BOMBS OF A DIFFERENT TYPE

By Ken Smith

 

Living the fantasy of a world depicted by an old National Geographic Magazine the author recalls a happening in his early Coast Guard career that he is unable to forget............

My tour of duty at CG Loran Transmitting Station Ulithi, that Godforsaken atoll in the Western Pacific, is memorable for a couple of reasons.

Ulithi was populated by natives and 10 to 15 Coasties. Being so close to the Equator, the women are nude from the waist up. As a "civilized American," this, of course, was a real eye opener for a healthy 20-year-old. Boobs came in every size and shape you could imagine in your dreams, and some you couldn’t. All in plain sight and in their natural glory.

For the first month or so, my eyeballs were sunburned until, eventually, the novelty wore off . . . except for one young lady.

Lending a Helping Hand

Aside from my duties as an ET, I was interested in medicine and often helped our Pharmacist’s Mate with his chores, which included treating the natives for their ills. I gave shots and even sutured cuts routinely, but it was during these helpful ministrations a memorable event occurred.

Josephine was only 12 years old, but my, my, she had the most incredible boobs! They looked like two large cones sticking straight out of her chest—absolutely defying the law of gravity. A pair so outstanding that God certainly must have lovingly delayed a few extra moments while forming her.

In that part of the world there is a disease called Yaws, which looks like poison ivy but is far more dangerous. Josephine developed Yaws and came to our sickbay with "crud" on her boobs. "Doc" didn’t have any treatment for this except to put Calomine lotion on the affected parts to stop the itching.

Doc was a happily married man and so I, in the true spirit of "Semper Paratus," came to his rescue by offering to treat this young lady—always anxious to lend a helping hand where needed.

With the utmost care and tenderness, I carefully, slowly, and sensuously administered the pink lotion to the affected mammary glands, trying not to get my drool mixed with the lotion. When this expert medical procedure was finally and reluctantly concluded, I stepped back to admire my handiwork (and God’s). They were so beautiful I had to photograph them for future reference. The painted boobs looked like the business end of a pair of bombs.

As I write this almost fifty years later, I’m beginning to perspire as I remember that fantastic pair, which, unfortunately, have probably reached the ground by now. Gravity will have its way eventually, as Newton said.

The color pictures I took are still in my possession. Copies may be purchased for $19.95 plus $5.95 shipping and handling, plus a 10% surcharge for Radiomen.

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Note from Jack: This story was rewritten by Don Gardner and myself to make it PG rated and not X rated. We hope the author will forgive us. I plead guilty to renaming the story so as not to attract children.

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