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The Old Navy (thread split)
- Thread starter A4sForever
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I don't want the OLD NAVY thread to die .... so I am gonna' resurrect it before it gets 'locked' .... (BTW ---- I got an "Old Navy" T-shirt a couple of years back -- the one with the year and the Flag --- I crossed out "Old" and wrote over it with permanent marker .... "REAL" ... it's a big hit @ Hale Koa Barefoot Bar )....
I REFUSE to let "how many times should I apply to the Boat Skool (sic) before I commit suicide or mass murder???" threads become the (ab)norm(al) on this otherwise great website..... there are some people here who need professional help .... and I ain't gonna' give it !!! There are also too many people on this site who deserve better --- BELIEVE IT !!!
Will the REAL "Old Navy" please stand up .... ???
(smiles ... smiles ....
... kiss ... kisssssss .... no problems )
I REFUSE to let "how many times should I apply to the Boat Skool (sic) before I commit suicide or mass murder???" threads become the (ab)norm(al) on this otherwise great website..... there are some people here who need professional help .... and I ain't gonna' give it !!! There are also too many people on this site who deserve better --- BELIEVE IT !!!
Will the REAL "Old Navy" please stand up .... ???
(smiles ... smiles ....
... kiss ... kisssssss .... no problems )
Garrison Cap a.k.a. "piss-cutter"
by RADM Paul T. ("Cookie") Gillcrist, USN(Ret)
Like most other landing signal officers of the era, Richard Moon Vance was a legend unto himself. A big, burly man with the unerring eye of the skilled LSO, he commanded respect wherever he was assigned to guide Navy pilots back to a safe carrier arrested landing.
A few years ago when Moon died of cancer, I flew from San Diego to Washington, D.C., to attend his funeral in Arlington National Cemetery. The Chief of Naval Operations himself insisted on rendering the eulogy in which he extolled the many unusual characteristics of the legend we all knew as Moon Vance. In attendance were hundreds of people, many of them old friends and shipmates whom I hadn’t seen in ages. The small chapel at Ft. Myers was filled to overflowing. The side aisles were full and all space against the walls was occupied with those standing. There was even a small crowd of Moon Vance admirers not able to find space inside gathered on the front steps of the chapel. I recall thinking that I’ll be lucky to draw a fraction of this crowd when I check out.
Moon was an informal man who readily disavowed most of the pomp and circumstance associated with the military. His whole approach to living was laid back. But when it came to his profession, he was intensely passionate and colorful. For example, Moon loved the rumpled, casual look of the Navy fore-and-aft uniform cap, officially called the garrison cap, which was available only in the color of the summer service khaki uniform.
In those days, Naval Aviators referred to the garrison cap as a “pisscutter.” It could be folded and slipped into the pocket of a flight suit when flying and donned on the ground at the end of a flight while still sitting in the cockpit.
With equal passion, Moon hated the standard Navy bridge cap specified for all Navy uniforms, whether blue, white, khaki or green. Changing the cap cover to fit the uniform was a pain in the neck because the frame required tedious disassembling whenever the cover needed cleaning or changing.
So, when Moon was relieved of command of NAS Point Mugu-based VX-4 in 1987, he did it with the typical Moon Vance flourish and panache. It was a combined change-of-command and retirement ceremony. The legendary Moon Vance was leaving the service as a Navy captain after spending 26 years on the wind-swept LSO platforms of nearly every aircraft carrier in the U.S. Navy.
The specified uniform at that time of year for official ceremonies was summer dress whites, the fancy uniform with the stiff “choker” collar. On a steaming-hot summer day at Point Mugu, one might prefer keel-hauling to being choked by that damnable collar. So Moon, ever the maverick, decided to ignore the rules and conduct his change-of-command ceremony in the more comfortable summer service white uniform with the short-sleeved, open-collar white shirt with epaulets. After all, he reasoned, it was his change of command, and he was also retiring after a distinguished career!
But it was not enough that he flaunted the uniform regulations in this manner. To add insult to injury, Moon created his own special alteration to uniform regulations. He had a local tailor create a pisscutter from the same white polyester material as the summer service blouse. This really took chutzpah!
I accepted his invitation to be the guest speaker for the event with apprehension. Knowing Moon for the maverick he was, he was certain to pull some stunt … but what would it be?
The day for the ceremony soon arrived. I knew from the invitation that the ceremony would be conducted in the nonregulation summer service white uniform and had chosen not to have my aide call and challenge Moon on the issue. After all, I rationalized, who would be there to put me on report in that tiny, out-of-the-way air station? Despite warnings from my aide that these things have a way of getting back to higher authority, I flew to Point Mugu in the illicit uniform hoping that it would not get back to my boss. I didn’t, however, wear one of the illegal caps. I didn’t own one, nor would I be caught dead wearing one. After all, I had to put my foot down somewhere in this whole process.
