COUGAR SCREAM

"The Cougar Scream has not told us much about any of the Chiefs on board", said a member of the crew recently, "except that they run complicated acey ducey and cribbage tournaments."

Thanks for the suggestion. In speaking of smart ship, it is always taken for granted that one of the reasons: it gets that way is because industrious and efficient CPOs are on the job.

A lot of water flows past the bows in the development of a chief petty officer. For example, the treasurer of the C.P.O. mess, W. A. Parcell C.G.M., has had twenty two years of active service, most of it on sea duty.

Born in Clarkstown, Ky., Parcell entered the Navy on January 8, 1920 in nearby Louisville, and at the Great Lakes Naval Training Station, met at close range his first Chief Petty Officer, the authoritative and seemingly omniscient personage who was his Company Commander. He went to the U. S. S. Henderson by way of the Naval Air Station at Norfolk. In 1922 many of the high ranking officers of the Navy of the class of 1881, mostly Admirals, made an interesting trip with a Congressional Committee, in the Henderson, to China.

From that transport, Chief Parcell was transferred to the U. S. S. Arkansas. From 1923 to 1925 the Arkansas' steaming included midshipmen cruises to Europe.

After serving in the U. S. S. Florida from 1925 to 1927, he was transferred to the U. S. S. Tulsa where he remained for eight years, 1927 to 1936. Although attached to the Tulsa he spent one year with a landing force in Nicanagua during the days when the bandit Sandino was fomenting many an international headache. The last four years of duty on board the Tulsa were W. A. PARCELL, CGM spent in Chinese waters. In 1933, he was made Chief. From 1935 to 1938 he was on duty at the Training Station in Newport, putting new companies through the twelve weeks' period of training. Like all company commanders he considered the training period all too short in which to get a little of a recruit's ignorance of nautical matters, arranged in order.

When the time came to quit pondering order the problem as to whether or not his own company back in 1920 had recruits with as many thumbs and left feet as the new crop, he was assigned one of the crew to put the U. S. S. Wichita in commission, serving in her for eighteen months. This duty turned out to be good preparation for his transfer to the Washington-Outfitting Detail which he joined in September 1940 at Philadelphia. His battle station is Repair 3, in charge of magazine sprinkling control. The Washington, he states, is a grand ship -- the finest and mightiest in the history of the Navy.

Ensign P. P. Wienick has as one of his hobbies a collection of beautiful photographic portraits of which he is proud. Perhaps his outstanding hobby is the writing of musical compositions. To date he has composed twenty-four songs, several of which are in the hands of such band leaders as Orrin Tucker or have been played at Academy hops. He has sung in Gilbert and Sullivan operettas, the All New York City Glee Club, and the Glee Club at Annapolis. He has seen and heard about one hundred and four opera performances and is fond of classical music. However, Mr. Wienick also likes sweet swing of a solid variety. He enjoys dancing and has developed several original steps.

After two Years in Brooklyn College, majoring in mathematics, Mr. Wienick entered the Naval Academy. He took part in several plebe sports and also is fond of skiing and ice skating. Hailing from Brooklyn, naturally he is a rabid Dodger fan.

Lieutenant (2nd at the time): "Top, I missed the boat again. My number must be lost." Top: "Fret not, Lieutenant, sir; I'm sure First Lieutenancy is in the bag before the year is done." Truer words were never said, and more. Hence, our felicitations to Captain Jones M. Platt, U.S.M.C., who has scaled the second and third rungs of the ladder in two months--First Lieutenant, 13 April; Captain, 22 May.

In this respect, honorable mention is also given Platoon Sergeant James Davidson (from corporal) and Sergeants Walter N. Clarke and Neil A. Vickery (from private) in attaining their present ranks since being aboard.

Gunnery -- that's it, a Marine's second nature! And well proven by Pl. Sgt. Davidson, Sergeants Fink and Priest, and Corporal Poyet, all of whom took the Gun Captain's examination attaining marks of 3.85, 3.78, 3.64 and 3.85, respectively. Well done, me laddies; and which proves that patience and perseverance are the sesames to success. Further substantiation that the gyrenes really know their twins (twin mounts, I mean).

