Detour To Navy Duty
Disclaimer
Due to the extreme passage of time, the accuracy of events and situations are not fully guaranteed."
Authored By: Bradley Chapline
February 2021
Disclaimer
Due to the extreme passage of time, the accuracy of events and situations are not fully guaranteed."
Authored By: Bradley Chapline
February 2021
"One can truly believe what they are doing is the right thing to do, and still be dreadfully wrong."
>B. Chapline<
February 2021
PREFACE
I was twenty years old, and a U.S. Marine stationed onboard an American warship.
The U.S.S. Ponce had just recently been commissioned. This Austin type LPD (Landing Platform Dock) ship was the pride of the U.S. Navy. The U.S.S. Ponce came equipped with a helicopter platform built over a well deck in the rear of the vessel. This provided a tactical advantage of being able to deploy troops on water, airlift troops, combat equipment and supplies all at the same time. There was no doubt that the U.S.S. Ponce would greatly contribute to all phases of an amphibious and or heloborne assault.
>B. Chapline<
February 2021
PREFACE
I was twenty years old, and a U.S. Marine stationed onboard an American warship.
The U.S.S. Ponce had just recently been commissioned. This Austin type LPD (Landing Platform Dock) ship was the pride of the U.S. Navy. The U.S.S. Ponce came equipped with a helicopter platform built over a well deck in the rear of the vessel. This provided a tactical advantage of being able to deploy troops on water, airlift troops, combat equipment and supplies all at the same time. There was no doubt that the U.S.S. Ponce would greatly contribute to all phases of an amphibious and or heloborne assault.
PART ONE
After the U.S.S. Ponce's arrival (Feb 1973) in the Middle East region in support of Israeli forces in the Yom Kippur war, this warship, along with others in the Sixth Fleet were being utilized as a show of force towards the invading forces of Egypt and Syria.
But, the abrupt and simultaneous invasion of Israel by Egyptian and Syrian forces, backed by the Soviets, truly caught the Israelis off guard. Israel, stumbling under this two-front attack, was then strategically aided by massive amounts of U.S. military assistance.
Later in the year 1974, after the Egyptians and Syrians pulled back their troops from Israeli territory, the U.S.S. Ponce's next operational assignment was the Suez Canal's Clearance Operation.
U.S. forces from the Sixth Fleet were ordered to sweep and disarm all floating mines in the Suez Canal. Additional orders included the disarming of unexploded ordinances from not only adjacent land areas, but also, U.S. forces would also be removing a multitude of wreckages from the canal zones. One of which, during a night time operation, was a CH-53 Marine helicopter with men from my platoon on board that had crashed and exploded during a return trip from an aborted combat mission into Egypt. There were no survivors.
The mine-sweeping of the Suez Canal was not only a very dangerous series of operations, but, as well, would be physically and mentally draining.
The job of the marines in the Suez Canal zones was to provide navy personnel with security and cover during operations "Nimbus Moon / Star".
PART TWO
In the aftermath of those two operations, most sailors and marines on board the U.S.S. Ponce had truly earned a lengthy period of liberty. However, none was scheduled for the foreseeable future. Therefore, as each day passed, tempers between the crew and the marines grew shorter, and altercations between the two sides became more commonplace.
But, none of those contretemps got the attention focused on them as did the brawl I was not only involved in, but, was accused of starting.
In the days leading up to that physical altercation, the one enjoyment I had was periodically standing Marine security watch on the fantail of the ship. I loved watching pods of dolphins swim apace with our ship. It was a beautiful sight as the dolphins leaped out of the ocean waters, sometimes many of them in unison.
But, each time dumping trash and chemical waste over the fantail of the ship was called to action over the ship's intercom, the pods of dolphins would mysteriously disappear. It was like they knew they had come under assault. This bothered me deeply as bags of heavy plastic, paper, glass, metals and even at times, barrels of industrial fluids were thrown overboard into the ocean waters.
Moving forward, a couple of days later, I was sitting in the ship's enlisted men's mess hall, eating my lunch. I did not take well to sailors. But, sitting at a long two sided table, I did my best to mind my own business. I wanted to somehow make sure I was hiding my disfigured right eye. That eye had a habit of acting crazy when my jawbones were moving, such as, when masticating my food. So, when I happened to look up, I saw these three sailors sitting across the table from me watching my right eye bounce around in its socket. They all whispered among themselves, and then began laughing at me.
