Welcomed Punishments;
Unwelcomed Results
Currently Unedited
Disclaimer
Due to the extreme passage of time, places and persons, situational accuracy is not guaranteed."
Authored By: Bradley Chapline
February 2021
Unwelcomed Results
Currently Unedited
Disclaimer
Due to the extreme passage of time, places and persons, situational accuracy is not guaranteed."
Authored By: Bradley Chapline
February 2021
"One can truly believe what they are doing is the thing thing to do, and still be wrong."
>B. Chapline<
February 2021
PREFACE
I was twenty years old, and a U.S. Marine stationed on board an American warship named the U.S.S. Ponce.
The Ponce had just recently been commissioned. This LPD (Landing Platform Dock) was the pride of the U.S. Navy. The Austin class amphibious warship was the first of its kind. 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 lift troops, our combat equipment and supplies onto the same ship. There was no doubt that the U.S.S. Ponce would contribute to all phases of an amphibious assault.
>B. Chapline<
February 2021
PREFACE
I was twenty years old, and a U.S. Marine stationed on board an American warship named the U.S.S. Ponce.
The Ponce had just recently been commissioned. This LPD (Landing Platform Dock) was the pride of the U.S. Navy. The Austin class amphibious warship was the first of its kind. 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 lift troops, our combat equipment and supplies onto the same ship. There was no doubt that the U.S.S. Ponce would contribute to all phases of an amphibious 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, the U.S.S. Ponce, along with other warships in the Sixth Fleet were being utilized as a show of force towards the invading forces of Egypt and Syria.
The Yom Kippur War brought America and the Soviets to the brink of war. The abrupt and simultaneous invasion of Israel by Egyptian and Syrian forces caught the Israelis off guard. Israel, stumbling under the two-front attack, was aided by massive amounts of U.S. military assistance.
Later in the year 1974, after the Egyptians and Syrians pulled back their forces from Israeli territory, the Ponce's next operational assignment was the Suez Canal's Clearance Operation.
U.S. forces from the Sixth Fleet were ordered to locate, sweep and disarm all activated mines in this essential waterway. Additional orders included the disarming of unexploded ordinances from not only adjacent land areas, but also, U.S. forces would also be removing wreckage from the canal zone.
One of which, during a night time operation, was a CH-53 Marine helicopter with marines from my platoon on board that had crashed and exploded during a return trip from an aborted combat mission into Egypt.
The mine-sweeping operation of the Suez Canal was not only a high risk series of operations, but, as well, it was all physically and mentally enervating.
The job of us marines was to provide naval personnel with protections from both internal and external threats during operations "Nimbus" Moon and Star.
PART TWO
Everyone on board the U.S.S. Ponce had earned a lengthy period of liberty. However, no liberty was scheduled for the foreseeable future. Therefore, as each day passed, tempers became more short, and fights became commonplace.
But, none of those altercations got the attention of 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 standing marine security watch on the fantail of the ship and watching pods of dolphins swim along with our ship. It was a beautiful sight as the dolphins leaped out of the ocean waters, sometimes in unison.
But, each time dumping trash over the fantail of the ship was called to action over the ship's intercom, the pods of dolphins would mysteriously disappear. Its like they knew their ocean waters were under an assault.
This deeply angered me. My hatred for squids had accelerated into high gear.
A couple of days later, sitting in the enlisted men's mess hall, eating my lunch, I looked up and saw three sailors sitting across the table from me staring at my disfigured right eye. They whispered among themselves, and then began laughing at me.
I stood up, grabbed my metal tray, and hit one of the sailors across his face. In just a few moments, the master-at-arms was on scene, and the fight was over.
Placed on immediate restriction to my bunk, the next day I faced my company first sergeant and my commanding officer.
It was made quite clear to me that I was facing time in the ship's brig.
But, later on that day, my platoon commander told me, instead of brig time, you'll be working in the chief's mess as a cleanup boy for the next thirty days. I would get no liberty.
The hours were long. The work was not only hard on my body, but, it was also filthy dirty work. I peeled thousands of vegetables, scrubbed kitchen ovens, decks, and drains. I couldn't even begin to count how many pots and pans I scrubbed. I sanitized sinks, toilets and urinals. For a slave, this work environment was hot and sweaty. If I had a choice between punishments, doing time behind bars would have been my choice.
PART THREE
But, I continued to work quietly like a good little slave, morning, noon, and night while I saw everyone else dressed in civilian attire going into town to have a good time.
But, within the next week the U.S.S. Ponce was back out at sea. Ironically, I was now the one, who was dumping garbage over the fantail of the ship, supposedly polluting our ocean waters.
