Hepatitis at Sea

Hepatitis at Sea
This story, again true as the Sun, is one about a great Auxiliaryman that made a bad decision in his judgment of this particular situation. He is dead, now. A victim of a motorcycle accident while serving as an instructor at Great Lakes. MM2/SS Chris Schmoker was the kind of A-ganger that you want on board, he knew everything and took pride in being the main brain. He was motivated beyond the levels of the most aggressive on board.
Performing routine maintenance is one of the benefits of being an A-ganger. Sometimes the job is cold or wet or oily or nasty. Some times it's all the above. But Schmoker attacked them all the same way. With aggressiveness and thorough knowledge. After his watch, just like the rest of us, he got his off going watch work assignment. He drew the short straw on this one though. The port inboard enlisted head needed the ball valve seat replaced.
He was well into the job when I came through on my rounds with my UI. He sat with his back against the charcoal filter stack legs extending under the stall into the next one. