Reporter's Notebook

Secure from mail buoy detail

PORT HURON, MICH. – I’ve heard that Mombassa, Kenya is one hell of a liberty port, and many sailors will swear by Boston, but I’m not sure that a Navy ship’s company has descended upon this small city before the Freedom’s sailors did tonight. A shore crane placed the ship’s brow by nightfall and the crew members who could take it are now on liberty; what was an already quiet littoral combat ship is lifeless tonight.

Rob and I walked down the brow a few hours ago to take in the local nightlife, but downtown Port Huron at 9 p.m. wasn’t quite Carnaby Street. Several of the ship’s crew members were making merry at the Military Street Music Bar. After two Miller Lites, we walked back to the ship.

Our unexpected liberty got me thinking about the lighter side of Navy life, and specifically that a certain aspect of life at sea — namely, the good-natured humiliation of newcomers – will die aboard the Freedom and its successors. To get an assignment aboard this ship, a sailor had to have at least one earlier sea tour; many have had more and almost everybody aboard is warfare-qualified. There are only two second-class petty officers in the entire Blue Crew, and both of them plan to take the E-6 test for the coming cycle, according to the XO, Cmdr. Kris Doyle.

With such a salty crew, there aren’t any unrated newcomers of whom the chiefs can make sport. There are many deckplate sea stories about assigning junior-most sailors to “mail buoy detail,” gearing them up in kapok jackets and flash hoods, handing them a pool skimmer, and telling them they’re in charge of snaring the “mail buoy” as the ship passes by. If they miss it, they’re told, nobody on the ship, even the captain, will get their mail from home, so the whole crew will be angry. There is no mail buoy, as the unlucky sailors discover when chief relieves them at the bow, wiping away tears of mirth. You can’t send a second-class petty officer for an “eye-dee 10 tango” form – the phonetic pronunciation of ID10T, i.e. “idiot” – or for a can of the mythical shipboard chemical known as “bulkhead remover.”

“Yeah, I don’t think anybody’s going to try that on here,” agreed Engineman 1st Class (SW) Brad Vincent. “And if you do, there’s a very good chance it would backfire on you.” Rob asked him if there had been any pranks onboard the ship since it sailed from Marinette, but Vincent shrugged.

“We’ve been so tired nobody’s even tried anything.”