But, I was different from the rest. I put food waste from the chief's mess into an open fifty gallon barrel plastic barrel. I carried /dragged this container all the way up to the fantail of the ship. The only thing I dumped into the ocean waters was leftover chow from each meal. I knew that human food would easily decompose in the ocean waters.
But, I too smiled as I saw dolphins racing towards the food I had dumped overboard.
I knew I was doing the right thing. I was not dumping plastic bags or bottles, food wrappers, cigarettes, glass or metal cans into the ocean. I had stored all these type of waste materials in large plastic bags in a small room adjacent to the chief's galley. The room would be emptied at our next port of call.
So, I secured from my duties, each evening at 2330 hours. I would have to be up and on duty at the chief's mess by first light. I was exhausted beyond belief. I didn't know how much more of this I could take.
So, eventually I arrived late for work. But, oddly enough, there were no cooks, no servers, no dining room attendants, and no kitchen workers in the chief's mess. I asked a chief petty officer why the place was empty. I couldn't help laughing when I was told that over a period of three days all of the staff in the chief's mess probably visited the same brothel on liberty and contracted the same type of venereal disease. They would not be allowed to either handle food or perform any duties in the chief's mess for at least the next fifteen days.
The chief's were eating their meals in the enlisted men's mess hall.
The chief then asked me if I knew how to cook. I said, "Yes". I also said I had a working knowledge of how the galley equipment was to be operated.
All of a sudden I was running the chief's mess all by myself. I figured, it would be no gigantic task. There were only about fifteen chief petty officers on board the U.S.S. Ponce.
The first meal I prepared, only two chief's showed up at their 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 what I rustled up. But, there were a lot of leftovers. I told one of the chief's it would be a shame to thrown out all this good food.
There was triple layered meatloafs, packed with fresh eggs, crackers, onions, peppers, spices and four different kinds of cheeses. It was all topped with a heavy layer of ketchup. I then placed the meatloafs in the ovens to slow cook over a period of hours. I was also serving lyonnaise potatoes that were so soft and juicy, it was a practically a melt in your mouth experience. I also served three types of vegetables that had also been slow cooked in butter and oils.
Before I knew it, every chief petty officer on board ship was there to eat my mealsa. Word had traveled fast.
However, my thirty days of punishment in the chief's mess were to be cut short. I was ordered by my platoon commander to report back to my unit. There was another amphibious operation about to take place. I no longer wanted to go back to my unit. And, the chief's wanted me to stay, too.
The chiefs won. Angered, my lieutenant told me to get my personal gear and effects packed up and to get the fuck out of his platoon's birthing compartment. I did so, expeditiously.
I tried to hide all my gear in an empty cabinet in the chief's mess. When I was confronted about this, I explained to a chief that I had been thrown out of my compartment by my platoon commander.
I would imagine, it was against all the rules, when the chief's assigned me an open bunk in their quarters. My God, I felt like I was living like a king.
I no longer felt like a marine. I was now wearing 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.
The chief's also had their luxuries that they truly cherished in ship board life. In their mess hall they had real china to eat from, and their silverware was always properly placed on cloth napkins. While consuming their meals, the chief's enjoyed lounging on cushioned seats, watching television, or listening to a jukebox play their favorite songs,
But, most importantly, during my short tenure there, I learned to respect the mystique of the chief's quarters and mess hall. This was definitely enhanced by the fact that very few enlisted personnel were ever allowed into the their dining room or living quarters. These two areas were known as the "goat locker" to the enlisted men.
Chief's were truly the backbone of the Navy. For, they faithfully served as trouble-shooters, technical experts, father figures, judge, jury and chaplain to their men on board ship.
I had never felt more honored in my life in having the opportunity to bunk with and cook the meals for all these great men who hold the rank of a Chief Petty Officer.
PART FOUR
It was certainly difficult for me to go back to being a Marine. For, I sang this well known Marine Corps jingle for many years:
"GI beans and GI gravy, gee I wished I had joined the Navy."
In time, during peaceful moments in the cool early evening air, wearing my physical training (PT) uniform, I visited my old post on the fantail of the ship. Marines were no longer assigned a guard post there. I wondered why.
And then I saw another Marine hauling a fifty gallon plastic bag of trash across the flight deck heading towards the fantail of the ship. He was asked by the navy sentry what he thought he was going to do with this large trash bag. "Throw it over the fantail", the marine replied. The navy sentry then said, "No, Marine, that is no longer allowed."
The sentry went on to say, "A directive was recently signed by both the captain and the executive officer that only allows perishables to be dumped into the ocean waters. All other wastes shall be compressed, melted and or shredded on board, and properly stored for disposal on shore."
