The Seabag

gkainz

gkainz

Final Approach
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Arvada, CO
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Display name:
Greg Kainz
I wasn't a tin-can sailor, but a seabag is a seabag!
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THE SEABAG........ There was a time when everything you
owned had to fit in your seabag. Remember those nasty
rascals? Fully packed, one of those suckers weighed more
than the poor devil hauling it.


The damn things weighed a ton and some idiot with an
off-center sense of humor sewed a "carry" handle
on it to help you haul it. Hell, you could bolt a handle on
a Greyhound bus but it wouldn't make the damn thing
portable.


The Army, Marines and Air Force got footlockers and we
got a big ole' canvas bag.


After you warped your spine jackassing the goofy thing
through a bus or train station, sat on it waiting for
connecting transportation and made folks mad because it was
too damn big to fit in any overhead rack on any bus, train
and airplane ever made, the contents looked like hell. All
your gear appeared to have come from bums who slept on park
benches.


Traveling with a seabag was something left over from the
"Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum" sailing ship days.
Sailors used to sleep in hammocks. So you stowed your
"issue" in a big canvas bag and lashed your
hammock to it, hoisted it on your shoulder and in effect
moved your entire home and complete inventory of earthly
possessions from ship to ship. I wouldn't say you
traveled light because with one strap it was a one-shoulder
load that could torque your skeletal frame and bust your
ankles. It was like hauling a dead linebacker.


They wasted a lot of time in boot camp telling you how to
pack one of the suckers. There was an officially sanctioned
method of organization that you forgot after ten minutes on
the other side of the gate at Great Lakes or San Diego. You
got rid of a lot of issue gear when you went to the
SHIP..Did you ever know a tin-can sailor who had a raincoat?
A flat hat? One of those nut hugger knit swimsuits? How bout
those roll your own neckerchiefs... The ones the girls in a
good Naval tailor shop would cut down and sew into a
'greasy snake' for two bucks?


Within six months, every fleet sailor was down to one set
of dress blues, port and starboard undress blues and whites,
a couple of white hats, boots, shoes, assorted skivvies, a
peacoat and three sets of bleached out dungarees. The rest
of your original issue was either in the pea coat locker,
lucky bag or had been reduced to wipedown rags in the
engineroom. Underway ships were not ships that allowed a
vast accumulation of private gear. Hobos who lived in
discarded refrigerator crates could amass greater loads of
pack rat crap than fleet sailors. The confines of a
canvas-back rack, side locker and a couple of bunk bags did
not allow one to live a Donald Trump existence. Space and
the going pay scale combined to make us envy the lifestyle
of a mud hut Ethiopian. We were the global equivalents of
nomadic Mongols without ponies to haul our stuff.



And after the rigid routine of boot camp we learned the
skill of random compressed packing... Known by mothers
world-wide as 'cramming'. It is amazing what you can
jam into a space no bigger than a breadbox if you pull a
watch cap over a boot and push it in with your foot. Of
course it looks kinda weird when you pull it out but they
never hold fashion shows at sea and wrinkles added character
to a salty appearance. There was a four-hundred mile gap
between the images on recruiting posters and the actual
appearance of sailors at sea. It was not without justifiable
reason that we were called the tin-can Navy.



We operated on the premise that if 'Cleanliness was
next to Godliness', we must be next to the other end of
that spectrum... We looked like our clothing had been
pressed with a waffle iron and packed by a bulldozer.


But what the hell did they expect from a bunch of jerks
who lived in the crew's hole of a 2250 Gearing/Fletcher
can. After a while you got used to it... You got used to
everything you owned picking up and retaining that
"distinctive" aroma... You got used to old ladies
on busses taking a couple of wrinkled nose sniffs of your
peacoat then getting up and finding another seat...



Do they still issue seabags? Can you still make five
bucks sitting up half the night drawing a ships picture on
the side of one of the damn things with black and white
marking pens that drive old masters-at-arms into a 'rig
for heart attack' frenzy? Make their faces red... The
veins on their neck bulge out... And yell," What in
God's name is that all over your seabag?"
"Artwork, Chief... It's like the work of
Michelangelo... My ship... Great huh?" "Looks like
some damn comic book..."


