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How Ken (Pig Pen) Henry got his name...
We have a young sailor named Ken Who’s belly is as big as ten men An earring in his head His brains made of lead So we decided to call him “Pig Pen!”
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“Sea Stories...and other Tall Tales” |
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Open letter to the Doc:
Dear Doc: Have you checked on Andrews Lately? He either needs some liberty or a session on your couch. He has been observed talking to a seabag in Hogan’s Alley.
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From the pages of The “TRUTTA CRONICLE” 1958 |
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Is it true that dirty Laundry, snubbed by Pig-Pen, has switched his affections to Bonnie Love??? If not, why did he make bonnie a coffee cup holder with his own Lilly white hands? |
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Our roving reporter tells us that Ben Hensley is becoming self conscious about his ears. Seems they’ve been mistaken for rigged out bow planes. He’s now attempting to flatten them out by sleeping with masking tape wrapped around his head. |
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USS TRUTTA (SS-421) |
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Toulon, France, May, 1967 by Bill Moak
During our Spring/Summer Med Trip. We stopped in Toulon, France for what was likely four to five days. During our visit, the French were celebrating the equivalent of our Memorial Day. Relations with France at the time were tentative at best, and I seem to recall that Trutta was on of, if not the last U.S. Warship to experience liberty in a French port for some time after.
On our first liberty, I was joined by Willie Faison, Harvey (Runt) Connor, and Steve Craven. We strolled along the waterfront, past restaurants and shops, and stumbled on what turned out to be a street carnival, with a make shift midway. We came upon a shooting gallery that hardly challenged anyone’s skill of marksmanship. They had wine and champagne bottles lined up with pieces of chalk fastened just above each bottle. For the equivalent of 40 cents American, each shooter got two shots. These targets were no more than 6-8 feet from is, and we began accumulating bottles at a rapid rate. Soon we had, between us, what must have been 25 bottles of wine and champagne. While we were there contemplating how we would transport these bottles to our next destination, we noticed two French soldiers approach. They had apparently witnessed our achievement, and were going to attempt to show us up. Well, it rapidly became evident why the French did so poorly in WWII. These guys couldn’t hit a thing. We felt it best to move on, and with our booty well in hand, we found a place to sit, and began to partake. We started on the champagne, which could be found easily, and noisily opened. We had downed maybe two bottles when we noticed a group of about 12 French Army soldiers approaching. After our initial encounter with their cohorts at the midway, we sought to be hospitable, and we offered them bottles of wine. At first they refused, but after our futile attempts to communicate with each other, we gave them two bottles, and set off for other vistas or venues. They seemed pleased, as did we for doing our best to advance foreign relations.
At this point we came upon an area within the street, where they had cordoned off a lengthy section for bicycle races. We climbed to the top of a bleacher, away from the locals, and again began our assault on the remaining bottles of spirits. To our chagrin, we found corks in the wine bottles, and of course, none of us had a corkscrew, or any equivalent to open these dozen or more bottles. Lo and behold, a couple of young French kids noticed our fumbling and approached us. One of the boys, maybe 9 or 10, gestured toward the bottle. We thought that perhaps he wanted the wine. However, from this pocket he produces a bent nail, about a ten penny or larger, and begins pushing the cork inward. We try, unsuccessfully, to prevent him from doing this, as we are sure it won’t remove the cork. Before we can grab away the bottle, voila, the cork is inside. We’re thinking great now what? The boy tilts the bottle, and we watch the cork flow up, as the bottle is tilted. He opens another two bottles as before, and now we are set. Passing around the bottles, and taking our swigs. To reward the industrious lad, we gather all the change in our pockets, French coins of whose value we have no clue, and present them to him for a job well done. I’ll never forget the look on his face! They scurry down to their family, and show the coins to what I am guessing, was their Grandfather. The old gent, Maybe 60-70, waggles his finger at the boys, and points back toward us. The two boys dejectedly return and had over the coins. We initially refused to take them back; gesturing to Grandpa that’s it’s okay with us. He sternly objects, and waggles the finger now at us. We feel bad. The kid did a good turn, and we only wanted to reward him. Shortly thereafter, a vendor is spotted, working his way toward the boys and us. This guy had pinwheels. French flags, some type of bicycle medallion, of which I still have one, balloons, and other trinkets. We go to the vendor and buy two of everything, and then approach the boys and their family, I approach the old man, with gifts in hand, and gesture toward the boys with the load of goodies. Initially he protested, then acquiesced. Another thing I won’t forget is how excited the boys became having just received all the trinkets. They ran around waving the flags and pinwheels, and we pinned the medallions on each.
As we turned to return to out roost above the locals, the old man stretched out his hand, and gave me a firm shake. The gratitude was evident in his eyes, as was the reaction of the rest of his family members. By this time the boys were running all about the grandstands. We felt very good after that, and only a bit of which was the wine and champagne’s responsibility.
Later that evening, Willie and I were headed back to the boat, when we came upon a parade. While the X.O. had told us at quarters that there was some anti-American sentiment among the French, and we should avoid any public celebrations, we stood along the street to watch. As the end of the parade neared, we could see a number of French sailors following in line. As they saw us, they grabbed us, switched our white hats for theirs, and arm in arm we joined in the parade. Again, we felt we had done our part to smooth relations with the French.
