Friday, December 5, 2014

Family Lore: Gen. Nelson Miles

General Nelson Miles' military career began during the Civil War at age 22 when he volunteered with the 22nd regiment of the Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry. He survived the war and went on to serve during the Indian Wars and the Spanish American War.
During the Indian Wars he was promoted to Major General. Though he was not directly involved,  the 7th Cavalry, which was part of his command, committed the massacre at Wounded Knee. He was critical of the commander of the regiment and demoted him. After Nelson retired from the Army, he fought for compensation for the survivors of the massacre.
My family's encounter with Miles occurred during the Spanish American War. After the surrender of Spanish troops in Cuba, he personally commanded the troops that invaded Puerto Rico at Guanica. According to family lore, my great grandfather, Antonio Fillat Bastida, was a retired Spanish soldier, working as the superintendent of a sugar mill in Ponce, and was not well liked by his wife nor his workers. During the invasion, persons sympathetic to my great grandmother, Manuela Sandoval, warned her that Puerto Rican anti Spanish partisans known as "Los Tiznados" - "the Blackfaces", so called because they darkened their faces with charcoal, were going to attack Antonio before dawn. She let him know, and my great grandparents left after dark and sought and obtained refuge with Nelson's command. A year later, my grandmother was born, so, if lore is true, my existence is due to General Nelson Miles' protection of my great grandparents.
At age 77 Gen. Nelson Miles offered to come out of retirement and serve during World War I.
In 1925, my great grandfather ostensibly left for Spain to go to the funeral of a beloved uncle, and was never heard of again.

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

This Was My Ride

This was my ride from 1981 until 1984. She's the USS Clifton Sprague (FFG-16) and she's pictured transiting the Kennebec River. I'm a Plankowner, a member of the crew that commissioned her in Bath, Maine. Her homeport was Mayport, Florida during the time I served aboard her. In those three years we visited Halifax, Newport, Yorktown, Port Everglades,  Freeport, Guantanamo, Roosevelt Roads, Fort-de-France, St. Vincent, Panama, Honduras, Gaeta, Livorno, La Spezia, Piraeus, Bahrain and Karachi. We stopped to refuel in Bermuda, the Azores, Rota and Djibouti. We transited the Straits of Gibraltar, Messina, Mandab and Hormuz. We crossed the Panama Canal and the Suez Canal. We supported operations in Lebanon after the bombing of the US Embassy. We were stationed in the Persian Gulf during the Iran-Iraq war. We supported operations during Urgent Fury, the invasion of Grenada. We were stationed in the Gulf of Fonseca monitoring weapon shipments between the Sandinista government of Nicaragua and rebels in El Salvador. We supported the US Coast Guard's efforts intercepting drug smugglers off the Southeast coast of the US. We raided Soviet anchorages off the coast of Libya. We helped repair orphanages in Tela, Honduras. Our breakaway song was "On The Road Again" by Willie Nelson, our talisman was Ziggy and our motto was "Nunc Paratus." 

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Urgent Delivery



Two US Air Force C-130s flew in a loose echelon formation, low over the windswept ocean. It was close to twilight on October 23, 1983. The aircraft were late to their rendezvous with the USS Clifton Sprague (FFG-16) in the southern Caribbean. The ship had turned into the wind, and the C-130s flew along its length at an altitude of about five-hundred feet. A second or two after the trailing aircraft cleared the ship’s bow, a twenty-three foot long Boston Whaler was air-dropped into the ocean. A team of SEALS followed the boat almost immediately. The same was repeated by the lead C-130, but the drop started about twenty seconds later. By that time the aircraft was well ahead of the ship, about a half a mile away. In the quickly encroaching darkness this would prove to be critical. Some of the commandos were recovered from the windswept sea by the Sprague's crew on its motor whale boat. Others swam to boarding nets draped over the port bow of the ship, and climbed twenty feet to the ship's deck, struggling with their heavy loads and helped aboard by the ship's crew. The SEALS from the trail aircraft were all recovered and the motor whale boat headed as fast as it could to the location where the men and the boat from the lead plane had hit the water. By the time it got there, darkness had fallen. The Sprague also approached the location, barely making headway, using its searchlights to assist in the search. Expecting to jump in daylight, the SEALS only had a couple of chem-lights each to illuminate them. As the evening went on, the wind picked up and the seas got worse. At around midnight, the CO of the commandos advised the captain of the Sprague that they needed to leave the area and head towards Grenada so that the SEALS could complete their mission. The Sprague's captain protested, but was overruled by higher authority after a radio call to the Task Force command. The Sprague turned towards Grenada, and headed there at best speed, with one of the SEALS' Boston Whalers tide alongside it. The second Boston Whaler was found the next day, overturned, by the Sprague and an S-3 Viking aircraft searching for it and four men from the lead plane that had gone missing during the jump. The four men were never found. It wasn't until 10 years later that I found out the men's names: Machinist Mate 1st Class Kenneth J. Butcher, Quartermaster 1st Class Kevin E. Lundberg, Hull Technician 1st Class Stephen L. Morris, and Senior Chief Petty Officer Robert R. Schamberger.

Friday, September 26, 2014

Badass Tales: Origins

Very little is know about Ensign Edmund Tweed's, Master Chief Petty Officer Billy "Goat" Bones' and Seaman "Simple" Sailor's life prior to their enlistment in the U.S. Navy.

It was rumored that Ensign Tweed ran away from home as an 8 year old 
child and joined the circus.


Photo believed to be of Ensign Edmund Tweed while on duty as Oficer of the Deck in Tela, Honduras 


The scuttlebutt about Master Chief Bones was that he was found abandoned as a baby in an rest stop by a passing "band of gypsies" going "down the highway." Many believe that for this reason the Commanding Officer of the USS Billy Badass, Captain Humphrey Caine, deferred to Master Chief Bones and allowed him to pick the ship's "breakaway" song, "On the Road Again." Well, that, and his towering bulk.

Seaman Sailor declined to talk about his life prior to enlistment, but I have been able to piece together the following story: his parents told him he was hatched from an egg and, despondent, he subsequently dropped out of high school, went to work at a local hatchery, and joined the Navy as soon as he turned 18. 