I was so happy at this development. I thought, ""Thanks to the actions of the chief's, the dolphins were winners in this round to stop the polluting of our oceans."
I now believed that all the punishments I had endured related to this situation were now truly welcomed. I had finally made a difference!
But, all did not end well.
It turned out that when perishable foods were stored in thick, large 50 gallon plastic bags, and thrown into the ocean water, dolphins were much more unlikely to consume human food.
For, many years later I was stunned when I discovered than dolphins don't actually taste their food. So, when dolphins consume human food, they become dehydrated, and die. I never meant to put any type of horribleness on any animal, much less a mammal, such as a dolphin, that I loved so dearly.
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, the U.S.S. Ponce, along with other warships in the Sixth Fleet were being utilized as a show of force towards the invading forces of Egypt and Syria.
The Yom Kippur War brought America and the Soviets to the brink of war. The abrupt and simultaneous invasion of Israel by Egyptian and Syrian forces caught the Israelis off guard. Israel, stumbling under the two-front attack, was aided by massive amounts of U.S. military assistance.
Later in the year 1974, after the Egyptians and Syrians pulled back their forces from Israeli territory, the Ponce's next operational assignment was the Suez Canal's Clearance Operation.
U.S. forces from the Sixth Fleet were ordered to locate, sweep and disarm all activated mines in this essential waterway. Additional orders included the disarming of unexploded ordinances from not only adjacent land areas, but also, U.S. forces would also be removing wreckage from the canal zone.
One of which, during a night time operation, was a CH-53 Marine helicopter with marines from my platoon on board that had crashed and exploded during a return trip from an aborted combat mission into Egypt.
The mine-sweeping operation of the Suez Canal was not only a high risk series of operations, but, as well, it was all physically and mentally enervating.
The job of us marines was to provide naval personnel with protections from both internal and external threats during operations "Nimbus" Moon and Star.
PART TWO
Everyone on board the U.S.S. Ponce had earned a lengthy period of liberty. However, no liberty was scheduled for the foreseeable future. Therefore, as each day passed, tempers became more short, and fights became commonplace.
But, none of those altercations got the attention of 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 standing marine security watch on the fantail of the ship and watching pods of dolphins swim along with our ship. It was a beautiful sight as the dolphins leaped out of the ocean waters, sometimes in unison.
But, each time dumping trash over the fantail of the ship was called to action over the ship's intercom, the pods of dolphins would mysteriously disappear. Its like they knew their ocean waters were under an assault.
This deeply angered me. My hatred for squids had accelerated into high gear.
A couple of days later, sitting in the enlisted men's mess hall, eating my lunch, I looked up and saw three sailors sitting across the table from me staring at my disfigured right eye. They whispered among themselves, and then began laughing at me.
I stood up, grabbed my metal tray, and hit one of the sailors across his face. In just a few moments, the master-at-arms was on scene, and the fight was over.
Placed on immediate restriction to my bunk, the next day I faced my company first sergeant and my commanding officer.
It was made quite clear to me that I was facing time in the ship's brig.
But, later on that day, my platoon commander told me, instead of brig time, you'll be working in the chief's mess as a cleanup boy for the next thirty days. I would get no liberty.
The hours were long. The work was not only hard on my body, but, it was also filthy dirty work. I peeled thousands of vegetables, scrubbed kitchen ovens, decks, and drains. I couldn't even begin to count how many pots and pans I scrubbed. I sanitized sinks, toilets and urinals. For a slave, this work environment was hot and sweaty. If I had a choice between punishments, doing time behind bars would have been my choice.
PART THREE
But, I continued to work quietly like a good little slave, morning, noon, and night while I saw everyone else dressed in civilian attire going into town to have a good time.
But, within the next week the U.S.S. Ponce was back out at sea. Ironically, I was now the one, who was dumping garbage over the fantail of the ship, supposedly polluting our ocean waters.
But, I was different from the rest. I put food waste from the chief's mess into an open fifty gallon barrel plastic barrel. I carried /dragged this container all the way up to the fantail of the ship. The only thing I dumped into the ocean waters was leftover chow from each meal. I knew that human food would easily decompose in the ocean waters.
But, I too smiled as I saw dolphins racing towards the food I had dumped overboard.
I knew I was doing the right thing. I was not dumping plastic bags or bottles, food wrappers, cigarettes, glass or metal cans into the ocean. I had stored all these type of waste materials in large plastic bags in a small room adjacent to the chief's galley. The room would be emptied at our next port of call.
