Duck-Nappers At Large
A few days ago, a reader dug up an old entry from my Sea Story archives, and wrote a nice comment about some hijinks from his own Navy days. In the process of replying to his comment, I looked over my old story and found myself chuckling a couple of times.
Not hysterically funny, but smile-worthy. That’s all the excuse I needed to polish up the story and share it here.
Duck-Nappers At Large…
About halfway through a Westpac deployment, AJ, one of the guys in my division, received a care package from home. In addition to the usual assortment of snacks, family snapshots, and miss-you notes, it contained a stuffed duck. (The cute and cuddly toy animal kind, not the taxidermy kind.) The Sonar Gang aboard USS Towers was known for having a twisted sense of humor, so AJ wisely decided to hide his fluffy buddy from the rest of us, to protect it from horrible pranks. Despite his best efforts, it was only a matter of time until the little quacker was duck-napped.
I won’t say that I was in on the snatch, but I will admit to being a co-conspirator. Once we had possession of the duck, we decided to hold it for ransom. AJ had a stash of Australian candy bars in his locker, and we hoped to ransom the duck for some Polly Waffles. Foolproof, right? That’s what we thought.
Our brilliant plan quickly ran into a snag. Word of the duck-napping had gotten around, and AJ began receiving anonymous notes from several sources—all claiming to have custody of the missing duck.
We realized that, tf we were going to cash in, we would need proof that we were the real duck-nappers. We figured we’d take a photo of the duck and attach it to a ransom note made from letters cut out of magazines; just like in the movies. Unfortunately, digital cameras hadn’t been invented yet, and we couldn’t find anyone aboard with a Polaroid. After several hours of fruitless searching, I got a brilliant idea… If we couldn’t photograph the duck, we could Xerox it.
As the originator of this brainstorm, I was elected to do the dirty deed. A buddy let me into the Administration Office after hours. Safely inside with the door closed, I shoved the duck under the lid of the copier and began trying to get a good copy of it. The bulk of the stuffed toy made it impossible to get the lid lowered properly, so too much light kept getting in and washing out the image. We flipped off the light switch and were happily Xeroxing the duck in the dark, when the door opened and the lights came on.
It was the Executive Officer, dropping by to pick up some paperwork. He looked at me. Then he looked at the duck squashed into the copier. Then he looked at the stack of duck images in the out-tray of the machine.
He stood there for about ten seconds, then he gave a heavy sigh and turned the light switch back off. Standing there in the dark, my face illuminated only by the shuttling green glow of the copier light, I didn’t know whether to laugh it off or try to explain. I expected the XO to leave, but he just stood there, silhouetted in the doorway.
Finally, he shook his head and spoke softly. “I’ve got a leak in One-Alpha Oil Purifier. I’ve got two idiots who missed ship’s movement. I’ve got a stack of overdue reports on my desk, and a Second Class Electrician’s Mate who likes to dress in women’s clothing every time we pull into a foreign port. Now, I’ve got perverts Xeroxing farm animals in the dark. Why did I ever agree to take this job?”
He closed the door and walked away.