A tale "Lost in the Swamps" by (?). 'Tis rumored the author would be one of the four individuals mentioned in the preceding paragraph. Now, if such individual would offer the facts, I'm sure it would make interesting reading material for future "Ramblings" to our interested public. Not mentioning any names, but it is thought the initials might be "J.D."

GUESS WHICH?

Director: "Mount (?),---have all your men had dinner yet?"
Mount Captain: "I'll check, sir."
Mount Captain to UHR: "UHR, have all your men had dinner?" UHR: "What?"
Mount Captain (exasperated): "Have all your men had dinner?"
UHR: "Dinner, oh?".
UHR to LHR: "LHR, have all your men had dinner yet?"
LHR: "What?"
UHR: "Have all your men had dinner yet?"
LHR: "Dinner? Oh, you mean chow! Yes, yea; they've all had chow."
UHR to Mount Captain: "Mount Captain all hands in the upper and lower handling rooms had their dinner, chow, grub, fed the bread basket, put on the feed bag, fed their chops, or whatever you want to call it."

Mount Captain reports to Director: "Sir, all hands have had their chow."

This week the boxing school took a back seat, surrendering the spotlight and the main event to the bout that takes place preceding a rigid inspection. Consequently I thought I was fated to ramble along through a couple of hundred words with no more meat to them than a Coney Island hamburger. However, I remembered the many boxers aboard who serve as spare time members of the faculty, and decided that they would make interesting copy. Reaching into our files (an old seabag) we drew out the case history of Robert Vernon Hennekes, Gunner's Mate 3c of the Sixth Division. And so you have --

It all started back in a Cincinnati school when as a spindly legged kid he won his first fight. It was a paperweight match and he weighed a ponderous 93 Ibs. He breezed through Catholic youth tournaments and Elks Club smokers and right on through a few amateur A.A.U. fights. Doing so well he turned pro and won his initial go via the kayo route. He had twenty six fights, winning twenty, drawing in two, losing three decisions and getting stopped in one. Hennekes fought under the name of Bobby Vernon.

Hennekes or Vernon trained and worked under the supervision of featherweight champion Freddie Miller who, incidentally, is his idol. Being a south paw his jumping jack style is very much like that of Miller's, so much so, that when Jackie Wilson was scheduled to fight Freddie Miller, Wilson hired Bobby as a sparring partner in an effort to solve Miller's confusing style. Bobby makes a good teacher of boxing for our Washington talent.

In one of his hardest fights Bobby fought a draw with Chuck Vickers who at one time beat Henry Armstrong before the latter became three time champion. This fight, he declares, was nothing compared the anxiety he endured while waiting for news of his wife and child to be. When he found out that he was the father of a bouncing eight pound baby girl, it came to him like the end of a ten round bout. That was about three weeks ago.

Bobby is still buying cigars. If you are a cigar smoker all you have to do is let him corner you and listen to him sing the praises of his "little champ" and you can be certain that your next few days won't be smokeless.

Another boxing instructor on board, Hughie Graham, hails from Brooklyn. He looks, talks and fights like a Brooklyn Irishman, accent included. Hughie accidentally started boxing back in 1936. He was a spectator at a boxing bout when one of the promoters who knew him and his ambition to box offered him a chance to substitute for a missing fighter. Hughie being Irish and not able to pass up a scrap donned the necessary gear and quite methodically knocked his opponent out in the first minute of the first round. Needless to say he continued to box.

He fought 10 simon pure bouts and 23 in what he calls "bootleg smokers" which are technically amateur bouts. Of his 33 fights, he lost only four, three by decision and one by T.K.O.

Hughie was under the management of Frank Lowell the trainer of Joey Fontana, who at the time was a top ranking professional lightweight His trainer, coach and best pal was Eddie Priest, former International A.A.U. Junior Welterweight Champ of 1929. Hughie attributes everything he has learned about boxing to his buddy, Priest.

Ironically enough, his toughest fight was a sudden unscheduled contest. His opponent, a runner up in 1938 Golden Glove Championship, weighed a modest 240. Naturally Hughie had to keep his 6'2", 169 pound frame moving plenty fast. Luckily enough he managed to cut the bigger man to ribbons and at the same time avoided the huge fellow's devastating wallop. There were a few stiches, a hand shake and all was well again.

