Glacier Casino

Glacier Casino

     I must admit I had played a game of poker or two, when I was in high school, but I was about to get schooled in the art/science of gambling.  Made even more relevant, in the scheme of things, as I was sequestered with 300 men underway aboard ship.  Our salaries were payed in cash and we really had no where really to spend money, except in the tiny ships store which they opened up only occasionally. The Filipino cooks were my nemesis and my lesson in gambling was expensive, but I always agreed one has to pay for an education and pay for it I did. One very important lesson I learn ed, was how and why those Filipinos won so much money and more importantly how they won so much of my money. The answer was they cheated. Now they were good at it, and I did not actually catch them cheating, and I cant say that cheating was the only reason that they won, but it was revealed to me, by my supervisor who happen to be the Captains cook. 1st Class Shit Slinger ( I cant even remember what the S.S. really stands for) Filipino.  I think he decided to take me under his wing as he was counting my pay, along with his other winnings. Maybe because I was so determined and committed to losing. Even though I won some too, I was quite a spectacle as I was as hooked as a gutter heroin addict. Or maybe he was looking for a partner, as I found out, they work in teams sometimes, which makes their cheating even more effective.
        There were 3 separate poker games. 1 for E-5 and under. 1 for chiefs and 1st class, and 1 for the officers and I never saw that game.  The stakes of the games increased in relation to rank, and we played payday stakes which means there was no money on the table.  We played with chips and someone kept the books, who was called the "Banker"  and on payday the losers payed up, or were suppose to.  It could get very uncomfortable to those who avoided responsibility in this area. Now the 1st class sailors were wobblers they could and would play in either game, whether it was with the Chiefs or the e-5 and below. I started out in the lower stakes game, but I realized the Big Money was the Chiefs game usually held in a space that was not in the chiefs mess, so the 1st class sailors could play as chiefs only were allowed in the Chiefs mess.
      Well I eventually summoned up the courage to play in the Chiefs game, and that was not without the glares and the derisive comments that emanated from the players, but quickly subsided after I lost a couple of pay periods worth of cash, to that game, in fact I believe I was made to feel right at home, after a while, and it certainly wasn't because of my looks or magnetic personality.  I had the distinction of being the only E-5 or below crew member to be stupid enough (or as I would say "has the Balls enough") to play with the Chiefs.  That attitude soon backfired on me, when one day I found that the Chiefs had moved the game into the Chiefs mess. This was a problem for me, since I was in debt to that game and without an opportunity to alleviate that situation, by playing in it, I would be stuck with that debt.  I would have none of it, and being the naive rookie, in over his head, I waltzed right in to the Chiefs mess and sat done at the game.  This was like entering the Holy of Holies, where the Ark of the Covenant was on display.  I ignored the glares and stares and mutterings, only to be informed as politely as I could ever hope to expect I was not welcome there.  I expressed my concerns and the game was moved back out to a site where I would be allowed to participate. I guess I raised quite a stir and then a little respect as the Chiefs realized I was no going to be hornswaggled in that way without a fight.
       Now the crap game was new to me.  I quickly learned the rules as I observed my shipmates involved in what looked and sounded like, what Meyer Lansky may have observed while growing up in the lower east side of New York, before he tried to dominate the gambling rackets of that place.  Get paid and find a bulkhead in the same space you got paid.   Just Crazy, lose your whole check in minutes.
      So back and forth it went, untill one day, while engaged in icebreaking operations in McMurdo sound I found myself in a head to head blackjack game with none other than Captains cook  1st class.  I was winning and he was pissed,  He would not let me leave with his money, so hand after hand it went, even after they announced liberty at McMurdo station, I felt obligated to at least, allow him to attempt to win his money back. And I wanted off that ship in a bad way.  I walked away with $400 of his money, which represented almost a months pay for me, in 1978. I thought he was going to kill me after searching his face on my way out.
      Well I was feeling pretty cocky as I scrambled up the iced over hill that was supposed to be a road towards McMurdo base proper.  I learned there was 3 bars, enlisted mans bar, chiefs bar, and officers bar.  The enlisted mans bar was known as The Snake Pit. So into the Snake Pit I went, with a wad of cash in my pocket.  I noticed that one of the cooks had a fairly easy shot at the 8 ball, on one of the pool tables.  I slapped down a 20 and retorted that I bet that 20 that he would miss the shot.  Well some of the sailors told me that he had been running the table all night and that was a pretty stupid bet.  I did,nt care, I was flush with cash and I felt like  superman. So as he lined up his shot, I grabbed the 40 bucks."YES!!!!" Now some might say I was a little quick on the draw and that may have startled that cook and he may have missed because of that, but nobody challenged me so as far as I was concerned I was good to go.  With The Spy Who Loved Me playing on the projector, I sallied up to the bar and bought drinks for all my friends.
      After I skidded on my ass all the way down the hill, back to the ship,  (I was trying to take a short cut and fell on my ass, and that's where I stayed all the way down the hill) I made my way to galley, frozen ass and all, because I was Hungry and it was about time for Mid Rats.  Midnight Rations, which was served for the watch standers underway because they may have missed evening chow.  Well I was dissapointed to learn that since McMurdo was considered a port-o-call mid rats was cancelled.  Dejected and drunk I stumbled to the berthing area and collapsed on the couch. Well lo and be hold who should be coming down the ladder, none other than the cook who just lost 20 dollars on the pool table to some drunk loudmouth.  ( that would be me)  so I offered him a deal.  I said I would return his 20 dollars if he would make me a sandwich, since he had access to the galley.  I specified what I wanted on it and he agreed.  A few minutes later he came down with what was not even close to what I ordered.Well right behind him I then noticed a couple of my shipmates coming    down with plates of food.  I then asked what was going on?  I thought mid-rats was cancelled?            Apparently some rank higher up countermanded that order.  Well I refused to pay that cook his money back,under the circumstances and I did not get what I ordered anyway.  I went to go open my locker and CRACK I felt and heard on the back of my head.  I reach around with my hand a came away with a handful of blood.  I went completely berserk, as pummeled the is cooks face. I normally wont kick anybody when they are down, but with this case I made an exception and gave him a couple in the ribs,due to the fact it was such a grievous sneak attack.  We both ended up in sick bay, where the senior corpsman was a warrant officer, drunker than a skunk, began yelling at the cook what a pussy he was, after he found out what happen.  The next morning, I had my eggs served to me, by that cook with a sour look on his face and two shiners on both eyes.

