SWEEPERS, SWEEPERS

By Timothy A. Robieson
Presented At The Chicago Literary Club
November 4, 1991

Not everyone is blessed or cursed with the opportunity to serve in the United States Navy. I would like to take this opportunity to share some thoughts and memories about that most venerable of canoe clubs, the Navy, and also some thoughts and memories about thoughts and memories. Most of these memories involve my experiences while in the U.S. Navy between 1966 and 1970. This seems like a convenient segment of my life to choose because of the variety of things that happened to me. And also because of the common appeal that stories of these experiences have to others who are able, in large measure to relate to similar events in their experiences. In fact one consideration I was given in deciding to join the Navy was the fraternity like body of veterans to whom I would be forever united. At virtually any function, business or social, I am able to find a fellow Veteran and between the two of us we are unable to out do the other spinning yarns of our somewhat mutual but individual experiences. My friends and family may tire of my sea stories, but I can always find fresh ears to bend when I bump into a fellow Vet.

Memories can be dredged up sometimes with great effort. Other times they can be spontaneous and even unexpected.The actual mechanics of memory I only wish to touch upon since my only expertise is through my own experience. But what seems clear to me is that my richest remembrances come most quickly to mind from familiar sights, sounds and smells.

Historical events which are thought to be most easily remembered are usually those dramatic, momentous or colorful ones. The more honest sense of what really was is more apt to be reflected in remembering more ordinary things . It is those ordinary mundane background things that are universally experienced and which are remembered and relived when people get together and recall "the way things were."

We seldom choose which sense we are going to use to recall events and places. That is to say that without conscious effort certain sounds, smells or sights will evoke explicit and instantaneous memories. I know I am not the first person to notice this. In fact a point I would like to make is that this is everyone's experience. This common reflex recall is what helps to unite people with their various shared experiences.

The memories may not always be pleasant that are unlocked by these different environmental triggers. Though even when unpleasant they are vivid and help us in recounting what we have forgotten.

Enough with these generalities, let's get to some specifics.

Everyone who has ever been in the military recounts the same "Basic Training" litany. An unending series of overbearing non-coms who act like you should treat them as if they were admirals. The unfair misuse of positional authority by anyone who has one more stripe than you. Institutional and bureaucratic nonsense, homesickness and Dear John letters. Who doesn't have some major disillusionment from the unkept promises the recruiter gave you when you signed up. These exacerbate the artificially heightened anxiety level over the daily functions of housekeeping, personal hygiene and something completely new called military bearing.

Remembering these things now causes me a sense of relief that those days are past and also a feeling of pride that I made it through. It was really four years of hazing that could only end with either getting out or "shipping over".

To really breathe life into these memories I would bring in the smell of mothballs, of which newly issued uniforms do reek. The smell of shoe polish was nearly constant. One boot camp company used shoe wax to polish their entire barracks. In addition to the bleach for scrubbing white hats, we used Wisk liquid laundry detergent and we had our backs bent over scrub tables for hours. An interesting rule that comes to me now was that new gear is dirty gear. That is even if you have never worn something that was issued to you it is considered dirty and needs to be washed. This concept is much more meaningful to you if you are hand washing your entire seabag full of uniforms for the first time.

Deodorant and after-shave lotions were not allowed in bootcamp. After hours over the scrub tables and the daily showers using the dial soap everyone was issued, body odor was not a problem. We all smelled alike and you could smell it from a long way off.

This is the stuff of remembering. The names, places and events jump into being once the proper olfactory framework is in place.

The sounds of the Navy are harder to duplicate in civilian life. There is no one around to blow the bugle or boatswains pipe. Proper military regimentation requires uniform and timely responses to orders. So, from morning reveille to night time taps, the ships public address system pounds out the pulse of the Navy's codified and universal shipboard cadence. This rhythm is steeped in tradition and enlivened with historical maritime jargon. This Navy talk requires some interpretation for land lubbers. Reveille sounds like this: The sharp notes of the boatswains pipe (you must not call it a whistle) followed by a shout: reveille, reveille, all hands heave out and trice up. The smoking lamp is lighted in all birthing spaces.

It was quickly clear to me what the meaning of reveille was, but it was quite a way into my navy career before I found out what it meant to heave out and trice up.

