© 1997 ervd@hotmail.com
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Someone once told me that humor was a cure for insanity and through out my life, I have found this to be true so I'm going to take a moment to tell you about the best shipmate I ever had. When we were steaming towards the Solomon Islands to pick up some barges, we had to stop over in the New Hebrides Is. for fresh water because we were having problems with our evaporators. The island we picked turned out to be a leper colony. Several of our crew went ashore for a looksee, among which was our Warrant. When he returned to the ship, he had a small puppy dog with him. This was the ugliest mutt I had ever laid eyes upon and was ate up with the mange. It wasn't quite Navy regulations but this was war and the skipper relented figuring it may be what we needed to boost morale a little as at this point, we had been at sea for 6 or 7 months. I told the skipper that the makett was going to be one huge animal and told him to check out the mutts pads. It looked like he was wearing boxing gloves. Skipper told me not to worry, so I didn't. Well, it took no time at all for that mutt to win over every crusty sailor on the ship. The pharmasist mate worked real hard and soon cured up the mange problem. True to my prediction, he began to grow and continued growing and growing and growing. In six or seven months, he weighed about 140 to 150 pounds. He seemed to be a cross between a great dane and a St. Bernard. He also seemed to take on the size of a great dane and the looks of a St. Bernard. To say he was huge and still growing would just flat be an understatement. One of the crew rigged him out with a pistol belt with holster and a white hat. He belonged to no one but seemed to take one young farm boy better than most. By the time he was full grown, he was the biggest damn dog I'd ever seen.
As time went on, he took on the role of a sailor. He was assigned a General Quarters station below deck. He made musters and when we were called to attention, he would stand. When put at ease, he would sit down. One of his duties which he seemed to really enjoy was standing gangway watch. He knew every member of the crew and they could come and go as they wished. Whenever we tied up, he showed up and stood watch till we left again. On several occasions, some sailor would trot on board for a quick headcall or something only to be met halfway by this monstor of a dog. To my knowledge, he never bite anybody. Hell, he didn't have to. When he tracked on someone and he went into his pose there wasn't a man I knew that would take a step forward. He would flat scare you to death. He would plant his feet, bare them teeth and growl like the devil himself. Them jowels would get to flapping and he would be spitting slober over both sides of the gangway. Word got out real quick not to try and board us. On one occassion I observed, we had just pulled in and the gangway was placed. About that time the Dockmaster come strolling up the gang way and met our watch. He just sorta backed down real slow. Later, he was chatting with the skipper and told him that was the best damn gangway watch he had seen in his entire naval career. The skipper, being the true professional he was made nothing of it but you could tell he was as proud as a buck rooster in the chicken coup. He wouldn't admit it if his life depended upon it but that mangy mutt had got to him just as he had the rest of the crew. As a matter of fact, I believe if there was a way, he would have let that mutt draw his pay.
Now, one day I noticed the mutt kept scratching his mouth and seemed to be in a lot of distress. I checked him out and discovered that he had a lot of loose teeth that he was shedding. I figured out I'd give him a hand and got me a set of plyers, took the old boy up to the bow and laid that huge head in my lap. I had to lift up those sagging jowels so I could see the teeth. I'd find one of the loose teeth, get a grip with my plyers and get it out for him. The mutt seemed to really appreciate my help. What I didn't know was the skipper was up on the bridge and got to watching me. I guess he didn't understand and was a bit disturbed because word came down for me to report to the bridge. So, I made my way up to the bridge to find out what the skipper needed. What I found out in short order was the skipper was concerned about my mental well being. He thought I had lost it and was sitting on the bow torturing the mutt by pulling out his teeth. After reporting, the skipper looked at me for a few minutes and then asked: Chief, how long has it been since you been ashore. I gave it a few seconds thought and answered that it had been about 13 months. He looked a bit skocked. He then ordered me to take the next beer party ashore. Maybe I had lost it a bit because I distinctly remember spending 2 straight Christmas's aboard. That mutt turned out to be one of the best sailors I served with. The only time I really got pissed was when the boys were below having a little blowout and I walked in on them and they had placed my hat on his head. I popped a cork bellowing out that the mutt had not been promoted to Chief that I knew about. The boys got a little somber so I just strolled by, snatched off my hat, took a few steps and then told the boys: Outta the whole bunch, he would be the one to get my recommendation.
One of his favorite parts of the day when we weren't steaming was when the skipper would sound the call for swim time. He wouldn't hop over the side with the rest of the crew. Nope, that was to easy for him. He'd go up to the focsal and take a flying leap. One of the best swimmers I knew. Our problem was getting him back on board. He was just to damn big. WE'd rig 2 or 3 lines on him and boy's would be pulling him up while ones in the water would be pushing up as best they could. So, I got the idea to make a loading platform for him. We rigged it up with a hoist and all. Worked like a charm. When he was done swimming, He'd make his way to the platform and some boys would haul him aboard.