The Loft Con

       As it turns out one of my duties aboard ship as a seaman apprentice, ( soon to be promoted to full Seaman) was to stand lookout watches.  Normally a lookout watch would station himself outside of the bridge, or sometimes during the fog up on the focsule ( Forecastle) which is the bow of the ship.  However, special circumstances aboard an icebreaker require the lookout standing watch in the Ross Sea  ascend to the Loft Con which in so many words is a glorified crows nest on steroids. It is enclosed with lights heat radar and a helm  and compass a miniature pilot house about 3/4 the way up the stack.  during actual ice breaking operations the officer of the watch stands duty in the loft con so he has a birds eye view of the ice and the best way to negotiate the solid fast ice that just looks like part of the land except frozen white.  Until that time the lookout watch stands duty in the loft con, which was my privilege to be instructed to climb up the inside of the stack in a near gale, to the aforementioned loft con ,only to find the pitch black darkness and the frozen metal inside the stack a little challenging.  I just kept climbing until I bumped my  head on a hatch with a handle, so I turned it climbed up on the platform that thankfully had a railing, and held on for dear life as the wind was blowing about 30 knots in about a 20 foot sea, at night.  Then as the glacier listed to one side then the other, I was having the ride of my life, and I soon realized I was in the wrong place. I skedaddled back down into the stack and eventually located the hatch of the loft con, thankful to find it heated and lit, when I realized that the snickers I later heard from the crew, probably gave away the fact that the light that was supposed to indicate the loft con hatch, was accidentally on purpose not working at that convenient time.  I considered the episode another unofficial initiation.