As it is with most foreign languages there are cognates in Navy terminology. Words which make you think you understand. But there are many false cognates in which the words sound English but mean something very different to an old salt. Such as an old salt, that is someone who has been in the Navy a long time. When a old salt goes between decks he uses a ladder. Even the stairs on a shore station are called ladders. The floor is the deck and the ceiling is an overhead. There are no walls, only partitions and bulkheads. Between pay days can be a long time especially if you have an emergency. If you can show the disbursing office that you have a dire need for money you can make an interest free loan against your income. A maximum of three months pay is what you are allowed. This loan is called a dead horse. Paying off a dead horse usually takes most sailors the rest of their enlistment to repay, a little from each pay check. The term dead horse I think transposes well to paying off loans in civilian life too.

Some words depend upon their context for their precise meaning. Geedunk and scuttlebutt are two examples. Geedunk is gum, candy, soda pop and the like. Geedunk is also the place where you buy the gum, candy or soda. If you are out of money or can't make it down to the geedunk you can at least get a drink from the scuttlebutt, that is the drinking fountain. While you're at the drinking fountain should you hear any gossip or pertinent information, that will be referred to as scuttlebutt too. Care must be taken in sharing scuttlebutt. If the scuttlebutt comes from someone trustworthy, it may be reliable. Most scuttlebutt is pure fantasy or gossip. Normal channels for obtaining supplies and goods are routinely used as you would expect. Distribution of everything from black pepper to operating room tables takes paper work, time and budgetary considerations. However, sailors who process and distribute goods sometimes become what is called a "comm-shaw" artist. That is an unauthorized but frequently winked at system of internal bartering. Getting supplies of various descriptions cam be faster if you can "comm-shaw" them, but it will cost you something. What have you got?

Colors is a term for the U.S. Flag. It is also what happens at 8 o'clock in the morning and at sunset on shore stations every day. Colors is when the U.S. flag is raised or lowered with accompanying music or bugle call. If you are caught outside, please note the word caught, during colors you must face and salute in the direction of the flag. This is right patriotic. You should see the patriotism about ten seconds prior to colors to keep from getting caught outside. Most people who are within 30 yards of cover will make a wild dash to get inside so they won't be stuck standing at attention while the flag is raised or lowered. I have also noticed that if you are far enough away from a loud speaker you can just pretend that you didn't hear the call to attention.

One of everyone's most coveted of all titles in the service is that of "short timer". Short timers are people who are getting out of the Navy soon. Short timers leave their tracks on the calendars where they work. They will circle their out day and number the days until their tour of duty is complete. They will usually write an irascible note on the calendar one week or so past their departure date just to rub it in that they're out and you are still in. A short timer with less than 100 days to go is known as a 2-digit midget. Once during each shift at sea a call goes forth as follows: Sweepers, sweepers, man your brooms. Get a clean sweep down fore and aft. Sweep down all lower decks, ladders and passageways. Sponson number 4 is open for the dumping of trash.

In the Navy, cleanliness and order are both an end and a means. The desired results are a ship shape vessel and a busy crew. One mechanism to insure the compliance for required duties is by using a check list. For sweepers, the checklist is kept at the Master-At-Arms shack. Petty officers in charge of departments must sign off when sweepers has been done in their division. If you forget to sign off you get a "speeding ticket". I was aboard less than two weeks when our vastly overweight Chief Petty office informed me,"HM-2 Robieson you got a speed'n ticket this afternoon 'cause you didn't sign for sweepers".An individual speeding ticket was only a minor embarrassment. Attention to details was necessary to keep from getting those speeding tickets.

The hours between reveille and taps are filled with fire drills, man overboard drills, sweepers once for each shift and various other announcements deigned to be of general importance. Taps of course is the call to rest. Usually no bugle blowing though. Just the shrill boatswains whistle followed by the short staccato announcement...taps, taps, lights out. Maintain silence about the deck. The smoking lamp is out in all birthing spaces.

From an insiders perspective it looks like the number one global effort of our military industrial complex, except when it is interrupted by occasional international conflict, is to elevate the importance of mundane maintenance and housekeeping chores up to the level that is commensurate the with vast expense that it takes to accomplish it.

