By Don
We had a prematurely grey 21 year old pilot, Harry. We would go with Harry to our favorite pub, the Waterlot Inn, and sit outside for lunch where other tables were within easy earshot of our conversation. We would ask Harry questions as to what it was like in the old days to fly the great British clipper seaplanes from the UK to Bermuda. The surrounding tables would listen to this apparent grand old old aviator's tales as he would point to nearby Ireland's Island and say that yes, he flew many a trip to right there. We were obviously navy pilots from the base that idolized this old geezer who would be embellishing his sea stories of yore. It was great sport as we had our lunch and drinks. Harry was also prone to borrowing $20 and “forgetting” to pay us back, probably due to his being quite drunk at the time. We got our money back by waiting until Harry was again inebriated and asking him for $20. Of course he could not remember his borrowing or our method other getting our money back.
One strange character decorated his room with a solitary can of spinach hanging from the ceiling. He never explained that oddity. Another pilot could not find his “other” white glove for an Admiral’s inspection in Tropical Whites. So he stood at attention wearing one white glove and one white sock. Another guy was the athletic officer and he vowed that as long as he had that billet, there would be no athletics. He did order ping pong balls but claimed that he just made a mistake when a pallet load showed up. We had a designated “uncouth officer.” This of course meant we also had a designated “couth” officer.
One officer did not have his picture posted along with the other officers on the squadron picture board. Big Boo Boo. He was told numerous times to go to the photo lab and get his picture taken but he said he was too busy. The CO finally sent for him and chewed him out as there was another Admiral’s inspection coming up. Seeing the picture board unlocked by the leading Chief who was removing the photo of a pilot who had left the squadron, he talked the Chief into putting the photo of the now gone pilot into the slot for the missing photo. It went in right above the correct name plate. The Chief smiled knowingly because he knew the charade would not last. In about a week the CO saw the wrong photo above the right name and again sent for that pilot. In pleading his case, the pilot said...”Captain, do you really think the Admiral would stop in front of the picture board and say that the wrong photo was above the name of LTJG Lidke?” Of course the Admiral did not know who was who anyway. And that is how, after a year, I saw to it that my photo was properly hung on the squadron picture board.
Another time there was going to be a surprise "recall” to see if those in the Bachelor Officer Quarters could report in a timely manner to the squadron in an emergency. Of course we all knew when this surprise drill would happen. And the hated LT Schmuck that lived to make our happy go lucky group miserable also lived in the BOQ. When the word came around 2 AM, we all snuck out of the building and reported to the squadron. The only one missing was Lt Schmuck. He made trouble for us and reciprocity took various forms. During one loud party, he yelled at us for being too noisy and took many names. As he wrote the names he looked at me, sitting quietly there with my bongo and asked do you want want to join this list? I replied by beating my bongo. Later the Executive Officer said to me. Mr Lidke do you play the bongos? I said no, not really but it seemed like the right thing to do because he (Lt Schmuck) was about to froth at the mouth and we all wanted to see that. Afterwards, a steward came to the party room to warn us that “That man, he crazy, he called the Marine Officer of the Day saying there is an open revolt in the BOQ.” We fell down laughing. The CO and XO tore up the list and BOQ life resumed as usual.
One day, Doris and I were in the Commissary when an officer said I was to report to the XO immediately. It seems that three days prior, while two planes and crews were on temporary duty at Key West, a plane dropped box lunch “garbage” on the Havana-Key West Ferry. It was years before Castro but still could have risen to an international incident. Mostly because the Ferry Captain appeared at the Admiral’s office with old box lunch mayonnaise on his uniform. He said in broken Spanish, it was a large seaplane that did it. Naturally it must have been Lidke because it was so accurate a drop. I drew a rough sketch of our two hour track from memory that was as accurate as the actual track produced by my navigator. The two tracks were so similar that it looked like we were in cahoots and lying. Somewhere I still have that sketch. My co-pilot on that flight was a LTJG that later made Admiral. I knew the other plane did it but that pilot was a wuss and I got even with him later.
One day at happy hour at the O’ Club bar, Leroy the bartender rang the bell. That meant that someone came in wearing his cover, or hat. It was a full Commander from Norfolk. All Navy O Clubs have a rule that “All who enter covered here, buys the bar a round of cheer.” It could amount to a big bar bill as I found out one day in Kingsville, TX. The CDR said he was not buying any drinks and returned to the foyer and put his hat with all its expensive gold leaf on a table. Three of us left the bar, took his hat, went down to the edge of the water at Port Royal and threw the hat into the water. We watched it float and sink and went back to the bar. Some rules are inviolate, some are sacrosanct and he screwed up and paid for it by buying a new hat.
The Bermuda Police were rather British and oh so proper. The judges wore wigs. One night I was speeding in my VW bug along South Shore Rd. and noticed a blue flashing light in my mirror. Since the Waterlot was my destination and its driveway was right there, I pulled in. I was in Dress Blues. I got out and came to attention as the officer got out of his car. He whipped his right hand into that flat well known British salute to his ear, smiled and said, “You looked very good on the turns sir.” I returned his salute and stood by as he wrote me a ticket that cost 35 pounds at $2.32 per pound. You did not mess with Bermudian law and order.
A squadron pilot that got caught driving while intoxicated the second time went straight to the “pea farm” or jail where they grew veggies while waiting for trial. That officer got a Navy undesirable discharge and a ticket home. But British law and civil servants were also to be honored. On a car inspection, my VW had a tail light out and I was being told what to do about it which was very involved. The uniformed man suddenly stopped when he looked at my ID. He said, “Oh I see you are an officer, of course we will take your word.” Certainly a far cry from signs around Norfolk that said “Dogs and Sailors keep off the grass.” Rank has its privilege but it come with the expectation of honor and discipline.
Next dog story....In 1958 there were a series of murders on Bermuda and one woman was found cut up about a mile from our cottage, near Marley Beach. Scotland Yard was flown in from London. Some of the guys now living ashore armed themselves. This resulted in a few incidents of hearing a noise at night and reaching for a weapon only to find that it was his roommate coming in on the side roof and through a window. At the time, a couple was due to leave the squadron and had a German Shepherd pup. They were going to put him down but said they would sell him for $60. At the time there was a serial killer in the States due for execution named Carol Chessman. So we referred to the dog as Chesman and said we would not save him. But we did and he was loyal and the greatest guard dog ever. We still miss him.
After Doris and I got back from our honeymoon at Caneel Bay, we paid our respects many nights with the bachelors of Patrol Squadron 45. They were characters that not even Hollywood could invent. Of those that I knew well, most are still alive, some still married to their one and only, some not so lucky at marriage and none of them as lucky as me since I met Doris at Bermuda’s Elbow Beach Hotel…..Grandpaw.