Radiomen
------------------------------------------------------------------------
----
by Bob 'Dex' Armstrong

In the old gravel-gut boat service, your only link with the civilized
world
was via the radio shack. A cubby hole on Requin aft of the scope wells
in
the control room... It was the home of the spark shufflers.

If you were in tight with a radioman, you could get ball scores. Sewer
pipe
sailors lost touch with the teams they followed... A hazard common to
submarine sailors and people who take a moon walk and miss the ride
home.
Actually, we lost touch with just about everything. In the war movies
when
they come across some guy who claims to be an American, they ask him
questions only an American could answer. If they had picked me up and
asked
me anything but (A) The names of Roy's and Gene's horses (B) Who won
World
War II and (C) Blaze Starr's bust size, I would have been one 'up the
creek' sonuvabitch. Hell, we didn't know Jack Kennedy was the president
until we snorkeled a day later.

Only a complete idiot would make a bet with a radioman. Chances were,
the
radioman had the final score before you tossed your wampum on the mess
table.

I remember one great night brought to us by the spark pushers in the
radio
shack.

We had finished whatever nonsense they sent us out to do and were making
turns for home. The Old Man opened the showers... Guys were bumming
razor
blades and rooting around in side lockers for something that would pass
for
a towel. Next thing you know, the foo-foo juice came out. Now there's a
myth that all smoke boat sailors eventually bought into, sooner or
later...
Aqua Velva was never meant to disguise poor personal hygene. No matter
how
much of the stuff you poured on a dungaree shirt you had been inside of
for
two weeks, you were still one disgustingly foul smelling sonuvabitch.
You
could spray French perfume on an engineman with a fire hose and buzzards
would still circle around the ******* when he went topside. But I
digress...

A group of us were sitting around in the crew's mess drinking coffee and
ragging guys heading fore and aft. A radioman came in and told us we
were
in for one helluva good laugh. He monkeyed around with the RBO and
patched
it into something in the radio shack.

For those of you who never had the pleasure of riding diesel boats or
other
seagoing steel-hulled garbage scows, I must explain something here.

You could make phone calls from a ship at sea. Here is how it worked.
The
radioman would raise someone ashore called a 'marine operator'. Then the
radioman would give the marine operator the name and phone number of
whoever the bluejacket aboard ship wanted to call. The marine operator
would then place a collect call and when the party answered and accepted
the charges, the marine operator would form a radio link with the ship
and
'Bill the Bluejacket' could talk to his sweetie.

From sweetie to the marine operator was private and confidential... From
the marine operator to Barnicle Bill, it was up for grabs... Great
evening
entertainment.

"Poopsie, is that you?"

"Yes ducky doo, it's me."

"You miss me, peach blossom?"

"Oh yes... YES, darling!"

"Miss me a lot?"

"Oh, I miss you soooo much I can't wait to hold you and..."

"Okay darling... Are you going to meet the ship?"

"No sweetheart, I parked the car in the pier head lot... Keys are under
the
mat."

"Why aren't you meeting the boat, sweetheart?"

"Oh, it was supposed to be a suprise... If you must know, the kids are
spending the night with the Webbers. I bought a new nightie and I
figured
we'd break it in tonight."

The animals would cheer,

"LET'S HEAR IT FOR MAMMA AND HER NEW NIGHTIE!!"

And so it went. Bluejackets phoning in after six months in the Med...
Great
entertainment.

"Darlin' can't wait... Just you and me and a can of Crisco!"

We heard it all... It was great... Laugh after laugh. A very memorable
evening... Best and cheapest fun we ever had on Requin.

There were times... Moments that we took for granted and that passed
with
little notice. It's funny how they come back late in life when you have
the
time to reshuffle your memories... The collected moments that constitute
your life.

Radiomen linked us with the world. Another thing we just took for
granted
and that was so damned important looking back. Never thanked them...
Should
have.

Great guys, all of them.

