A Veteran's Journey

This week’s blog post is a repeat from several years ago… one of my all-time favorites. I’m out with an ERT (Early Response Team) this week, continuing to help with hurricane cleanup. There’s so much work left to do, but we do what we can, when we can, right?

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How does one “accurately” describe Navy Chow?

Before I get into that discussion, I have to remind myself that I had another cook before the Navy—Mom.

See, I’m from Florida and my mom was a great southern cook. Lots of great vittles from her third-generation cast iron skillet. But biscuits… well, mom’s few feeble attempts at biscuits turned into delicious gut-bombs. Everything else was fantabulous, but I learned to make biscuits later after the Navy during my short journey as a City of Gainesville firefighter–it was required!

My dad, on the other hand… Well, he was good at cooking steaks and “square” hamburgers. Now and then, he’d empty the fridge and make what he called, “Garbage Soup.” Man, that was tasty, but my mom could never understand how soup stains appeared on the ceiling when he cooked. Anyway, that’s the kind of cooking I was used to before the Navy.

An Introduction to Navy Chow

I had two duty stations during my short 4-year Navy “journey” (1973-77). My first was NAS Agana, Guam and I worked in Crash & Salvage. My second was aboard USS Kitty Hawk (CV-63), where I worked on the flight deck in V-1 Division (Crash, then Yellow Shirt Director).

And yes, IMO, Navy meals served in Guam were different than those served aboard Kitty Hawk.

In July 1973 at Orlando RTC (boot camp), my first “introduction” to Navy Chow was SOS. I’ll let you Google the meaning. But, “Shit on a Shingle” was standard Navy-issue chow which, as many of my fellow shipmates will attest, “ain’t that bad.” Basically, SOS is creamed chipped beef on toast.

Have I indulged SOS since July 10, 1977 (my discharge date)? In a simple word, “no.” And… I’ll leave it at that.

Well… what about “Sliders?” Surely, we can talk about them. Or “One-eyed Jacks” or “Barney Clarks.” Absolutely. Sliders are hamburgers and One-eyed Jacks/Barney Clarks are sliders with a fried egg. And yes, over the years, I’ve been known to partake in these delectables from time-to-time.

No, I won’t mention Baluts, because they weren’t served in the mess hall (at least, during my time). For those who served on the west coast, I’m sure you’re familiar with this Filipino “delight.” For those who served on the east coast… you’re lucky. And… I’ll leave it at that.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Navy chow was always plentiful and I never went hungry. I know some shipmates might disagree, but while I enjoyed some meals more than others, I appreciated what we had when we had it… even those times when we couldn’t get down to the mess hall.

Though there was that time during a work party when one of the crew “found” a package of frozen hot dogs in the ship’s freezer, “Use before Dec 1956.” And… I’ll leave it at that.

Mess halls @ NAS Agana, Guam

We didn’t have a galley at the Crash Barn and we couldn’t drive the crash trucks over to the mess hall because it was too far away from the airfield. We received our meals on wheels, so to speak.

In Crash, we had two sections: Port & Starboard (I was in the Port Section), during my entire 15-months on Guam—24 hours on and 24 off. When the shift changed over and we mustered for duty, there was a signup sheet listing what was available for lunch and dinner that day.

About 1800 (6:00 p.m.), one of the guys (we didn’t have women in Crash back then) would take a pickup truck over and load our chow, provided in stainless steel serving pans by the cooks, and return to the Crash Barn. We used standard Navy issue metal trays (same as aboard Kitty Hawk) and loaded up.

Always plenty of food!

Mess halls aboard Kitty Hawk

On Kitty Hawk, there were three galleys, located on the second deck, two decks below the hangar deck. The main galley was located aft and served the main meals buffet style. Unlike today’s Navy chow lines (serve yourself), back then the cooks and stewards would serve you when you put your tray out. We bussed our own trays so we just took them over to the scullery, dumped excess food into a can, and handed our trays, glasses, and utensils to the dishwasher.

A second galley, called the “Express Line,” was located forward. This was similar to a “fast food” drive-in, serving mostly hamburgers, hot dogs, french fries, spaghetti, and whatever else the cooks could scrape up quickly. I ate a lot of meals there, not because I was a burger or dog fanatic, but because it was fast—with 80 guys in our division to feed and long wait times in the chow line, we needed to get something quick, choke it down, and get back on the flight deck to let another group come down.

Powdered Milk

We usually had whole milk when we first left port for an at sea period. However, after a few days, the galley ran out of fresh milk and began serving powdered milk. That tasted like [insert your own definition here], so it didn’t take me long to learn to eat cereal only the first few days at sea. After that, breakfast for me consisted of anything other than cereal.

Chow Lines

Chow lines at sea were always long. It was not unusual to wait for an hour to get chow. On an aircraft carrier heading out to sea, the galley needed to feed more than 5,500 men every meal (3,000 ship’s company and 2,500 air wing). That’s about 17,000 meals served a day, including more than 900 loaves of bread when the ship was underway. That’s a lot of meals to prepare, cook, and serve.

Lines would wrap around and through several different passageways. I learned early on to bring a book while waiting for chow. Yeah, I read a lot of books in the Navy.

I can’t really complain, though. The photo above shows a chow line of 80th Infantry Division soldiers in Luxembourg during the Battle of the Bulge – my dad’s old unit. Yeah, we had a roof over our heads; no complaints here.

We ate in shifts, so to speak. During flight ops, we had to maintain a minimum crew of yellow shirts and crash crew on the flight deck so each unit would send five to six guys down at a time. Most of us would get our chow, eat like the dickens, and then head back up to relieve another crew man.

And yes, I still eat “like the dickens,” even though I’ve tried to slow down over the years. Old habits, I guess.