A sedan met me at the airplane and whisked me to the ceremony behind the VX-4 hangar. The spectator seating had been arranged in a fan shape with a huge American flag draped on the hangar doors behind the podium. I walked the dozen or so paces to where the sideboys had been arranged flanking a length of red carpet. As I received arrival honors I observed in utter astonishment the entire squadron drawn up in ranks — with the officers in the front row all resplendent in snow-white pisscutters. They didn’t look half bad. The show was vintage Moon Vance … and the expression on his face, a peculiar combination of impishness, chutzpah, pride and rebellion, told the whole story. What a guy! I walked through the sideboys and accepted Moon’s extended hand. The moment was golden!
....... from the summer 2000 issue of THE HOOK magazine
ALL THAT "GLITTERS" IS NOT ALWAYS GOLD ...
CAPT Richard "Moon" Vance, USN (ret)
LSO EXTAORDINAIRE AND LSO LEGEND
by RADM Paul T. ("Cookie") Gillcrist, USN(Ret)
Like most other landing signal officers of the era, Richard Moon Vance was a legend unto himself. A big, burly man with the unerring eye of the skilled LSO, he commanded respect wherever he was assigned to guide Navy pilots back to a safe carrier arrested landing.
A few years ago when Moon died of cancer, I flew from San Diego to Washington, D.C., to attend his funeral in Arlington National Cemetery. The Chief of Naval Operations himself insisted on rendering the eulogy in which he extolled the many unusual characteristics of the legend we all knew as Moon Vance. In attendance were hundreds of people, many of them old friends and shipmates whom I hadn’t seen in ages. The small chapel at Ft. Myers was filled to overflowing. The side aisles were full and all space against the walls was occupied with those standing. There was even a small crowd of Moon Vance admirers not able to find space inside gathered on the front steps of the chapel. I recall thinking that I’ll be lucky to draw a fraction of this crowd when I check out.
Moon was an informal man who readily disavowed most of the pomp and circumstance associated with the military. His whole approach to living was laid back. But when it came to his profession, he was intensely passionate and colorful. For example, Moon loved the rumpled, casual look of the Navy fore-and-aft uniform cap, officially called the garrison cap, which was available only in the color of the summer service khaki uniform.
In those days, Naval Aviators referred to the garrison cap as a “pisscutter.” It could be folded and slipped into the pocket of a flight suit when flying and donned on the ground at the end of a flight while still sitting in the cockpit.
With equal passion, Moon hated the standard Navy bridge cap specified for all Navy uniforms, whether blue, white, khaki or green. Changing the cap cover to fit the uniform was a pain in the neck because the frame required tedious disassembling whenever the cover needed cleaning or changing.
So, when Moon was relieved of command of NAS Point Mugu-based VX-4 in 1987, he did it with the typical Moon Vance flourish and panache. It was a combined change-of-command and retirement ceremony. The legendary Moon Vance was leaving the service as a Navy captain after spending 26 years on the wind-swept LSO platforms of nearly every aircraft carrier in the U.S. Navy.
The specified uniform at that time of year for official ceremonies was summer dress whites, the fancy uniform with the stiff “choker” collar. On a steaming-hot summer day at Point Mugu, one might prefer keel-hauling to being choked by that damnable collar. So Moon, ever the maverick, decided to ignore the rules and conduct his change-of-command ceremony in the more comfortable summer service white uniform with the short-sleeved, open-collar white shirt with epaulets. After all, he reasoned, it was his change of command, and he was also retiring after a distinguished career!
But it was not enough that he flaunted the uniform regulations in this manner. To add insult to injury, Moon created his own special alteration to uniform regulations. He had a local tailor create a pisscutter from the same white polyester material as the summer service blouse. This really took chutzpah!
I accepted his invitation to be the guest speaker for the event with apprehension. Knowing Moon for the maverick he was, he was certain to pull some stunt … but what would it be?
The day for the ceremony soon arrived. I knew from the invitation that the ceremony would be conducted in the nonregulation summer service white uniform and had chosen not to have my aide call and challenge Moon on the issue. After all, I rationalized, who would be there to put me on report in that tiny, out-of-the-way air station? Despite warnings from my aide that these things have a way of getting back to higher authority, I flew to Point Mugu in the illicit uniform hoping that it would not get back to my boss. I didn’t, however, wear one of the illegal caps. I didn’t own one, nor would I be caught dead wearing one. After all, I had to put my foot down somewhere in this whole process.
A sedan met me at the airplane and whisked me to the ceremony behind the VX-4 hangar. The spectator seating had been arranged in a fan shape with a huge American flag draped on the hangar doors behind the podium. I walked the dozen or so paces to where the sideboys had been arranged flanking a length of red carpet. As I received arrival honors I observed in utter astonishment the entire squadron drawn up in ranks — with the officers in the front row all resplendent in snow-white pisscutters. They didn’t look half bad. The show was vintage Moon Vance … and the expression on his face, a peculiar combination of impishness, chutzpah, pride and rebellion, told the whole story. What a guy! I walked through the sideboys and accepted Moon’s extended hand. The moment was golden!
....... from the summer 2000 issue of THE HOOK magazine
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