I was stationed aboard the USS Essex (LHD-2) when my shipmate B and I were called upon to screen the drunken Sailors and Marines attempting to board the small liberty boat, back to our mama (ESSEX). As the night waned on, we had a variety of characters ranging from (understandably) drunk beyond speaking Naval Engineers (the population of the ship with the worst working hours and the worst morale) to Marines who just could not contain their excitement (or alcohol content) in a foreign country having been underway for a considerable amount of time. Motherf*ckers, all they have to do is eat, sleep, PT and clean their weapons. Still, they were ours. I will quote one Marine sitting in the dirt leaned up against a brick wall under our care, mind you, we were wearing shore patrol gear and not a uniform which meant blue jeans and a polo: "Ey….. ey Doc…. how you doin Ey. I like that necklace… want me to give you a reeeeeeal pearl necklace?" (!!!!!!… lmfao) HM2 B and I took care of these kids.
The issue at hand was the fact that we were anchored out off the coast of Bali, Indonesia and the seas were not particularly friendly that evening. This meant that as our liberty boats were approaching the barge, connected to the accomm ladder, the seas posed a life or death situation to anyone who was not fully situationally aware. Imagine being intoxicated on a small boat that then attempting to cross to a wall of concrete as the boat slammed into it over and over as the waves determined your fate. If you slip, or if you haven't timed your jump perfectly you are instantaneously crushed between the barge and the boat, and not in any nice way. Crushed, as in we can't do anything for you. Such a risk, we had (MY FAVORITE RATE in the world's finest Navy!!!!) Boatswains mates standing at the cross point to grab your hand as you jumped when the wave permitted you to cross. It was contingent on HM2 B and I to ensure that each person was alert and oriented before they stepped on that liberty boat.
Our watch had started at 0500 that morning. It was now nearing 0400 the following day. We were exhausted, when we were told that we would not get a vessel back to ESSEX until 0800 because the liberty boat had broken down. We were pissed off and extremely tired emotionally and physically. Suddenly, a vessel became available to get us to the boat. "F*ck, finally!" We said. We boarded this creepy little boat, unlit with a lot of space for us to crash out on. There were no questions about shit. I was going the f*ck to sleep until we arrived at the ship. Wrong… I felt myself being suddenly shaken. It was HM2 B. "DODSON WAKE UP, WAKE THE F*CK UP THERE ARE GUNS BEING POINTED AT US, THEY ARE GOING TO KILL US" …….."B, it is going to be alright. You are just tired. "I AM SERIOUS…. THE 50 CAL IS POINTED AT US AND I JUST SAW A WARNING FLARE…" HM2 Dodson drifts back to sleep, fully believing that B was just delirious from stress and sleep deprivation (we had many lives in our hands that night) and lack of sleep. Shut up, B. Upon arrival to the good ship Essex I found her as she always was… climbed the accomm ladder: "Permission to come aboard", "Come aboard." Shower, toothbrush, rack.
I happened to have a close friend who was an IS (intelligence specialist). He decided to let me in on some "sh*t" about a week later because he was trying to take my mind off of what happened to PS1. Evy knew me well. "Hey so…. we almost killed about 30 of our own people in Bali, IFF." "What do you OOOOOOOH shit!" Instantaneously, I realized the implications. IFF means 'identify friend of foe'. Here is what really went down that night:
F*ck. We are stuck on this stupid pier for another 4 hours. I am hungry, to the point that it hurts (weighing in at 120 lbs at 5'7 with a normal weight of 145). My 24 hour duty just turned into a literal 27 hour watch. I was supposed to go on a day of liberty tomorrow and enjoy Bali. Now, I am going to be unconscious for half of it, in my iron prison while she absorbs my life force as I sleep it off in that stupid rack. God, I really do hate you, Essex. Suddenly, magically, we got a boat home. So while we were dead to the world, we were about to be that way for realskis. We were literally cruising for a bruising. Or a blood bath, but it is whatevs.
