Back in the early 1970s when I was serving on HMAS Melbourne, our mess had a soft drink fridge. Cartons of soft drink were purchased ashore and the fridge was kept full of various types. Payment for each drink was via an honesty box and any profits went towards a mess party at some overseas port.
Before leaving Sydney for exercises off Hawaii I was elected to be drinks purchaser and I duly purchased large quantities of Tarax Black Label drinks (now there’s a blast from the past).
At Pearl Harbor I went off to the local PX to restock our supplies and was confronted by a number of brand names that I hadn’t heard of. I purchased cartons at random, later carrying them as bold as brass with a few of the blokes up the gangway and down into the mess.
At sea a couple of days later, we discovered that the lemonade in the flashy blue cartons was in fact PABST beer. Needless to say it was secreted away — smuggling booze on board was a big no no — to be enjoyed on the last night before hitting Sydney.
And what a night it was.
When at sea on Melbourne, each man was entitled to one 26oz (750ml) can a day, provided there was no night flying that night.
We were in a petty officers mess (senior sailors) and as such a couple of mess members would collect a can for every member. Any non-drinker’s can would be stored away for the last night party before getting home.
The powers that be were aware of these lurks and when they were collected the cans were ‘cracked’ (back in the days of the ring pull). This was always done for junior sailors, but it was overlooked for senior sailors as a sort of unofficial privilege of rank.
This practice came to the attention of a very strict and straight ‘Master at Arms’ (the ship’s head policeman) nicknamed The Hat (sailors from the 1970s will know who he was). The Hat ordered that senior sailors’ cans were to be ‘cracked’ before issue. This almost caused a mutiny amongst us and there was much bitching and moaning.
I can remember one old salt saying that the only privilege senior sailors had on this ship was ‘unopened cans of beer and longer shithouse doors!’ (junior sailors had half length doors, senior sailors three-quarter length and officers full length).
The next morning some wag got hold of a texta and drew dotted lines on the doors of the senior sailors’ toilets (heads) near our mess, with the words ‘cut here’.