Philippines, a Narrative: 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.