Roadrunner Loc: Quebec, Canada

1 + 2 = 3...done in a special program, fun one.....send me a PM,

sailorsmom Loc: Souderton, PA

Neat, Roadrunner!

Roadrunner Loc: Quebec, Canada

Thanks Mom....My Mom was a sailor's Mom too

Irvingite Charles Loc: Irving, Tx

Roadrunner Loc: Quebec, Canada

Thank you very much, Sir

sailorsmom Loc: Souderton, PA

Thank you for your service, Roadrunner! I guess I'm not literally a sailorsmom anymore; John just retired after putting in 20 years!

Roadrunner Loc: Quebec, Canada

Did two hitches, all aboard tin cans except for school, was an FT. I was career but did not want shore duty, except maybe Gitmo....

MESS DECKS & DRYDOCKS

In regroupments such as the military, loggers, miners and other specialized workforces which I have been part of , and in my case, the Navy, logging camps and shipyards, there emerges a certain camaraderie, but a camaraderie which differs with each group of these and other types of work forces. Now this sort of a bond unites us together in a temporary mode, temporary may extend between a few months to a lifetime actually, but none of the groups are alike.

These close relationships, for lack of a better term, can be formed on a professional basis and from there the degree of the relationships depends on the willingness and education of those who live the life there. By education I must say is what you learn at home versus instruction which you learn in schools. As a logger it was tough to establish any kind of camaraderie because we worked alone with a partner, all day, we traveled to and from the site on old school buses, ate together and at 7:15PM the light went out and at 5:00AM it came back on again and we were off to the chow hall and also loggers back then changed jobs often. I was in a nine-man tent, with a wooden roof. It was in reality, a ten-man tent, but number ten was replaced by a stove for heating purposes only. We had one overhead light, one cold water tap and that was it. The only camaraderie we might have had would crop up many years later while talking over morning coffee someplace and someone mentions logging in ‘’the Park’’, then memories, tales and a few lies would serve to connect us, in a certain fashion. The conversation always turned around how much they were getting paid per cord, the jobbers or companies for whom they worked,. Mostly nostalgic stuff I guess, but there remains a certain unity as both have gone through the same hells. They all liked to talk about the hard times, but probably because there were no good ones.

Shipyards were a bit different. Loggers, miners, shipyard workers are what we call a captive work force, which means that their respective trades were only used in the abovementioned domains. This causes a nucleus of workers who work together, sometimes for as much as 40 years or more. Within these ‘’real’’ shipyard workers there is established a closeness and a brotherhood, but it rarely extends beyond the punch clock.. Oh, they’ll meet up for coffee and yak and all, talk about who is sick, who died and who got divorced. In the confines of the yard there is a strong and steadfast union and we watch out for each other and we also marry with other trades, especially us who are called service trades, who serve nearly every trade in the yard. We learn their trades and they learn ours, but there was never any lack of respect by doing another fellow’s job. It was back scratching at its best because we learned enough so as if laid off we could go to another yard with experience in several trades. I learned welding, pipefitting and template making etc. but come 5:00 PM, each one goes his own way.

That is sad in away as many might have related interests in their lives, but never really get a chance to share and build an ‘’out of the yard’’ relationship.

I’ll include a story at the end.

Back in the old Navy it did not work like that, not at all. We not only worked together, but we shared the same sleeping quarters, three-bunk tiers. Definitely a fart was not welcomed! We also stood watches together, and the watch list did not change much. Could have been with a guy in another compartment or the guy in the bunk above you. I’d walk into the plotting room just in time for a card game. How many Friday and Saturday nights did we spend playing cards and drinking coffee until dawn! Some trades with whom we did not associate with but only because trades sort of hung out together.. Snipes would eat on the port side, us white stripers on the starboard and the radiomen, radarmen, sonar guys would eat in the middle. It was like that on all the tin cans back then. Leave out the clans tho, because when we were on the beach and a fight or something broke out, we were all brothers regardless of the trades. Y’know, I’ll tell you how deep tin can roots can go. Over 50 years ago I was a fire control tech aboard the Sampson and the Damato and before that on the Gyatt and somehow some of us met up on the Internet. Well, some guys families had problems, some guys themselves had problems, all had joys, but even if we never sailed together and time had erased names and faces, come a situation, be it good or bad, those guys are there to pray and applaude. Talk about heart warming! Recently several of us went through some tough times in our lives and who showed the most interest? Y,betcha, tin can sailors who have been unseen for over a half a century.

Kinds sez a lot, eh?

Thanx guys…….I love you………Jim

sailorsmom Loc: Souderton, PA

My hubby, who was also in the Navy, enjoyed reading this too!