As we are making our way to the boat, walking along the docks that led to our mooring, a car pulls up alongside and stops. We immediately notice that it is not only a Navy vehicle, but that a two star flag is flying from the front fender. The door opens, and Sublant Fleet himself asks, “You boys need a lift?” We acknowledge, and he invites us in. He asks if we’re from Trutta, land again we respond affirmatively. He asks if we have enjoyed our day in Toulon, and we describe our events, except for the parade. It is at this point hat he inquires if either of us had seen tow U.S. sailors joined with the French in the parade. I’m sure neither of us wanted to admit our participation, but neither did we wish to lie. So we admit to being the two. Tow our amazement, he states, “Good bit of International diplomacy gentlemen.” We continued to explain how we were coerced into the parade, and he tells us he understood. “I was young once too, you know.” He told us to go ahead and board, and to tell the captain he was about to board, We advised the topside watch, and went below feeling that this was one day we would remember for a long time. |
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I made a macramé lace curtain strip that we hung on the hand rail above the Conning Officer where the Captain stood when we were coming in or out of port. I know there were a million square knots in the two of them. We were visiting another port, I think Ft. Lauderdale, and we had an open house. The Topside Watch, Duty Officer, and Duty Chief were topside greeting people as they came aboard.
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COOKING WITH SOAP by Digger O'Dell
I had the below decks mid watch and was making a fresh pat of “mud” when R.J. TM2(SS) crashed down the After Battery ladder around 0300 hrs. He’d spent the evening and most of the night at Sloppy Joe’s. Was hungry as a bear; so I went into the Refer and got eggs and bacon to cook. R.J. insisted on frying his own eggs. Those were the most perfect Sunny Side Up eggs that I had ever seen. He wolfed them down and said he was going to hit the rack. About 1 minute later foam started coming from his mouth. Scared the crap out of me and the Doc wasn’t aboard. A few seconds later most of the crews mess was covered with recycled egg and whatever. R.J. was OK after that: so I checked the Galley and found out what had happened. Cookie had 2 identical cans on the shelf above the stove. One Vegetable Oil and the other: that concentrated Detergent. Do we need to guess what R.J. had fried his eggs in?” |
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Fire on the USS BUSHNELL by Digger O’Dell
The USS BUSHNELL was our Mother. Didn’t like being tied outboard her. Too much surface ship B.S. when going on liberty. I do have fond memories of the old gal though. She & her crew took good care of us. The Burning Bush we called her after the fire in the Fwd. Engine room in ‘67 or ‘68. I was in the dive-in movie on Stock Island Florida when they shut down the flic and turned all the lights on to announce for all personnel of submarine Squadron 12 to return to assist in fighting the fire if needed. What a sight it was. No. 1 stack glowing red from the fire. It appeared that she would burn to the waterline. The fire was the beginning of the end for her. The USS Gillmore replaced her. |
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“...once a submariner, always a submariner.” |
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Highline Ride by R.B. Casto
I missed the boat movement and had to hitch a ride on the Sea Cat (SS-399) to catch our boat at sea. The only way to transfer people or other items at sea is by using the Highline Transfer method. Since we don’t use this method very often, you knew it was going to be a very exciting ride to say the least. Sea Cat maneuvered along side the Trutta. We used the Trutta’s highline gear. I had great trust in the gear and the men on the other end of the lines. After all, I knew the crew didn’t want to “dunk” their COB in the water. When they sent me off in the Boatsen Chair I was hanging on like a T M, Trained Monkey. When I hit the deck of the Trutta I was out of that chair in a flash and kissed the deck of home. The only thing I remember about the ride over was that you couldn’t drive a needle up my rear end with a sledge hammer! |
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The Second 16mm Projector by Digger O’Dell
Did ya ever wonder how Trutta had (2) 16MM projectors? The new one was to be used anywhere. The second was used, well...at Sigby’s Park or the Ponderosa Snake Ranch. In the After Battery the Shit Kicker flicks were shown. In Tubes Aft the more racy Skin Flicks were shown.
No. 3 engine was being overhauled and I was in the AUX Gang. Kenny Wiggins gave me all the NQPs to get dummy pistons from the Bushnell, and I helped out the engine gang. With the Chit in hand for 20 dummy pistons, I took the work crew into the holds of the Bushnell. They were loading and stacking...I was “Nip Shitting” at all the other stuff down in the hold. One row of wooden boxes were marked: Projector: Movie: 16MM. Same size box as the pistons. We left the Bushnell with 21 boxes. |
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Macramé Lace by R.B. Casto |
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A little boy about 6 or 7 came aboard. The Duty Chief watched as the little boy pointed to the Brow curtain and said, “who crocheted that?” The duty officer said he’d ask the COB. I was aft of the sail doing something when the duty officer asked me to come up and answer the young mans question. As everybody was laughing I tried to explain the difference between lace and macramé. You can imagine the ribbing I took because I could tie square knots. We were the only Boat in Squadron 12 that had a brow curtain with Macramé Lace on it, and I know the crew sure liked it! Officer were topside greeting people as they came |
