3/9/44: King Neptune, Slimy Wogs, & Trusty Shellbacks

On February 25th, The War Diary noted the 1 year anniversary of Princeton's commissioning with a list of statistics and accomplishments, including the fact that she had crossed the equator 40 times in her young life.

For Ship's Company and Air Group personnel who had been with "The P" since the start of 1944, and who were landlubbing pollywogs, today would mark the first time in their lives they had approached 0˚ latitude. It would also be the day they met the evil spirit Davy Jones as he rose from his locker in the briny depths. King Neptune, traditionally represented by the oldest or most senior Shellback (men who had previously crossed the equator) onboard, and his Queen would preside while the Royal Court assisted in running the ceremony. Among Neptunus Rex's coterie were the fattest man on the ship, aka the "Royal Baby," whose grease and oil-lubricated belly would be kissed by all pollywogs, Poseidon's wife Amphitrite (typically represented by a young Sailor with mop hair and a "seaweed" skirt) and, because the Navy is highly structured and traditional, several assistants, clerks, notaries and chancellors all of whom ensured the appropriate "i's" were dotted and "t's" crossed. After charges were leveled against the always-guilty initiates, sentences varied from combinations of flogging with shillelaghs (usually crafted from used portions of canvas hose),

forced crawls through canvas tubes filled with decaying food and green-dyed slime, and kissing of the aforementioned Royal Baby. Everything was monitored by the Royal Court and enthusiastically, sometimes too enthusiastically, by Shellbacks.

Once sentences had been carried out, and after a final cleansing of the filthy landlubbers in the Royal dunk tank, all were considered initiated into King Neptune's realm and welcomed to enjoy the "Solemn Mysteries of the Ancient Order of the Deep." Most importantly, the transformation from "Slimy Wog" into "Trusty Shellback" was complete.

The War Diary:

"At 1230 King Neptune and his Royal Party came aboard to conduct Crossing-the-Line ceremonies. At 1317 fleet course changed left to 160˚. At 1429, all former Pollywogs having been duly inducted into the Ancient Order of the Deep, Neptunus Rex and his Royal Party left the ship."

Princeton's position at the crossing was 172˚ 00' E longitude, 0˚ 00' latitude.

And if this photo is any indication, at least some of it was fun and games:

You may recognize the white-haired young man, shirtless with arms resting on knees, just to the right of Poseidon's dancing wife.

Dad had turned 25 years old just 4 days previous.

By the end of the ceremony, "SUNNYBOY" (!), having been accused the night previously by Davy Jones himself of, among other things, "Holding Drills in the Dental Office,"...

...had made the transformation from worthless Wog to, then and forevermore, Trusty Shellback.

Dad's official Crossing-the-Line certificate and, if you magnify you will note that it is dated the 5th of November, 1945 and the ship is USS Little Rock. Wartime being what it is, I am guessing that Princeton didn't have the time or the administrative capability to accomplish what a peacetime ship could.

Kerry's grandfather crossed the line as a crewman aboard USS Bridge on the 21st of January, 1921:

I became a Shellback aboard USS Constellation (CV-64) on the 10th of April, 1989:

About a week before we were scheduled to cross the line, the Trusty Shellbacks among us began dropping subtle and progressively not-so-subtle hints about the pain and anguish soon to be inflicted on us slimy wogs. I must say that, the relationship between fear and the unknown being what it is, there was apprehension. In the end, while spending several hours crawling around on my hands and knees was not the most pleasant experience, it was something I was glad to have gone through. My memory is very clear about a couple of things from that day. Roused from sleep at zero-dark-thirty with screams and the banging on of doors, we were herded, again on hands and knees, from our staterooms to the Hangar Bay and onto a lowered aircraft elevator. While on the elevator we were showered with water from firefighting hoses on the flight deck. Sneaking a glimpse above, lining the edges I could see hundreds of shillalagh-swinging Shellbacks hooting and hollering. Once we were good and soaked, the elevator began to rise and with it the volume of an insanely raucous Shellback roar.

As the elevator continued its climb toward what surely was our impending doom, I snuck another glimpse...and to this day I can still see, flying from the yardarm of one of the mightiest warships on earth, three hundred years removed from the golden age of the pirates...the Jolly Roger:

Over ten years later, 11 November 1999, again aboard Connie, I assisted King Neptune and the Royal Court in cleansing Strike Fighter Squadron 137, the Kestrels, of our slimy wog problem.

Front row, L-R: Rick "Wyatt" Silong (RIP), James "Frog" Shoenberger, Bill Hollis, Stevin "Tiny" Johnson, Scott "Rhino" Reinhold.

Back row, L-R: Hal "Bull" Schmitt, Lance "JP" Fewel, Ken Lookabaugh, Chris Santos, James "Cruiser" Christie, Jeff "Ringo" Cyr, Jose "Manny" Delafuente, Bill "Spank" Thames, Robert "Spy" Liebold, Randy "BB" Tashjian, Scott "Fuzz" McClure, Forrest "Gump" Young, Carl "Oyster" Oesterle

Maybe someday I'll tell you about the time six Trusty Shellbacks drove across Australia — Perth to Sydney — on only 25 cases of beer.

If only crossing the Nullarbor could become a time-honored Naval tradition.

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