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Lets Go Hokies!!!
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5,930 Posts
Hey man, all that time out there can get pretty da*n boring. My buddies used to send me videos of all kinds of stupid stuff they'd done. At least those guys can go up on deck and see the daylight. You should see some stuff I've gotten from sub guys. Just remember...those are your tax dollars at work! (please don't send to PO)
 

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here comes trouble
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10,045 Posts
That's awesome. I heart sailors. I would never marry one, but they are quite entertaining.
 

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Bored beyond belief.
Joined
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1,257 Posts
Here's the deal:

You drink water laced with jet fuel, bathe in raw sewage and eat the same damned Phillipino food for six to nine months at a time, and then you tell me how normal you feel.

By way of comparison, we used to light our ice cubes on fire in our bug juice (kinda like Koolaide, only caustic enough to be used to shine chrome and brass...yes, I'm serious), just to watch our fuels officer lose his sh!t at dinner.

And then there was the ES-3 crew that filmed themselves over the Southern Watch box naked...followed by Boss and Mini running the flight deck in Pri Fly naked. Or the pilot in my first squadron who had explosive poopies in the cockpit. Thankfully I wasn't flying with him that day, but he did earn the callsign "Squirts." Or playing schwarma roulette in the Jebel Ali kitty litter box at midnight while it was still 120 degrees outside. Or missing an overhead at the boat while flying a logistics run to Doha, Kuwait in order to delay just long enough to see the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. Got yelled at by CAG for that one, at least until he allowed me to explain my tardiness.

None of this ideosynchratic language means a damned thing to you, does it? Nonetheless, I'm chuckling as I type.

...And then there was the phantom sh!tter on the O3 level near cats 1 & 2.

And so on and so forth. This video is relatively tame. Good times, good memories.

Pull my finger?
 

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Banned
Joined
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4,302 Posts
Discussion Starter · #5 ·
sn69 said:
You drink water laced with jet fuel, bathe in raw sewage and eat the same damned Phillipino food for six to nine months at a time, and then you tell me how normal you feel.

By way of comparison, we used to light our ice cubes on fire in our bug juice (kinda like Koolaide, only caustic enough to be used to shine chrome and brass...yes, I'm serious), just to watch our fuels officer lose his sh!t at dinner.

And then there was the ES-3 crew that filmed themselves over the Southern Watch box naked...followed by Boss and Mini running the flight deck in Pri Fly naked. Or the pilot in my first squadron who had explosive poopies in the cockpit. Thankfully I wasn't flying with him that day, but he did earn the callsign "Squirts." Or playing schwarma roulette in the Jebel Ali kitty litter box at midnight while it was still 120 degrees outside. Or missing an overhead at the boat while flying a logistics run to Doha, Kuwait in order to delay just long enough to see the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. Got yelled at by CAG for that one, at least until he allowed me to explain my tardiness.

None of this ideosynchratic language means a damned thing to you, does it? Nonetheless, I'm chuckling as I type.

...And then there was the phantom sh!tter on the O3 level near cats 1 & 2.

And so on and so forth. This video is relatively tame. Good times, good memories.

Pull my finger?
Oh gawd I knew you'd come thru with some great stuff.

Big LOL Scott!

PS. Yeah a lot of that jargon is beyond me but a pilot with a callsign "Squirts?" that would be funny if you told it in freakin farsi.
 

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Big is relative
Joined
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11,887 Posts
sn69 said:
You drink water laced with jet fuel, bathe in raw sewage and eat the same damned Phillipino food for six to nine months at a time, and then you tell me how normal you feel.

By way of comparison, we used to light our ice cubes on fire in our bug juice (kinda like Koolaide, only caustic enough to be used to shine chrome and brass...yes, I'm serious), just to watch our fuels officer lose his sh!t at dinner.

And then there was the ES-3 crew that filmed themselves over the Southern Watch box naked...followed by Boss and Mini running the flight deck in Pri Fly naked. Or the pilot in my first squadron who had explosive poopies in the cockpit. Thankfully I wasn't flying with him that day, but he did earn the callsign "Squirts." Or playing schwarma roulette in the Jebel Ali kitty litter box at midnight while it was still 120 degrees outside. Or missing an overhead at the boat while flying a logistics run to Doha, Kuwait in order to delay just long enough to see the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. Got yelled at by CAG for that one, at least until he allowed me to explain my tardiness.