Yes I know boxing, or fighting, is a little hard to understand, but you'd be surprised what a few cheers, a hand shake, will do, -- especially to an Irishman.
-----------------by Fagen

The imaginations of many now in the Service were captured in youth by the story of the heroes of our Navy. In grammar school and later in high school their history classes were brightened by a recital of the deeds of John Paul Jones, of John Barry, of Truxton, Ferry, Farraguf, Decatur, Macdonough, Lawrence, Porter, Foote, Worden, Dewey, Sampson, Sims and Benson. What these men accomplished reflected the deeds of the American sailors over whom they held command.

From the earliest ages the sailor has been a man apart. In the days of sail, life aboard ship was hard, and we had iron men in wooden ships; in the truest sense of the word. They were hardy fellows with strong muscles and what they had above the shoulders was little consequence. They were brave, devoted and loyal, and they created some of our finest national traditions; our debt to them is very great.

Today, what a Navy man has above the shoulders is of the greatest consequence. With the numerous strides made in science and other developments, nothing has changed more than the personnel of our Navy. Every combatant unit of our fleet today is an intricate mechanism. A modern man-of-war is certainly a more vastly complicated affair than the old sailing ship, so the modern sailor is a more complex and accomplished individual. He has to be. He handles mechanisms that combine the destructive force of a convulsion of nature, with the delicate precision of a watch. Aside from the military features of his profession he contends with wind and tide, with fog bank and storm, exactly as did his predecessors in the sailing ships; and there is never a truce with the sea and the air, in peace or war. He has to be strong and clean in body and alert in mind. In adition to technical skill, his many sided job calls for the highest order of physical and moral equipment. Responsibility in the Navy is a thing of many subdivisions, but no chain is stronger than Its weakest link, and every naval man has his share of accountability.

The man in the Navy today links his own name with an organization that demands of him nothing short of the best. In the history books of the future, the part the Navy is playing in this war will be featured, for our time marks the most critical period in our nation's history. It is the duty of each one to fit himself properly to carry out his present day assignments, to do so with a cheery "eye, aye, sir"; to keep alive the glorious traditions of the Navy -- remembering that he and the officers and men in the Navy today are the makers of the traditions for tomorrow.

"Like everything else these days, the wardrobe of the American seaman is in a state of flux. Some of the sailors, we're told are wearing new fatigue uniforms of white shirts and shorts, and one of the newspapers had an item that Gene Tunney, now in charge of the physical welfare of the men, had advanced several sensetional suggestions, including the adoption of suspenders, abandonment of the bell bottoms on the pants, and buttoning of the pants in the front instead of on the sides. Tunney is reported as feeling that for sailors to rely on a waistband makes for poor posture and general uneasiness. It is our experience that a sailor can't go two minutes without hitching up his pants, so Tunney is probably right. He is said to consider the whole naval getup as anachronatic.

Since this is the first time we have ever found ourselves on the subject of sailor's pants, we will unburden further. The reason they button down the sides is that in the age when their wearers had to scramble through rigging, buttons in front would have been in the way; this objection is now obsolete. The pants are big at the bottom so a sailor can get out of them quickly if he gets in the water. Or that's what some authorities say. Others hold that it's just so they can be rolled up over their knees easier. These people insist that few sailors are able to swim well anyway, with or without pants. There is a good deal of incompetent legend encrusted about the subject of naval dress. For instance, a certain ten cent weekly said lately that the black neckerchief worn in both British and American navies started as mourning for the death of Lord Nelson. The regrettable fact is that the neckerchiefs were in use long before Lord Nelson died; they had the strictly utilitarian purpose of keeping the sailor's neck warm and were black so as not to show the dirt. The three lines of tape trimming the collars of American and British sailors do not, as we have read commemorate Nelson's victories---the Battles of the Baltic, the Nile and Trafalgar; the style was adopted by the British in 1857 for no other reason than that they thought it looked nice. However if lore would interest you we can give you the explanation of the long collar on sailor's blouses. Back in the days when sailors had pigtails and put tar on them to keep them slick, they wore a sort of apron to protect their blouses from the tar. The pigtails are gone but the collars are still there.

The present American naval uniform goes back to the British; and that goes back to 1745, when, the story is, a group of British naval officers met in a coffee house and decided to petition the Admiralty for standardized uniforms. At that time the officers were designing their own and the enlisted men were wearing anything they could lay their hands on. The idea was 0. K. and certain officers were asked to appear in suitable uniforms. A Captain Saumerez won the approval of the Admiralty with a blue and white combination. In order to win its approval by George II the Duchess of Bedford, wife of the First Lord of the Admiralty, had a riding habit made of the same color scheme. The King saw her costume while out riding, and was pleased, and later approved the uniform's adoption by the Royal Navy."

