thedrifter
11-23-08, 07:42 AM
Navy Chief Charlie’s revenge on the Marines
By Heber Taylor
The Daily News
Published November 23, 2008
I met Chief Charlie when I was the new kid in a small outfit at fleet headquarters. He had been traveling with the admiral on an extended tour of the Pacific fleet. He collapsed in a chair and looked around the office as if he owned it.
A flask appeared. Those on watch abstained. Those who’d come in from weeks at sea had a drink.
Chief Charlie wanted to know where his jeep was. He wanted to go home.
Someone called the Marines who ran the motor pool. The Marines said Chief Charlie was out of luck. He wasn’t on the list.
Chief Charlie made a phone call. Then he had a drink. He discussed and cussed the Marines. Then announced: “I’m going to take the lowest-ranking man in this outfit, the man with the strongest back and weakest mind, and we’re going to steal a jeep from those jarheads.”
There was room for debate about who had the strongest back and weakest mind. But there was no debate about who was the lowest-ranking man.
Chief Charlie looked at me dubiously. I might have been gawky as a teenager. “Have you ever hot-wired a car?” he asked. I never had.
He looked dismayed, as if the Navy had let its standards slip. He looked so disappointed I said I had once read an account of how it was done. He shook his head. But he decided I’d have to do.
I was relieved of my duties on watch. As I was off duty, he asked if I’d like to have a drink. I was pretty sure I would.
So two sailors — fortified but unarmed — went off to steal a jeep from the Marines. Chief Charlie’s plan was that he would distract the guards while I would go select a jeep that could be persuaded to start without a key.
I feared this would end badly. At best, there was going to be a court-martial. At worst, we were going to feel the gentle patter of .45 slugs at our backs. But Chief Charlie was a leader. He convinced me he had a plan. He led. I followed.
As preposterous as his plan was, it succeeded. We were through the gate and out of range before the guards started hollering. After a modest celebration, Chief Charlie went home to his family.
By rights, there should have been repercussions. However, the Marines were in no position to complain. They had, in fact, fouled up the paperwork. And they weren’t exactly keen on publicizing the details of how valuable government property had disappeared on their watch.
On Wednesday, I heard a voice I hadn’t heard for 32 years. It was Rick, an old buddy from the Navy. Such are the wonders of the Internet, which is reconnecting people who’ve lost touch.
He told me the sad news that Chief Charlie had died a few years back, a brave and funny man, a born leader, to the end.
Heber Taylor is editor of The Daily News.
Ellie
By Heber Taylor
The Daily News
Published November 23, 2008
I met Chief Charlie when I was the new kid in a small outfit at fleet headquarters. He had been traveling with the admiral on an extended tour of the Pacific fleet. He collapsed in a chair and looked around the office as if he owned it.
A flask appeared. Those on watch abstained. Those who’d come in from weeks at sea had a drink.
Chief Charlie wanted to know where his jeep was. He wanted to go home.
Someone called the Marines who ran the motor pool. The Marines said Chief Charlie was out of luck. He wasn’t on the list.
Chief Charlie made a phone call. Then he had a drink. He discussed and cussed the Marines. Then announced: “I’m going to take the lowest-ranking man in this outfit, the man with the strongest back and weakest mind, and we’re going to steal a jeep from those jarheads.”
There was room for debate about who had the strongest back and weakest mind. But there was no debate about who was the lowest-ranking man.
Chief Charlie looked at me dubiously. I might have been gawky as a teenager. “Have you ever hot-wired a car?” he asked. I never had.
He looked dismayed, as if the Navy had let its standards slip. He looked so disappointed I said I had once read an account of how it was done. He shook his head. But he decided I’d have to do.
I was relieved of my duties on watch. As I was off duty, he asked if I’d like to have a drink. I was pretty sure I would.
So two sailors — fortified but unarmed — went off to steal a jeep from the Marines. Chief Charlie’s plan was that he would distract the guards while I would go select a jeep that could be persuaded to start without a key.
I feared this would end badly. At best, there was going to be a court-martial. At worst, we were going to feel the gentle patter of .45 slugs at our backs. But Chief Charlie was a leader. He convinced me he had a plan. He led. I followed.
As preposterous as his plan was, it succeeded. We were through the gate and out of range before the guards started hollering. After a modest celebration, Chief Charlie went home to his family.
By rights, there should have been repercussions. However, the Marines were in no position to complain. They had, in fact, fouled up the paperwork. And they weren’t exactly keen on publicizing the details of how valuable government property had disappeared on their watch.
On Wednesday, I heard a voice I hadn’t heard for 32 years. It was Rick, an old buddy from the Navy. Such are the wonders of the Internet, which is reconnecting people who’ve lost touch.
He told me the sad news that Chief Charlie had died a few years back, a brave and funny man, a born leader, to the end.
Heber Taylor is editor of The Daily News.
Ellie