I think you get the idea of what the crew was like. I myself had been busted for possession of a small amount of marijuana after the dogs had been run through the barracks. I had previously been assigned to the office of Naval Intelligence where my job description entailed mainly drinking coffee and ferrying messages between the many offices of CINCPACFLT. Upon being busted for weed I was stripped of my security clearance and banished to the Navy's version of purgatory.
The only thing that
kept me from being sent first to the brig for a short
stint of bread and water and second to the fleet
where I would spend the rest of my enlistment
painting and cleaning shitters, was the fact that I
had been selling bags of high quality Hawaiian
weed to the base personnel chief, a giant black man
with a massive afro who closely resembled NBA
great, Wilt Chamberlain. He also banged Rose on
occasion and knew that I was aware of this so I
think he thought it would be prudent to transfer me
to somewhere more of my liking in case he needed
some more good reefer or if I decided to spill my
guts. It probably would have been better for me in
the long run if I had gone to the fleet.
I was on duty. When you had duty - about
once every six days - you had to spend the night at
the boathouse where you made sure that no boats
sank or any local lowlifes broke into the paint
locker to huff paint and break into the vehicles. It
was about ten at night, I was high on a combination
of Hawaiian Bud and Primo beer, and I was
watching Brewer and Malcolm screw a pig. About
twice a year the admiral would throw a shindig at
the boathouse for the beautiful people (again only
high ranking officers and their wives) of
CINCPACFLT and this always included some kind
of slaughtered flesh, usually a roasted pig but
sometimes a calf.
A crew of three or four locals
would bring the sacrificial hog down and would
string it up by it's feet, slit it's throat, and bleed it to
the death while catching the blood in the bucket
which would be used later for a blood sauce. This
event always included lots of beer, weed,
sometimes narcotics if they were available, and was
always proceeded by Brewer (and this time
Malcolm) sodomizing the poor bastard before it's
neck was cut. Brewer considered this act to be his
way of sticking it to the man although I'm sure the
pig didn't think of it that way.
The local Hawaiians thought this was rather strange
but always laughed
so damn hard I thought they'd shit their pants.
"Those bastards are blowing me by proxy
when they eat this goddamned thing," Brewer
bellowed out above the squeal of the pig. It was a
more horrifying scene than watching Ned Beatty
getting it in the ass in Deliverance.
"You going to get in on anything of this?"
Brewer asked me as the Hawaiians cheered on
Malcolm as he took his turn.
By this time the pig had finally had enough, and
Malcolm who barely
weighted a hundred pounds, was stuck inside the pig
and was hanging on like it was a fucking rodeo
as the hog ran around the pen.
"I think I'll pass, but thanks anyway."
"Suit yourself, but you don't know what
you're missing. It's almost as good as a woman.
Sometimes better." Brewer turned to walk to the
beer cooler. "Oh, by the way. Don't get too fucked
up tonight. Blanche has my car so you're gonna
have to give me a ride home after we get done
killing this fucking pig and cleaning the place up."