The boys met in basic training, after they were mustered into Recruit Training Company 7809 at the U.S. Naval Recruit Training Center in Orlando, Florida. From that moment on they became inseparable "sea buddies" although they would meet different levels of success, as far as rank was concerned, in their respective naval careers. Company 7809 was commanded by Senior Chief Petty Officer Marlon Hooerhaus and Senior Chief Petty Officer Gilly Gulledge. The high-spirited boys love of hi-jinks and shenanigans is amply demonstrated by an apocryphal tale that took place during their time at RTC. 
The only time the recruits were allowed to walk was after meals. At any other time, they had to double-time it or run to their destination. One morning, walking back from the mess hall to their barracks after breakfast, then Seaman Recruit Tweed was about ten steps ahead of Seaman Recruits Sailor and Bones. Chief Buster, the CO of their sister training company was walking in the opposite direction. Tweed was skylarking and failed to notice the approaching Chief and neglected to salute him. Chief Buster wheeled about and yelled at Tweed: "RECRUIT, WHO IS YOUR COMPANY COMMANDER?" Tweed screeched to a halt, pivoted to face the angry Chief, and said: "Wha...?" Sailor swears that Chief Buster's jaw actually dropped to the ground and steam shot out of his ears. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?" screamed Chief Buster. "Senior Chief Whorehouse, Sir!" quickly replied Tweed. "CHIEF WHOREHOUSE?" he asked, incredulous and with eyes bulging, "DROP DOWN AND GIVE ME TWENTY, RECRUIT!" Sailor and Bones had pulled up short behind Chief Buster, and could not stop themselves from snickering. Chief Buster turned on them and yelled: "YOU BOYS THINK THIS IS SOME KIND OF JOKE? DROP AND GIVE ME TWENTY! WHEN YOU'RE DONE, I WANT TO SEE YOUR WORTHLESS RECRUIT ASSES DOUBLE-TIMING IT TO YOUR BARRACKS, AND PUT YOUR WORTHLESS SELVES ON REPORT!" He caught his breath and continued: "YOU WORMS ARE GOING GET YOUR ASSES RECYCLED AND YOU ARE GOING TO BE DOING PT UNTIL THE NEXT TRAINING CYCLE STARTS! NOW GET OUTTA MY SIGHT!" 
Luckily, Company 7809 was both Senior Chiefs last training company before retirement, so they went easy on the boys, and did not recycle them. The boys got away with a week's worth of extra PT in the morning and extra drilling in the afternoon, and a couple of weekends raking the obstacle course during scheduled "Coke and Smoke" time, which wasn't a bad deal, 'cause they got to spend the time working outdoors, flirting with the female recruits using the "O" course during that time.

After Recruit Training, the boys went to their respective "A" schools, where they were trained in different specialties. Then they were assigned to the pre-commissioning crew for the USS Billy Badass where they were reunited, and they continued their friendship, previously forged in the fires of Recruit Training Company 7809, under the tutelage of Senior Chiefs Hooerhaus and Gulledge.


Photo believed to be of Seaman "Simple" Sailor (L) and Master Chief Petty Officer Billy "Goat" Bones up aloft on the mast of the USS Billy Badass.


Photo believed to be of Seaman "Simple" Sailor after being rescued in the Florida Straighrs by Cuban fisherman Usmail de las Gracias.

Monday, September 22, 2014

Badass Tales: Ego A Me Ipso Mihi Rem

The USS Billy Badass* was a highly modified and experimental one-off variant of the USS Oliver Hazard Perry (FFG-7) Class. It's official hull number was FFG(X)-1999, but its hull was painted with the number 13, which officially belonged to the USS Samuel Elliot Morrison** (FFG-13). In outward appearance, the USS Billy Badass appears as a standard, short hull, FFG-7 class ship. It was  445 feet in length overall, it's beam was 45 feet and it displaced 4200 tons at full load. Standard versions of the FFG-7 class had steel hulls and aluminium topsides, but the Badass was all steel. Although designated as a Guided Missile Frigate, the Badass carried no missiles. Also, it had a helicopter deck and twin helo hangars, but carried no helicopters. Weight savings were obtained from these omissions permitting the use of steel in the ship's topsides.

In lieu of a missile system, guns and chaff countermeasures, the Baddass carried the highly secret and experimental MK1999(X) High Energy Liquid Laser Fire Control System, otherwise known as HELLFire. HELLFire was composed of two liquid laser guns disguised as as a MK13 missile launcher and an OTO Melara 76MM cannon, a search and track and fire control radar and countermeasures system, that looked like an inverted disco ball, known as the Disco Ball.

The Ship's systems including navigation, fire control, communications and propulsion systems were all controlled by the highly secret and experimental UYK-1999(X) computer system, known by the crew as YUK. YUK was the U.S. Navy's first attempt at an intelligent system, a system that would take away much of the tedium of detection, decision making, control and execution from the crew. It was designed to be "sailor proof"***. Soon after commissioning, YUK acquired a "pugnacious personality" to match the ship's name, and the USS Billy Badass was known to make its way to whatever was the most current maritime hotspot. The ship's motto was "Ego A Me Ipso Mihi Rem", loosely translated as "I'm Making It My Business."

Propulsion and electrical power were provided by two Dynamic Electric ML-1999(X) Gas Turbines, capable of producing 31 Gigawatts of power, at the time the most powerful gas turbines produced. The turbines were designed by Dr. Emmett Brown at the Dynamic Electric BTTF Labs in Santa Clarita, California. The ship had a cruising range of 9,000 nautical miles at 30 knots and could attain speeds of 50 knots in battle override mode.

The ship carried a crew of 165, mostly engaged in cleaning, painting, security and ceremonial duties since YUK controlled most of all the other functions.

The USS Billy Badass disappeared under mysterious circumstances in 2000 during Hurricane Issac. All hands were lost except for Seaman "Simple" Sailor, who was miraculously rescued by a Cuban fisherman in the Florida Straights, and now lives in seclusion at an undisclosed location. Sailor has agreed to be interviewed by me for this series of articles about the USS Billy Badass.

*The USS Billy Badass' name was chosen by Captain John Bodine, the CO of the Nautical Systems Command Division of Ship Naming (Section 8), also know as NAUSEA OH-EIGHT. The CO was a graduate of the creative writing program at the USNA, specializing in postmodern literature. Mysteriously, he also disappeared at about the same time as the Badass.

