I was an excellent student through eighth grade or so. I think it had a lot to do with getting thrashed regularly in Monopoly by my older brother. I knew how much I owed if I landed on Illinois Avenue with three houses, how many houses and/or properties I had to hock, and what I needed to roll to stay off his hotels. That and being raised by a librarian and the son of an English teacher meant I had much of what I needed for those elementary/intermediate years.
But I found high school a bit harder. As a result, my grades were decent, but I didn’t put enough into it. This meant I had few alternatives upon graduation. So in March 1989, I signed up to join Uncle Sam’s Navy, actually enlisting in August of that year.
Following basic training and “A” school (stories for future entries), I got orders for Pearl Harbor, Hawaii to the USS Benjamin Stoddert, reporting onboard in February 1990. Benjamin Stoddert was the first Secretary of the Navy of the United States. My rate (MOS) was Operations Specialist, tracking air, surface and subsurface contacts, meaning we had very little to do inport, with nothing to track.
One day, June 14, 1990, was Flag Day, an inport day, and an off day, or so I thought. The plans of the day of the week leading up to the 14th made no mention of a Federal holiday. I stayed in my rack anyhow, thinking it was a free day. For some reason, I thought if I played the part thinking, somehow, as an 18-year-old and lowest man on the totem pole, that I could make myself and others believe it.
No dice. My shipmates went up to morning quarters and returned, with me still in my pit. I think I got laughed at, and never got in trouble or anything. The thought was that this was so utterly preposterous that all I ever got was a serious dogging. Besides-- that was far from the worst stunt I pulled on the Benny Sweat. I am now Facebook friends with a lot of those guys I served with, and I’m happy to say they've made sure the legend of Flag Day continues.
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