I then stood up, grabbed my metal food tray, and struck one of the sailors across his face. Almost instantly, the sailor was bleeding from his cheekbone. But, moments later, I was now fighting all three sailors. Lucky for me, the on duty master-at-arms arrived on the scene within a few minutes, and quickly, the fight was over .
Placed on immediate restriction to my bunk by my platoon commander, the next day I would face my company first sergeant and commanding officer. It was made quite clear to me that I would likely do some brig time.
But, later on that day, my platoon commander surprised me. Instead of brig time, I'd be working in the chief petty officers' mess as a cleanup boy for the next thirty days. I would get no liberty, and would have to pay a hefty fine out of my salary for the next three months.
The hours in the chiefs' mess hall were long. The work was not only hard on my body, but, it was also filthy, dirty work. Besides peeling hundreds of potatoes, which was probably the easiest of all assigned tasks, I also scrubbed kitchen ovens, decks, and drains. I couldn't even begin to count how many pots and pans I had scrubbed. I sanitized sinks, toilets and urinals. For a virtual slave, this work environment was not only excessively hot and sweaty, but my hands were also dried and cracked to the point of bleeding.
No doubt, if I had a choice between punishments, doing time in the ship's brig would have been my first choice.
PART THREE
But, in the coming days I continued to work quietly, morning, noon, and night while I saw everyone else dressed in civilian attire going on liberty into the port town of Athens, Greece.
But, within the following week, liberty time was over and the U.S.S. Ponce was back out at sea. Ironically, I was now the one who was dumping garbage sealed in plastic bags over the fantail of the ship after each meal.
But, I came to be different from the others who had previously done this job. I took the extra time to separate food waste from material waste. I was no longer dumping over the fantail of the ship any type of plastics or other pollutants. The dolphins seemed to love consuming human food scraps. I smiled each time I saw all the dolphins in a race to get leftover food.
So, I knew I was doing the right thing by not throwing plastic bags, bottles, food wrappers, cigarette butts, glass or metal cans into the ocean waters. I had sealed and stored all these type of dry waste materials in large plastic bags and placed them in temporary storage containers located on both the port and starboard sides of the ship. These materials would all be properly disposed of at our ship's next port of call.
So, I secured from my duties in the chiefs' mess, each evening, at around 2330 hours. I would have to be up and on duty at the dining hall by first light. I was truly exhausted.
Eventually I did oversleep one morning and arrived late for work at the chiefs' dining hall. But, oddly enough, on this day, there were no cooks, no servers, no dining room attendants, and no kitchen workers on duty. I asked a lone chief petty officer why the chiefs' mess was deserted.
I couldn't help laughing when I was told that over a period of days, the staff in the chief's mess had more than likely visited the same brothel while on liberty. For, they had all contracted the same type of venereal disease. They would not be allowed, by order of the medical staff, to handle food for at least the next fifteen days.
The chiefs were now eating their meals in the enlisted men's mess hall. I knew they must have hated that!
Just before I was about to return to my unit, a chief asked me if I knew how to cook. I saw an opportunity for me. I replied, "Yes, and I also have a working knowledge of how the galley equipment is operated and maintained."
Before I knew it, I was running the chiefs' mess and had a crew of navy servants and clean up boys. I figured, cooking for the chiefs would be no gigantic task in comparison to having been a lone galley-slave day and night. For, there were only about fifteen chief petty officers to feed three times a day on board the U.S.S. Ponce.
The first meal I prepared, only two chiefs showed up at the dining hall. And, even they were hesitant to try my cooking. But, once they got up the courage to do so, they were truly in love with the meal I rustled up. But, after closing the serving line down, there were a lot of leftovers. I informed one of the chiefs that it would be a shame to throw out all this good food. So, at his request, I packed a lot of styrofoam trays with the complete dinner meal. Against shipboard regulations, all this food was taken back to chiefs' living quarters. Apparently, there were a lot of filled bellies and happy faces.
For, there was double layered meatloafs that were packed with fresh eggs, crackers, onions, peppers, spices and four different kinds of cheeses. It was all smothered with either a layer of ketchup and/or barbeque sauce. I was also serving lyonnaise potatoes with the meal. They had been marinated overnight and then slowly cooked with grilled onions. These potatoes were so soft and juicy it was practically a melt in your mouth experience. I also served three types of vegetables that had also been slow cooked in butters and oils.
Before I knew it, every chief on board ship was there to eat every meal I prepared. There was only one complaint. Every chief was putting on weight.
