Well, really, the scuppers ran green with sea dye marker mixed in salt water.

In summary, I am now a Trusty Shellback. I even had a bit part in the ceremony: after we'd been approved by Davy Jones, my "pod" of about twenty had to be presented to King Neptune and Queen Amphirite. We knelt, and His Neptunic Majesty asked if anyone would speak for the group. I said I would. "Why have you come before Us?" "Your Majesty, we seek permission to cross your domain." "And why do you think you are worthy of this boon?" "Your Majesty, we have had the taint of the landlubber clensed from us by Your loyal shellbacks, and Your minister Davy Jones has recommended us to your domain." "Arise then, trusty shellbacks all, and have your names entered on the Royal Rolls!"

As we were waiting in line to get our names recorded, Capt K_ asked if I'd been briefed on that conversation. "No, sir, but it seemed appropriate at the time." And another little bit gets added to my legend…

Also of course, my reputation preceded me. We were asked questions of tactics during the trials. The guy in front of me was asked the maximum effective range of a M-16A2 against a point target. I was asked to describe the function of the seeker head on a Sidewinder missile. They were suitably impressed when I answered it. Luckily I'd read an article about the Sidewinder in American Heritage of Invention and Technology magazine a few years ago. (The IR detector is fixed, while a spinning mirror flashes the target's heat spot onto the director once each revolution; the missile steers towards whatever angle the mirror is at when it reflects the heat spot.) And coming up with intellegible answers while facing into a fire hose added to the challenge.

Anyway, the ship's captain is now signing all our certificates, suitable for framing when we get back to garrison.

Now, we've got a Steel Beach party starting on the flight deck. The swim call was cancelled on account of high seas. While I'm not worried about swimming in 15' swells, the waves would make the shark snipers ineffective.

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We've been wearing the sewing machine out today. Tomorrow is the line-crossing ceremony, and our Sergeant Major is playing Davy Jones. So we had to make him a set of finery appropriate to an undead buccaneer. It came out quite nicely, I'd say. Three-cornered hat and all.

Then the MEU CO came by for a sewing lesson. The highest ranking Marine officer within a thousand miles. The guy that my boss's boss's boss's boss's boss reports to. He's going to retire soon, and bought a heavy-duty sewing machine to upkeep the tack for his horses. So he came by for a lesson on how to use these magic machines.

I've got the reputation as the shop's best teacher, although Cpl O_ is a better hand with sewing. So I got to sit down with The Man and teach him how to do my job. We did about an hour's worth of work tonight, and he said he'll be back tomorrow. The other guys were hassling me that I should ask him to promote me. Which he could do if he felt like it.

Anyway, I should go to bed. In less than six hours, myself and the other 800 filthy pollywogs abord the USS Boat will be cleansed of "the dirt of the farm and the stench of the city", with pure delicious cold salt water. We'll break our fast with salt fish and codliver oil, report on the traditions of the naval service, get quizzed on tactics, perform PT, get our hair trimmed, and in general be subject to some mild hazing. Then we will have purified ourselves sufficiently to become Trusty Shellbacks, loyal subjects of His Neptunic Majesty.

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The Knight and The Wizard, by Gene Wolfe, are the most approachable novels of Mr. Wolfe that I've read. Wolfe is perhaps the best English-language writer alive, and that he writes in the SF and fantasy genres is even more astonishing.

One can always identify Wolfe's writing by his use of the unreliable narrator. His books are stories told by their protagonists, and it's up to the reader to puzzle out who is truthful, who is lying, and when things are what they appear and when they are not. His masterwork, The Book of the New Sun, is tremdously difficult to interpret, and I've seen no less than five other books written by critics to untangle the mysteries of plot and character therein.

The Wizard Knight (published in two volumes) is much simpler, because it's set in a simpler world. It's the world of heroic legend, of Arthurian knights, of Norse gods. Our hero is an American high-schooler from the 1950s transported to a fantastic realm. He falls in love with the Queen of the Moss Elves, and becomes a knight to become worthy of her hand. As the story progresses, he loses some of his naivete and innocence, but his intellegence and cunning are always dedicated to his one overwhelming goal- to live with his one true love.

When I say it is simple, I mean two different things by that. First, the writing style is somewhat less ornate than Wolfe is know for, especially at first. Second, less has to be puzzled out than in many of Wolfe's other works, because this is an epistolary novel, and so the protagonist directly explains important details. Several mysteries are still left to the reader, of course, and although none has been announced, there was room left for a sequel. That too is typical of Wolfe; just because a book ends, doesn't mean that the characters have nothing left to do.

In summary: highly recommended, even to those who may have been intimidated by Wolfe's earlier novels.

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We're heading north again. We travel more than 700 miles every day, so it won't take long to be at the equator again. I put my fleece jacket back in my seabag, and it was quite sweaty up on the flight deck during FOD walk today. Soon, I'll be home!

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We spent four day in port, but the military mail service couldn't be bothered with flying us any mail to Townsville's rather nice airport. Jerks. Several of us have packages waiting, and now we won't get them until we get back to Okinawa. People are upset. Mail is a big thing on the boat.

Additionally, I left my shaving cream behind in the hotel. The ship's store has run out. So I'll be doing it the hard way for a couple of weeks. I'd ask for some kind family member to mail me some… but please note the paragraph above.

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I've spent the last four days and three nights in fabulous Townsville, Queensland. This entry is going to get long, so I'm moving it below the fold.

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One of the reasons I got my Pentax K10D was to take night photos. The larger image sensor creates much less noise on long exposures than the little sensors in pocket cameras.

This first one was taken on a rainy, pitch black night. I illuminated my subjects with the blue flashlight I use to work up there. The color is an accurate representation of what it's like to work in monochrome.

This other one was taken a few days later, using moonlight. The color surprised me, as we're used to seeing only in shades of gray at night. But the camera's sensor doesn't have seperate rod and cone cells, of course. I pondered converting it to black and white to make it seem more "natural", but I think it's better as is. I took several others that night that came out nicely too. They're all sort of desaturated and sourceless. They looked to me like old negatives from WW2, faded with age.

I'm sad at how much I had to compress them to upload them with the boat's limited internet connectivity. The originals are crisp and clear. When I get my photos uploaded to flickr, check them out again.

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The excercise is essentially over. Yesterday, I had to get up to be at a practice for manning the rails, at 0900. My normal shop time is 1200. Then I messed up and set my alarm for PM not AM, and slept through it anyway. Whoops. Being late to work is a crime in the military, but my guys covered for me. Thanks, guys.

Then we took all of the aviator's body armor back down to our container in the upper vehicle deck. Basically, down two ladders, across two hundred yards of hanger deck, down a 30° ramp, and another hundred yards. It's long enough that multiple trips get annoying.

We had forty vests, and five people in the shop. The solution seemed obvious, so we put on eight vests each and waddled away. Someone took a photo, I'll try to get a copy. We looked like turtles, peeking out of our shells.

At the end of that evolution, it was still only 1020, and flight quarters wasn't starting until 1100. So I got a chance to go for a run on the flight deck, which is something I've yet to be able to do. I hate treadmills, but normally when I get up we're already in flight ops, so no running up there. Anyway, I only went about two miles, because the armor had been wet and mildewed, and I was having trouble breathing from my allergic reaction.

Done running, I went to the gym and, wonder of wonders, discovered an unoccupied rowing machine. So I put five kilometers on that thing and felt better about my day's efforts.

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