Thousands of man-hours are consumed daily by servicemen sweeping, chipping paint, repainting, waxing, washing, folding, arranging and inspecting the results. These are the long meaningless hours of brainless work during which fertile minds concoct plans and ideas for more interesting endeavors. They swap sea stories while leaning on their broom handles and hatch practical jokes. Usually the goal of a ship shape vessel with a busy crew is achieved. The efficiency and productivity of the process is doubtful and as far as I can see not considered important.

So many humorous absurdities beg to be remembered. Some of the best come from my boot camp experiences in San Diego, California.

The military industrial complex spends millions on studies. The needs are identified, building plans are approved and then the facilities to accomplish the desired results of their planning are built.

Barrack facilities for example built for recruits need to have an appropriate number of beds, toilets, urinals showers and sinks. After much study and evaluation the building was designed and constructed to the desired specifications. Let's say eight toilets, 7 urinals, 8 sinks and a large shower room with twelve nozzles. These to accommodate 60 to 85 men.

Let's look at how these buildings are actually used.

Proper military custom requires barracks and personnel inspections five days a week. The toilets, urinals, sinks and the shower room are all expected to be virtually brand new looking. No hint of dust, soil or water marks may be present. Daily cleaning of barracks to such a degree of perfection is an impossible task. To make the facilities pristine for inspection 80% of the toilets, sinks and urinals are roped off and kept from any use other than being kept clean for daily inspection. This is unofficial and off the record. It must have been the idea of those industrious and creative recruits.

Now see the cadres of men queuing up behind the couple of toilets and sinks that are open. Morning night and noon being ever so careful not to soil those hallowed porcelain fixtures which had been roped off. Those uniform white statues of perfect military order standing frozen at parade like attention while they await the white gloved caress of each mornings inspection. Pristine as the bow-sprite of a newly launched frigate these rows of urinals and toilets announce to all the world our seamanship and the shipworthyness of our housekeeping talents. Inspection pressures eliminated the need for 75% of the military's toilets and sinks. Could that translate into meaningful savings in future building? No it will not since the practice is unofficial, off the record and unauthorized. Clean was important and so was orderliness. Every day inspection teams probed expertly into each mans personal locker, onto every shelf with deft hands using surgical like discernment. The middle edge of a towel should, when properly folded, cover the manufacturers tag that is sewn onto the corner. When correctly folded, white T-shirts with their dress edge to the left reveal the pattern - thin, fat, fat and thin. Improperly folded T-shirts are easily spotted with their fat, thin, thin and fat pattern. Demerits are issued for all improperly folded or improperly aligned gear.

The pinnacle of achievements for the recruit are the following. First, to be able to recite any and or all of their eleven general orders. i.e." Number One I will walk my post in a military manner, keeping always on the alert..." Secondly a recruit must be able to shave any and all remnants of facial hair and peach fuzz (dry shave if necessary). Thirdly recruits will keep all white garments (underwear & hats) spotlessly white. This is done on the q.t. by using some bootlegged bleach which was unauthorized but some how stored inside the barracks fire extinguisher in the place of water. Failure in any of these areas then would result in a less than perfect score at morning inspection. This would mean a great loss of prestige for the whole company and it created enormous pressure on all recruits to be perfect. Some not very pleasant things happened to recruits who repeatedly caused problems for their company.

Early in every recruits experience comes the battery of testing which will define his abilities as only the military can. These parameters will point the unwavering direction of his entire career. Doing well on these tests is both a blessing and a curse. One who does very well on this G.C.T./A.R.I. testing, as it is known, will be beat up with their high test scores every time they make the slightest mistake. One who mixes up his 10th and 11th general order at morning inspection will be threatened with court marshall for malingering if they have been cursed with a superior ranking.

Basic training is notoriously austere. Early to rise, march everywhere you go and when you sit down it will be upon some bleacher seat with no back. After-hours are spent scrubbing clothes by hand, polishing shoes, buckles and memorizing the 11 general orders. After 12 weeks of this unupholstered living I remember being overcome with such a sense of luxury, after bootcamp graduation just sitting down in the back seat of our family car. A lot of necessary programing goes into boot training. Much of the stress is designed to week out misfits and toughen recruits for the weeks of sea duty that are the routine of a sailors life in the fleet. But getting back to the real world, even the real Navy is a rough jolt. It is a type of culture shock. But it was wonderful to survive it and never return except in memories.

