GMGC Dobbins was the boss of 3rd Division aboard my ship, USS NUECES (APB-40).  His immediate boss was LTjg Bradley.  Both of them were some of the best folks I have had the pleasure to work with on active duty or in Reserves.  Chief Dobbins was the first black chief to report aboard our ship when we began relieving the original commissioning crew in March of 1969.  The original guys had spent over a year in the combat zone and were slowly, but surely, being rotated to other ships and stations.

 

Before we left the Mekong River for good, two other black chiefs reported aboard ship: CSC Nixon (ship's cook) and SKCS Driver (senior chief store keeper).  Because Senior Chief Driver had the rank, he was made the ship's Master At Arms (a sort of glorified chief of police).  The MAA's job was to enforce order and discipline aboard ship.  Senior Chief Driver (his demeanor always reminded me of a bulldog) seemed to go out of his way to antagonize members of ship's company.  He was not well-liked and even Chief Dobbins tried to steer clear of him as much as possible.  For the most part, third division members hung out in the ship's armory when off duty so as to be out of the Senior Chief's baleful gaze.

 

Chief Nixon (who bore a striking resemblance to the entertainer Sammy Davis, Jr.), on the other hand, was our Number One cook and was responsible for feeding both ship's company and embarked troops.  Unfortunately for all of us, his abilities when it came to feeding us were not matched by his rank.  Another thing he instituted was that ship's company no longer had head of the line privledges (priority) when it came to being fed.  This became a problem when we had embarked troops because, without anything to do, they would line-up for chow long before ship's company secured from their normal work.  There was nothing more frustrating than to que-up for the chowline that already extended from the crew's mess, out the hatch, down the starboard side, around the fantail and up the portside when one got off work.  Some of the more resourceful of us decided that, as far as the noon meal was concerned, it was time to take drastic action.

 

I had gotten acquainted with one of our 4th Bn, 47th Rgt, 9th Div. supply sergeants, Barry Camp.  One day I walked up to his supply hut -- a green-painted 2x4, plywood, and corrugated steel-roofed shack -- that was build on the pontoon tied to the starboard side of our ship.  "Barry, the guys I work with are really getting tired of bringing up the rear in the chowline.  Can you give us (there were four of us, including me) a couple of cases of C-Rats apiece?"

 

Barry was somewhat astonished by the request because C-Rats were generally the last thing a sailor would request from Supply.  [C-Rations were canned food that came in a cardboard box, 12 meals to a case.  Also included was beverage powder (coffee and hot chocolate) as well as a plastic spoon and some condiments to make the stuff edible.]  He agreed and gave each of us two cases of C-Rats apiece.  We then hiked up the ship's accomodation ladder and stashed them away.

 

The next day, the Army troops were qued-up for chow as usual at noon.  They expected the usually belly-aching from the Navy guys about not getting to eat when we wandered by with boxes of C-Rats on our way to eat.  We got some very strange looks as if we'd just escaped from the looney bin.  No Army trooper in his right mind would opt for C-Rats when there was real food to be had. 

 

Later on, Sgt. Camp provided us with some of the freeze-dried Long Range Patrol Rations (pronounced "lurps").  [The LRPR or "lurp" came three meals of the same kind, eight menus to a case for a total of 24 individual bags.  Unlike the C-Rats that could be heated or eaten cold, the "lurps" had to be reconstituted with boiling hot water.  As that wasn't a problem for us, we happily munched on the new addition to our selection of meals.  The freeze-dried meals were more expensive than the C-Rations and weren't as common to get as the former.]

 

Then the word came down that we were leaving the combat zone to take the ship to Long Beach Naval Shipyard, California, for decommissioning.  We stocked up on C-Rats and "lurps" for the trip home.  Our transit time was about six weeks, including stops and we weren't taking any chances with Chief Nixon's galley.

 

We arrived back in the States about a week and a half before the Thanksgiving holiday.  Chief Nixon had decided to do a full Thanksgiving meal for the crew.  Since my parents had come to Long Beach to welcome the ship back, I decided to have the holiday meal with them.  I was glad that I did.

 

When I talked with him the next day, Chief Dobbins was really upset with Chief Nixon.  Chief Dobbins had brought his family -- wife and two children -- to have Thanksgiving aboard ship in the Chief's Mess.  Chief Nixon managed to screw-up the turkey dinner and dressing.  He'd even "enhanced" the tomato juice.  [Whatever he did, most of the stuff was barely edible.]  Being barely edible was bad enough, but the Chief was paying the Chief's Mess for his, his wife's, and his kid's meals.  That really got him hot under the collar. 

 

Fortunately, for all concerned, both CSC Nixon and SKCS Driver were transferred off the ship before the Christmas-New Year holidays and our lives improved.