Suva, Fiji Islands

        Three weeks underway, and Suva was beckoning.  Three weeks does not seem like much but underway in the open ocean, aboard an ancient Icebreaker, that was built for breaking ice, not comfortable rides, seems like forever. Every time she rolled it felt like she was going to capsize, finally got used to that after awhile.  With 300 +  crew  the food stores were dwindling and rusty lettuce in the salad was becoming a common site.
         The docking facilities in Suva were not prepared for us, consequently we had to anchor offshore until docking space was available. Which brings me to the experience of being handed a sledge hammer and ordered to lay to the anchor locker. It seems me and one other unfortunate soul  were given the duty of knocking all the big chunks of rust off that 2 inch chain so that it would make it thru the locker hatch .From the condition of that anchor chain, I don't believe anchoring was a very common event, at least not in the last decade. Looking back I believe a respirator and eye protection should have been in order, sweaty and filthy we managed it, our dark blue work uniforms were red with rust, as we headed for the showers.
        After we anchored, the natives rowed out in their outrigger canoes, like a scene from Mutiny on the Bounty, and proceeded to barter with us.  They were selling wood carvings among other souvenirs including Thai sticks.  They would throw them up to us and we would offer them bic lighters and Levis or any item that had Coast Guard logo on it was popular.
        We were mustered on the flight deck before liberty was granted, and we were told that there was an 80% VD rate among the local girls, which consisted of African American girls with British accents. Indians,  the dot not the feather, and the native tribe girls who lived in the hills above the town. There was also two bars that were off limits The Green dragon and the Golden something.  Well most of the ships company ended up in those establishments because they were the only 2 bars around.  The black girls loved us, it seemed the men treated the women, like Americans did 100 years ago. The girls were fighting over who would get the private bedroom at the hotel. Now missing movement is a very serious offense, but when about 2/3 of the crew missed moving to the dock from the anchorage, not too much was said.
         Some of us took a cab ride up in the hills and the scenery was what you would expect a tropical paradise, where the native girls were openly offering themselves to us as they watched our cab go by.  after about 5 days or so we were rejuvenated and bound for Wellington.

Coast Guard boot camp Before the ICE

      Well, I made it thru. Only by the skin of my teeth, it seemed. You would think after 8 weeks of boot camp, even if it was US Coast Guard boot camp, the last week I could skate, as the saying went in those days. I even was assigned a job that I alone from my company had the "privilege"of having. After all the bulk of the company was assigned the galley. I felt special working in the medical ward. I even was expected to harass the new recruits on their first day. They were all calling me sir, and everything.
A  far cry from my first night attached to Coast Guard Station Alameda.  Back then the Coast Guard maintained 2 Basic training facilities, the other one, now the only one in Cape May New Jersey. The memory of that first morning being awoken to the sound of garbage can lids being smashed together, still makes me shudder.  Have not seen a metal garbage can in a while, now that I think of it.  My thoughts then, were 'oh no what have I got myself into.'  
      I was soon to find out as we were tortured sufficiently enough that we were more than eager to compete for the lauded triumph of Honor Company.  Honor Company status meant that the Company with the highest point totals for the week, ( Physical training academic scores inspection results etc).... received special privileges. Most notably, the duty of policing the other companies, during chow.  That is, recruits were required to stand in line for chow  "nuts to butts.", they made it abundantly clear.  Skylarking was prohibited.  Eyes must be kept looking straight ahead to the back of the recruit in front. Violators were required to polish a giant  brass cleat, mounted in front of the chow hall, and consequently ate last.
       Other privileges made life a little easier, so I was determined to do whatever it took to achieve Honor Company status. I soon discovered that the academic standards were of a level that I could work with. The material we were required to study and get tested on, was fairly straight forward. The questions on the test were selected directly from that material, and I did fairly well, as long as I read all the material, for whichever subject. So what I did was create a practice test for the other recruits in my company. I went over the material and created questions that previous tests seem to expect. After my compatriots completed the practice test, I would correct them, and thru that process we were able to achieve high academic scores that eventually led us to Honor Company. Especially my scores, since the process of creating a practice test left me fully familiar with the material.
      I experienced quite a bit of humiliation, when I neglected to polish the back of my belt buckle, which when discovered, I experienced punishment. I had to high port my belt over my head and down and out from my chest and run around the compound while yelling “ I am a filthy scumbag” for several hours. We also had to dissemble our bunks in the wee hours and then transport the parts outside in the yard and reassemble them. Then of course vice versa. We had a wonderful time doing that. Then during personal inspection we were required to salute simultaneously when the inspecting officer faced us. I was so nervous I saluted too soon and then to make matters worse uttered “ OH Shit” “WHAT DID YOU SAY SCUMBAG” I repeated "Oh shit sir." That cost me about 100 push-ups I was never really ever able to complete. Then of course we were vaccinated for Yellow fever and various other diseases. The lymph nodes under our armpits swole up, and was very painful. The cure for that was to do more push ups on the hot pavement, and then assume the dyeing cockroach position, replete with sound effects