My sea duty began with a one hour flight out to the nuclear aircraft carrier U.S.S. Enterprise which had left Subic Bay Naval Station in the Philippines the day before. The plane landed with a memorable "skreetch and halt" tail hook arrested landing. I was given an official looking momento of that event. A card with my name on it identifying me as an official "Tail-hook Airdale". As proud as I am of this very singular accolade, it has not found its way onto my curriculum vitae. After that landing I was invigorated by the drama and non the worse for wear. I was escorted out the back exit of the air-conditioned turboprop mailplane to the sweltering sunbaked flight deck and the beginning of my long awaited shipboard duty. This moment in time will be relived by me with every whiff of jet fuel exhaust I ever take. The rubber on the souls of my shoes nearly melted on contact with that dark gray non-skid surface of the flight deck. Relentless equatorial sunshine cooks men and ships without mercy.

Thirty minutes after I came aboard we experienced a man-over-board drill. Only it wasn't a drill. A cooks helper was stacking bags of potatoes on a sponson, lost his balance, and went into the drink. He was rescued quickly and brought down to sick bay. He was unhurt and his only complaint was that the water was so warm that even swimming didn't give him any relief from the heat.

Working in air-conditioned spaces was a major blessing for me.

Since I was carrying a camera when I stepped off the plane I was warned against taking pictures of certain forbidden subjects.

For example: Very special concern was to be used not to photograph the electronic countermeasures equipment on the U.S.S. Enterprises Island. Only a traitor would purposely take forbidden photos near the ships island. That rule went down the tubes when the ship returned from far east deployment. Five minutes after steaming under the Golden Gate Bridge, a helicopter landed with a television news cameraman. In broad daylight he photographed the length and breadth of all aspects of the ships island with its sacred electronic countermeasures tower! This he did while a full dressed Marine honor guard stood at parade rest in the center of the flight deck and several thousand of our ships company lined the sides. For my entire tour of duty on the U.S.S. Enterprise it was against the rules to have in my possession any civilian clothing. In order to wear non regulation clothing I would have to go ashore in uniform, find some clothes some place and change into them. Then I would have to carry my uniform around or find some place to store them while away from the ship. In order to return to the ship I would have to change back into a regulation uniform and stash the civilian clothes some place. Why bother changing clothes if it is that much trouble one might ask?

In most cities with a sizable Navy population you will find routine and sometimes well deserved discrimination against sailors. Looking less military can help allay some of that and I believe that it was an big ego boost to get out of uniform now and then.

My routine was probably a little unorthodox but it was too expensive for me to rent a room in town just for the purposes of getting away from the ship. So I purchased a shirt and trousers and kept them under some creosote coated wood pilings that were stacked on the pier next to the ship. Hiding behind the wood I would do a quick change and slip out of my Navy dungarees and into my stay press levies polyester sports shirt and trousers. Voila, instant civilian! Creosote and tar are the interesting aromas my memory associates with that ridiculous exercise in following rules that begged to be broken. I understand now that sailors are allowed to have civies on board. What could it hurt?

This year marks the 216th anniversary of the United States Navy. I was on active duty for about 4 years and if you include my reserve time I was affiliated for a total of 6 years. In looking back my time in service doesn't seem so great. Especially if you contrast it to career men of 20 and more years. During my navy years, while I was in my early twenties my perspective was that the clock was standing still and most of my fellow shipmates were also marking calendars and counting the hours before their release from active duty.

Here is an interesting perspective on the length of my tour of duty in the Navy. A mere six year tour is 2.7% of the time the Navy has been in existence. Moreover, if I live to age 76 I will have spent about 8% of my life in bell-bottom trousers.

It is no wonder that I still fold my underwear according to boot camp regulations. It took me several years after active duty to stop writing my name last name first and although I don't write the date in military fashion any more it does make more sense to me to put the day of the month ahead of the month and year as in 4 November 1991.

I really did enjoy a good portion of my Navy service and even though this paper leans more toward the peculiarities, I don't mean to negate the many positive things that I should, in fairness, write about in another paper.

That is all.

Ref: http://www.enteract.com/~litclub/ROBISN1.HTM

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