Dress Inspections

C077/K051 Feb 21 – Apr 25, 1990

Getting dressed, seriously, is it that hard? Well, according to the military, is it a severe issue that we recruit needed to get figured out. The first inspection was in our dungarees. Basically, bell-bottom jeans and a long sleeve shirt. I think the correct term for the shirt was chambray. For some odd reason, I did look, and you can actually buy those uniforms.  

While doing a little looking around, I learned the WWII dungaree pants were button fly. I am not sure when the Navy changed those to zipper fly, but we do know that did happen.

Dungarees were reasonably comfortable and easy to maintain.

So, the first PI was in dungarees. We had to make sure we could put these on and that they were proper. Meaning, stencils all in the correct place and properly ironed. After leaving boot camp, we also learned about military creases. Some commands wanted those in your dungarees. Also, after boot camp, we could wear the short sleeve version. I prefer those because I have a hard time finding long sleeve shirts that fit correctly.

But anyway, back to the story. We practiced dressing a few times, and I believe we had a mock inspection or two.  The big day comes and we all get dressed. We look over one another to make sure everything is top-notch. We had spent the prep time making sure the “Irish Pennants” were all gone. For those who have forgotten that is considered a loose thread on a Naval uniform. Gear adrift, or UNSAT!

I recall our CC’s told us to do the “French Salute” to our bunkmates to allow them to check us for Irish Pennants. I wonder if I can say those two terms still or not??

So, we are on the line getting examined. For our inspection, we had a female Chief. You will see why I remember that. She starts off on the Starboard side with our RCPO. I am not sure if we got bonus points for tying a knot for this inspection or not. So, down the line, she starts.

I believe we were at parade rest and came to attention when the inspector stepped in front of us. She gave us a looked over and checked fit and appearance of the uniform. She was checking other recruits down the line for different things. She was a good deal shorter than me too. I am fixed on a spot on the opposite side of the compartment as to not break military bearing.

She is standing in front of me when I feel her pull up my duty belt. Oh hell! The guy directly across from me starts to make a face. I just see him out of the corner of my eye doing it. I make a mental note, I am kicking his ass when this is over. I can tell she is looking at me to see how I react. I am a statue. She undoes my other belt. Yeah, my mind is racing. What the hell is going on? The guy across from me is about laughing now. I block him out. She was checking my belt stencil.

I have no idea how I did not react to that one. Typically a lady undoing your belt can get a reaction of some sort. Then I get asked my question. She throws me a softball chain of command question, and I answer.

She makes her way around the compartment for the rest of the inspection. I have to stand there with my belts are FUBAR until we are finished, and I can recover. I think she pulled out the tails of a couple others guys shirts to make sure they had their info written on the patch like was required.

There were a couple UNSAT people they paid for their infractions. I think I got a trip to the geendunk machine for maintaining my military bearing. So, as a company, we did really well on that one. First comp period, we were kicking it.

After work week we spent most of our training getting ready for PIR. We did not know it, but that is what we were doing. Well, other than DC, but marching and the PI were geared toward PIR.

After the second clothing issue, we now had everything we should have. This covered our dress uniforms and also our working uniforms.

So, we practiced a few times dressing in each new uniform, dress blues, winter working blues, dress whites, and summer working whites.

Now, as the guys know, the dress blues were the hardest with that 13 button broad fall in the front. You had to make sure to get all of those buttons done correctly. The jumper top and neckerchief were all pretty straight forward. All of our neckerchiefs were rolled and tied for us during work week.

Our CC’s impressed on us to use the correct terms for the uniforms. Winter working blue was never to be called Johnny Cash in our company. We were told of a company that failed their inspection because they pulled winter working blues and had no clue which uniforms that were. True story or not, it kept us using the correct term.

The inspector comes in, and the RCPO pulled a card for the uniform for us to change into. Winter working blues. Piece of cake.

I recall a couple guys getting called up to tie a knot for a bonus as well. We got dressed, and the inspector came back in. He was very nice to us. A couple guys totally blew their answer to a general order, but he did not hit them on it. We did get some hits for a messed up locker item. But nobody was UNSAT.

The inspector left, and the CCs came back in. They yelled at us for potentially dropping military bearing. Yes, we did a couple times. Especially after the one guy blew his answer and the inspector moved on. There was an audible sigh of relief. Anyway, another good inspection and another big step on our way.

I never could understand how some sailors could not wear a squared away uniform. Sure, when you are working on some equipment, or during a GQ drill, but just in your regular day to day stuff. We had guys in A-school who were pigs, serious, just could not wear a clean uniform. One guy in Petty Officer for us push buttons just was horrible all the time. We got on him about it too. “F you guys, I can do what I want.”
Well, he got his ass jumped because he was a pig. Bessie was his last name. The guy was also in the dirtbag room in our company. He was on medical hold for all sorts of things. No marching chits. No PT chits. He was ahead of me by over a month in A-school. I was in the fleet way before he left Great Lakes.

I saw him on the pier in Norfolk one day. We use to give him crap was saying his name like a sheep bleating. Beeeeeeessssssiiieeeee. He hated that. We were refueling, and I was at the aft station. I saw him and did that. He stopped on the pier, “Who the F said that?” He did see me. “F U Adams.”
Not sure if he was on Yellowstone or Shenandoah. Yeah, he still looked UNSAT.