For instance, at the breakfast meal, I served fresh eggs to order. On one side of each plate it was packed with "SOS", or otherwise known as chip beef on toast. The other side of the plate was a large helping of hashed browned potatoes. The fruit of the day was usually watermelon. There was also fresh milk, with cereal. The beverages consisted of freshly squeezed orange juice, hot coffee, and/or iced tea.
In serving lunch, for instance, I loved to butter and grill homemade bread. In between the two slices of bread, I packed it with thick slices of braised bologna, onions, and an array of melted cheeses, I then blanketed this scrumptious sandwich with fresh crispy lettuce. On top of the lettuce I splashed a spicy mustard sauce that had hints of both mayonnaise and dill pickles. As a dessert, I served large slices of devil's food cake with white icing. This was also a huge success.
However, in the coming days, my so-called thirty days of punishment in the chiefs' mess were about to be cut short. I was ordered by my platoon commander to report back to my unit. There was another marine amphibious operation in the Mediterranean about to take place. I no longer wanted to go back to my unit. I was quite happy where I was. And, the chiefs also wanted me to stay on as their chef.
The chiefs won that battle against my lieutenant and company first sergeant. Angered, they told me to get my personal gear and effects packed up and to get the hell out of my platoon's birthing area. I gladly did so, expeditiously.
I secretly stored all my gear in an empty cabinet in the chiefs' mess. But, several days later I was confronted by the ship's senior master chief. I was nervous standing in front of him. He was the highest ranking enlisted man on the ship. However, I did explain to him that I had been thrown out of my living compartment by my platoon commander and company first sergeant.
I no longer felt like a Marine. But, that evening, after the dinner meal, the chiefs brought tears to my eyes when they presented me with a traditional chef's uniform which consisted of a toque blanche, a white double breasted jacket, trousers that were in a black and white houndstooth pattern, and a white apron.
With the master chief's permission, after the dining hall was closed down each evening, I would then be allowed to bunk on a cushioned wall bench that was located in the most remote area of the chiefs' dining hall.
For a short while, I was living like a king. I was eating off of real china, and, being persnickety, I made sure the dining room staff had my silverware properly placed on cloth napkins.
While consuming my meals in the chiefs' mess, I enjoyed watching closed circuit television, and listening to a jukebox play some of my favorite songs, I also had the privilege of using the chiefs' private head adjacent to their mess hall. There was a shower stall, a sink, a urinal and a toilet that was virtually for my private use.
But, most importantly, during my short tenure in the chiefs' mess, I learned just how deserving navy chiefs were in earning a high degree of respect from both their superiors and subordinates.
There was certainly an aura of mystique that was attached to the chiefs' quarters and mess hall. For, very few enlisted personnel were ever allowed into the their dining room or living quarters. These two areas were known as the "old goats' locker room".
There was no question that the chiefs on the U.S.S. Ponce were truly the backbone of this warship. I came to know, firsthand, that their chief petty officers faithfully served as the ship's trouble-shooters and technical experts. And, when it came to their men on board the Ponce, the chiefs were not only the enlisted men's father figure, but, they too acted as judge and jury in informal disciplinary matters. But, what impressed me most about the chiefs was their ability to treat their men with the kindness and understanding of a chaplain. I could never have been more honored in having the opportunity to cook the meals for all those great men of the sea.
PART FOUR
In time, it was certainly most difficult for me to go back to being a marine. For, many times I sang this well known jingle:
"GI beans and GI gravy, gee I wished I had joined the navy."
During peaceful moments in the cool early evening air, wearing my Marine Corps physical training uniform, I visited my old post on the fantail of the ship. I was amused that marines were no longer assigned a guard post there. I had wondered why.
And then, on this one particular evening, I saw a grunt lazily dragging a large plastic bag of trash across the flight deck. He was heading towards the fantail of the ship. He was asked by the navy sentry what he thought he was going to do with the trash. "Throw it over the fantail", the marine replied. The navy sentry said, "No, marine, that is no longer allowed."
The sentry went on to say, "A directive was recently put into effect that only allows leftover food to be dumped over the fantail of the ship. All other wastes shall be secured appropriately and temporarily stored in container boxes. Just turnaround and look to the starboard and port sides and you'll see the container boxes that has an on-duty sentry. He'll show you what to do."
Noticeably pissed off, the marine just threw the trash bag down on the flight deck and walked away.
I figured the many pods of dolphins that swam with the U.S.S. Ponce would now have an absolute feast of human food without any accompaniment of pollutants.
I was thrilled at this development. I was hoping that just maybe this would be the beginning of Sixth Fleet warships no longer polluting the ocean waters.
