Ok, here is a real no shi**er!
On board the old USS Darter (SS-576) one of my best friends was Big Mike, a MM2 in the A-gang who was well known as being a heavy sleeper. One day while underway off Japan, Big Mike was passed out in his rack in the after battery crews berthing, clad only in his white scivvie shorts as the temp in berthing tended to run well into the 80's. Another of the A-gangers, Eric, was a stocky, sandy haired youth from northern Minnesota who also happened to be an inveterate practical jokester. Passing through berthing, he noticed Mike passed out on his back and immediately a evil thought ran through his head. Hurrying into the galley, he talked one of the cooks out of a small bottle of red food dye and proceeded back to Mike's rack. Barely able to hold back his laughter, Eric commenced to squirt the red dye all over the crotch and front of Mike's white scivvie shorts.
Eric went about his business, laughing hysterically to himself and barely able to wait for the inevitable. About two hours later, Big Mike wakes up for watch and heads aft to the head to shave. Stepping into the light he looks down and is utterly horrified to find what appears to be a massive blood stain on the front of his shorts. Fearing that there was something seriously wrong with him, he hurredly throws on his coveralls and heads forward to the goat locker to get our only corpsman, Chief Grant. They both head back to the head, which doubled as Doc's makeshift sickbay. Now Doc Grant was a salty old SOB, but never in his life had he seen anyone bleed that much from his privates.
Imagine the scene: Big Mike standing in the head with his coveralls and scivvies on the deck around his ankles and Doc Grant sitting on a stool making a thorough examination. About this time Eric stumbles by the head, barely able to walk as he was laughing so hard. Irritated and wondering what the ******* was so damned funny, Doc and Big Mike look up to see Eric standing in the doorway holding the food dye bottle in his hand, tears running down this cheeks and doubled up in laughter!
Submarine sailors are the William Shakespeares of the swearing world, renowned throughout the fleet as true masters of the dirty word. That day, however, Big Mike set a new high water mark in cussin', as the epithets that roared out of his mouth nearly blistered the paint on the bulkhead. Doc Grant just sighed loudly, leaned back on his stool, and wondered about the sanity of the knuckleheads he went to sea with.
As for Eric's fate at the hands of Big Mike, let's just say that revenge is a dish best served cold!