So, I secured from my duties, each evening at 2330 hours. I would have to be up and on duty at the chief's mess by first light. I was exhausted beyond belief. I didn't know how much more of this I could take.
So, eventually I arrived late for work. But, oddly enough, there were no cooks, no servers, no dining room attendants, and no kitchen workers in the chief's mess. I asked a chief petty officer why the place was empty. I couldn't help laughing when I was told that over a period of three days all of the staff in the chief's mess probably visited the same brothel on liberty and contracted the same type of venereal disease. They would not be allowed to either handle food or perform any duties in the chief's mess for at least the next fifteen days.
The chief's were eating their meals in the enlisted men's mess hall.
The chief then asked me if I knew how to cook. I said, "Yes". I also said I had a working knowledge of how the galley equipment was to be operated.
All of a sudden I was running the chief's mess all by myself. I figured, it would be no gigantic task. There were only about fifteen chief petty officers on board the U.S.S. Ponce.
The first meal I prepared, only two chief's showed up at their 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 what I rustled up. But, there were a lot of leftovers. I told one of the chief's it would be a shame to thrown out all this good food.
There was triple layered meatloafs, packed with fresh eggs, crackers, onions, peppers, spices and four different kinds of cheeses. It was all topped with a heavy layer of ketchup. I then placed the meatloafs in the ovens to slow cook over a period of hours. I was also serving lyonnaise potatoes that were so soft and juicy, it was a practically a melt in your mouth experience. I also served three types of vegetables that had also been slow cooked in butter and oils.
Before I knew it, every chief petty officer on board ship was there to eat my mealsa. Word had traveled fast.
However, my thirty days of punishment in the chief's mess were to be cut short. I was ordered by my platoon commander to report back to my unit. There was another amphibious operation about to take place. I no longer wanted to go back to my unit. And, the chief's wanted me to stay, too.
The chiefs won. Angered, my lieutenant told me to get my personal gear and effects packed up and to get the fuck out of his platoon's birthing compartment. I did so, expeditiously.
I tried to hide all my gear in an empty cabinet in the chief's mess. When I was confronted about this, I explained to a chief that I had been thrown out of my compartment by my platoon commander.
I would imagine, it was against all the rules, when the chief's assigned me an open bunk in their quarters. My God, I felt like I was living like a king.
I no longer felt like a marine. I was now wearing 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.
The chief's also had their luxuries that they truly cherished in ship board life. In their mess hall they had real china to eat from, and their silverware was always properly placed on cloth napkins. While consuming their meals, the chief's enjoyed lounging on cushioned seats, watching television, or listening to a jukebox play their favorite songs,
But, most importantly, during my short tenure there, I learned to respect the mystique of the chief's quarters and mess hall. This was definitely enhanced by the fact that very few enlisted personnel were ever allowed into the their dining room or living quarters. These two areas were known as the "goat locker" to the enlisted men.
Chief's were truly the backbone of the Navy. For, they faithfully served as trouble-shooters, technical experts, father figures, judge, jury and chaplain to their men on board ship.
I had never felt more honored in my life in having the opportunity to bunk with and cook the meals for all these great men who hold the rank of a Chief Petty Officer.
PART FOUR
It was certainly difficult for me to go back to being a Marine. For, I sang this well known Marine Corps jingle for many years:
"GI beans and GI gravy, gee I wished I had joined the Navy."
In time, during peaceful moments in the cool early evening air, wearing my physical training (PT) uniform, I visited my old post on the fantail of the ship. Marines were no longer assigned a guard post there. I wondered why.
And then I saw another Marine hauling a fifty gallon plastic bag of trash across the flight deck heading towards the fantail of the ship. He was asked by the navy sentry what he thought he was going to do with this large trash bag. "Throw it over the fantail", the marine replied. The navy sentry then said, "No, Marine, that is no longer allowed."
The sentry went on to say, "A directive was recently signed by both the captain and the executive officer that only allows perishables to be dumped into the ocean waters. All other wastes shall be compressed, melted and or shredded on board, and properly stored for disposal on shore."
I was so happy at this development. I thought, ""Thanks to the actions of the chief's, the dolphins were winners in this round to stop the polluting of our oceans."
I now believed that all the punishments I had endured related to this situation were now truly welcomed. I had finally made a difference!
But, all did not end well.
It turned out that when perishable foods were stored in thick, large 50 gallon plastic bags, and thrown into the ocean water, dolphins were much more unlikely to consume human food.
For, many years later I was stunned when I discovered than dolphins don't actually taste their food. So, when dolphins consume human food, they become dehydrated, and die. I never meant to put any type of horribleness on any animal, much less a mammal, such as a dolphin, that I loved so dearly.