            Well, "skating during my final week of boot camp it was not to be.  My immediate supervisor turned out to be a real nazi.  I was assigned duties to clean the medical cabinets, and was given written instructions on the proper procedure.  Yes, I admit it I committed the sin of not following the exact order of the instructions, and God forbid thought for myself, a more efficient order, at least I thought so.  My supervisor had a conniption, I thought my Coast Guard career had ended before it really begun. He would not let it go, he put me on report and sent me to see the JOOD (Junior Officer of the Day) Luck would have it, during my stuttering explanation of my conduct, The two officers looked at each other and retorted that "that guy is a real asshole'  I was off the hook and bound for the USCGC Glacier and Antarctica.
            I knew I wanted duty aboard an icebreaker, because of the travel.  Exotic foreign ports-o-call, and tropical diving, and the girls, more about that later.  Well since I enlisted in Seattle, where I did the bulk of my growing up, the Polar Class brand new icebreakers; Polar Star and Polar Sea were very conspicuous, down on the waterfront with there shiny fire engine red hulls.  It would be ideal if I could be stationed aboard either one, and be in familiar turf when in port.  Well the hierarchy surrounding the procedure to acquire a desirable duty station worked by giving the top graduate 1st choice of the available billets, and then number 2 selected their choice from the remaining' and so on. Of the 60 or so seaman apprentices in my company, I was 11th. Not out of the question that one of the Polars would be available when it was my turn to choose, but my back-up plan was LORAN Station Saipan. This was in the pre-GPS days when Long Range Aids to Navigation stations were manned and maintained by Coast Guard personnel. I had heard the natives still ran around topless, and being nineteen and recently DE-virginized, by one of those run-away housewives that preyed on young men,  (Though I didn't really feel too much the victim) Saipan would not be a bad second choice.
          My heart sank when the Polars were snatched up right away, but I barely noticed a third Icebreaker on the list.  USCGC Glacier, a dinosaur of the ice-breaking fleet, I came to find, but at least I would be participating in Operation Deep Freeze even if the Glacier was relegated to scientific ops and back-up to the Polar Star which was assigned the main break in duties. The Glacier had a storied history. Entered in the Guinness Book of World Records for discovering the biggest iceberg (at the time) and also for the most trips to Antarctica by any one vessel. I would be on the 21st. The famous Admiral Byrd  even sailed on her maiden voyage, I didn't find out till many years later.
         I arrived at Long Beach Navel Base right in the middle of the gas crises.  I remember this because I borrowed a shipmates van on the condition that I fill it up with gas.  Well after waiting about 3 hours in line at the gas station, 3 cars ahead of me were turned away because they ran out.  Trust me, my shipmate was not hearing any of that, I reneged and that was that.  My consolation prize there was one big party goin on in that gas line.         The Glacier stuck out like a sore thumb among the battleship grey Navy  vessels, so it was not hard to find, and my initiation was suffering the loss of the brand new 35 mm canon camera I had just bought for the trip.  I reported the theft,and lo and behold a couple weeks later someone had found it stashed in the overhead, and the XO returned it to me, much to my surprised relief.
         I started off as a mess cook in the officer.s wardroom.  Yes that means wearing a white tunic serving the officers with polished silver serving trays, and guess who had to polish that silver.  Not to mention all the brass that polishing became the busy job of choice, when they ran out of real work.  One day I was instructed by an officer to retrieve the "good" cuts of meat, that he had not been getting. So when I entered the galley I went right to the source, and let it be known my displeasure about being admonished by an officer, for not providing satisfactory cuts of meat. Next thing I know I got some giant of cook chasing me out of the galley with a butcher knife. An offense that would have brought considerable consequences onshore and in the civilian world.  My offense was trespassing on the cooks territory, he said the officers will take what HE gives them. The first lieutenant explained to me that the cook was not used to being given orders by a Seaman apprentice, and that I should be more diplomatic when requesting supplies for the wardroom.
         I suffered through that for a couple of months, before I was attached to the deck force proper, and began standing helm, lookout and messenger watches.  The day work consisted of splicing line, fancywork for the railings, chaffing gear, and scraping rust, painting with the wonderfully healthy paints appropriately named red lead and blue death.  Those whites and that silver were looking better and better.
         In the great seafaring tradition, I came to learn that sailing over the equator is a right of passage, with the initiation rites and the uncomfortable circumstances that  goes with those rites, a "pollywog" can pass to a full fledged "Shellback" with the privileges that include torturing the next set of pollywogs that come their way.