But, all did not end well.
I was stunned to learn that only several months after the directive to limit dumping had been put into effect, this directive was rescinded in its entirety.
Naval authorities claimed they had good reason to make this abrupt reversal in operational policy. For, it was discovered that dolphins swallow their food whole, rather than masticating. Therefore, a dolphin's consumption of human food puts their lives at great risk. In fact, many dolphins who consume human food will not only dehydrate, but, they will then die by exsiccation.
So, it was, for the U.S.S. Ponce, back to the old ways in the disposal of shipboard waste polluting the ocean waters.
Note: It is estimated that over 100,000 dolphins die each year from polluted oceans.
By 2050, the facts show there will be more plastic in our oceans than fish.
Return To Main Page
www.bradleychapline.com/
After the U.S.S. Ponce's arrival (Feb 1973) in the Middle East region in support of Israeli forces in the Yom Kippur war, this warship, along with others in the Sixth Fleet were being utilized as a show of force towards the invading forces of Egypt and Syria.
But, the abrupt and simultaneous invasion of Israel by Egyptian and Syrian forces, backed by the Soviets, truly caught the Israelis off guard. Israel, stumbling under this two-front attack, was then strategically aided by massive amounts of U.S. military assistance.
Later in the year 1974, after the Egyptians and Syrians pulled back their troops from Israeli territory, the U.S.S. Ponce's next operational assignment was the Suez Canal's Clearance Operation.
U.S. forces from the Sixth Fleet were ordered to sweep and disarm all floating mines in the Suez Canal. Additional orders included the disarming of unexploded ordinances from not only adjacent land areas, but also, U.S. forces would also be removing a multitude of wreckages from the canal zones. One of which, during a night time operation, was a CH-53 Marine helicopter with men from my platoon on board that had crashed and exploded during a return trip from an aborted combat mission into Egypt. There were no survivors.
The mine-sweeping of the Suez Canal was not only a very dangerous series of operations, but, as well, would be physically and mentally draining.
The job of the marines in the Suez Canal zones was to provide navy personnel with security and cover during operations "Nimbus Moon / Star".
PART TWO
In the aftermath of those two operations, most sailors and marines on board the U.S.S. Ponce had truly earned a lengthy period of liberty. However, none was scheduled for the foreseeable future. Therefore, as each day passed, tempers between the crew and the marines grew shorter, and altercations between the two sides became more commonplace.
But, none of those contretemps got the attention focused on them as did the brawl I was not only involved in, but, was accused of starting.
In the days leading up to that physical altercation, the one enjoyment I had was periodically standing Marine security watch on the fantail of the ship. I loved watching pods of dolphins swim apace with our ship. It was a beautiful sight as the dolphins leaped out of the ocean waters, sometimes many of them in unison.
But, each time dumping trash and chemical waste over the fantail of the ship was called to action over the ship's intercom, the pods of dolphins would mysteriously disappear. It was like they knew they had come under assault. This bothered me deeply as bags of heavy plastic, paper, glass, metals and even at times, barrels of industrial fluids were thrown overboard into the ocean waters.
Moving forward, a couple of days later, I was sitting in the ship's enlisted men's mess hall, eating my lunch. I did not take well to sailors. But, sitting at a long two sided table, I did my best to mind my own business. I wanted to somehow make sure I was hiding my disfigured right eye. That eye had a habit of acting crazy when my jawbones were moving, such as, when masticating my food. So, when I happened to look up, I saw these three sailors sitting across the table from me watching my right eye bounce around in its socket. They all whispered among themselves, and then began laughing at me.
I then stood up, grabbed my metal food tray, and struck one of the sailors across his face. Almost instantly, the sailor was bleeding from his cheekbone. But, moments later, I was now fighting all three sailors. Lucky for me, the on duty master-at-arms arrived on the scene within a few minutes, and quickly, the fight was over .
Placed on immediate restriction to my bunk by my platoon commander, the next day I would face my company first sergeant and commanding officer. It was made quite clear to me that I would likely do some brig time.
But, later on that day, my platoon commander surprised me. Instead of brig time, I'd be working in the chief petty officers' mess as a cleanup boy for the next thirty days. I would get no liberty, and would have to pay a hefty fine out of my salary for the next three months.