**Samuel Elliot Morrison is not to be confused with, nor is related to Rear Admiral George Stephen Morrison, who was the commander of U.S. naval forces in the Gulf of Tonkin during the Gulf of Tonkin incident and the father of The Doors singer Jim Morisson.

***Regretably it was not designed to be chimpanzee proof, as can be evidenced in the events I related under my previous entry "Badass Tales: Sailor Proof".

Last known photo of the USS Billy Badass transiting the Florida Straights ahead of Hurricane Isaac.

(This story is solely the product of the author's mind. Do not confuse this fiction with fact or lore.)

Badass Tales: Deriving Pie

Then Petty Officer "Simple" Sailor before being busted down two pay grades for a late night unauthorized appropriation of cherry pie from the wardroom pantry of the USS Billy Badass. Sailor contends that the only reason he got written up and busted at captain's mast was that he didn't share enough pie with Ensign Tweed and Master Chief Bones. He says he stepped forward because Captain Humphrey Caine was threatening to "tear the ship apart" and use "geometrical logic" to find out "who stole the cherry pie." He claims that evidence was suppressed during the hearing. The injustice! Oh well. A couple or six beers during the next port call after completing 90 days restriction and extra duty and all was forgiven.

Correction: In a previous version of this story I wrote that the cherry pie was appropriated from the ship's galley. The pie was actually appropriated from the wardroom pantry. Enlisted men did not get cherry pie, cherries being the preserve of officer country. The ship's cooks did make fresh donuts on occasion for the enlisted men. I have been told they were quite tasty, went well with Petty Officer "Chuck' Jones cowboy coffee, and were quite invigorating during midwatches.




Seaman Sailor was asked about his guilty smile. His reply was: "I was born with that guilty smile." He also said: "My [ship's] unstated policy was to beg, borrow or steal whatever you needed to complete your mission. I can neither confirm nor deny that I was executing my [ship's] unstated policy." He then said: "That pie was screaming to be liberated from the wardroom pantry."

Seaman Sailor was asked about the availability of vanilla ice cream on the Badass. He has told me that the USS Billy Badass had a soft serve ice cream machine. It was operational during all meals, breakfast, dinner, supper and mid-rats. It was even operational during General Quarters.

Seaman Sailor was asked about the Command getting "their tightly whiteys in a knot over a little pie" and "how inconsequential" this was "in the grand scheme of things." His reply:  "At sea, on the USS Billy Badass, under the command of Captain Humphrey Caine, little things were treated with great importance, important things were treated as inessential. Attention to detail and all that.Then again, cherry pie!"

In summary, Simple sez: "this cherry pie was some pie. Unreal. Worth getting busted over. Might even have been worth going to war over it" and "the cherries were not from this world."

(This story is entirely the product of the author's mind, with bits and pieces begged, borrowed and derived from the excellent film, "The Caine Mutiny.")

Badass Tales: A Fish Story

The USS Billy Badass, executing then President Ronald Reagan's international policy, was patrolling the waters off the coast of Nicaragua, Honduras and El Salvador in the Gulf of Fonseca during Operation Shaky Spinner. The Badass was tasked with monitoring and intercepting weapon shipments between Nicaragua and the rebels in El Salvador. Apparently President Reagan's administration feared that, unchecked, communist forces would be crossing the Rio Grand and invading the USA. The Badass was at the pointy end of the efforts to prevent that from ever happening.
The Badass was barely making headway. The sky was cloudless and the sea was an indigo mirror. Master Chief Petty Officer Billy "Goat" Bones was fishing off the edge of the helo deck, using light tackle, casting a spoon at a school of mackerel lazily swimming astern of the Badass.
Seaman "Simple" Sailor leaned on the rail beside him, thinking about eating a delicious grilled mackerel dressed with salt, pepper and lemon juice. Ensign Edmund Tweed was asleep on a lawn chair in the middle of the helo deck, shirt off, head back, mouth wide open, a string of saliva hanging from the corner of his mouth. He was trying to do something about his farmers tan, but had only succeeded in acquiring a fiery burn on his chest and shoulders. Blisters were sure to form. Getting sunburned was punishable at Captain's Mast according to the Uniform Code of Military Justice, but only if you went to sick call and it kept you from your duties. A few other sailors, off duty, also relaxed on the helo deck, working on their tans, reading books, listening to music on their Walkmans, or playing catch.
There was a sudden flash of silver in the water, a large splash and the tip of Master Chief Bones' fishing rod bent towards the water, the line stripping from the reel at an impossible rate. A second later, twenty yards astern, a sailfish jumped clear out of the water, cleanly hooked. "I think you hooked something, Master Chief" said Simple. "No shit, Sherlock" replied Master Chief Bones.
Master Chief Bones worked the fish like the expert angler he was, playing it patiently, letting it run when it wanted to, reeling it in cautiously when he could. After about sixty minutes, he had the sailfish alongside the Badass. Seaman Sailor and a couple of the other crewmen that had gathered around climbed down into one of the safety nets, line in hand. Master Chief Bones gently guided the fish through a lasso in the line, Sailor and his mates, slowly closed the lasso around the fishes' tail and hauled it up on deck. It was a beauty and quite a prize. It measured just over seven feet from the tip of its beak to its tail and weighed in at ninety pounds.
Word about the amazing feat of angling soon spread around the Badass. All the men not on duty came out on deck to admire the unexpected catch. Even Captain Caine came down from his cabin and enviously eyed the great fish. After all the excitement had abated, Master Chief Bones took down the fish and with the help of Seaman Sailor and the polychromatic Ensign Tweed, cleaned it, wrapped it in a gigantic piece of wax paper provide by the Badass' cooks, and carried it down to the mess deck to store in in one of the Badass' walk in freezers. Master Chief Bones had hoped to have the fish mounted by a taxidermist upon their return to homeport, but it turned out to be prohibitively expensive, so instead he had it smoked. Seaman Sailor enjoyed his share on soda crackers chased down with Cherry Coke. Even Captain Caine got a piece of smoked sailfish.

(This story is based on actual facts. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.)