Cut to the Sailors standing watch on the boat. What is… why is that weird… what the hell why is it's trajectory towards us? Make comms with it. What no one is responding? F*ck.. well you know what this means….. Moments later AOC Hewhoshallnotbenamed had a 50 CAL trained on our vessel. Some Indonesian dude was driving us towards certain death, terrorist style and we were peacefully sleeping. See, EVERYBODY knows that in the rules of the road: if you are driving anywhere near a US Navy vessel especially a f*cking warship, you MUST contact that vessel and state your business via the VHF Ch 16. I am a Corpsman, and I know that.
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/07/17/world/middleeast/united-states-navy-ship-fires-on-boat-off-coast-of-united-arab-emirates.html
Apparently, the driver of the boat assumed (and you know what that means: U + ME's ASS is going to be splattered all around this dingy little vessel) that intuitively the Command Duty Officer would just sense that it was just his shipmates approaching all willy nilly and unannounced and in a darkened vessel. I am actually not certain what happened from here. But I know that my IS friend confirmed B's story: Warning flares were fired. Warning flares indicate that you have 5 seconds to make comms or deadly force will be applied. I want to say that we were probably 1-2 seconds away from heaven. Someone, and I am not sure who, pulled their head out of their ass and quickly made comms. "THIS IS ESSEX SHORE PATROL, DO NOT FIRE, DO NOT FIRE." Then I asked the dumbest, most naive question in history: "Well… maybe only a few people would have been killed?"
Ok… this dude… this AOC and it wasn't just a 50 cal. These people have gone a career as Gunners Mates and Ordinanceman sitting the f*ck on ships moving ordinance around and firing practice rounds off f*cking catwalks and fantails.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MLKufd_EtvU
"I wish a mothaf*cka would climb in this g*ddamned cage"
Do you really think anyone would have survived? NO!!!! "GREENRANGE, PORTSIDE!" Done. All of us. And the funniest part is that none of us who were sleeping had a clue. I asked my Senior Chief as he was on that vessel with B and I, even though he wasn't the senior watch o that day, only for medical.. after having gotten that intel and he started giggling and walked away. "Maaaaaaaaaaaaan thas focked up yoh." (HM1 W... anyone?)
Really though, that would have sucked. I can't imagine my brothers and sisters dragging me, B and Seniors dead bodies out of that boat and putting us in the morgue. Our morgue would have been full, and it would have ruined Bali for everyone, that is for sure. Then Navy Times would have legit had an article that they would not have had to lie about.
Since God was looking out for us, (because I know my Grandma Dianne is praying for me on the daily) here is how my day actually went: Senior let B and I sleep through duty section muster (we boarded the ship around 05, duty section turn over starts in medical at 06). We could have all been asleep for all eternity.
I slept so hard and awoke in time to head out with my brother, Aggie and my little sister Price. The sun was bright and there just wasn't any way to be tired that day as we approached the pier, excuse me, the Port of Benoa. Beautiful women with leis greeted us, they were playing, yes, literally, harps to greet us. Man, even I would have gotten with those chicks… haha. I got a light chem peel, we all got our hair and nails done. I stumbled into the cleanest, brightest, most powerful positive energy force I have ever encountered or experienced by going into a small shop. I felt the light and wellness seeping into my entire being (honestly, all of Bali has healing properties I am totally convinced). We ended our perfect day by going shopping for knock off designer bags, insane replicas made of real leather on the cheap, I got 2 Pradas, a Lois Vuitton and a Jimmy Choo walet and bag. Laughing and joking and OOOOOOOHSHIT liberty expires at 2200 not 2300 (intel we got upon casually asking a Shipmate on the street)... Pineapple express style…. "We gotta…. we gotta get the f*ck outta here!" And so began our sprint back, bags and all.
Sitting in a Hard Rock Cafe, Bali earlier that day, I had downloaded Rihanna's newest album. After the intensely stressful mad dash back, we made the bus. I sat back and turned on my iPod. I heard this song for the first time. It forever captivates my experience that day. All the love and gratitude I felt for being there with people I cared about, absorbing the good vibes. The peace.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tg00YEETFzg
So the next day I hated my life again at O-dark-thirty: "Station, the sea and anchor detail. Station, the sea and anchor detail." FML, retrospectively. That is all.
-Ya favorite Doc