"KØHB" wrote in message
ink.net...
Radiomen
------------------------------------------------------------------------
----
by Bob 'Dex' Armstrong

In the old gravel-gut boat service, your only link with the civilized
world
was via the radio shack. A cubby hole on Requin aft of the scope wells
in
the control room... It was the home of the spark shufflers.

If you were in tight with a radioman, you could get ball scores. Sewer
pipe
sailors lost touch with the teams they followed... A hazard common to
submarine sailors and people who take a moon walk and miss the ride
home.
Actually, we lost touch with just about everything. In the war movies
when
they come across some guy who claims to be an American, they ask him
questions only an American could answer. If they had picked me up and
asked
me anything but (A) The names of Roy's and Gene's horses (B) Who won
World
War II and (C) Blaze Starr's bust size, I would have been one 'up the
creek' sonuvabitch. Hell, we didn't know Jack Kennedy was the president
until we snorkeled a day later.

Only a complete idiot would make a bet with a radioman. Chances were,
the
radioman had the final score before you tossed your wampum on the mess
table.

I remember one great night brought to us by the spark pushers in the
radio
shack.

We had finished whatever nonsense they sent us out to do and were making
turns for home. The Old Man opened the showers... Guys were bumming
razor
blades and rooting around in side lockers for something that would pass
for
a towel. Next thing you know, the foo-foo juice came out. Now there's a
myth that all smoke boat sailors eventually bought into, sooner or
later...
Aqua Velva was never meant to disguise poor personal hygene. No matter
how
much of the stuff you poured on a dungaree shirt you had been inside of
for
two weeks, you were still one disgustingly foul smelling sonuvabitch.
You
could spray French perfume on an engineman with a fire hose and buzzards
would still circle around the ******* when he went topside. But I
digress...

A group of us were sitting around in the crew's mess drinking coffee and
ragging guys heading fore and aft. A radioman came in and told us we
were
in for one helluva good laugh. He monkeyed around with the RBO and
patched
it into something in the radio shack.

For those of you who never had the pleasure of riding diesel boats or
other
seagoing steel-hulled garbage scows, I must explain something here.

You could make phone calls from a ship at sea. Here is how it worked.
The
radioman would raise someone ashore called a 'marine operator'. Then the
radioman would give the marine operator the name and phone number of
whoever the bluejacket aboard ship wanted to call. The marine operator
would then place a collect call and when the party answered and accepted
the charges, the marine operator would form a radio link with the ship
and
'Bill the Bluejacket' could talk to his sweetie.

From sweetie to the marine operator was private and confidential... From
the marine operator to Barnicle Bill, it was up for grabs... Great
evening
entertainment.

"Poopsie, is that you?"

"Yes ducky doo, it's me."

"You miss me, peach blossom?"

"Oh yes... YES, darling!"

"Miss me a lot?"

"Oh, I miss you soooo much I can't wait to hold you and..."

"Okay darling... Are you going to meet the ship?"

"No sweetheart, I parked the car in the pier head lot... Keys are under
the
mat."

"Why aren't you meeting the boat, sweetheart?"

"Oh, it was supposed to be a suprise... If you must know, the kids are
spending the night with the Webbers. I bought a new nightie and I
figured
we'd break it in tonight."

The animals would cheer,

"LET'S HEAR IT FOR MAMMA AND HER NEW NIGHTIE!!"

And so it went. Bluejackets phoning in after six months in the Med...
Great
entertainment.

"Darlin' can't wait... Just you and me and a can of Crisco!"

We heard it all... It was great... Laugh after laugh. A very memorable
evening... Best and cheapest fun we ever had on Requin.

There were times... Moments that we took for granted and that passed
with
little notice. It's funny how they come back late in life when you have
the
time to reshuffle your memories... The collected moments that constitute
your life.

Radiomen linked us with the world. Another thing we just took for
granted
and that was so damned important looking back. Never thanked them...
Should
have.

Great guys, all of them.



Delete the discription of the shipboard activities, add cammy tents,
burning 55 gallon cans of human waste, you have same same at a site in Nam.
Via the MARS system.

Dan/W4NTI