Badass Tales: Missilex 2-82

From the logbook of the USS Billy Badass:
0635: depart Roosevelt Roads, P.R. enroute Central Caribbean for Missilex 2-82.
0700: secure sea and anchor detail.
Course 200, speed 13kts.
1800: rendezvous with USS Johnny B. Goode and USS Joe Ninskyinsky in Central Caribbean.
1825: assumed station 1000 yards astern of the Goode and 1000 yards ahead of Ninskyinsky. Set condition zebra below decks. Main deck forward clear of all personnel.
1845: Goode is Alpha Whiskey. 

1846: AC contact with Trapper01. Target in tow.
1850: STIR lock on target in tow. Weapons free.
1851: bird away!
1852: bird malfunction. Self destruct malfunction. Bird looping overhead. All ahead flank.
(Seaman Sailor standing watch in CIC on the surface scope hears the missile woosh overhead 3 or 4 times. Those not on watch and sightseeing topside rush back into the ship attempting to take cover from the imminent impact of the errant missile. The ship jumps forward as the engines respond to the signal for flank speed, but suddenly, lurches two or three times, headway is lost and the ship comes to a full stop, dead in the water. The missile hits the water about 100 yards from the now immobile ship, bounces twice and comes to rest 25 yards from the port beam.)
1855: Missilex cut short for investigation into missile malfunction.
1900: signal from the Ninskyinsky: "Badass de Ninskyinsky. Whiskey-tango- foxtrot break Nice shot break Please maintain at least 2000 yards from Ninskyinsky, over".

End of log entries.

1910: wags from various of the ship's departments gather in the Combat System department lounge to serenade the Fire Control Technicians and Gunners Mates of CS-3 division. 

(Sung to the tune of
"The Ballad of the Green Berets")
"Our FTs are something else,
They shoot missiles at themselves,
As the sailors hit the deck,
It's another vein on the XOs neck!"

(This story is based on actual events. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.)

Badass Tales: Twist and Terns

The USS Billy Badass pulled into Roosevelt Roads, Puerto Rico and gave the crew maximum liberty. Ensign Edmund Tweed, Master Chief Petty Officer Billy "Goat" Bones and Seaman "Simple" Sailor were assigned to the duty section and were standing watch, Ensign Tweed was the Assistant Command Duty Officer, Master Chief Bones was the Officer of the Deck and Seaman Sailor was the Messenger of the Watch. A couple of terns were flying over the quarterdeck. Master Chief Bones pointed them out and asked Seaman Sailor: "Sailor, do you know why terns fly in pairs?"
"No Master Chief", replied Seaman Sailor, "why?"
"Well Sailor", answered the Master Chief, "it's because one good tern deserves another!"

(This story is nautical lore.)

Badass Tales: Everybody in St. Vincent Knows.

The USS Billy Badass pulled into St. Vincent, the Grenadines and gave the crew maximum liberty. Ensign Edmund Tweed, Master Chief Petty Officer Billy "Goat" Bones and Seaman "Simple" Sailor ambled down the pier to the local watering hole, The Indigo Lory, and ordered some Hairoun lagers. They asked the bartender about the dreadlocked gentleman sitting in the shadows at the end of the bar. The bartender replied: "That's Joe, Joe Ninskyinsky. Everybody knows Joe Ninskyinsky!" They walked up to Joe and asked him about the local attractions. Joe said: "come with me gents. I have some business to take care of but I promise you a day to remember!" So after a couple or six of Hairoun lagers, they stepped out of the bar. Joe headed back to the harbor. A very large yacht had tied up at the pier behind the Badass. It was Aristotle Onassis' Cristina! Joe walked up the gangplank and was stopped at the top by a big burly bodyguard.
"What do you want?" he asked. "Its me, Joe, Joe Ninskyinsky, everybody knows Joe Ninskyinsky!", replied Joe.
"Why Joe Ninskyinsky! How have you been!" Said the bodyguard, "let me call Mr. Onassis, he'll be very happy to see you!"
The sailors looked at each other in disbelief as Mr. Onassis came down from his cabin, greeted Joe with a big hug and a couple of cheek kisses and invited them all aboard for lunch.
After a couple of hours, after lunch was finished and a few glasses of chilled ouzo, Joe got up, asked the sailors to come along, hugged Ari, and explained that he had some business to take care of. "No probs Joe", said Onassis. "Come and see me anytime!"
Joe said, "follow me boys!" and they stepped off the gangplank and headed to the airport. At the airport, they saw a very large airplane parked on the tarmac. They recognized Air Force One. Joe walked up to the first secret service agent he saw, and said: "can you ask President Reagan to come down? Tell him Joe, Joe Ninskyinsky is here. Everybody knows Joe Ninskyinsky!"
The secret service man was very alarmed at first, but when he heard the name, he exclaimed: "of course Mr. Ninskyinsky!"
At that moment Nancy peeked out the airplane's door, saw Joe, and said: "Joe! Joe Ninskyinsky! Why come on up for some tea and bring your friends! Ronnie will be so happy to see you!"
The sailors looked at each other in disbelief as they went up the boarding steps, and joined Nancy and Ronnie for some tea and cookies. After an hour of conversation, Joe stood, explained he had some business to attend to, hugged Nancy and Ronnie, and told the men to come along.
They walked down the boarding steps, shook hands with the secret service agents, and headed to the ferry landing. They took the ferry to Hotel Island, and were stopped by a couple of Swiss Guards in full ceremonial attire. The first guard asked them what they were doing... Joe said: "could you please get Pope John? I have an audience with him. Tell him it's Joe, Joe Ninskyinsky. Everybody knows Joe Ninskyinsky!"
"Of course Mr. Ninskyinsky, he is waiting for you, please come this way", said the first guard. "Your friends must wait here until the private mass starts."
The sailors looked at each other in disbelief as they waited at the gate with the second guard. After 15 minutes or so, the first guard came back, and asked them to come with him. They walked into a large banquet hall, and as they sat down at a table with other guests, the Pope walked out, saying "Dominus vobiscum" and right behind was Joe Ninskyinsky, saying "Pax vobis". The sailors looked at each other in disbelief. Seaman Sailor turned to the woman seated next to him and said: "Amazing!"
She said: "Isn't it though! That Joe Ninskyinsky is something else!
...
But who is the guy in the funny hat next to him?"
...
(A piece of lore provided by Tom Schimoler)

Badass Tales: Sweepers, Sweepers.

