COMSUBBBS
Posts: 3202
Location: Alexandria, Virginia | Subject: YNC(SS) Webber...Great Guy
In the late 1950's and early 1950's, SubRon Six had a squadron office Yeoman named Chief Webber. I think Webber ran the Squadron and had EVERYTHING on Orion wired. He was like the Emperor of Pier 22. I can't remember his first name, but one of you out there who rode a SubRon Six smokeboat hasta remember him. He could accomplish anything. He may very well have been the best connected sailor in the fleet. You needed something and Webber could connect you with the source. If you came up with something impossible to find...an old diesel boat part they quit making in 1952...something not presently available in a Naval Supply catalog, Webber knew some sonuvabitch in a warehouse nobody ever heard of who had two of the damn things. You had a busted watch, some clown in the tenders instrument shop who owed Webber a favor, fixed it for you. You needed to do some catching up with your squeeze and the boat was heading out for a week of being a PDC target for a bunch of S2F's and P2V's, Web could get your sorry ass into Motion Picture Operators School...a school you could pass with a chipping hammer lobotomy. He knew everybody and moved cumshaw around the pier like a Bedouin camel trader. "Hey Cookie, was just up in the Squadron Office, Webber needs a case of Chunky Peter Pan and five cans of white meat tuna on the next mail run." The cook would stop what he was doing and break out whatever it took to fill Webs order. Some clueless married non-qual E-3 had a wife deliver a baby and Webber to his everlasting credit, cranked up the Squadron enlisted wives jungle telegraph and crib, bedding, blankets, diapers, formula, bottles and the embrace of very concerned women magically turned up. In the days before XEROX, the navy had infernal devices called Thermofax machines....Webber would teach you where you could steal Thermofax paper then send you up to SubLant in the Squadron Commanders car and you and the Old Man's driver would rob the poor bastards blind. I can remember some kid off the Runner lost his Mother and I came into the Squadron Office as Web was cutting him orders to head home for the funeral...He handed the kid one of those official brown envelopes with his orders and TR's, then pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed the kid $30 of his own money..."This is your lucky day kid. The boys out on my ranch in Montana just sold the herd in Abaline...Buy yourself a beer on the way home." (The closest Web had been to Montana and live cows, was a Wednesday night Orion boatdeck shoot-em-up.) The kid thanked him and headed aft toward the lower brow. "OK Dex, just shut the hell up...every kid should have some of whatever it takes to buy his departed Mother some going away posies." Web, you old saltwater coot, wherever you are and whatever became of you...You were one helluva sailor and embodied all the good qualities found in true shipmates. DEX....(Note) If any of you have kept up with him and he's not snorkelling at six feet below the sod...sure would like to know where he is and how the rascal's doing. |
YNC(SS) Webber...Great Guy