Here was a man with cobras tattooed on his arms... A
skull with a dagger through one eye and a ribbon reading
'DEATH BEFORE SHORE DUTY' on his shoulder... Crossed
anchors with 'Subic Bay 1945' on the other
shoulder... An eagle on his chest and a full blown Chinese
dragon peeking out between the cheeks of his butt. If anyone
was an authority on stuff that looked like a comic book, it
had to be this Chief.


Sometimes I look at all the crap stacked in my garage,
close my eyes and smile, remembering a time when everything
I owned could be crammed into a canvas bag.
 
When I moved away from San Diego to take my postdoc everything I owned in the whole world fit in the back of my Nissan pickup truck. That included my motorcycle. I really miss those days.
 
When I left home to move to a ski resort in Vermont, everything I owned fit into a Opel GT and I had room for a passenger. I traveled light then :)
 
When I went to college, everything fit in the hatch of a Rabbit GTI, with room for 3 pax. These days I carry more than that for a weekend trip to New England, but travelling with 3 girls will do that.....:rolleyes:
 
Ah, the days of living out of a sea bag.

Sea Story Time!

Being a "tin can sailor" USS Decatur DDG31 http://www.navsource.org/archives/05/936.htm this is what you did. Complaining about it was pointless and the least of my worries.

I was a Machinery Repairman / Damage Control Specialist. We kept things running, put fires out, and stopped flooding, and de-watered flooded spaces. Several "This is Not a Drill" situations. Ship board fires were the worst, flooding was scary, but where are you gonna retreat to? :nono: We were trained to run toward the fire or flooding not away from it. No time to think, just act. The mission, your ship, and the lives of your shipmates depended on it.

I got to do some really fun stuff though. As a MR/DC I could go anywhere on the ship (almost) including command & control, ect. Very cool stuff, and that was in the early 70's on a Korean War era destroyer upgraded with guided missiles, I can't imagine what the toys look like now. :eek:

I would not trade my military experience for anything. Well, maybe with the exception of a a few days here and there. If I had it to do over I would be an aviator of some kind. :D

Any-who, no they did not issue me an oar, and I did not row to the beat of a drummer wearing horns. I'm not that old. :mad3: We used sails.:rofl::rofl::rofl:

Those were the good ol'days.

That is all, carry on.
 
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Fantastic article! Really takes me back. Yes, they do still use sea bags. Yes, they do still teach you how to cram "20 pounds of crap into a 2 pound hole."

That bloody bag becomes the basis of a love hate relationship.

Ironically, last weekend I pulled mine out of the garage to see if I still had my old Pea Coat. (It's really been cold in West Virginia, and I'm cheap) Pulling out my old uniforms, float coat, flight suit, helmet, gloves, an old green "memo" book.... Everything still has a lingering smell of burning JP. I cannot really say why I keep it all; I just can't seem to toss it. As I type this my old flight jacket is on the back of my chair. A link to the past I guess.

According to my Memo pad aircraft 112 is due for corrosion control, and 106 was heading over for PMI. 1v1 launch at 1530. :rolleyes:

Thanks for posting the article.

AO2
92-99
(3 tours in the gulf, 1 tour Somalia, graduated NRC San Diego)
 
Coast Guard also had the seabag. When I separated I put my iron in it, and buried it at sea vowing never to iron again - a vow I've successfully kept now for almost 20 years.

My favorite was when I got issued my rescue swimmer gear - suits, fins, masks, etc. I said "Gee, do I get a new seabag to go with this stuff?"

Former ASM, then DP.
 
funny, but I pulled my old seabag out of a basement closet this weekend, too.

We're starting a kitchen remodel so relocating everything we can to the basement means all my stuff gets relocated to the garage. Dug out a seabag (empty, no uniforms, folded per Bluejackets procedures ... hahahah, yeah right!), flight bag with flight suits and boots, helmet bag, helmet, SV-2, flight jackets (1 leather, 1 green nylon - winter, 1 green nylon - summer) and a bunch of other assorted stuff.