The USS Billy Badass pulled into Fort-de-France, Martinique and gave the crew liberty until midnight. Seaman "Simple" Sailor trying to sneak back to his ship after liberty had expired was spotted by Master Chief Petty Officer Billy "Goat" Bones who ordered him to explain his tardiness. The lame explanation didn't work. "Take this broom and sweep every link on this anchor chain by morning or it's the brig for you," the Master Chief said.
Seaman Sailor began to sweep, but a tern landed on the broom handle and he couldn't continue. He yelled at the bird, but it didn't budge. He finally plucked it off the broom and gave it a toss. But the bird came right back and again landed on the handle. Over and over, the same routine was repeated. A toss, one sweep, and the bird was back.
When morning came, Master Chief Bones also was back. "What have you been doing all night? This chain is no cleaner than when you started!" "Honest, Master Chief," said Seaman Sailor, "I tossed a tern all night and couldn't sweep a link."


(This story is nautical lore.)

Badass Tales: The Old Cacique

The USS Billy Badass pulled into Tela, Honduras and gave the crew maximum liberty. Ensign Edmund Tweed, Master Chief Petty Officer Billy "Goat" Bones and Seaman "Simple" Sailor ambled down the dock to the nearest watering hole, El Papagallo Azul, and ordered some Cervezas Imperial. They asked a caballero at the bar about the local attractions. The caballero, Don Pablo Cebolla, invited them to join him for the 75th birthday celebration of a local cacique at a village down the road. They downed a couple or six Imperiales, climbed into Don Pablo's troca and headed down the road. They got to the village. The village and all the villagers were bedecked in the finest of decorations. Festive music could be heard all around. The plaza was full of vendors selling fancy food and drink. At the center of the plaza was a large bohio, the cacique's abode. After hours of wild dancing and loud singing, right at the stroke of midnight, the people started to hum in unison and quietly dance in place. A ceremonial guard of four warriors carrying an ornately carved mahogany throne paraded down the main avenida to the entrance of the bohio. There, they were met by the cacique, his wife and his chief advisor. Don Pablo explained that local custom was to carve a new throne and present it to the cacique on his birthday. The old throne was taken away and stored in the attic of the bohio. The new throne was taken inside the bohio, the old one carried up the stairs to the attic as anticipated. Suddenly, a loud groaning and cracking was heard and the whole bohio collapsed in a crash of splinters and debris, and the cacique, his wife, his chief advisor, the four warriors and various other worthies were buried under the wreck. Ensign Tweed, Master Chief Bones, Seaman Sailor and Don Pablo stared mouth agape as the dust settled. Master Chief Bones shook his head and said to Don Pablo: "Well I guess this goes to show you that people who live in grass houses shouldn't stow thrones."

(This story is nautical lore.)

Badass Tales: Maneuvers in Halifax

The USS Billy Badass pulled into Halifax, Nova Scotia and gave the crew maximum liberty. Ensign Edmund Tweed got assigned to the duty section and was tasked to supervise the Shore Patrol. Master Chief Petty Officer Billy "Goat" Bones and Seaman "Simple" Sailor, on liberty, ambled down to the local watering hole, The Blue Parrot, and downed more than a couple or six of Garrison Tall Ship Ambers. They headed back to the Billy Badass. Ensign Tweed saw them weaving down the sidewalk and followed them. Every time they came to a lamp post, Master Chief Bones who was obviously three sheets in the wind, staggered slowly around it in the street and then back to the sidewalk.

"You better come with me, Master Chief," said Ensign Tweed, tapping him on the shoulder. "You're not fit to navigate."

"I'm awright," said Master Chief Bones, Seaman Sailor at his side. "I'm steering the ship right on the course. It's those posts. They come whizzing by. But I always throw the ship out of the way, don't I?


(This story is based on nautical lore.)

Badass Tales: Djibouti, Djibouti

The USS Billy Badass pulled into Djibouti, Djibouti and gave the crew maximum liberty. Ensign Edmund Tweed, Master Chief Petty Officer Billy "Goat" Bones and Seaman "Simple" Sailor met a French Legionnaire at the local hole, Le Perroquet Bleu, and asked him about the local attractions. Legionnaire Couscous offered to drive them to the Grand Bara desert in his Peugeot P4 to witness the annual migration of Le Grand Oiseau de Foo, a sight not to be missed. After a couple of Bieres du Demon, Ensign Tweed, Master Chief Bones and Seaman Sailor piled into the P4 with Legionnaire Couscous and drove into the desert. On the way out to the Grand Bara, Couscous told them to stay undercover once they encountered the flock of Foo, for the Foo droppings were extremely noxious, and were known to cause immediate and severe discomfort if you tried to remove them before they dried. Ensign Tweed, riding in the back of the P4 with Master Chief Bones, smirked and said "pshaw." After a couple of hours of driving through rugged terrain, they arrived at the Grande Oasis de Verdure in the heart of the Grand Bara and stopped 100 meters from the edge of a giant flock of Grand Foos. Ensign Tweed having only an instamatic camera with no zoom, and ignoring the desperate warning cries of Legionnaire Couscous, jumped from the jeep, ran right up to the flock, and started clicking away. Needless to say, the flock took wing, and as they flew over, dropped their malodorous load right on the ensign's head. Covered in smelly merde d'oiseaux from tete a pied, Ensign Tweed once again ignored the Legionnaire's advice, and jumped into the oasis' small pond to wash it off. As he staggered from the pond, the toxins from the poop started to course through his body. By the time he had rejoined his shipmates at the jeep, the hapless ensign was leaking from all his orifices. They wrapped him in a tarp and sat him in the cargo bed and sped off back to Djibouti to take him to the military clinic at the Legionnaire's base, where Foo serum was available. As the jeep bounced away from the oasis and the great flock of Foos, Master Chief Bones yelled at the miserable Ensign:
"Dammit Sir, didn't you hear Couscous' instructions?...If the Foo shits, wear it!"


(This story is based on nautical lore.)

Badass Tales: Sailor Proof

The USS Billy Badass pulled into Livorno, Italy and gave the crew maximum liberty. The skeleton crew on duty didn't notice a chimpanzee, escaped from a nearby zoo, crawl up the mooring lines and up to the smokestack. Down the stack, it made its way into the engine room. It came across a power panel opened up for maintenance, couldn't read the warning signs, and with a bright blue blast shorted out the ship's electrical system, and plunged it into darkness.

