Navy Veterans of the United States of America

07/15/2025

https://youtu.be/EcuKW6FNIf4?si=K2zOtTAuXs9b5lun

04/13/2025

This rating is gone now like so many other memories.

04/01/2025

April 1, 1893 - April 1, 2025. Happy Birthday, fellow Navy Chiefs! Once a Chief, always a Chief.

03/04/2025

10/20/2024

My Key West Sunset

10/18/2024

Our sunset today. Beautiful.

10/13/2024

From:
"Matt Burton"

Hello and Good Morning Master Chief,

I tried to private message you in Facebook, but it wouldn't go through. Chip Pittman was my Recruiter, Fellow Navy Chief in the Reserves at Porter Ave, My Supervisor when I worked for him at Fitness Tech, my Mentor, and most of all my friend.

Both he and I were diagnosed with a medical condition around the same time. I had been diagnosed with an osteomyelitis which is a bone infection in my left foot due to a traumatic experience that I endured back when I was in the Navy, which resulted in my having a total left hip replacement back in 2019 at the age of 47.

Chip was diagnosed with Ewing Sarcoma around the same time as I was diagnosed with the osteomyelitis which was around early Spring of 2022. I'm writing you to ask your permission for the initial write up on Chip for his being a recruiter out of the Brockport area. I met Chip at the Recruiting Center in Greece on Ridge Rd, in the early spring of 1990. I took the ASVAB for the Air Force and failed miserably, so I went to the old Paddy Hill Library in Greece and studied for it and I passed with an 89, I excelled in mechanics. Chip was in the hallway at the recruiter center, and asked me what I was looking to do? I told him that I was looking to join the Air Force, and he piped up and said, "You're going to go to San Antonio, then be shipped over to Germany." Which I wasn't really wanting to go over to Germany. He mentioned to me, I could get you in the Navy and see the World and get "Laid"... I signed the dotted line, went to Great Lakes Graduated just before Winter, came home for a week then off to TPU Subic Bay for a month. Chip never lied to me, I had fun in the Philippines.

I ended up flying out of Clark AFB, on an E2 Greyhound and landed on the Flight Deck of the USS Independence CV-62. From there I was sent to R-Div and ended up becoming an HT. I left the Indy which was a Forrestal Class Carrier of which I believe you had served on and a very good friend of mine Robert Harrison who's a fellow Snipe like myself. I left the Indy in 1993, to go back to 32nd Street in San Diego, California to my second command the USS Acadia AD-42. Where I was put in the Sheet metal shop. I left the active duty Navy on 6/14/94, then went into the active Reserves first was attached to the USS Compt de Grasse DD-974, out of the Paul Rd Reserve Center, which was short lived and then was sent to Porter Ave in Buffalo to be attached to the MIUWU 213. There at Porter Ave I ran into Chip again, as he was an EN1, soon to be Chief. I, however, was his employee outside of the Reserves, working for him when he owned Fitness Tech.

Chip and I were friends from the start, and while working for him and Missy was just an added benefit. I ended up following the path of a very good Welder, and continued to be a servant of God to help people in need. I have two pieces of fitness equipment down in my sunroom both of which Chip and Missy sold to me.

My wife and I were married 6/14/03. Significant date of end of enlistment and Flag Day. We all would meet out for dinners at Souel House, or Tokyo Japanese Restaurant, had a few nice dinners at there house in Penfield, NY. Then we finally made it down to Marco Island for our 18 year Anniversary. That was the last time we actually had the opportunity to visit with each other in person. We would FaceTime and check in on each other's diagnosis' as we were both dealing with some type of Bone infection. I was able to visit Chip on a weekend visit back in 2017 when I was going to a training school for the ICEE company. I rented a SRT Challenger for the weekend and did a clandestine operation with Missy's assistance to surprise Chip. I ended up getting to there house around 2130hrs, and in dire need to use the head. I knocked on the door, he was awe stricken, and asked me "What are you doing here?"
I then replied, "May I use your Head?" Lol

I had to stop welding due to health reasons, so I obtained an Associate Degree in Science for HVAC/R. I was a Service technician for awhile, then had the hip replacement, then went into the sales end of things. Currently I'm the Sales Retention Specialist for Isaac Heating here in Rochester, NY. I'm still healing and heading in the right direction with my foot. I'm going to be having reconstructive surgery soon and I'll be able to work from home while I recover.

As for what I've done for my community here, I will give you the condensed version. 2017 my Grandfather was chosen via The Greatest Generation Foundation to participate in the 75th Anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor. On the flight from LAX to Honolulu he was on a Soaring Valor flight sponsored by Gary Sinise Foundation. Gary was the chow runner for all the WWII Veteran's on that flight. My Grandfather told me the story how he had Gary running to get him his dinner which was a filet mignon, carrots and mashed potatoes with gravy.

I wrote Gary Sinise Foundation a Thank You letter for his kindness and support of The Greatest Generation on down for all of us Veteran's as he is today's Bob Hope. I mentioned how he took care of my Grandfather's steak and carrots.

