Reprinted from Sax and Violets.
Besides the obvious duties of sailors at sea, there are also "collateral" duties. These can be easy, like making coffee for the mess, or really onerous like mess cooking (mess cranking) for months at a time.
Back in 1975, one of those duties was Photo Intelligence (PHOTINT). Each ship had a regulation camera to make visual records of any intelligence opportunity. Now, that was a problem because the Navy was winding down from Vietnam. As people transferred to different ships, or left the service, we often got no replacements to fill the gaps. As a result, it was very challenging to get dog-tired sailors to do extra work when a Soviet ship showed up.
On the way to our Northern Europe cruise, the Captain recognized that the Photo Intel Team wasn't doing anything. It had become just a collateral joke.
So, he sat me down and said I was the new Photo Intelligence Officer. And that it was my job to motivate the team to do good work.
This was not welcome news, since I was already filling in for the position of Electronic Material besides my assigned billet, plus about six collateral duties.
Seeing my face drop, the Captain gave me some advice: find a way to make the team enthusiastic - make it enjoyable and something they would want to do.
"Gee thanks, Captain." I thought. Well, first trying to figure this out, I thought photography aficionados would be enthusiastic about taking pictures and using the authorized camera.
There were some photo fans but the thought of possibly losing more sleep and using the POS regulation camera was not appealing.
That left the other suggestion, to make it fun!
At that time, the duty funny man onboard was Radio Chief Charlie Brown. He came across as an easy going guy and the Radiomen loved him. He didn't try to be a hard-ass and was easy to work for. However, if you screwed up, he became a towering chief at the drop of a hat. What made him my resource was his unending stream of jokes. None of which I can put down as they were clearly not meant for the sensitive ears of women or children.
I had one idea to rename the team. Before leaving Norfolk, the Ringling Brothers Circus ran some radio ads. They had a problem with their animals. Every day the animals created about a ton of defecation. Getting rid of that for a week was very trying and not a little bit expensive.
So they had a give away. "Do you have plants in your garden that need some TLC? We have lion poopoo for your lilies - we have zebra poopoo for your azaleas - we have elephant poopoo for your elms. Just bring your own bag and help yourselves."
In the background, a horrified voice exclaimed, "You can't sell poopoo on the radio!"
"Oh, we're selling it! We are giving it away!"
Silly as this sounds, it worked. Sailors that had no interest in the circus, or in zoos, laughed and went.
Thinking about this and how they grabbed the sailors, it seemed something funny like that ad, might get some enthusiasm.
After lunch one day, the wardroom was empty and I invited the Chief to hear me out.
Well, living as pigs - like one does in the wardroom - he preferred to talk in the Chief's Mess, a.k.a. The Goat Locker. This was unexpected as the Chief's Mess is sacrosanct to us mere chauffeurs and I jumped at the chance.
There didn't seem much special there that one could see, but the privacy was appreciated, and the coffee was definitely a grade better.
I explained the problem to the Chief, and my idea was to rename the Photo Intel team to the Fast Action Reporting Team, or the FART.
Well, his eyes lit up and he was off to the races. I would become the Fast Action Reporting Officer. the FARO.
The former Photo officer would be the Primary Observing Officer, the POO.
The senior enlisted photographer would be the Senior Naval Investigator for the FART, the SNIFF.
The recorder was to be the Foto Edit Coder Enlisted Specialist, the FECES.
He came up with like five more acronyms like these. I was writing fast to keep up.
Well, to get it up and running we typed the idea up and looked for the Captain. He was sitting in his chair on the bridge talking to the XO. The Captain saw us waiting and asked what was up, expecting to hear that some radio equipment was down.
I handed the typed up sheet over and he looked at it. He got that loopy, lopsided grin that showed occasionally.
Handing it to the XO, "What do you think, Gerry?" XO took one look and seemed about to gag.
Before he got a word out, the Captain said let's try it. And damned if it didn't work. Instead of another chore, it became some kind of a game. When the bridge spotted a Soviet, then over the 1MC announcing system, "Away the FART." And people volunteered to be part of the team. It sounds like something out of a boy's magazine, but as usual Captain Boorda knew his sailors.
That is hysterical! Thanks for sharing.
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