None of this ideosynchratic language means a damned thing to you, does it? Nonetheless, I'm chuckling as I type.

...And then there was the phantom sh!tter on the O3 level near cats 1 & 2.

And so on and so forth. This video is relatively tame. Good times, good memories.

Pull my finger?
I hear you brother. I have just about turned myself inside out in the sandbox at Jebel. If it is 120 degrees outside with high 90's humidity, it only takes 4-5 beers to get sick drunk. Playing softball there and hitting the ball as hard as you could so that you could walk to first base. You never wanted to run. Maybe riding in a taxi to Dubai and listening to the endless beeping of the speeding alarm in the taxi for 45 minutes. Asking a taxi to take you to the Olive Garden restaurant in Manama and have him drop you at an actual olive garden with a food stand in the middle right across the street from the Syrian Embassy. I also now know that if you retrieve a body out of the water and it has been there a while, it is quite probable that it will burst open in the helicopter when it touches down on the deck. It takes repeated washings, exposure to 120 temp, and time for the smell to go away. The memory is forever. I could go on, but I have to work now.
 

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Bored beyond belief.
Joined
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1,257 Posts
I give you The Poopoo story:

The place: USS Constellation, Carrier Air Wing 2
The time: The late 1990s.
The location: Off the coast of Southern California during a pre-deployment period known as work-ups, where the carrier battle group practices for peacetime and wartime contingencies that might occur while on deployment.
The set-up: Part of this work-up period includes a robust sustainability period, where the carrier group "fights" a notional enemy at sea and ashore for three days without a break. It's designed to test tactical proficiency, materiel condition and personnel durability. We call it the Three Day War. From the aviator's perspective, it's eat, fly, brief, plan, eat, fly, brief, plan, etc......

During this period, our hero--Squirts (original callsign and name withheld to protect the guilty, namely him, particularly since he's now a high-ranking corporate executive with a major government contractor)--was one of the squadron's aircraft commanders saddled with a brand new copilot. Squirts was flying several long missions every day in the standard helicopter role called plane guard, a standby airborne search and rescue capability that is maintained as long as fixed wing aircraft are flying. During this period, he was consistently missing normal meal hours, and, thus, was forced to subsist on box lunches provided by the ship's galley.

A quick tutorial on carrier box lunches. They usually consist of foodstuffs that are not in the "front of the refers." Specifically, you'll typically find the same stuff: high temperature long shelf-life milk, a thickly sliced bologna sandwich on stale bread (the thickness and veininess of which normally earns it the name "hose c_ck sandwich), a piece of bruised fruit and a hard-boiled fertilized egg (the type that cannot be easily passed off in a scramble or "bloody side up"). Yum.

Squirts was living on four or five of these a day, trying to maintain his caloric intake to keep his brain working. Most of us refuse to take "go pills," so, in stead, we'll consume 10K calories a day during nonsense such as this just to stoke the fires.

Three days into this cycle, Squirts was flying a day plane guard mission when he complained of tummy discomfort. It quickly became more urgent, and he told his crew that they'd have to figure out a way for him to evacuate his bowels while airborne. Coming back in for a landing was not an option in this case; it would interrupt the air wing launch/recovery cycles as well as other factors.

Pulling the helo into a hover over water, he gave the controls to his copilot and crawled in the back with the intention of strapping on a gunner's belt and hanging his tush out the open door in order to "bomb the water." The two horrified enlisted crewmen in the back talked him out of it. Even though the gunner's belt would provide a modicum of safetey, there was still a chance that he could slip and fall out, where he'd be dangling naked about 6 feet below the aircraft until they could haul him back in.

Squirts applied some operational risk management and opted for another solution while the pressure, quite literally, mounted. Now, in the SH-60F, just aft of the cockpit's center instrument panel and in bewteen the sonobouy carosel and the internal aux fuel tank, there is a six tube gravity sonobouy launcher, essentially three by three tubes that bouys are placed in and launched by actuating a small door at the base of each tube. When the door is open, one literally looks down the tube shaft to the water below. Squirts tried to figure out how to squat over the apparatus and aim accordingly so as to deposit his multiple box lunches down the tube and to the ocean 60 feet below.