The hours in the chiefs' mess hall were long. The work was not only hard on my body, but, it was also filthy, dirty work. Besides peeling hundreds of potatoes, which was probably the easiest of all assigned tasks, I also scrubbed kitchen ovens, decks, and drains. I couldn't even begin to count how many pots and pans I had scrubbed. I sanitized sinks, toilets and urinals. For a virtual slave, this work environment was not only excessively hot and sweaty, but my hands were also dried and cracked to the point of bleeding.
No doubt, if I had a choice between punishments, doing time in the ship's brig would have been my first choice.
PART THREE
But, in the coming days I continued to work quietly, morning, noon, and night while I saw everyone else dressed in civilian attire going on liberty into the port town of Athens, Greece.
But, within the following week, liberty time was over and the U.S.S. Ponce was back out at sea. Ironically, I was now the one who was dumping garbage sealed in plastic bags over the fantail of the ship after each meal.
But, I came to be different from the others who had previously done this job. I took the extra time to separate food waste from material waste. I was no longer dumping over the fantail of the ship any type of plastics or other pollutants. The dolphins seemed to love consuming human food scraps. I smiled each time I saw all the dolphins in a race to get leftover food.
So, I knew I was doing the right thing by not throwing plastic bags, bottles, food wrappers, cigarette butts, glass or metal cans into the ocean waters. I had sealed and stored all these type of dry waste materials in large plastic bags and placed them in temporary storage containers located on both the port and starboard sides of the ship. These materials would all be properly disposed of at our ship's next port of call.
So, I secured from my duties in the chiefs' mess, each evening, at around 2330 hours. I would have to be up and on duty at the dining hall by first light. I was truly exhausted.
Eventually I did oversleep one morning and arrived late for work at the chiefs' dining hall. But, oddly enough, on this day, there were no cooks, no servers, no dining room attendants, and no kitchen workers on duty. I asked a lone chief petty officer why the chiefs' mess was deserted.
I couldn't help laughing when I was told that over a period of days, the staff in the chief's mess had more than likely visited the same brothel while on liberty. For, they had all contracted the same type of venereal disease. They would not be allowed, by order of the medical staff, to handle food for at least the next fifteen days.
The chiefs were now eating their meals in the enlisted men's mess hall. I knew they must have hated that!
Just before I was about to return to my unit, a chief asked me if I knew how to cook. I saw an opportunity for me. I replied, "Yes, and I also have a working knowledge of how the galley equipment is operated and maintained."
Before I knew it, I was running the chiefs' mess and had a crew of navy servants and clean up boys. I figured, cooking for the chiefs would be no gigantic task in comparison to having been a lone galley-slave day and night. For, there were only about fifteen chief petty officers to feed three times a day on board the U.S.S. Ponce.
The first meal I prepared, only two chiefs showed up at the dining hall. And, even they were hesitant to try my cooking. But, once they got up the courage to do so, they were truly in love with the meal I rustled up. But, after closing the serving line down, there were a lot of leftovers. I informed one of the chiefs that it would be a shame to throw out all this good food. So, at his request, I packed a lot of styrofoam trays with the complete dinner meal. Against shipboard regulations, all this food was taken back to chiefs' living quarters. Apparently, there were a lot of filled bellies and happy faces.
For, there was double layered meatloafs that were packed with fresh eggs, crackers, onions, peppers, spices and four different kinds of cheeses. It was all smothered with either a layer of ketchup and/or barbeque sauce. I was also serving lyonnaise potatoes with the meal. They had been marinated overnight and then slowly cooked with grilled onions. These potatoes were so soft and juicy it was practically a melt in your mouth experience. I also served three types of vegetables that had also been slow cooked in butters and oils.
Before I knew it, every chief on board ship was there to eat every meal I prepared. There was only one complaint. Every chief was putting on weight.
For instance, at the breakfast meal, I served fresh eggs to order. On one side of each plate it was packed with "SOS", or otherwise known as chip beef on toast. The other side of the plate was a large helping of hashed browned potatoes. The fruit of the day was usually watermelon. There was also fresh milk, with cereal. The beverages consisted of freshly squeezed orange juice, hot coffee, and/or iced tea.
In serving lunch, for instance, I loved to butter and grill homemade bread. In between the two slices of bread, I packed it with thick slices of braised bologna, onions, and an array of melted cheeses, I then blanketed this scrumptious sandwich with fresh crispy lettuce. On top of the lettuce I splashed a spicy mustard sauce that had hints of both mayonnaise and dill pickles. As a dessert, I served large slices of devil's food cake with white icing. This was also a huge success.