I wish I still had my pea coat.
 
gkainz said:
I wish I still had my pea coat.
Click to expand...

Somehow I wouldn't be surprised to see my Dad's from WW II hanging in a closet or folded up somewhere at their place. I know there's still a jacket from his duty at NMRU #1 at UC Berkeley.
 
I still have my Sea Bag, Pee Coat, and first chief's hat, service dress aviation greens, and a full service dress khaki uniform.

My service dress khaki uniform has more miles on it than all my cars I ever owned.
 
I wish I still had my overcoat - it was nice. I still have my CG Flight suit in blue nomex, with the ubercool "Team Banzai" patch on it (everyone at CGAS Cape May was a fan of the movie).
 
Geico266 said:
Sea Story Time!
Click to expand...
OK, for the record you started it.

I was the supply officer for the USS Betelgeuse AK-260. When I reported aboard the ship had a large hole in the bottom thanks to severe pounding in the North Atlantic. Two days after I reported aboard we moved the ship into drydock to fix the hull.

About 10pm General Quarters sounded. "Fire in the boiler" was the word passed on the 1MC. Being the smart ass that I am I said "sure, that's where it is supposed to be". :rofl: I was confident that they were out to make a fool out of me. Along the lines of looking for some shore line.

It turns out there was a fire in the boiler casing, not in the boiler. So I missed the first excitement. Finally I mustered to the QD to see if I could do anything and was promptly dispatched to the other ships on the pier to tell them to secure their rescue and assistance details as we had things under control. Messenger and Gofer - that's about the extent of the responsibilities of a green Pork Chop ensign!

-Skip
 
Near-The-Sea Story:

I arrive to my first duty station - CG Station Barnegat Light, New Jersey. Nice place to be in late August. First duty day our loan Damage Controlman (most of the place was BM-Bosun's Mate and MK-Machinery Tech) takes me, and tells me we're going to touch up some paint on the light house. So we go get a bosun's chair, some white lead paint, roller, safety harness, and all the other accoutrements. We go into the lighthouse, climb up the ungodly number of stairs (and that 5 gallon bucket was HEAVY), and rig up all the gear to the anchor points up top, and out I go through the window. So I lower myself down, and I'm touching up a rough patch, feeling hot and sweaty but digging the view. Suddenly the station van pulls up, and out pops the CO. He yells at me "What are you doing?" I yell back "Painting this section, sir!" He tells me to come on down, so I secure my gear, and lower myself in the chair to the ground. He helps me out of the gear while I'm trying to remember if I salute while sitting in a bosun's chair. Then he asks me who sent me here. "DC3 XXXX, sir". Ok, he says, just leave the stuff here and let's head back to the station - we've got to finish your in-processing. So I go back to the station, get handed off to the storekeeper to do my check-in, and I hear "Now, petty officer XXXX, report to the CO on the double".

The upside of this was that the CG no longer owns or maintains the lighthouse. I was "Tim the lightkeeper" for months, but DC3 XXXX got non-judicial punishment - not so much for the hazing as the fact that it was on NJ property and he didn't remain as a safety watch.

The best one I ever saw though was when we had an Academy Cadidiot with us. They gave him two tennis rackets wrapped in tinfoil and had him move around the water in a rowboat for about an hour while they "calibrated the radar" on the 41' UTB.
 
Sea Stories or Airstories--- Oh Well

We were about 8 hours into a 14 hour flight doing a race track pattern over Yankee station at 14k, when I hear the aft observer say " Hay Skipper what's that on the port tip tank?"

I do a quick look, and a double take on a USSR Bear. He looks about twice our size and armed. I Told Radio to get them on the dee, dee da and invite them to lunch. I could hear the cripto techs in the back all giggle.

about 5 minutes later radios says "they just ate'. I gave the Bear a thumbs up. and they waved good bye as they started to climb.
 
