Monkey Business

Every so often I come across random things at the archives that I can't help but type up for posterity (since I unfortunately can't take them home with me). I have quite a few funny quotes from WWII letters saved, but my favorite was included in some personal correspondence -- maybe I'm too easily amused by "old" humor, but this anecdote cracked me up when I read it.

Monkey Business

Most people, mainly men, in the Navy have the aspiration of being a sailor. They have been put in this situation by voluntary methods and also the much criticized procedure of drafts.

While ashore they sniff deeply at the seaside with the hope it will smell familiar and often cultivate the salty feeling by tarnishing gold braid, severely treating their skull caps until threadbare, and even to the point of downing dozens of beers thoroughly sprinkled with the shaker.

Once at sea this quest becomes an insatiable obcession [sic], mainly perhaps because of the brews to salt. The results begin to appear in pierced ear lobes from which blood drips for several days and then a gold ear ring for the proceeding weeks. This is done mostly in the bosun mate department as for some reason they think they should be sailors more than anyone else.

By the time the ship has dropped a hook in a tropical port all departments, even yeomen, have their mind firmly set on being sailors but after seeing a bosun mate’s ear disappear in a combined rassel and fistic match they turn their efforts now to parrots. This is known as the “rob your sons [sic] truseau” movement and when the first liberty party returns it is embellished with green, red, white, and blue varieties of the feathered nutcrackers. They are very nautical birds indeed and similar to the ship’s P.A. system have a language absolutely unintelligible. The little pruners afford real pleasure though giving one the shock of seeing the end of your best friends [sic] finger disappear as he pets it.

But parrots cannot be had by all so in the first Philippine port the liberty launch is overflowing with potential sailors and it is rumered [sic] that some in the starboard section even went over the side to swim ashore. Since the cat houses are not the cleanest in the world most of the lads decline even though they do want to be sailors. This contingent comes back to the ship sporting monkeys while the others acquire something else. Both are considered very nautical but only one goes in your records.

It was about at this stage that I had my first introduction to monkeys. It was a matter of accident rather than chastity since the creature belonged to another. Minding my own business and deep in the thought of where I could rustle up a quart of scotch I nonchalantly descended the stairs of the hotel and rather than use the door I stepped through the nearest shell hole. It was then that I met the monkey. My first advance was the accidently stepping on his tail which I later observed is always stretched out in a prominent spot. His reply astonished me as I distinctly recognized it as a shrill screeching “sonuvabitch!”. I stopped instantly forgetting to move my pedal member which impaled the animal securely to the ground, at least at one end. The other end was not so favorably disposed and manifested itself by assailing my available length of leg with much scratching carried on by four well adapted feet and at the same time biting several notches in my shin. With a mighty wrench he jerked from beneath my foot and tried to put his mind at ease by profuse cursing from a second story window. I got my scotch.

Since I’m not one to hold a grudge I resolved to renew my acquaintance with this animal and possibly with better results as I’m thinking that a monkey perched on my shoulder would make quite a nautical sight to my less fortunate associates. Now this monkey was a very lovable character with some of the boys and cuddled up in their arms and made himself very agreeable indeed. So with such visions in mind I approached him and was astonished by his good behavior. He was every inch a gentleman, tearing up the pack of cigarettes in my pocket and then perched on my shoulder as all monkeys should have a firm grasp on one ear, a foot straining on my collar, one hand searching my hair, and the other foot scratching his bottom. The little demon soon tired of this or perhaps he remembered out [sic] meeting the day before as he scrambled from my shoulder down my shirt. He peed in my pocket. With a mighty oath I swung in his direction but by then he was again up in the second story window this time making faces and much laughter. My feelings were hurt and my wrath flared. My shirt was wet too.

Now I am a mild mannered fellow and after a change of shirts I consoled myself with the thought that now the monk would surely feel the score was even and perhaps we could enter into a peaceful relationship. I am still believing this conviction but it’s hard to believe that he broke the egg in my helmet this morning with the spirit of fun.

Now for a traditional Navy recipe, straight from the U.S. Navy's website... Navy Bean Soup! This recipes yields enough to feed an army.. or a navy.. or any other large gathering of people.


Ingredients

- 6 pounds dry white beans

- 7 gallons of ham stock

- 8 ham bones

- 1 pound shredded carrots

- 2 pounds finely-sliced onions

- 1/2 pound hard wheat flour, sifted

- cold water

- pepper


Directions

1. Wash your beans, then put them in a pot.

2. Add the ham stock and ham bones, heat to a boiling point, then simmer for 2-3 hours until the beans are tender. Remove the bones.

3. Add carrots, onions, and pepper to the soup, then simmer for 30 minutes.

4. Blend the flour with cold water to form a smooth paste, then stir into the soup. Let the soup cook and thicken for 10 minutes, then serve.


This'll serve 100 people, so if you don't have large pots or 100 people to feed, you might try cutting it down to a much smaller recipe. I'm terrible at converting liquid and dry ounces/pounds/gallons/what-have-you, so if you want to serve less people, best of luck!