However, in the coming days, my so-called thirty days of punishment in the chiefs' mess were about to be cut short. I was ordered by my platoon commander to report back to my unit. There was another marine amphibious operation in the Mediterranean about to take place. I no longer wanted to go back to my unit. I was quite happy where I was. And, the chiefs also wanted me to stay on as their chef.
The chiefs won that battle against my lieutenant and company first sergeant. Angered, they told me to get my personal gear and effects packed up and to get the hell out of my platoon's birthing area. I gladly did so, expeditiously.
I secretly stored all my gear in an empty cabinet in the chiefs' mess. But, several days later I was confronted by the ship's senior master chief. I was nervous standing in front of him. He was the highest ranking enlisted man on the ship. However, I did explain to him that I had been thrown out of my living compartment by my platoon commander and company first sergeant.
I no longer felt like a Marine. But, that evening, after the dinner meal, the chiefs brought tears to my eyes when they presented me with a traditional chef's uniform which consisted of a toque blanche, a white double breasted jacket, trousers that were in a black and white houndstooth pattern, and a white apron.
With the master chief's permission, after the dining hall was closed down each evening, I would then be allowed to bunk on a cushioned wall bench that was located in the most remote area of the chiefs' dining hall.
For a short while, I was living like a king. I was eating off of real china, and, being persnickety, I made sure the dining room staff had my silverware properly placed on cloth napkins.
While consuming my meals in the chiefs' mess, I enjoyed watching closed circuit television, and listening to a jukebox play some of my favorite songs, I also had the privilege of using the chiefs' private head adjacent to their mess hall. There was a shower stall, a sink, a urinal and a toilet that was virtually for my private use.
But, most importantly, during my short tenure in the chiefs' mess, I learned just how deserving navy chiefs were in earning a high degree of respect from both their superiors and subordinates.
There was certainly an aura of mystique that was attached to the chiefs' quarters and mess hall. For, very few enlisted personnel were ever allowed into the their dining room or living quarters. These two areas were known as the "old goats' locker room".
There was no question that the chiefs on the U.S.S. Ponce were truly the backbone of this warship. I came to know, firsthand, that their chief petty officers faithfully served as the ship's trouble-shooters and technical experts. And, when it came to their men on board the Ponce, the chiefs were not only the enlisted men's father figure, but, they too acted as judge and jury in informal disciplinary matters. But, what impressed me most about the chiefs was their ability to treat their men with the kindness and understanding of a chaplain. I could never have been more honored in having the opportunity to cook the meals for all those great men of the sea.
PART FOUR
In time, it was certainly most difficult for me to go back to being a marine. For, many times I sang this well known jingle:
"GI beans and GI gravy, gee I wished I had joined the navy."
During peaceful moments in the cool early evening air, wearing my Marine Corps physical training uniform, I visited my old post on the fantail of the ship. I was amused that marines were no longer assigned a guard post there. I had wondered why.
And then, on this one particular evening, I saw a grunt lazily dragging a large plastic bag of trash across the flight deck. He was heading towards the fantail of the ship. He was asked by the navy sentry what he thought he was going to do with the trash. "Throw it over the fantail", the marine replied. The navy sentry said, "No, marine, that is no longer allowed."
The sentry went on to say, "A directive was recently put into effect that only allows leftover food to be dumped over the fantail of the ship. All other wastes shall be secured appropriately and temporarily stored in container boxes. Just turnaround and look to the starboard and port sides and you'll see the container boxes that has an on-duty sentry. He'll show you what to do."
Noticeably pissed off, the marine just threw the trash bag down on the flight deck and walked away.
I figured the many pods of dolphins that swam with the U.S.S. Ponce would now have an absolute feast of human food without any accompaniment of pollutants.
I was thrilled at this development. I was hoping that just maybe this would be the beginning of Sixth Fleet warships no longer polluting the ocean waters.
But, all did not end well.
I was stunned to learn that only several months after the directive to limit dumping had been put into effect, this directive was rescinded in its entirety.
Naval authorities claimed they had good reason to make this abrupt reversal in operational policy. For, it was discovered that dolphins swallow their food whole, rather than masticating. Therefore, a dolphin's consumption of human food puts their lives at great risk. In fact, many dolphins who consume human food will not only dehydrate, but, they will then die by exsiccation.
So, it was, for the U.S.S. Ponce, back to the old ways in the disposal of shipboard waste polluting the ocean waters.
Note: It is estimated that over 100,000 dolphins die each year from polluted oceans.
By 2050, the facts show there will be more plastic in our oceans than fish.
Return To Main Page
www.bradleychapline.com/