A few days went by and Gary's Executive Assistant reached out to me to meet me know that they forwarded the letter to Gary. Gary remembered serving steak and carrots to my Grandfather and wanted to know if my Grandfather and I had ever been to The National WWII Museum in New Orleans, LA if not we could go all expenses paid.

I spoke with Gramps about it and he wanted me to coordinate with the Museum and GSF, to have Harmonica Peter DuPre to go for a Private Viewing of the Museum, Pete's son Pierre met us down in NOLA, to assist with his Dad. We had Beautiful Trip. I continued to get WWII Veterans in this area down to the Museum, Gramps and I went the following year 2018, and we had 49 WWII Veteran's and their Guardians, then again in 2019 where I was a Guardian to another Veteran as my Grandfather passed away 6/5/2019. We had 52 WWII Veteran's, their Guardians and some students from Phelps Mid Lakes Senior Class.

Happy Birthday UNITED STATES NAVY!!!

Chip will never be forgotten. I'm working on writing up a nice posting and would Love to use that pic of Chip as the story is about how he's a recruiter in Brockport?

Have a Great Weekend.
Respectfully,
Matt Burton
HT3 USN 1990-94
585-414-2933

10/11/2024

R.I.P. Chief Pittman.

10/04/2024

Throwback Thursday, February 1998.