Saltines… a Sailor’s Best Friend

Saltines were always readily available, and I ate a lot of them. I didn’t know it at the time because I just liked Saltines, but for some reason, they worked magic. During my time on Kitty Hawk, I never got seasick, which is more than I can say for a lot of other guys, especially the FNGs.

There were times when I would have a bag of greasy, buttered popcorn and see some new guy a little green and offer him a handful. He headed for the side of the ship, tossing his cookies. I know it wasn’t a nice thing to do.

Wardrooms

Officers had it made—they ate in wardrooms which, as I understand it, had round tables, tablecloths, real dishes, and better yet, a full wait staff. I never ate a meal in the wardroom. In fact, I never stepped in one until I spent a couple of days aboard USS Ronald Reagan (CV-76) while researching for my Navy memoir.

CPO Mess

Another place I never had the “privilege” to visit was the CPO (Chief Petty Officer) Mess. From what I’ve heard, the CPO Mess had the best chow on the ship, even better than the Wardroom. The CPO Mess is also referred to as the “Goat Locker.”

I did not know this (I had to Google it), but the term “Goat Locker” dates back to the days of wooden sailing ships. Goats were kept aboard ships because they’d eat anything and always provide milk. Why we didn’t have goats aboard Kitty Hawk after the first few days at sea (see description above about powdered milk), I’ll never know.

When the rank of Chief Petty Officer was established (before I was born), there were no separate berthing areas for these senior enlisted men. Rumor has it that they shared the same quarters as the ship’s goats.

Midrats

Midnight rations (Midrats) were always available for those working late into the night. They were served in the forward galley from 2300 to 0100 (11:00 p.m. to 1:00 a.m.) and usually were pretty good. Many times, midrats were left-overs from the evening meal, or burgers, hot dogs, or eggs to order, and other “quick to fix” items. I ate there several times when I was assigned the night shift.

Does anyone else still use the term “Midrats”… for anything consumed after dinner, especially late-night snacks?

Gedunk

Also just forward of the main galley was the Gedunk shop. This small onboard store was like a small neighborhood convenience store or a New York Bodega and had an assortment of snacks and cigarettes. While I didn’t smoke, some of my friends did and their standard line was, “Where else can you buy a carton of cigarettes for ten bucks?”

There were times when the chow line was too long for me to wait so I would head to the Gedunk and pick up a bag of chips or crackers, some canned cheese, and a can or two of sardines. It wasn’t that healthy, but it was something to eat. Unfortunately, while standard Navy issue meals came with the job, the Gedunk shop did not, and this came out of our pockets.

Steel Beach Picnic

I made one cruise aboard Kitty Hawk, Westpac ’75. Great memories and I’ve written about it several times on this blog. One thing we didn’t experience during that cruise (at least I don’t remember) was having a steel beach picnic.

From what I gather, they were held on the flight deck or in the hangar bay and usually after a long at-sea time period. The goal was to help improve crew morale.

For those who haven’t heard the term, think of a “beach picnic,” with grills for ribs, bratwurst, hot dogs, hamburgers, and whatever else the galley needs to cook before the expiration date. Usually, there was music (most Navy ships have several bands playing different styles of music), games (e.g., Frisbee, football, volleyball) and plenty of time to just “chill.”

And yes, at times (from what I’ve heard), crewmembers were allowed to drink beer.

Soup from the Galley – Always Happy to Help

Several times during the Westpac cruise in the colder climates (Sea of Japan), I called down to the galley and asked if we could get some hot soup. They said sure, come on down. So a couple of us made several trips down several ladders to bring up a huge 25-gallon container of hot soup. It tasted so good and everyone in our crew got a break from the freezing cold to come in and down some. It helped us choke down the cold sandwiches, too.

Coffee, Black, no sugar please

Both in Guam and at sea, we always kept the coffee brewing. That is something we never ran out of. There were many times when I would come in off the flight deck to warm up and to get a cup of hot coffee. That tradition continued when I joined the Gainesville Fire Department after leaving the Navy.

I started drinking coffee in Guam (I was 18 years old). There was always plenty of cream and sugar. But on Kitty Hawk, I usually was the last one in to get coffee (I always let my guys come in first), there was never any cream or sugar left when I got mine, so I had to drink it black. I got used to that and still today, I drink it black and, of course, Navy strong.

There were also many times when I would tip the 100-cup coffee maker to get the last dregs of coffee, complete with grounds. But in cold, miserable weather, even that crunchy coffee tasted good.

Roach Coach

No blog post about Navy chow would be complete without a mention of the infamous, “Roach Coach.” All Navy sailors on both coasts know about the Roach Coach, usually parked near the ship on the pier.

For those not familiar with the term, a “roach coach” is similar to what’s now known as the “food truck.” Of course, back then, there really wasn’t a “food truck health inspector.” Back in the day, you could get a lot of different types of sandwiches and my favorite… Bean Burritos.

And… I’ll leave it at that.

Stay safe, my friends.

Until we meet again,
Andy

Previous blogs mentioned in this post:

• #48 – Not Just Another House Fire
• #53 – You Always Remember Your First…
• #67 – Flight Ops: A Day in the Life of Crash & Salvage
• #68 – Flight Ops: Another Find Day in the Navy!
• #13 – After 30+ Years, I’m Back on the Flight Deck (Part II)
• #49 – Westpac ’75: After Six Months, We’re Coming Home
• #23 – Rough Seas – Sea of Japan

Andy Adkins is a US Navy veteran (’73-77) and the author of several books (www.azadkinsiii.com); many of which are free downloads (PDF, eBook format). He is currently retired and lives in Gainesville, Florida with his wife and life-long soulmate, Becky.