Tim, ah the scams we ran on FNG's. :thumbsup:

When a newbie almost sailor would reported to the ship there were always ways to break them in. The best one I remember was when we're out to sea for 7 -10 days the new guys would start to get home sick and miss mailcall. You know how letters from mom & girl friend pick you up. Anyway, we would tell the new guys they need to stand "mail buoy watch". We gave them a helmet with "Mail Buoy Watch" stenciled on the front, a pair of binoculars and told them to go stand on the bridge and look for the mail buoy. After 5-6 hours they finally got it. :rofl::rofl::rofl:

Another good joke was to give the FNG (freakin new guy) a bucket and send him to the boiler room for a "bucket steam" so we could clean some parts. :rofl::rofl::rofl:

or.... send the FNG to the engine room for a can of "relative bearing" grease. If I have to explain this one to a bunch of pilots we are all in trouble.
 
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Best new guy tale was when a FNG came to the shop he was told to go to the electrical shop to get some prop wash, he left and went to the BX and came back just before lunch and said they didn't have any, after lunch he was sent to the line shack to get more prop wash, he went to the bowling ally and came back just before quitting time. they didn't have any either.

so it went for a couple days.
 
Early on in my illustrious Air Force career (before I had sense and switched to the US ARMY), I was new and not yet qualified to work on Nuclear Weapons.

The Brandie-new Buck Sergeant assigned to the New Guy Team said, "Hey, Mack -- go over to main base and get us fifty yards of flight line..."

I left the Weapons Storage Area, jumped in my POV, and made tracks.

The next day I rolled into work regular time.

"Where were you all day yesterday?"

"Oh, I was looking for that flight line all day long... never found any..."

:rolleyes:
 
Sent the FNG to get an ID-ten-T (I.D.1.0.T.) form from the maintenance Chief so we could order a new A.S.H. receiver for one of the Tomcats. (ASHtray).

Sent the same guy to get the portable JBD (Jet Blast Deflector) so the mech’s could spool up one of the planes in the hanger. They found the kid a few hours later after the tower guys had called base security. Turns out some lunatic was down at the end of the runway with a tool box trying to disassemble the JBD. Security thought it was hilarious, the CO did not.


Sent a noob lineshack kid to fetch the keys for one of the Tomcats so the mech’s could do an engine turn. At 3am (on the boat no less) the kid is told that the last pilot to fly that plane was the CO. Go ask him for the key’s ASAP. He did. Again, skipper did not find it funny.


New boot came to us just a few days before we left on a deployment. He was obviously not versed in the inner details of shipboard life. One morning he did not show up to the shop so the Chief sends the new kid back to find him before we call a man overboard. Noob comes back and tells the chief that he found our missing guy still in his rack, and he will also not be joining us today because, “…I don’t work on weekends!” I kinda miss that kid.
 
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I've seen a couple good pranks at the airline, too. Captain calls back to the flight attendants during cruise and asks to speak to the FNG who is on his Initial Operating Experience (first time in the real plane, being watched/trained by an experienced FA).

"Hey XXX, word just came down from maintenance, they're worried about the heater in this plane. They need us to get an air sample. They said it needs to be representative of the air in he entire cabin, so you'll need to get it from high and low all the way from the galley to the lav. Best way is get a sick sack, hold it closed except for a little hole, then walk quickly down the aisle with it above your head, and back again with it down around your knees. Make sure you close it quick, though, or you'll have to do it again!"

Or...

"Hey, mx needs us to check the hydraulics...we have to see how long it takes the gear to come down. Stay on the phone, but look out the window and tell me the exact second the gear comes out. [wait 30 seconds] Well...is it out yet??"
"No."
Captain says "Uh oh" and hangs up. I've never seen this one in action, but I've heard it usually takes a few minutes for the senior FAs to explain that we're still at cruise and the gear isn't supposed come down.

Or...

New FO, on his first trip off IOE. Guy wearing a nice shirt and tie comes down as we're boarding, flashes his "badge" and introduces himself as being with the FAA. He goes on to explain that this new FO had some trouble learning his landings during IOE (everyone has trouble with landings during IOE) and that he's being evaluated on this leg. Only after he's sweated that one out for a while (usually after crushing the landing at the end of the leg) does the mystery rider introduce himself as a line pilot from the company, and explain that the "FAA Badge" was just his SIDA badge.
 
