Getting Revenge at Sea, Pt. 2 😈

Hi, all— 
It's time to finish my personal tale of hijinks on the high seas. If you recall, my quest for revenge began shortly after I checked aboard one of my ships as her new DCA (aka, head firefighter/casualty officer). Following my first midwatch at sea, I found my division's 200 lb gnarly, first aid dummy nestled in my rack. The culprits: my two chiefs, plus my leading petty officer & the guys who'd actually planted the dude while I was on the conn (driving the ship up on the bridge). 
I shared how I got revenge on my needle-shy senior chief. But that impromptu reprisal led to a dilemma: how to top a painful shot to the rump and three bonus, delinquent injections? Clearly, part two of my payback was going to require more forethought. Determined to surpass that bullet of icy gamma globulin, I bided my time. I sketched out a plan & carefully secured the necessary ammunition to bring it to fruition. And then I made the arrangements to deploy it all. 
Since I'd become friends with the ship's supply officer, I began there. I stopped by the commander's office one bright, crisp morning at sea. We were midway into a six-month deployment amid the western Pacific. Supply levels had begun to drop around the ship, especially inside the massive, walk-in freezers which stored a chunk of the crew's chow. That morning, I mentioned those dwindling stockpiles, along with the space that had been freed up. I also casually wondered aloud that if an old mattress, soaked in seawater, should happen to appear in a now empty freezer...would that be an issue?
Turns out it wasn't. 😁 
At this point, I involved my leading petty officer (LPO). He & the guys quietly took care of the remaining preps. D-day finally arrived. Or rather, D-night. I was standing midwatch again. The mattress was nice and cold & seriously crisp...and my chief was most likely fairly hot & bothered by this point in the week. Why? Well, it was roughly 0130 on a Wednesday at sea. A time during which my chief tended to hole up with others in a certain bunk room that was rumored to show movies of...questionable content. 
Naturally, I couldn't have my chief overheating. (Think of the man's heart!) So I gave the go ahead to replace his mattress with the solid, chilly slab we'd thoughtfully prepared. The LPO & the rest of the guys even made up the chief's bed exactly as it had been & put his pillow in its place so he could just fall right in—which, evidently, he did. For about two seconds. 
Mind you, I was on my alibi watch up on the bridge. I heard the fallout described as a 210-lb khaki missile. It exploded out of chief's country and seared straight down into the engineers' enlisted berthing compartment several decks below. There, the chief blistered around the racks, hauling my guys out by the scruffs of their necks. Within minutes, the entire division was lined up out on the second deck fantail with the chief still breathing fire & raging indignant discontent down on the guys. 
Five hours later, he was still smoldering. It was now 0715 & I'd crawled out of my rack, having savored a whole two hours of shut-eye. I dragged on my uniform & was walking along my usual path down the port side of the ship, headed for morning quarters, when my LPO met me halfway to warn me of the chief's still surly mood. Sure enough, I could see the man at the head of the flight deck, leaning into a section of retracted webbing, glaring into the ocean as he murdered a helpless cigarette.
Ire palpably seethed from his pores, joining in with all that huffing & puffing as I reached his side. (According to my LPO, the chief didn't know who'd pulled the stunt. My LPO's response as to why no one had named me: "Ma'am, there was no risking it. He was so pissed, we all just stood there & took it.") Hours later, that temper was still visibly roiling. Concerned division officer that I was—remember the man's heart!—I hooked my arm across his shoulders & gently inquired as to how he'd slept that night. I fear my chief may have choked on the remains of his cigarette, because he was still hacking & spitting as he turned to bellow, "You? It was you?” 
I promptly grinned & confessed all. 
And that's the rest of how I got revenge for the gnarly dude in my rack. In the end, I took pity & didn't bother avenging myself on those who'd actually slipped the training dummy into my bed. Not after I heard the entire, hysterical story on how the division had been forced to stand at attention on the fantail for over two hours. 
But really? It was more fun watching the guys look over their shoulders...every single time we got underway. 😉
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