10/04/2024

The Sea bag
There was a time when everything you owned had to fit into your sea bag. Remember those nasty rascals? Fully packed, one of the suckers weighed more than the poor devil hauling it.
The damn things weighed a ton and some idiot with an off-center sense of humor sewed a carry handle on it to help you haul it. Hell, you could bolt a handle on a Greyhound bus but it wouldn't make the damn thing portable.
The Army, Marines and Air Force got footlockers and we got a big ole' canvas bag.
After you warped your spine accessing the goofy thing through a bus or train station, sat on it waiting for connecting transportation and made folks mad because it was too damn big to fit in any overhead rack on any bus, train and airplane ever made, the contents looked like hell. All your gear appeared to have come from bums who slept on park benches.
Traveling with a sea bag was something left over from the "Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum" sailing ship days. Sailors used to sleep in hammocks. So you stowed your issue in a big canvas bag and lashed your hammock to it, hoisted it on your shoulder and in effect moved your entire home and complete inventory of earthly possessions from ship to ship. I wouldn't say you traveled light because with one strap it was a one-shoulder load that could torque your skeletal frame and bust your ankles. It was like hauling a dead linebacker.
They wasted a lot of time in boot camp telling you how to pack one of the suckers. There was an officially sanctioned method of organization that you forgot after ten minutes on the other side of the gate at Great Lakes or San Diego. You got rid of a lot of issue gear when you went to the SHIP. Did you ever know a tincan sailor who had a raincoat? A flat hat? One of those nut hugger knit swimsuits? How 'bout those shops that rolled your own neckerchiefs... The ones the girls in a good Naval tailor shop would cut down and sew into a 'greasy snake' for two bucks?
Within six months, every fleet sailor was down to one set of dress blues, port and starboard undress blues and whites, a couple of white hats, boots, shoes, assorted skivvies, a peacoat, and three sets of bleached out dungarees. The rest of your original issue was either in the peacoat locker, lucky bag, or had been reduced to wipe down rags in the engine room. Underway ships were not ships that allowed vast accumulation of private gear.
Hobos who lived in discarded refrigerator crates could amass greater loads of pack rat crap than fleet sailors. The confines of a canvas back rack, side locker and a couple of bunk bags did not allow one to live a Donald Trump existence. Space and the going pay scale combined to make us envy the lifestyle of a mud hut Ethiopian. We were the global equivalents of nomadic Mongols without ponies to haul our stuff.
And after the rigid routine of boot camp we learned the skill of random compression packing...known by mother's world-wide as 'cramming'. It is amazing what you can jam into a space no bigger than a breadbox if you pull a watch cap over a boot and push it in with your foot. Of course it looks kinda weird when you pull it out but they never hold fashion shows at sea and wrinkles added character to a salty appearance. There was a four-hundred mile gap between the images on recruiting posters and the actual appearance of sailors at sea. It was not without justifiable reason that we were called the tincan Navy.
We operated on the premise that if 'Cleanliness was next to Godliness', we must be next to the other end of that spectrum... We looked like our clothing had been pressed with a waffle iron and packed by a bulldozer.
But what in the hell did they expect from a bunch of jerks that lived in the crews hole of a 2100 Fletcher Class can. After a while you got used to it... You got used to everything you owned picking up and retaining that distinctive aroma...
You got used to old ladies on busses taking a couple of wrinkled nose sniffs of your peacoat then getting up and finding another seat...
Do they still issue seabags? Can you still make five bucks sitting up half the night drawing a ships picture on the side of one of the damn things with black and white marking pens that drive old master-at-arms into a 'rig for heart attack' frenzy? Make their faces red... The veins on their neck bulge out... And yell," Jeezus H. Christ! What in god's name is that all over your sea bag?" "Artwork, Chief... It's like the work of Michelangelo...My ship... Great huh?" "Looks like some damn comic book..."
Here was a man with cobras tattooed on his arms... A skull with a dagger through one eye and a ribbon reading 'DEATH BEFORE SHORE DUTY' on his shoulder...Crossed anchors with 'Subic Bay 1955' on the other shoulder... An eagle on his chest and a full blown Chinese dragon peeking out between the cheeks of his butt.
If anyone was an authority on stuff that looked like a comic book, it had to be this E- 8 sucker.
Sometimes I look at all the crap stacked in my garage, close my eyes and smile, remembering a time when everything I owned could be crammed into a canvas bag. Maturity is hell.
Author UnknowThe Sea bag
There was a time when everything you owned had to fit into your sea bag. Remember those nasty rascals? Fully packed, one of the suckers weighed more than the poor devil hauling it.
The damn things weighed a ton and some idiot with an off-center sense of humor sewed a carry handle on it to help you haul it. Hell, you could bolt a handle on a Greyhound bus but it wouldn't make the damn thing portable.
The Army, Marines and Air Force got footlockers and we got a big ole' canvas bag.
After you warped your spine accessing the goofy thing through a bus or train station, sat on it waiting for connecting transportation and made folks mad because it was too damn big to fit in any overhead rack on any bus, train and airplane ever made, the contents looked like hell. All your gear appeared to have come from bums who slept on park benches.
Traveling with a sea bag was something left over from the "Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum" sailing ship days. Sailors used to sleep in hammocks. So you stowed your issue in a big canvas bag and lashed your hammock to it, hoisted it on your shoulder and in effect moved your entire home and complete inventory of earthly possessions from ship to ship. I wouldn't say you traveled light because with one strap it was a one-shoulder load that could torque your skeletal frame and bust your ankles. It was like hauling a dead linebacker.
They wasted a lot of time in boot camp telling you how to pack one of the suckers. There was an officially sanctioned method of organization that you forgot after ten minutes on the other side of the gate at Great Lakes or San Diego. You got rid of a lot of issue gear when you went to the SHIP. Did you ever know a tincan sailor who had a raincoat? A flat hat? One of those nut hugger knit swimsuits? How 'bout those shops that rolled your own neckerchiefs... The ones the girls in a good Naval tailor shop would cut down and sew into a 'greasy snake' for two bucks?
Within six months, every fleet sailor was down to one set of dress blues, port and starboard undress blues and whites, a couple of white hats, boots, shoes, assorted skivvies, a peacoat, and three sets of bleached out dungarees. The rest of your original issue was either in the peacoat locker, lucky bag, or had been reduced to wipe down rags in the engine room. Underway ships were not ships that allowed vast accumulation of private gear.
Hobos who lived in discarded refrigerator crates could amass greater loads of pack rat crap than fleet sailors. The confines of a canvas back rack, side locker and a couple of bunk bags did not allow one to live a Donald Trump existence. Space and the going pay scale combined to make us envy the lifestyle of a mud hut Ethiopian. We were the global equivalents of nomadic Mongols without ponies to haul our stuff.
And after the rigid routine of boot camp we learned the skill of random compression packing...known by mother's world-wide as 'cramming'. It is amazing what you can jam into a space no bigger than a breadbox if you pull a watch cap over a boot and push it in with your foot. Of course it looks kinda weird when you pull it out but they never hold fashion shows at sea and wrinkles added character to a salty appearance. There was a four-hundred mile gap between the images on recruiting posters and the actual appearance of sailors at sea. It was not without justifiable reason that we were called the tincan Navy.
We operated on the premise that if 'Cleanliness was next to Godliness', we must be next to the other end of that spectrum... We looked like our clothing had been pressed with a waffle iron and packed by a bulldozer.
But what in the hell did they expect from a bunch of jerks that lived in the crews hole of a 2100 Fletcher Class can. After a while you got used to it... You got used to everything you owned picking up and retaining that distinctive aroma...
You got used to old ladies on busses taking a couple of wrinkled nose sniffs of your peacoat then getting up and finding another seat...
Do they still issue seabags? Can you still make five bucks sitting up half the night drawing a ships picture on the side of one of the damn things with black and white marking pens that drive old master-at-arms into a 'rig for heart attack' frenzy? Make their faces red... The veins on their neck bulge out... And yell," Jeezus H. Christ! What in god's name is that all over your sea bag?" "Artwork, Chief... It's like the work of Michelangelo...My ship... Great huh?" "Looks like some damn comic book..."
Here was a man with cobras tattooed on his arms... A skull with a dagger through one eye and a ribbon reading 'DEATH BEFORE SHORE DUTY' on his shoulder...Crossed anchors with 'Subic Bay 1955' on the other shoulder... An eagle on his chest and a full blown Chinese dragon peeking out between the cheeks of his butt.
If anyone was an authority on stuff that looked like a comic book, it had to be this E- 8 sucker.
Sometimes I look at all the crap stacked in my garage, close my eyes and smile, remembering a time when everything I owned could be crammed into a canvas bag. Maturity is hell.
Author Unknow