Philippines: A Narrative

Chapter 1: Ship Life Sucks

We have yet to leave port on the USS Juneau and already many of us are in a foul mood. Too long have we taken for granted the open sky and the wide expanse of the desert both in Iraq’s Al-Anbar and at home in the mid­dle of the unfor­giv­ing Mojave. Space is a scarce lux­ury in a ship, espe­cially one as small and old as the aging LPD, the USS Juneau. The accom­mo­da­tions are ter­ri­ble and we are at the mercy of the hus­tle and bus­tle and its unceas­ing din that seems to always tramp through our berthing area unwel­come and unan­nounced. My squad con­sid­ers itself lucky for the sim­ple fact that we at least are not cook­ing in our sleep unlike the unlucky marines below deck.

The bum­scoop (or if you will, the more naval scut­tle­butt) around here is that this will be the last voy­age of the USS Juneau. I hold no silly sen­ti­ments for the ship. I say “Good rid­dance!” to the aged bucket! I care not for its five com­bat tours in Vietnam, the bat­tles it had sur­vived, or any part of its dec­o­rated his­tory! All I know that this is not the place I want to be. I will suf­fer each and every pitch, every tilt, every rock, and every sway of this god­for­saken ship as it is tossed and turned by the sea. I secured for myself a siz­able stock of Dramamine. I am des­per­ately hop­ing that they work as adver­tised. Otherwise, I will be look­ing for­ward to spend­ing my days in this ship kneel­ing before a toi­let, puk­ing my brains out.