Bob McKellar
December 21st 03, 02:07 AM
Totally Off Topic for RAM, posted there out of habit
Briefcase and Me
I first met Briefcase in 1969. I was a new Ensign, assigned
as Disbursing Officer on a new ship being constructed in New
Orleans. We were set up in dingy offices on a rickety old
pier on the West Bank, hosted by the Eighth Naval District.
Part of the pre commissioning crew's job was to set up the
mundane bureaucracy of a warship, which naturally included
stocking up on office supplies. One fine morning, I boarded
the Navy shuttle boat heading west over to the Supply Center
on the East Bank of the big river.
After loading up on black ball point pens, legal pads and
wheel books, I noticed Briefcase sitting on a counter off to
one side. Briefcase was more utilitarian than flashy, but
looked just the right size to hold bundles of twenty dollar
bills. I guess it was just the luck of the draw that
Briefcase went to sea instead of carrying leases and
contracts around Louisiana.
We were pretty close from the beginning. Briefcase went
home with me in the afternoons sometimes, and got to know my
family. Of course, he was crew, not a dependent. When the
ship was ready to go, my family drove to Charleston, but
Briefcase and I rode the ship around. I got pretty sea sick
on that first trip, but Briefcase didn't seem to mind.
After we were operating, Briefcase and I worked closely
together every two weeks. We'd hit the crew's lounge and the
wardroom, then head up to the bridge to take care of the
watch team. On deck, I always had a paranoid fear of
tripping over a scuttle and dropping Briefcase over the
side. I guess Briefcase had a bit of fear as well, since I
never got any complaints about my steely grip which must
have left my fingerprints imbedded in his handle.
We also made some road trips to various banks, taking along
my DK and Mr. .45 pistol. Briefcase and .45 had a bit of a
friendly rivalry going, but everybody knew who was the real
star of the show. On one long cruise, I felt short of cash
and made a replenishment visit to an AO that was visiting
the same port. Briefcase and I made that trip alone, since
taking the other two would have been a bit ostentatious. I
had to caution Briefcase not to act snotty about being an
exalted Tin Can Sailor. After all, the Chop on that ship
was doing us a favor, and we shouldn't put on airs.
On one occasion, Briefcase and I had to stay behind for some
errand while our ship went out, then ride another ship the
next day to meet up and get highlined over. As I was
getting strapped into the bosun's chair, I realized, as a
plankowner, that my crew had never done such a transfer
before. I was going to be the guinea pig! But everything
went fine.
Talking to the crew afterwards, I realized that they had
been more concerned with Briefcase than me. They had
assumed I was bringing payroll with me. If they had
realized that Briefcase only held some car magazines and
extra skivvies, I might still be swimming.
Later on, Briefcase and I began to grow apart. The bank in
Mayport was understaffed, and only allowed Disbursing
Officers to pick up cash on Tuesdays at 1400. This
regularity made me feel a bit conspicuous and therefore
vulnerable. I adopted a new procedure, leaving Briefcase,
my DK and Mr. .45 in the office. I would go alone, cash my
check, stuff $30,000 in Mr, Extreme Foul Weather Jacket With
Zippered Pockets, and try to look nonchalant as I made my
way back to the ship.
Things got worse when my active duty time was almost up, and
I was just running out the clock. I didn't appreciate well
enough that Briefcase was on an indefinite enlistment. I'm
sure that when my relief arrived I introduced them properly,
but I was far too concerned with my own future to properly
express my gratitude for our time together.
It's been over thirty years now, and that ship has lived its
life and gone on to the scrap yard. I often wonder what
become of Briefcase. I hope he didn't wind up in a
Dumpster, but got finally tossed over the side on purpose,
with appropriate ceremony.
He would have liked it that way.
Bob McKellar
Briefcase and Me
I first met Briefcase in 1969. I was a new Ensign, assigned
as Disbursing Officer on a new ship being constructed in New
Orleans. We were set up in dingy offices on a rickety old
pier on the West Bank, hosted by the Eighth Naval District.
Part of the pre commissioning crew's job was to set up the
mundane bureaucracy of a warship, which naturally included
stocking up on office supplies. One fine morning, I boarded
the Navy shuttle boat heading west over to the Supply Center
on the East Bank of the big river.
After loading up on black ball point pens, legal pads and
wheel books, I noticed Briefcase sitting on a counter off to
one side. Briefcase was more utilitarian than flashy, but
looked just the right size to hold bundles of twenty dollar
bills. I guess it was just the luck of the draw that
Briefcase went to sea instead of carrying leases and
contracts around Louisiana.
We were pretty close from the beginning. Briefcase went
home with me in the afternoons sometimes, and got to know my
family. Of course, he was crew, not a dependent. When the
ship was ready to go, my family drove to Charleston, but
Briefcase and I rode the ship around. I got pretty sea sick
on that first trip, but Briefcase didn't seem to mind.
After we were operating, Briefcase and I worked closely
together every two weeks. We'd hit the crew's lounge and the
wardroom, then head up to the bridge to take care of the
watch team. On deck, I always had a paranoid fear of
tripping over a scuttle and dropping Briefcase over the
side. I guess Briefcase had a bit of fear as well, since I
never got any complaints about my steely grip which must
have left my fingerprints imbedded in his handle.
We also made some road trips to various banks, taking along
my DK and Mr. .45 pistol. Briefcase and .45 had a bit of a
friendly rivalry going, but everybody knew who was the real
star of the show. On one long cruise, I felt short of cash
and made a replenishment visit to an AO that was visiting
the same port. Briefcase and I made that trip alone, since
taking the other two would have been a bit ostentatious. I
had to caution Briefcase not to act snotty about being an
exalted Tin Can Sailor. After all, the Chop on that ship
was doing us a favor, and we shouldn't put on airs.
On one occasion, Briefcase and I had to stay behind for some
errand while our ship went out, then ride another ship the
next day to meet up and get highlined over. As I was
getting strapped into the bosun's chair, I realized, as a
plankowner, that my crew had never done such a transfer
before. I was going to be the guinea pig! But everything
went fine.
Talking to the crew afterwards, I realized that they had
been more concerned with Briefcase than me. They had
assumed I was bringing payroll with me. If they had
realized that Briefcase only held some car magazines and
extra skivvies, I might still be swimming.
Later on, Briefcase and I began to grow apart. The bank in
Mayport was understaffed, and only allowed Disbursing
Officers to pick up cash on Tuesdays at 1400. This
regularity made me feel a bit conspicuous and therefore
vulnerable. I adopted a new procedure, leaving Briefcase,
my DK and Mr. .45 in the office. I would go alone, cash my
check, stuff $30,000 in Mr, Extreme Foul Weather Jacket With
Zippered Pockets, and try to look nonchalant as I made my
way back to the ship.
Things got worse when my active duty time was almost up, and
I was just running out the clock. I didn't appreciate well
enough that Briefcase was on an indefinite enlistment. I'm
sure that when my relief arrived I introduced them properly,
but I was far too concerned with my own future to properly
express my gratitude for our time together.
It's been over thirty years now, and that ship has lived its
life and gone on to the scrap yard. I often wonder what
become of Briefcase. I hope he didn't wind up in a
Dumpster, but got finally tossed over the side on purpose,
with appropriate ceremony.
He would have liked it that way.
Bob McKellar