On one of our towing missions, that mutt proved his true metal as a sailor. And this goes for the whole crew. We were dealing with some rough seas maybe ten feet or more. As far as the mutt goes, whether fair or calm seas, one of his favorite play times was chasing the flying fish that would wash aboard ship. For those of you that aren't aware of it, there is a species of fish that fly. when they are swimming along in a high wave, at times they would swim right out into open air, these little wing s wouls sprout out and they would fly until they hit the water or on some occasions wash aboard the forecastle (main deck).
That mutt would spend hours chasing these fish down. It brought many hours of laughter for the crew. He was indeed the Morale Officer of the ship. By orders from the captain, he was required to wear a life jacket whenever he was on deck. We would watch him take off after one of them fish, lose his footing make a crash landing then go slipping and sliding, bouncing off bulkheads until he regained his footing and take off after another one. It was absolutely hilarious.On this day, we got hit by a pretty big wave and took a lot of water over the bow. It just took the mutt right over the side with it. One of the lookouts saw what happened and sounded the man overboard dril. I guess he was so nervous and shook up because he never told us it was the dog. The crew immediatley started the drill and the muster report reached the bridge, it was discovered that nobody from the crew except for the dog were accounted for.
The skipper immediately ordered "All Stop" and the ship settled down in the seas rocking and rolling. There was absolutley no way to maneuver with that tow behind us to search for that stupid mutt. He then made a statement over the ships PA system. "I am about to pull a stupid trick and issue an idiotic order and I want some idiotic sailors to volunteer". Lower the motor whale boat and retrieve that G-damn dog. Every man on board including myself volunteered. The boat was soon filled but I didn't make the cut. The boatswain mate got on the tiller and got the boat in the water safely. At this time, the dog was located by one of the lookouts spotted the mutt between waves and the search was on. A motor whale boat in rough seas is a rough and dangerous ride. The skipper himself took over with a pair of binoculars in one hand and a bullhorn in the other. The people in the boat couldn't yet see the dog. The skipper kept giving constant directions to the whaleboat and after 45 minutes or so, they spotted the dog.
It turns out locating the mutt was the easy part of the job. He wasn't paniced at all. It looked to the whaleboat crew that he was just swimming his way to shore. When they got up alongside the dog, they made numerous attempts to get him onboard but it proved to be an impossible and fruitless job. With the dog's weight combined with the waterlogged life jacket it was just impossible to bring him on board safely. Their only remaining choice was to lash the dog to the side of the bloat and head back to the ship. Problem was the mutt didn't much like that option and was fighting off all attempts to tie him off to the boat. The situation for the sailors on that whaleboat was becoming precarious to say the least. If that whale boat flipped we had a damn serious situation on our hands. Finally, one sailor tied himself off and went into the water with the dog. He was able to keep the mutt up against the boat while his shipmates frantically got some lines around him and tied him down. After retrieving the sailor, they headed back to the ship. It had taken them nearly a half hour to get that mutt secured. Now , we had been dead in the water for over an hour while the rescue attempt played itself out. Everyone on board was soaking wet and hanging on for dear life because for that time frame, we were at the mercy of the sea.
When the whale boat made it back to the ship. The men got some lines on him and the boatswain mate got the tiller up and running and hauled that damn mutt back on board. To show his appreciation for all the sacrifice and perils the crew faced to save his dumb ass, when untied the mutt went to his favorite spot and without even shaking off the excess water, he calmly laid down and went to sleep. For the crew, it wasn't over because we still had to retrieve the whaleboat and secure it safely in it's davits. In high seas this was not only difficult but dangerous. Fortunate for us, our "Boats" was one of the best there was and in short order we had her back aboard and secured. All this under the ever watchful eye of the skipper.
The skipper in a rare display of emotion broke down and congratulated the crew. His exact words were: That was one hell of a drill in the most extreme of conditions and you people performed professionally. (PAUSE). Now, if that damn dog ever washes overboard again, every man on board will suffer my wrath. Secure from General Quarters. The next couple of days, every available crew member was busy making the ship dog-proof. Every life line now had webbing. When the war ended, he proved to be a slight problem. Navy regulations kicked back in and our buddy had to go. I had allready left the ship for the states. It was really a sad time for me because I was quite attached to that ship and the mutt. The day I mustered off the ship, The boys had dressed him in some whites and as I was leaving, the big lug lumbered up to me, hopped up and put his paws on my shoulders giving me a slobbering send off. You know that damn mutt was bigger than I was. I was pretty much a mess when he was finished and damned if I wasn't on the verge of tears. I really loved that dog. HE WAS THE BEST SAILOR i KNEW.
Had I still been aboard, they would never have bounce him off his home. Hell, he had more time at sea and war than most sailors. But I didn't have to worry, the skipper was as big a kaniver as I was. He pulled a few strings, called in a few favors and had the mutt shipped to the states with his favorite farm boy. I found out later that the boy's folks fell in love with the mutt and the babysitter had her a new pony. TO BE CONTINUED
© 1997 ervd@hotmail.com
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