--From the "New Yorker"
(It is interesting to note that the reason for the heavily tarred pintails was to protect the back of the wearer's necks from a cutlass blow.)

Protestant Divine Services will be conducted by Chaplain Gray in the Washington on Sunday from 0830 to 0915. Chief Bandmaster Koontz will present a musical program for the occasion.

It is hoped that the numbers of Protestant officers and men in attendance will be in keeping with the large congregations that on past Sundays have taken advantage of the opportunity afforded to attend these religious exercises.

Chaplain Gray has post-graduate degrees from both Yale and Princeton Universities.

Now I lay me down to sleep,

   I pray thee Lord my soul to keep

And bless the sailor that I love

   Watch over-him from above.



Guide the ship on which he sails,

   Keep it free from heavy galls

Make the sea be always smooth

   Make him happy on this cruise.



Give him shipmates clean and fine

   Those who will be true and kind

Make him happy in all he does

   Make him proud of the ship he loves.



Keep him safe in other ports

   Away from girls of various sorts

Keep him safe from others' charms,

   Bring him back into my arms.



Then when he's finished with the sea

   Send him sailing home to me

Back to start a different sort of life

   Make him take me for his wife. -

                 --Florence Brubaker

The boys in the paint shop have devised a novel method to curb their language. They have a kitty. Each offender has to drop a nickel into the box each time he commits a linguistical indignity. It seems that the proceeds will be divvied up at some future event.

Joe of the bake shop has recently celebrated an anniversary--he was the first man to receive a hair cut in our barber shop after the ship went into commission.

I want to help you to grow as beautiful as God meant you to be when he thought of you first.
----George MacDonald

Just ask anyone in the Secondary Battery who the shootingest outfit on the ship is and they won't waste any time telling you, and they'll make it clear that they don't mean the Main Battery or Machine Gunners. The way they handle those ten twin mounts prove that they just aren't talking! But excellence is always paid for and these boys paid for it the hard way by drill - drill -- drill and long gruelling watches. To help ease the long stretches of night watches, mount No. 6 has a fine musical aggregation; a guitar or two played by Brummel, Brown or O'Neal, plus an all male chorus of the finest voices led by Mount Captain "Dan" Dunn. Director No. 2 helps out with the control officer's unlimited repertoire on the mouth organ (Anchors Aweigh and the Marine Hymn) and some fine singing by director crew Coiler, Brandt and Adams.

The men who go to make up the Secondary Battery Divisions have a high percentage of talent. The 8th Division claims that their entertainment committee led by the one man side show Homola, can spot the rest of the ship six songs and a tap dance and still come out on top. The 6th Division boasts an accordionist in Renart and guitar players Greenway and Bumpus. ONash is one of the best artists on the ship if not the best. The Marines have Klump who plays a piano like Paderewski and Middleton is an expert at fancy roller skating.

There is a spirit of healthy rivalry between divisions and long arguments arise as to who has the best looking boats, decks, and mounts and "who's the so-and-so from the 8th Div. Who left this dirty swab on our deck". But the prime competition comes between the mounts themselves. Just let Kindt say his mount has the best loading time and watch Stickles and Keppel round up their gang for the loading machine only to get there and find Adalac and his troops already making it smoke. Each division is convinced it's the best on the ship but either individually or collectively it's a fighting outfit and one that should give an enemy pilot no little concern.

He that is stricken blind cannot forget.
The precious treasure of his eyesight lost.
---------Shakespeare

Don't make the mistake of giving your girl a book for a birthday present. She may tell you she has one already.

A sailor we know used to live in Rome, Georgia. He says he got tired of fiddling around Rome and joined the Navy.

Mother: "Junior, go wash your hands and face."
Junior: "Aw, I just took a bath this morning."
Mother: "Then go wash the bathtub."

Employer: "Did you ever do any house canvassing?"
Ex-Sailor: "No but I made s'eail for a boat once."

Kitty: "George proposed to me last night"
Kat: "Yes, doesn't he do it beautifully."