A little bit later, Seaman "Simple" Sailor and Master Chief Petty Officer Billy "Goat" Bones wander down with their flashlights, looking for the problem. They come upon the blackened body of the chimp. They shine their flashlights on its long, burnt arms. They look at each other. They highlight its short legs and odd feet. They look at each other. Finally Master Chief Bones says to Seaman Sailor, "Well, it's too hairy to be an Electonics Technician, the legs are too short for a Hull Tech, and there would be more tattoos on a Bosuns Mate. Call the wardroom to see if Ensign Tweed is missing."

(This story is based on nautical lore.)

Badass Tales: The Importance of Beer

The USS Billy Badass, pulled into Piraeus, Greece and gave the crew maximum liberty. Ensign Edmund Tweed, Seaman "Simple" Sailor and Master Chief Petty Officer Billy "Goat" Bones walk into the local bar, O Ble Papagálos, and order some Mythos beers. The bartender brings their beers, and Ensign Tweed's has a cockroach in it. With a look of distaste, he picks it out, flings it away and asks for another beer. The roach lands in Seaman Sailor's beer. He picks it out, flings it away and chugs down the beer. The roach lands in Master Chief Bone's beer. He picks it out and starts shaking it and yelling: "spit out my beer you miserable thieving roach!"

(This story is based on nautical lore.)

Monday, May 26, 2014

Remember

Before the sunny day,
Before the beer and play,
Before you light the cooking coals:
Remember.
José M. Caldas, May 2014

"Back"
They ask me where I've been,
And what I've done and seen.
But what can I reply
Who know it wasn't I,
But someone just like me,
Who went across the sea
And with my head and hands
Killed men in foreign lands...
Though I must bear the blame,
Because he bore my name.
Philip Larkin (1922-1985)


Thursday, May 22, 2014

A different kind of candidate...

"As a Fortune 500 CEO, David led the impressive expansion of Dollar General, creating thousands of quality jobs and adding billions to the value of the company."
perduesenate.com

"In 2006, three years into Perdue's four-plus years as Dollar General's CEO, federal investigators at the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission found that female store managers who worked for the company he ran "were discriminated against," and "generally were paid less than similarly situated male managers performing duties requiring equal skill, effort, and responsibility. A year later, separate from that investigation, thousands of female managers who were paid less than their male counterparts joined a class action suit against the company—which Dollar General eventually settled, paying the women more than $15 million.
...
Dollar General faced another significant lawsuit under Perdue, brought by some 2,000 current and former employees who in 2006 claimed that the company had made them managers in name only so it could deny them overtime they would have earned as store clerks. In 2013, Dollar General agreed in mediation to pay the ex-employees up to $8.5 million. That settlement awaits court approval.
...
In another case, a district court forced Dollar General to pay nearly $74,000 to Martha Bryant, a diabetic employee it fired in 2004 for taking time off under the Family Medical Leave Act. Dollar General argued that the law does not prohibit retaliation against employees who take FMLA leave. Dollar General appealed to the US Court of Appeals for the Sixth Circuit, which upheld the district court's judgment against Dollar General."
Mother Jones, May 2014


Thursday, May 15, 2014

There's Nothing Wrong With Manual Labor.

"Republican Kentucky state Sen. Paul Hornback, who started worked in tobacco fields when he was 10 and now farms about 100 acres of tobacco in Shelby County, Kentucky, said he adheres to federal regulations to keep his workers safe but doesn’t believe further restrictions are needed.
...
A report released Wednesday by Human Rights Watch claims that children as young as 7 are sometimes working long hours in fields harvesting nicotine- and pesticide-laced tobacco leaves under sometimes hazardous conditions. Most of what the group documented is legal, but it wants cigarette makers to push for safety on farms from which they buy tobacco."

The Associated Press, Thursday, May 15, 2014



Tuesday, May 13, 2014

The Will Of My Constituents.

"(Michael) Boggs was questioned repeatedly about his support for anti-abortion measures, his vote opposing the removal of the Confederate battle emblem from the state flag and his support for an amendment banning same-sex marriage while a state legislator in the early 2000s."

AJC, May 13, 2014



But what do YOU really believe?

 "Progressive Democrats, including her opponents in the Democratic Primary and their campaigns, have criticized Nunn for supporting the Keystone XL Pipeline; for supporting the once-proposed U.S. Invasion of Syria; for opposing same-sex marriage as a matter of policy; and for opposing the timely implementation of the Affordable Care Act."

Atlanta Progressive News, March 14, 2014


Monday, May 12, 2014

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Gallitos

Yesterday, I caught the scent of carob as I walked on Confederate Avenue. I was momentarily transported to my childhood in Santurce, to my school's playground, and the many games of gallitos I played with my friends. Gallitos means little roosters. To play gallitos you need an algarrobo seed and a length of string. Algarrobo is the Arabic origin Spanish word for carob. You climb the Algarrobo tree, get a carob pod and break it open to extract the seeds. The seeds are cushioned in a cottony, sweetly pungent mass. Careful not to crack the seed, you drill a hole through the middle of it, and pass a length of kite string through the hole, knotting the string at one end. The length of the string must provide a balance between leverage and control. To play the game, two players face off each with their favorite gallito. The players flip a coin to see which one will strike first. The loser of the coin toss lays his gallito on the ground. The winner of the toss then swings his gallito to strike his opponent's. If he hits it, he gets to strike again. If he misses it, he and his opponent reverse positions. The game ends when one the gallitos is broken. The owner of the surviving gallito is declared the winner and faces the next challenger. If you break your opponent's string you get to keep his gallito. Some kids were masters at this game, their battle scarred gallitos much feared in the playground. I was pretty bad at it, being of average strength, poor vision and worse coordination. Only my foolish optimism and fantasies of becoming the playground gallito king kept me at it. Alas, gallito apotheosis was not to be, and soon I moved on to collecting baseball card and building model aircraft and ships.

José M. Caldas, May 7, 2014.


