In a large group of people, especially those "living together in the barracks", you see some very strange ones. I remember quite a few, and I'll describe them a few at a time on the blog.
The mystery man.
Some sailors went out after work, and had a few drinks. some went out, and had a lot of drinks, and some lost count completely. One of the latter came into the barracks after midnight, and headed for his bunk. (The barracks were like a long, wide hall with a long open area down the middle, and aisles on both sides next to the windows. There were partitions dividing the long area on the sides and containing two sets of four lockers, and four bunks with upper, and lower bunks. These were called cubicles. At that time ('60's) almost everyone smoked, so there were many ash trays, and things like bomb tails standing on end about three feet tall with a receptacle on top for cigarettes, and ashes. All these were called BUTT KITS.)
Well, one night, this guy comes back singing, and bumping into things and feeling his way to his cube. Some of us were awake due to the noise, but we figured he would lie down and pass out right away when he flopped into his bunk.
He went into his cubicle, and there arose a terrific racket...yelling, screaming, crashing, and banging, all kinds of mayhem. Those of us who were close by yelled for somone to turn on the lights, and we rushed over to see what was happening. He was thrashing around on the deck (that means floor even in a building) punching the lockers, bunks, and had a hold of the butt kit punching the heck out of it. He was yelling "help me, get him off me." But there was no one there but him.
We got him into the open, and tried to calm him down. He kept asking "where are they, where are they?" We told him there was nobody there, but I don't think he ever believed us.
He and all the rest of us finally got to sleep a little before morning.