(continued from Pg. 1)

Now we get four Hard Hats, the two soft hats in the bar and more of the same are seen standing outside the front doors. We are all ordered to identify the offending culprits. Again, that didn't work on us. So they began picking a few of at random, and then hauled them off to the paddy wagon. That would teach us to be so uncooperative...yeah, sure! Yet again -- unbelievably! -- as the last of the "hard hats" cleared the front doors...more empties flew across the room!

Me? Well, I was "selected" for my 'free ride' back to the ship, sometime around the 4th-5th time the SP's went in/out the front doors. I was taken to a 'Cattle Car' that was parked just inside the main gate for transportation back to my ship. I didn't have to wait long for the Cattle Car to fill up with some more of my ship mates and an assortment of scoff-laws from other ships.

The ride back to the ship was a real experience, in that every few minutes a fight would break out or someone would get sick or worse yet...there were no 'Heads' on the damn thing! Those who want to know more about that trip back to the "Dirty Ernie" can just imagine the rest!

Arriving on the quarter deck of the USS Ernest G. Small, my group reported to the OOD, who then took custody of us. Please note, I said...my group...as there were others. I seem to remember that just about every crew member in the Bee Hive bar that night got a free ride back to the ship...somewhere around 50 of us!

The next day, we learned our ship had beaten the carrier that was in port for having the most men taken into custody by the SP's! So, then came time for us to receive our punishment; only -- as any Road Runner will tell you -- no one rats on another ship mate. The Captain, not having any one person to directly blame for a beer bottle throwing incident, settled for chewing us all out and having the hat passed (for a collection to repair the bar). We all thought that the butt-chewing and hat-passing should have made everything right with the world. Boy, were we wrong.

Well, when Mamma-san returned to her bar (after all the action was over) to see what had happened, 'Hell-Hath-No-Fury' would be an apt description of her attitude towards us after that. The very next time I entered the Bee Hive I saw her new employee: a large, evil looking armed guard. The guy's job was to simply hang around, glare at us and make sure we would never get out of hand again. And he was definitely NOT Mr. Friendly!
We all found that those nice little amenities which made the Bee Hive bar our own special place simply wasn't any more!

After that experience, along with some things that are best left as memories of my times ashore in Olongapo (even after 40+ years), I came to believe liberty there was something I could easily forgo. For the rest of our WESTPAC deployment, I usually traded with other crewmen to stay aboard ship and stand their watches, in return for them to do the same for me when we visited other ports. I had seen the light...so to speak, no more needed to be learned on my part about Olongapo!

WETSU shipmates!
Bert Royster STG2 1964 - 1966

P.S.: For any who were with me that night at the Bee Hive, have a special WETSU Road Runner on me!