We touched down in Groton, CT on a plane that dusted the crops first then flew us to our destination. The plane held 24 people and was a twin propeller. I stepped off the plane and fought the urge to kiss the ground and Praise the Lord for a safe landing. I was the only military member on the flight so the bag handlers knew who that ugly ass green sea bag belong to. I grabbed my sea bag through it on my back adjusted the straps and walked towards the van marked USN Submarine Base Groton, CT. I walked to the driver’s side saluted the driver and asked would he take me to the base. His reply was, “Hey NUB! Don’t salute me I work for a living and why do you think I am at the airport to pick up chicks? Get your dumb ass in the van!” I walked back to the passenger side in the van called the guy a “dick” under my breath opened up the sliding door and climbed in.
That was the longest 25 minute ride in the history of car travels. I tried asking questions about this and that and his only response was, “fucking NUB!” We arrive at the barracks and this was vastly different from boot camp. People were just hanging around doing their own thing. No one was telling them how to do this or that it was more like a college campus than anything else. As I walked up to the quarterdeck (entrance) I stared at a guy who looked like he was well over the legal age to drink in the Summer Whites uniform behind a podium. The sign behind the quarterdeck watch (the person behind the podium) read “Must Show ID before Entrance”. “Damn”, I thought to myself as I remember I put my ID in my sea bag for safe keeping. After dumping out half my sea bag to show him ID he finally let me in to talk to the Duty Chief. The Duty Chief was, well the best way to describe him was round. He came waddling out of his bunk room we food stains on his shirt.
I handed him my orders he looked them over and gave me a grin. “So you wanna be a Torpedo man huh?” I shook my head in a yes motion because I didn’t know how approach him. I was still in boot camp mode and I know what happened when I called the last person “Sir” who wasn’t an officer. He goes on, “Yeah I like TMs we are like brothers. I’m a MMC (Machinist Mate Chief) and we are like lower level brothers. Here is what I am going to do for you. I am going to give you bunk room 3 rack 4.” Yes finally a room with a door. Yeah I had 3 roommates but still a real room not this open barracks type crap. I take my orders from MMC and he hands me off to FT2 (Fire Control Technician Second Class).
FT2 gives me the run down on when we eat, when we PT (Physical Train) and when school starts. We walk past the quarterdeck watch in to a big open area. At first I didn’t know what to say. “MMC said that I was in bunk room 3”, said to FT2. He said, “Well here it is bunk room 3.” Well come to find out their definition of bunk room and mine are two different things. The bunk room consisted of 2 bunk beds and 4 stand up lockers. I turned to FT2 and told him what the MMC said about hooking me up. He chuckled and said, “Yeah the only thing this bunk room is good for is when you have to take a piss in the middle of the night you are only a few feet away.”
My high hopes of actually getting a room with a door crushed whatever hope I had. I sat down on the lower bunk closet to the aisle with my head in my hands. It was the only one not made so I got it by default. I walk to my locker turn the latch and open the door. I jump and duck out the way like was taking fire on the battlefield. The shelving of the locker came crashing down first falling to the bottom of the locker and then sliding across the floor. People came running over to see what the commotion was and started to laugh. After they seen me with the “oh shit” look on my face they chuckled and walked away. I heard someone in the back say,
“What a NUB!” What the hell is a NUB? That was the second time someone said that to me today. Mental note, I have to figure out what they are calling me. I put the shelves back up and start to unpack my sea bag. One of my bunk mates comes in and introduces himself. “Sup man I am Vasquez.” I slapped him up and told him my name. I put the last thing in my locker latched the pad lock and heard my stomach growl. I turn to Vasquez, “What time is the mess hall closed?” “You missed it by 3 hours.” With everything that happened from the plane ride, the drive to the base and the shocker of not having a real room I lost track of time. I only had $10 on me and nothing was open on the base. He told me to wait here he was going to make a call.
Vasquez comes back tells me he ordered a pizza. “Um first I didn’t want a pizza second all I have is $10.” “Don’t worry about it”, he says, “I got a plan.” 30 minutes later the pizza guy shows up on the quarterdeck. I pull out my money and start to walk in that direction but Vasquez grabs my arm. Where are you going?” I look at him like he is crazy and tell him, “I am going to pay for the pizza.” He looks at me like I am speaking another language and tells me to stay put. The pizza guy calls out a name but it wasn’t mine or Vasquez. 10 minutes goes by and he is still on the quarterdeck calling out the random name. 20 minutes go by and Vasquez tells me to walk past the pizza guy with the money in my hand so he can see it. I do as he instructed, the pizza guy eyes spot my $10 bill. “Hey buddy you want to buy a pizza?” “What is on it?” “It is an extra cheese pizza.” “How much you want for it?” “$8 is good” I hand him the 10 he gives me back two everyone is happy. I take the pizza back to Vasquez and he tells me I am welcome. I learned my first trick in sub school. When you low on cash call the pizza place and give them a fake name. Wait around until the pizza guy becomes desperate. Act like you going off base get something to eat. Get the meal half-price.
We sat down and made small talk over the pizza. He went to boot camp in Chicago and started sub school on Monday also. We both were submarine TMs and we talked about how we got screwed going to Orlando for A school. My other three bunk mates came back and I introduced myself. All three looked like they stepped out of a Depeche Mode video so I knew were not going to hang out. I slapped up Vasquez told him I will get up with him tomorrow since we are in the same class then headed to the pay phone.
I called Malina told her about my day which made her laugh. Her laughter made all the stress of the plane ride, drive to the base and not having a real damn room go away. For some reason I compared it to the cool soothing sensation of a Hall’s when you have a sore throat. I cuffed the phone told her I loved her so no one could hear and hung up.
I went to my rack got in it took in everything that went on today and drifted to sleep. I woke up a few hours later tossing and turning holding back to urge to pee. I fought the urge long enough it felt like I was going to burst. I walked over to the head (bathroom) did my business washed my hands and went back to my rack. I thought to myself, “Sumbitch FT2 was right! This bunk room is really close to the head.” I chuckled and went back to sleep.
Ha!
“You must ask permission to board!”….a building? are you serious I thought.
Musta been what, building 417? or 418? something like that.