Monday, April 14, 2014

Trench Warfare

Cheito Pagan rummaged through his father's tools and found the rusty army surplus entrenching tool. He grabbed it and the yellow construction helmet his dad had been given as a commemorative gift for some ceremonial ground breaking a few years back, ran out of his family's apartment, down five flights of stairs, across the grassy field behind the building, past the Australian pines that lined the beach, and met his friends on the sandy shore. The morning was cool and gray. The air was heavy with mist from the rolling breakers. His friends were already hard at work, digging into the moist sand of the beach. He went to work alongside them, shoveling sand on to the eastern side of the hole. Three feet down, the sand was mixed with water, so he stopped digging and started packing the sand along the sides of the trench. He lowered the protective goggles strapped on to the helmet over his eyes. All the boys had stopped digging and pulled the stones they had collected from their bulging pockets. Cheito peered over the berm along the edge of the hole. The sun had broken through the clouds and was starting to burn off the morning mist. A couple of dozen of yards away, he could see the built up side of the Park Place boys trench. Suddenly, a barrage of projectiles flew through the air and pelted them and the sand around them.  The balloon had gone up.

Jose M. Caldas, April 14, 2014.


Friday, April 11, 2014

Peace, Love and Plastic Flowers

The wall that separated the Beach Towers Apartments from El Cementerio Puerto Rico Memorial was 6 feet tall, easily scalable, and, in fact, frequently scaled by 7 year old Cheito Pagan and his friends. The summer of '67 had been very stormy, and the wear on the north wall along the beach was severe. The sand had disappeared along the wall, and chunks of concrete and tangled rebar kept the water from further incursions into the cemetery. On that side, the headstones were unkempt and tumbledown. The salt air could not mask the smell of old plastic flowers and formaldehyde. Cheito did not do mischief when he explored the boneyard. He preferred to find interesting memorials and mausoleums, read the names and dates on them, and try to imagine what the man, woman or occasional child had been like. The older the grave the better. The oldest found: Jose Enrique Denton Del Topo, born in 1854, and died 1923, the year his own father had been born. Del Topo? What a fantastic name! The Mole? No! From Topo in Calheta, the Azores!

Jose M. Caldas, April 12, 2014.


Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Trees

Cheito worked his way up the limbs of the almendro tree. The tree stood on the lot between the Seaside Towers apartment building and the beach, and overlooked the cemetary next door. The tree was fruiting and small green almond pods covered the limbs. He went high and higher and stopped when he was even with his family's fourth story apartment. He saw his mother open the sliding glass doors on the balcony, step out and start searching, probably for him. She spotted him hanging on to the swaying branches of the tree. He saw an angry look come to her face, and heard her angry voice over the sound of the breakers and the breeze: "Cheito! Carajo! Bajate del contrayao arbol antes de que te escocotes!" He scrambled down immediately, hung on the lowest limbs and dropped the last eight feet to the ground. Doña Gloria hadn't told him to come home, and it was not yet dinner time, so Cheito ran to the playground to look for his friends. 

Jose M. Caldas, April 2, 2014.



Tuesday, April 1, 2014

El Show de Franco, Toto y Alberti

Cheito, Jorgito and Berto waited impatiently in line for the studio doors to open. Cheito's father had finally gotten tickets for "El Show de Franco, Toto y Alberti." The show ran every weekday from 4  to 5 on Cadena Teleglobo, and featured the antics of three Argentinian brothers. Franco was the straight man and M.C., always well dressed in suit and tie; Toto, the pint sized trickster, and Alberti, the big oaf, were the clowns, dressed in oversize jackets, striped t-shirts, balloon pants, oversize shoes, felt hats and make up. The show would kick off with the Franco, Toto and Alberti theme song which the brothers played live on clarinet (Franco), accordion (Toto) and trumpet (Alberti). They were backed up by a small band that was as good as the Spike Jones Orchestra and never missed a trick. Next would be a comical skit, followed by a raucous musical number. There were games, prizes, jokes, and contests. Cheito's oldest sister Lali had once competed in a singing contest and earned second place, her prize a transistor radio in the shape of a Coca-Cola machine. The following week, his youngest sister Tati had played her zither on the show. He had missed both, sick home with dengue fever. The show was an enormous hit with the island's children, but tickets to see the show, and perhaps get chosen for one of the skits or one of the games were highly prized. His father, Don't Francisco was a friend of one of the sound engineers, and was able to secure a couple of tickets on occasion. The boys could hardly wait, and when the doors opened, the children (and quite a few adults) rushed to the seats in the studio and the music soon started: "Este's el Show de Franco, Tito y Alberti..."

Jose M. Caldas, April 1, 2014.