     Now I was rather curious as to why the cooks were saving the galley grease for about a week, and the smell was bad enough, but the disgusting concoction was being "seasoned" with who knows what all ingredients designed to be as putrid and disgusting as possible, because no "pollywog's" was going to get off easy, except maybe are Captain, his ordeal was a little bit milder, I'm told.  Well when I discovered I was to take a bath in the mixture, I was blindfolded and slid down a chute into the mess before I realized where I was at. Crawling on hands and knees feeling our way through this course guided by a fire hose, we were subjected to being fired upon by spray bottles of hot sauce, among other wonderful liquids.  Then finally led to a mock trial before King Neptune.  I was accused of impersonating a poker player  (see Glacier Casino..  https://urchinstyle.blogspot.com/2017/08/glacier-casino-i-must-admit-i-had.html ) whos fat belly we had to kiss for sentencing.  Now I was a full fledged Shellback, ready for Wellington New Zealand
  To be continued......                                                                                               

                                                                                                                                                            

Desert Tortise

         Now before this time I could not have been able to distinguish between a turtle a tortoise, marine desert or otherwise. It just so happen when I was lingering in the beach community of Oxnard shores while driving along in my Ford F150 with my Lance camper, I almost ran over the creature that later I discovered was a desert tortoise. I was living in my camper at the time by choice, as my occupation required a lot of moving around up and down the coast of California and I migrated north these last few summers to take advantage of some easier pickings. Of course now I must explain that I was a Sea Urchin diver; that is I harvested sea urchins for their roe or eggs that Asians are so fond of.

         I couldn't for the life of me figure out what this desert tortoise was doing crossing the road by the beach. I went ahead and gathered him ..(or her I never did figure out which) up and knocked on a few doors around thinking it could be someones escaped pet. He was about 8 inches long and dark gray with some markings on the shell. I didn't get any response so I put him on the front seat and went on my way.

         Eventually I acquired a small aquarium and put some dirt, branches and a few leaves in it and decided that it would make a good home for George. ( I named him George, I thought it fit) I showed him around the neighborhood and to some of my friends, which how I came to find he was a desert tortoise, which were endangered and illegal to own, at least that is what this girl Angie told me, and she seemed to know more about it than I did, so I accepted her information. Angie volunteered to run an ad in the paper, in case the owner was looking for him, which I agreed.

            In the meantime I kind of got attached to George, he seemed low maintenance I just put some lettuce and cabbage in the aquarium and watched him eat. I would take him to the park while I was trying to throw this boomerang I recently bought. If I didn't pay attention he would be quite a ways away by the time I noticed he was not close by. I was surprised how far he could get, even though he was slow. I was reminded of the old fable the Tortoise and the Hare with some amusement. George was also very quiet which I liked.

          Well one day, I showed an acquaintance I had met at one of the local watering holes, George and told him the story. Well James got excited and offered to buy him from me so he could give it to his 13 year old daughter. James thought that she would love it, and I kind of wanted to but, I was getting attached to George and I wasn't ready to part with him.

         Some months went by and I completely forgot about Angie's ad. I also had to hear James every time I saw him, how what a great present that George would be for his daughter. Eventually, I caved because I have a soft spot for children.( which was not always the case, in my younger days I had issues with children) James was delighted and I think he just gave a couple of nice ling cod he had caught, since I paid nothing for George, I was not looking to make money. My payment was satisfied when the next time I saw James he said that his daughter loved the tortoise and even kept the name George, or so he said.

          After a few weeks had passed, I had not seen James at his usual spot in the bar, so I started asking around to see if anyone had talked to him. Well, much to my shocked surprise, I learned that he had passed away after having a heart attack while taking a bath. A sad episode, but it got a little complicated when I learned from Angie that someone had answered the ad she placed, and were expecting to be reunited with George, or whatever name, if any they gave it.

       The decision I came to, may have not been the most altruistic, but in no way was I going to ask James' little girl to hand over the last present her father gave her before he passed away.