This is a rather constricted space, and aim, apparently, wasn't easy. It was made all the more difficult by the fact that he was naked, but still wearing his helmet and plugged into the comm system so as to be able to hear the radios and monitor his copilot in case of some emergency. And, need I mention, he was nearing max capacity on his one-way check valve.

The crew was even more horrified, but could do nothing to assist. Squirts, realizing the futility of trying to aim from a squat in order to drop ordnance into a four inch diameter hole two feet below him, hatched yet another plan. Crawling back into the cockpit, and by now sweating and shaking in pain and panic, he took the empty box from his box lunch, placed it on his seat, lined it with spare papers from whatever he had on-hand, squatted over it in the seat, and, according to the copilot, EXPLODED,...all the while still wearing his helmet and still wired for sound. He was apparently screaming as he unloaded.

Once done, and with fecal matter splattered all over the seat and the cockpit, and for that matter still naked, he non-chalantly passed the box of putrid stuff back to the horrified crewman in the back and asked that they toss it out the main cabin door. In their stunned shock, they did.

But the cycle was not complete, and Squirts repeated it again a short while later, only this time with even more mess and more screaming. ...And, again, more of his blase, business-as-usual attitude once it was done. By now, however, the crew and the poor copilot had nearly had as much as they could endure. Work-ups be damned. When he squatted in the seat for a third time, his copilot called the ship and requested to "charlie for a medical emergency." Charlie means land immediately, no delays accepted. The Air Boss called back and asked him to clarify.

Mind you, you need to envision this. The cockpit is covered in nasty stuff. The aircraft commander is naked, squatting in his seat, still with his helmet on, screaming bloody murder while bloody murder takes place at his business end, and you just want to get through this flight without hurling. So, with that in mind, the copilot paused to think of how to phrase the nature of the emergency. As he later told me, when asked again to clarify the situation he simply said it as cooly and professionally as he could must given that which was going on three feet to his left.

"Uh, my pilot is suffering from rectal incontinence. ...Explosively. I need to land NOW."

He said there was a pregnant pause on ALL the ship's radio nets, and then the boss came back half hysterical and gave him permission to land. So land he did, only Squirts was in the midst of another "bomb drop" as they rounded the flight deck to land on spot three. Still retaining enough situational awareness to sense what was going on, he pulled on his flight suit and essentially hopped from the helo before it was securely on the flight deck, sprinting for the deck-edge catwalk in order to gain access to a potty. He apparently "leaked" on himself all the way to the head, and later had to be treated in ship's medical for acute food poisoning.

Which isn't funny, even if sh!tting oneself in flight is. Uproariously.

Shaudenfreude.

And that, my friend, is what the carrier is like. Much like when Arthur and Bedevere gallop away from the castle; "on second thought, Camalot is a silly place."
 

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Bored beyond belief.
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Uh, they DO burst. I know.

Found a dead illegal in the SoCal desert once. Poor lady.

Long story and NOT funny.....
 

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I'm not like anyone else
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1,796 Posts
sn69 said:
You drink water laced with jet fuel, bathe in raw sewage and eat the same damned Phillipino food for six to nine months at a time, and then you tell me how normal you feel.

By way of comparison, we used to light our ice cubes on fire in our bug juice (kinda like Koolaide, only caustic enough to be used to shine chrome and brass...yes, I'm serious), just to watch our fuels officer lose his sh!t at dinner.

And then there was the ES-3 crew that filmed themselves over the Southern Watch box naked...followed by Boss and Mini running the flight deck in Pri Fly naked. Or the pilot in my first squadron who had explosive poopies in the cockpit. Thankfully I wasn't flying with him that day, but he did earn the callsign "Squirts." Or playing schwarma roulette in the Jebel Ali kitty litter box at midnight while it was still 120 degrees outside. Or missing an overhead at the boat while flying a logistics run to Doha, Kuwait in order to delay just long enough to see the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. Got yelled at by CAG for that one, at least until he allowed me to explain my tardiness.

None of this ideosynchratic language means a damned thing to you, does it? Nonetheless, I'm chuckling as I type.

...And then there was the phantom sh!tter on the O3 level near cats 1 & 2.

And so on and so forth. This video is relatively tame. Good times, good memories.

Pull my finger?
Salute!!!
 
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