Saturday, March 29, 2014

Spearfishing

Cheito woke up early, before sunrise. He made himself a breakfast of cornflakes, buttered toast and orange juice. He brushed his teeth, put on his jeans, a t-shirt and his sneakers. He packed his mask, snorkel, fins, trunks, towel and spear gun in his duffel. He had told his mother at dinner the previous night that he was going to the beach the following morning, "Cheito", she said, "make sure you let yourself out of the house quietly." The early morning was damp, dark and windy. The lightening sky was heavy with clouds. He draped the duffel over his back and hiked up Calle Mejico to the corner Lomas Verdes and Glasgow. He waited 15 minutes and the first bus soon arrived. He climbed aboard and fed his quarter to the turnstile and made his way to one of the hard plastic seats. The bus was empty except for a couple of older women who got off at the Medic al Center stop. The route read like a history of his Island. He rode the bus on Jose de Diego Avenue past San Patricio and Jesus T. Piñeiro Avenues until he got to the corner of De Diego and Franklin Delano Roosevelt Avenue. He then transferred to the number 2 bus, down Juan Ponce De Leon Avenue and back on De Diego, where he transferred to the number 5 bus, which finally took him on the Roman Baldorioty de Castro Expressway to Isla Verde. He got off at the Corner of Tartak Street and Isla Verde Avenue, hiked around the corner and knocked on the door of 8158 Tartak. His buddy, Luis Gonzalez, "Lapa", to his friends, opened the door after a few seconds. He stepped inside, and after a mumbled greeting, he asked Lapa directions to the bathroom so he could change into his swimming gear. In swimming trunks and t-shirt, with gear in hand, the boys walked back down Tartak to Isla Verde, turned right and then left onto Dalia Street all the way to the end where the street ended on the beach. The beach was empty, and the trash of the Friday night revelers was strewn about. To the left was a sea wall, where they hid their shirts and shoes. It was now day light, but barely so. The sky was gray, and so was the sea. A fresh breeze stirred up a light chop on the water’s surface. Waves were breaking on the Isla Verde reef a couple of hundred of yards off the beach. Visibility in the water was going to be poor. He already felt chilled. Cheito and Lapa cleaned out and donned their masks and flippers, grabbed their spear guns, and waddled into the dancing surf. They swam in tandem to the reef, and after about 10 minutes or so, carefully avoiding the black spiny sea urchins, climbed on the rocks on the leeward side of the islet to rest and regroup. The boy had a cheap, old, but reliable diving watch his father had bought on a trip to St. Thomas. They agreed to meet up again in about an hour on the same spot. They plunged back into the water and went on separate ways. Cheito worked his way into deeper water, cocked the slings of his spear gun, and started swimming around the reef in a clockwise direction. He was in about 15 feet of water and could barely make out the sea fans and stag horn coral on the bottom. An occasional wave covered his snorkel, and he sputtered and coughed away the briny water. There were a few wrasses and sergeant fish swaying in the current, but no fish worth shooting. At times, he thought he saw silver flashes out of the corner of his eye, at the edge of his vision, jacks or chubs perhaps, but always out of range. He swam an irregular course, often checking his position against the island. He was getting more and more chilled, and decided to call it a day, swim to the reef, and huddle on the rocks to wait for his friend. Past the field of urchins, careful to avoid the spines and the occasional fire coral, he slowly clambered onto the worn coral of the island, and sat there shivering. After a bit, Lapa returned, without fish, as unlucky as he had been. They sat for a bit looking out to sea. They climbed back into the water and swam back to shore. They found their towels and shoes, dried off and headed back down Dalia to Isla Verde Avenue. At Tartak and Isla Verde, they stopped at the open air diner. Cheito had enough money for a coke and a bocadillo, and the ride back to Guaynabo. The sun finally peeked out of the clouds, and they sat at their stools, warming themselves and eating their lunch. He would have preferred to be lunching on fresh fish.  Not today, maybe the next time.


Jose M. Caldas, March, 28, 2014.


The Dragon

Cheito anchored the rowboat over the expanse of white sand along the edge of the shallow reef. He put on his snorkeling gear, jumped into the water, and reached into the boat for his spear gun. The reef here was mostly bare, having been long ago picked clean by previous visitors, a few small clusters of coral here and there. Few fish swam about, all too small to spear. As he kicked along, he spotted a flash of color retreating under the sharp edge of an outcrop of bare rock. He took three deep breaths and dived ten feet down to the bottom, dropped his spear gun, and grabbed the rocky ledge with gloved hands. He pulled himself further, head down, held still and waited. Very slowly, the small eel came out of its lair. Cheito and the dragon moray regarded each other curiously, the one, attired for his brief, wonderful forays into the liquid world, the other, attired in the bright, gaudy vestments of its kind, both retreating to their familiar worlds after the brief encounter of unfamiliar beings.


Jose M. Caldas, October 9, 2013.


El Chapin

El chapin examinaba su reflejo en el espejo que cubría su mundo. Como colibrí acuático, batia sus aletas manteniendo su posición vertical y horizontal. Esos labios! Esos ojos! El caparazón que cubría sus entrañas! Que soy, que soy? se preguntaba agitado por su extraño aspecto. La carnada inevitable lo dirigió a su oráculo: Eres pescado! Empanadilla de chapin para la cena!


Jose M. Caldas, October 8, 2013.


Crash Boat II

Cheito and his diving buddy, Shorty, went over their dive plan one more time. They each checked their own diving gear, and then the other's. Cheito helped Shorty put his tank on, and Shorty helped him. Fins in hand, they walked into the warm water. It was just as calm as it had been the first time he had snorkeled here for the first time a few years back. Although the careened yolas, Canadian tourists and busy shops all seemed the same, this time was different. He and Shorty were going to SCUBA dive to the bottom below the large buoy moored a pool's length away from the end of the pier. The chain anchoring the buoy was secured to the sea floor about ninety feet below. The boys waded until the water was waist deep, and put on their masks and fins. They snorkeled to the northern end of the pier. They could clearly see the bottom thirty feet below them. They used their regulators to descend along one of the coral encrusted supports; french angel fish quietly circled around it. They signaled each other that all was OK, and ascended back to the surface. They reoriented themselves, and snorkeled out to the buoy. At the buoy they checked their air supply, nodded to each other and started the slow descent to the bottom following the anchor chain. Cheito heard the whine of an outboard motor, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the boat go by, about fifty feet away. He ignored it and continued on down. Shorty was below him, slowly kicking into the blue green depth below him. The chain was blanketed with fire coral, sea fans, fan worms and sponges, and a large school of sardines circled around it. The silver cloud of small fish would disperse and reform as the bubbles from his buddy's exhalations broke into their ranks. He continued down to the bottom taking in the unreal beauty of it all. At about sixty feet the surface was no longer visible, and the sandy bottom could barely be seen. All around him the dim green light reminded him of the late afternoon stained glass light of the interior of a Cathedral. Other than the sound of his breathing, he could still hear the suprising snap and pop of the noisy sea life, and the occasional whine of a boat motor far above. He checked his depth gauge and saw that he was close to ninety feet. He could make out the end of the chain and Shorty swimming towards it. Shorty stopped at the bottom and looked up at him, his eyes wild and a huge grin on his face, which he could see even with the regulator covering his mouth. Shorty grabbed one his fins and pulled him down the rest of the way. He drifted to the bottom, checked his depth, the time and his air pressure, and suddenly he was laughing into his mouthpiece. Rapture of the deep! Nitrogen narcosis! The school of sardines that had followed them down danced with him every time he breathed out. He took the regulator out of his mouth and amused himself by zapping the fish with bubbles. He stopped, remembering through the haze of intoxication that he needed that air to get back to the surface. He forced himself to focus, checked the time, saw that they only had a couple of minutes of bottom time left, got his Shorty's attention and signaled that it was time to go back up. He looked around one last time, and began the slow ascent to the surface, into the dancing beams of light, away from the undersea world of weightless wonder.


Jose M. Caldas, October 7, 2013.