After our repair job in LaMaddelina the Archerish steamed toward Toronto Italy. i guess we were going to play some "Hide and Seek" with some combined NATO forces. Boring yes, but part of the job. We had about three days to spend in Toronto. I was banned from going to the bars because the XO did not enjoy getting me out of the local fuzz stations for this or that when I was drunk as a skunk. The COB had already made his S*H*I*T house mouse. So I decided to hike the country side, get a little of the local culture in. The area was a bit like a desert, in fact if you saw any of the Spaghetti westerns, this is what it looked like. I was walking through a village and an elderly man waved me over. He was selling goats. I guess people buy them to keep weeds down around their homes and probably make for good garbage disposals. Well, I did what any normal bubblehead should do and I bought the goat.
After having a Calamari dinner at a side walk cafe. (Gave the veggies to the goat), I proceded back to the boat. I never got challenged by anyone and our topside watch was taking draft reading near the stern so there we went, me an my goat across the brow. The goat was not to happy about being carried doen the fwd escape trunk hatch and started to make a lot of goat noises in the process. I tied the goat to the Towed array hydraulic spool and went about to execute my devious plan. The "Goat Locker" (Chief's quarters is on the port side of the bow compartment). Luck was with me, no goats present in the locker! So, I went to get the real goat and put him in the Chief's shower stall and shut the stall door. Being the good host that I am, I then went to the fridge and got our new shipmate some lettuce and carrots. I worked on a few qualification and then hit the rack. We were to have a morning muster topside at O seven hundred.
Muster time came and most of the crew was topside, exept the COB and most of the Chief's. Then all hell broke loose. I heard the COB cussing up a storm and a braying goat being pulled and shoved up through the hatch. The crew was now fully engaged in the spectacle before them. The goat got away from the COB and dashed across the brow and down the pier. The crew was now in hysterics of laughter, myself included. The COB's nickname was "Red", because of his hair, but his face was really red now. He ordered us to shut up with choice vocabulary, in between his threats and rantings, the goat would stop and bray, which made us laugh even more and even more made the COB's blood pressure raise. Well, he threatened the entire crew with all sorts of COB witchcraft, so I had to come forward and confess. He just pointed his finger at me and said, "Below decks NOW!, you will never see daylight again...." I knew deep down the COB liked me and after a couple of weeks of constant cleaning of the goat locker, I guess we were buds again. But after that it seemed as though the Chief's had a new found respect for me. I am sure they nor I will ever forget this prank.
