Funny Stories - Mattress Brigade

The marines never failed to hassle us at the gate. They searched our car for booze and cigarettes every time we came through and would confiscate them when they found them. My old Hudson had hidden compartments in the armrests in the back seat. I brought a bottle of booze back and forth every time I went on liberty just so I could sneak it by them.

After a good night on the town, we would gather at an all night cafeteria on base. I think it used to be a mess hall. We would sit at these big, old, picnic-style tables, drink coffee, sober up, and talk into the wee hours of the morning.

One night, the conversation turned to the marines on the gate and how they never seemed to tire of giving us a bad time. We kicked it around for a while until suddenly I remembered something from my mess cooking experience. A helicopter had come in for a landing with one strut missing. If it hit the runway that way, it would tip over, smashing the rotor blades into a million pieces, putting the crew at risk.

The mess cook barracks was next to the runway and we were called upon to haul our mattresses to the runway to form a soft landing pad. It was a tremendous effort hauling our mattresses downstairs and out on the runway and then back again when it was all over, but it was worth it because it worked, and no one was hurt.

The marine barracks, however, was two miles from the runway. We began to plot. What if we started a fight out front and made enough noise to get the night watch to come outside? What if the rest of us slipped inside, turned on the lights, woke everybody up, and told them a helicopter was coming in on one strut and that their mattresses were needed on the runway to form a landing pad?

Well, you wouldn't believe how well it worked. Once a couple of sergeants woke up, they took over for us and started barking orders better than we ever could, and the next thing you know a bunch of half-dressed marines were in formation outside the barracks with their mattresses over their heads. I felt a slight twinge of guilt when a sergeant bellowed, "Double time, march," and off they went into the darkness.

We were so tickled with ourselves that we didn't notice how serious every one was at quarters the next morning. We fell in and did dress right and open ranks march as if we were going to be inspected or something.

And then we just stood there at attention. And we stood there and stood there. Nobody said a word. Finally, after several hours, we were approached by a platoon of marines led by the marine commandant. I have never seen so much anger in a man's face before. My knees started shaking.

The commandant stopped in front of the first man in ranks and asked, "Is this one of them?"

"No sir," they all replied.

The commandant went from man to man. I knew I would be spotted, if for no other reason, because I was shaking so hard. The commandant looked me straight in the eye and asked, "Is this one of them?"

"No, sir," they all replied. I couldn't believe it. They didn't recognize a single one of us. When they were gone, Chief Buckley ordered, "Close ranks, march." But he didn't dismiss us. He didn't even put us at parade rest. After about twenty minutes or so, Petty Officer Silas Morehead was brave enough to ask, "Aren't you going to let us go, so we can go to work?"

"We'll secure when the commanding officer says we can secure," came the angry reply. We were still there at noon.

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