My civilian ship still does a shellback ceremony. They’re a very traditional group. I have not been so honored, and details are shrouded in secrecy.
Construction work has a few of these. If a board is cut too short for a task, sometimes you can send the newb off to get a board stretcher. Another one is based on how engines are classified, like bulldozers are D3 and excavators are D4 (I think-- I can’t remember the specifics on numbers, just that as you go up the engine gets bigger). Sometimes a new guy will be asked if he wants to drive the D1, and upon his affirmative response will be handed a shovel, as an engine as small as a D1 does not exist.
So, in the military, portable radios (unless you’re using off-the-shelf commercial equipment like Motorola or Cobra radios) tends to have a classification along the lines of AN/PRC-whatever, with the PRC being pronounced “Prick”.
This is important.
Say you have a corporal who is feeling kind of bored. He might tell a new private to go get him a PRC-E5 so they can accomplish some particular task, and that Sgt. Smith should have one.
Kid goes to Sgt Smith, and Sgt Smith asks him what they need it for. Kid tells him what the Corporal told him, and Sgt Smith says “Oh no, you don’t need a PRC-E5, you need a PRC-E6, Staff Sergeant Jones should have that for you.”
And so on so forth. The joke here is that an alternate way of denoting ranks in the military is by their paygrades. A Private is typically E-1 or E-2, a Corporal is E-4, a Sergeant E-5, etc. The joke is for each guy to send the kid haring off for a “Prick E-6” or “Prick E-7” until one of two things happens: 1) The kid runs into a higher-ranking NCO who thinks it’s funny and declares “YOU’VE FOUND ONE!” and sends the kid back to work, or a higher-ranking NCO who doesn’t think it’s funny and brings the hammer down on someone, which may or may not include the unwitting messenger.
Should have said “The OS1 needs an rm punch asap.” 
As a yout’ (youth) in Germany, I was once sent to get a container of “Haumichblau”.
In German that sounds like a nice and sweet confection, but what those words actually mean, are: “Beat the shit out of me until I turn blue.”
Great thread!
Thanks,
Quasi
Oh man, one year at NTC in Mojave, my unit was just heading out the last flights home. For some reason I was walking across the draw yard for the incoming rotation, and some Pvt (not PV2 or PFC) asked me for help getting his humvee going. Send the kid running around looking for the filter fluid his vehicle had run dry on
I was asked to put this here. I think I may have told the story on the board before.
When I was a missile tech, I worked with a brand new second lieutenant, who loved to give orders, and generally considered himself to be quite knowledgeable. He had completed the two week training on our missile system, everyone else on the Launch Control team had completed six months training on the system, and I was the rookie of the team with nine months on duty experience.
Our new boss told us to do some maintenance training, so he could evaluate our readiness. So, we started assembling the Training missile. It is an empty shell, with a set of connectors for all the test equipment like a real missile, except the electronics parts are not there. It’s an empty can. You cannot actually test it. So, we do the drill, and when we get to a test, we stop and mention out loud that such and such reading is in error. At that point, we are told to “simulate that the reading is <the correct value>” or, for variety “Simulate that the reading is <some dangerous or otherwise significant value>.
Today, one of the earlier “test results” is for the azimuth of the gyroscope. This is a mathematical value indicating which direction the gyroscope is pointing, relative to a line from the missile to a pole in the launch area called the “Aiming tower” It’s a number that never changes, since this is not a mobile battery. I don’t remember the number, but it has to be between 0.00, and 359.90, so let’s say it was 133. Since there is an open circuit at the connector (empty tin can does not conduct electricity) the value is 0. Instrument man says, “AG is low.”
The boss asks, “how low is it?”
“It’s 0.”
A pause, and the boss asks, “Can we get more?”
After a brief silence, our sergeant says, “We don’t have any in the Launch Control Area.” Amazingly, not a soul even smiles.
“Where can you get it?” asks the looie. “We could ask supply for it, sir.” Says the sarge.
At this point there develops a problem for the Lieutenant. He already ran into the problem before, and knows how it works out. Two of us officially know about how the actual missile works. The sarge, and me. If one of us leaves, we have to reassemble the missile (not actually, this is only a tin can) and then and all of us leave the Assembly bay. The other two enlisted men with us is each responsible for their tech jobs, and to be guards. (They have guns.) If one of them leaves, we all have to leave. There is only one “non-critical” person in the entire launching area, the lieutenant himself.
