12 on 12 off 4 hour watch every 4th day...long days of flight op's from morning till evening...sore ankles from tripping over tie down chains...scabby shins from banging into knee-knockers (hatch accessways)...dirt, grime, smells of JP5 and hydraulic fluid everywhere...JP5 would leak into freshwater supply sometimes so taking showers meant rinsing soap off was impossible (to avoid dry soap-flaked skin I found shampoo was better to rinse off)...
I worked nights so my morning was a light breakfast of whatever I could find, lunch was MidRats (breakfast fare) and dinner was breakfast. Since I loved breakfast that was cool. Work itself was not difficult, just tedious. Lots of paperwork, helping pull jet engines and draining lines, fod walkdowns, standing watches, scrounging for parts (That was my favorite task! The squadron storekeeper and I were good little thieves!), get loaned out for TAD (temp duty) to another department and getting assigned to working parties loading supplies while underway in port.
And it is amazing what a human can get used to. I had one berthing space right under the #2 trap wire. All you would hear is an eerie wind/engine whistling sound, then a loud clank as the tailhook hit the deck and a bang as the wheels hit, immediately followed by a shrieking whine as the cable ran out and applied its resistance to stop the plane, which was roaring like a caged beast at full-throtle should he have missed the wire. Then the plane would taxi off while the wire creaked, scraped and groaned its way back into place. Repeat every 2-3 minutes, all day long. I got used to the rhythm and would only awake to the sound of my small alarm clock.
Long tedious days at sea that blended one into another. Read a ton of books when I had down time, played backgammon, listened to shortwave radios and some guys had a betamax to watch flicks on or you just caught something on the ships CCTV (a rare movie, Victory at Sea, etc). Most of us smoked like demons so most spaces were choked with smoke. One of our Senior Chiefs liked cigars and jalapenos as much as I. I would buy the stogies, he would get jars of pickled jalapenos sent to him. People in our little work space would haul ass as soon as they saw us break out our goodies, but we were in heaven. If there wasn't any night op's I was one of the few who would jog the outer edge of the flight deck, and then rest with my feet dangling over the bow...watching the stars...the porpoise...the flying fish...whatever was about.
But then there was hitting port...but that is another story! (Let's keep this PG for now!)