RIFLE RANGE LIBERTIES

By Pat Varallo

 


 

It was the Summer of 1950 and the Cutter DUANE was scheduled to send men to qualify at the Rifle Range at Wakefield, Massachusetts. The week was to be spent firing different weapons. There was no liberty scheduled until the final evening when the work on the range was finished.

About six or seven of the men got together and bought a couple of cases of beer (as sailors were sometimes known to do) and went down to a nearby lake for some R&R. It was a hot summer night and the boys began to get with the program.

Someone suggested they all go swimming. "We have no swimsuits" someone protested. "Its dark out and no one else is around" chimed in another, and all in unison they said, "let's do it." Done!

Sans bathing suits and in the raw, they were all splashing around and getting louder and more boisterous all the time when a brilliant flood light cut through the darkness like a ray of brilliant sunshine.

"CALL THE POLICE SAM" a woman's voice cried out, "there's someone out here."

With that the men rushed for cover behind some rather small trees B--- A-- Naked.

There was one fella who was laughing at something and soon he began to giggle. It was infectious. Before long there was loud laughter echoing through the darkness. It continued even after the police arrived.

"You boys ain't gonna be laughin' so loud when we get you to the slammer" said one of the cops in a sneering voice.

Fortunately cooler heads prevailed. The guy who started the laughing was a pretty good talker. He convinced the officers to let everyone dress and go back to the rifle range barracks with the promise that we would never again ever return to Wakefield. As if we had any control over it.

This is a true story and it really happened and that ain't NO SH-T.


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