A man of considerable resolve, our fearless leader says to the sarge, “Call supply and tell them I am coming up there for the Aygee, and to have it ready.” Yes sir, says the sarge. Sarge calls as the Lieutenant starts out, and says, “Hey bill, I just sent Lieutenant Newboy to you to get some AG.” “I don’t know, find something.”
It took a bit longer than we thought it would, although the supply office is in the headquarters area, about a mile and a half away, by road. But, it seems that the supply sergeant decided that we probably needed about a quart of AG, and poured some hydraulic fluid into a quart container, sealed it with a lead wire seal, and put a “secret” cover sheet over it. Our intrepid warrior had to sign out his weapon, before he could leave HQ with secret materiel. We were advised of this when he left, along with what it was he was bringing.
When he arrived, he handed it to one of the techs, who with complete aplomb, walked over and opened up the can, and poured the hydraulic fluid into the reservoir for the launchers hydraulic system. He then took the coversheet and put it in the burn bag trash, and put away the can. The Luitenant asks about the secret cover sheet. And our tech says, “Oh, it’s only the amount that’s classified.”
Sarge tells the Lieutenant that we don’t have time to run the entire assembly simulation, would he like us to skip to the actual mating and launch prep before lunch? The lieutenant figures this is a good idea. So do we.
Tris
Tris, did he ever figure out that y’all were yanking his chain?
Thanks
Q
I was told several months later by our other second lieutenant that our victim actually went to the CO about it. He was told that so far, no one had heard about it, so evidently we were being kinder to him than he could have expected. The Captain seems to have convinced him that anonymity was preferable to revenge.
Actually, I think that the lieutenant failed to appreciate that he was a “Launchie” not an IFC puke (Integrated Fire Control) or a headquarters weenie. We might jerk his pants down to his ankles on our own turf, but no way were we going to embarrass him in front of the unwashed.
Tris
Girl I knew in high school did something like that. She was a US citizen raised out of the country. Someone told her that doing a job “just needed a little elbow grease.”
She went to the hardware store and asked for it. :smack:
I remember those days at the motor pool. We would send newbies on a mission to find Chemlight(glow sticks) batteries, a box of ground guides, muffler bearings, etc LOL every section was in on it. They would go ask the welders and they would say go check in automotive section and automotive would say go ask the diesel machanics and diesel machanics would say go check the paint shop and paint shop wod say go check the machine shop and machine shop would say they had some but they turned them back in to the tool room so go check the tool room LOL
Still not getting the joke.
Total waste of time.
It’s busy work rather than a wild goose chase.
He’s not searching for something that doesn’t exist. He’s calculating something that doesn’t matter.
It’s funny for the same reason (that a noob exerts a bunch of effort because he doesn’t know that it’s pointless). Although, in my opinion, not as funny, because the noob doing the neck-tie count is less likely to get other in on the joke by asking a bunch of people for a quart of headlight fluid.
Sending newbie Plane Captains out to “pre-flight that B1-RD or GU-11 that had just landed”.
And the joke response that is usually only funny to Quartermasters and Navigators:
“Care for a Twix or a Kit-Kat?” “No, thanks, I just had a Flinders Bar”.
(Okay, humor on the bridge is somewhat thin on the ground)
While chanting “Owah… tanas… siam.”
The “sir” would be incorrect if it’s a noncom, I believe.
The joke was that there is no such thing as a kufi count. You were making the new guy do something unnecessary.
Imagine it’s your first day working at WalMart. And one of the more experienced employees tells you to do a cart count. And you say “What’s a cart count?” and he says “Oh, that’s something we do three times a day to keep track of how many carts are being used by the customers. Walk around the store and count how many customers are using a cart. And then call the manager at extension 100 and tell him what the cart count is.”
My god dude, apparently you have never worked for the government, “doing something unnecessary” is what we do every day.
Seriously? I worked for the government for three decades. Where do you think I encountered these things?
You missed the first rule of bureaucracy. A job is necessary if your boss wants you to do it. It may be stupid but it’s necessary.