We were at sea and I was bored so I took a pumper oil can and filled it with water. I would go around and shoot guys with the water from 30' away. After getting my butt kicked a few times I figured out it was better to position myself so the guy that got hit with the water blamed would look up and think it was someone else. Eventually, this lead to guys throwing buckets of water, and one FNG decided a 5 gallon bucket of WHITE PAINT would be funny. Needless to say there is no need for latex paint on board a ship. The white paint ran all over the fan tail of the ship though the gunnel's and down the side. :yikes::yikes::yikes:

The boatswains mates were not happy, and neither was the Captain. :nono:

Another time we were bored and made a skull & cross bones flag out of a bed sheet and flew it off the fan tail flag mast. I thought it was funny. I've never seen the Executive Officer and Captain so "mad", said something about mutiny, pirates, and firing squad. They left it up and got their cameras, then made us take it down. We got the word later "unoffically" it was a good moral booster.
 
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The day called for no flight-ops. The plan was to take care of any house keeping and general maintenance on the birds. Since we did not have much in the way of outstanding work to be done it was a relaxing day.

Over in the line shack our newly minted AO1 had been given the day shift supervisor position. He came over to the shop to vent.

He hung his head and recalled the chain of events.

“The shop over there is small and I was trying to give these kids some busy work. I sent them up top to wipe down the planes with cleaner.”

The cleaner we used back then was in a spray can and came out in a foam almost the consistency of shaving cream. One of our birds was parked under the island structure. On that structure is a camera much like you would see in a TV studio. This camera is manned during flight-ops and the “show” is broadcast on the ship TV’s. When it is not being manned, it typically just hangs there, staring down, but still broadcasting.

He continued.

“You know that new guy? That really cocky Mexican kid? He was not real happy about the busy work. He went up and wrote graffiti on the horizontal stabilizer of the plane by the island with the cleaner.”

We knew this was not going to end well.

“He wrote, in Spanish, that the Air Boss Sucks D**K in big bold letters.”

Turns out the Air Boss had his TV on up in the island.

He was also Hispanic.

We know this because AO1 got to go meet him with young little Airman Recruit Rodriquez just that very afternoon.
 
NC19143 said:
I still have my Sea Bag, Pee Coat, and first chief's hat, service dress aviation greens, and a full service dress khaki uniform.

My service dress khaki uniform has more miles on it than all my cars I ever owned.
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You were a chief petty officer???? That explains a lot of things. :D Just kidding, they aren't all bad. There was a chief that I liked one time. :D I put on my dress blues at Christmas time, and it took both of my grown kids and my wife to help me get it off. We tried to peel it off over my head, and I thought for a while that I was going to smother. OK, my seabag is in the basement store room, and I do my best not to look at it while I'm in there. No use dredging up old memories. By the way, why is it that thirty days at sea with nothing to look at but water, living in a compartment with fifty stinking guys, taking a three minute shower once a week, getting your laundry back dirtier than when you sent it down, eating slop, and working twelve hours a day seven days a week, becomes romantic after thirty-five years?
 
Maxmosbey said:
You were a chief petty officer???? That explains a lot of things. :D Just kidding, they aren't all bad. There was a chief that I liked one time. :D I put on my dress blues at Christmas time, and it took both of my grown kids and my wife to help me get it off. We tried to peel it off over my head, and I thought for a while that I was going to smother. OK, my seabag is in the basement store room, and I do my best not to look at it while I'm in there. No use dredging up old memories. By the way, why is it that thirty days at sea with nothing to look at but water, living in a compartment with fifty stinking guys, taking a three minute shower once a week, getting your laundry back dirtier than when you sent it down, eating slop, and working twelve hours a day seven days a week, becomes romantic after thirty-five years?
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try living out of a superconie for 9 years with a locker and rack at the line shack in De-Nang, and one in Clark AFB with a house boy doing your laundry, and eating at the galley in both places.
Then you'll know why I have about two stories to tell of good times/memories.
 
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