GWOT IV - Real Stories Of The California Coast Guard



I can't write, talk or even think about most of the things I was shown at the California Naval Militia base in and around Monterey.

I just can't.

It is relatively public knowledge that somewhere between the former Monterey Bay Aquarium (now a naval diver training site, sorry sea life) and oh, say Point Sur Lighthouse, there is a huge underground complex of submarine pens that contains some of our infamous submarines.

I certainly have no idea.

But what I did get to see, and can actually talk about, is the nascent California Coast Guard.

They apparently wanted me. Badly. But I had many reasons for not wanting to be a Coastie.

I'd spent just enough time seasick on a small boat as a preteen that I had no interest in going back. Certainly not on the daily.

A ruined left hand makes holding on to anything - as aboard a small boat in choppy seas - both more difficult and painful.

I firmly believe that a helicopter is a collection of parts made by the lowest bidder forced to violate the laws of God and man until they in mutual loathing fly apart. When my duties compel me to, I can fly aboard one. But given a choice between a chopper ride and a reunion with a certain chair in Room 6-19, I would have to think about it.

Walking, marching and especially jogging on wet beach sand sucks [CENSORED BY CALIFORNIA MILITARY]. OK, that was a joke. This isn't censored, except that everything that sucks about wet beach sand is obscene in the most scatalogical and perverted sense.

I enjoyed the tour. They're a cool agency. I admire them.

But I have no desire to be one of them.

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McNasty slowly started accumulating basic amenities to go along with the other infrastructure. It wasn't my problem except when I black-penciled a line item for $20,000 CAD for audio visual equipment.

This bought us an audio and projection system for the covered meeting area, TV sets with satellite links for the barracks and mess hall, and a very nice system for the NCO wardroom. (McNasty was too small for an officer's club, and besides we all hated each other anyway.)

For some reason or another, probably operational tempo, I found myself catching a very late lunch or an early dinner in an otherwise empty mess hall when one of the new California TV shows came on.

Bold brassy intro nearly made me spill my bug juice, the military term for weak punch to disguise bad tasting water.

"REAL STORIES of the CALIFORNIA COAST GUARD!"

Cut to a patrol cutter rooster-tailing through the water, a zodiac on a moon-bright night with divers falling backwards over the sides, a skiff with blatant California Bear starless flag delivering a boarding inspection party to a much larger freighter, a running rescue swimmer with a state-issued flotation device and two lovely flotation devices issued to her upon her birth, a tactical team distinguished only by orange patches on their gear and inflatable life preservers making a dynamic entry through a ship's hatch with distraction devices ...

It had a plot. It had characters. It seemed to draw much inspiration from the pre-War TV show Baywatch except that the camera lingered not only on female chests but with equal shamelessness on every part of the human body.

It was laden with glorious message.

Join us! Help us defend California!

I finished my food before I finished the episode.

Then I thanked my lucky fortunes that I had escaped that fate.

It made McNasty with its constant sewer smell, grim reminders and small memorials that it had been a Homeland killing site, the ever-present dust and grime, and the knowledge that the Border and its many horrors awaited within reaction-range distance ... tolerable. Even preferable.

Because despite the wooden but enthusiastic acting and the propaganda plot lines, I could see that the California Coast Guard was a hard knock service.

They kept re-using the one zodiac, the one skiff, and a lot of beach. The cutter and helicopter scenes were canned and frequently rotated.

The end credits proudly boasted that "these are NOT actors, these are YOUR Coast Guard!" which made their worn uniforms even more disturbing.

The California Naval Militia had first draw on small craft boaters. Then State Parks, then other agencies including our own California scout-soldiers (rivers and lakes exist and North America has a lot of them) so CACG got the leftovers.

Even I could see obvious errors in small boat handling, on the camera work for the show.

Made me wonder how well they would run an intercept.

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TSSCI NOFORN CA NAVAL MILITIA
OFFICE OF NAVAL PLANNING
MOIST SECRET
COMPARTMENT NOSE STRIPE

The television show 'Real Stories of the California Coast Guard' is having the desired effect in causing foreign observers to underestimate both our coast watcher programs and naval prowess.

The decision to divert actors upon completion of basic training to the show filming unit is working out well for emphasizing their seeming clumsiness and lack of boat handling skills.

Censors continue to ensure that the focus is on bodies and morale rather than actual capabilities.

In particular, helicopter operations outside of meticulously censored brief clips are never shown and the coastal observer program is never mentioned.

The brilliance of the costuming department in rotating cast off and worn uniform items from regional quartermasters to the show filming unit is appreciated.

ENDIT