to Petty Officer – It is a big deal when a sailor receives a promotion from a Seaman/Airman (E-3) to a Petty Officer (E-4). We always partied when one of the guys in our division got promoted. As a matter of fact, we would always party even if nobody got promoted. After all, it is a Navy tradition to drink, plain and simple.

Sometimes the promotee would drink a little too much. The drunker he got, the easier it was to “handle him.” By that I mean there were several times when a newly minted petty officer woke up at the Crash Barn (NAS Agana, Guam), tied tightly to the telephone pole, and greased up from head to toe with standard Navy issue axle grease. That stuff is hard to get off and takes several weeks to get the stink out.

Squadrons were a different breed. It was not unusual to hear about someone who was promoted in one of the squadrons to wake up, tied to a chair, and dangling from a rope about twenty or thirty feet off the hangar deck. Sometimes, if they didn’t wake up, their crews would hose them down.

I know traditions change over time, some are “enhanced” or done away with completely. But I like to think that I experienced some of the honorable traditions during my short time in the Navy. Honor is something that stays with you for the rest of your life.

Stay safe, my friends.

Until we meet again,
Andy

Andy Adkins is a US Navy veteran (’73-77) and the author of several books. His newest novel, NEVER FORGET, is the story of A Vietnam Veteran’s Journey for Redemption & Forgiveness. NEVER FORGET is FREE (eBook, PDF) for all veterans. Download your FREE copy HERE.

Previous blogs mentioned in this post:

• #21 – Reveille!… and Other “Alarm Clocks” Over the Years

Answers:

1. Men of Honor (2000), Navy Master Diver Carl Brashear (Cuba Gooding, Jr.).
2. Oscar Wilde
3. California Dreamin’ (1965), The Mamas & The Papas; written by Michelle Phillips, John Edmund Andrew Phillips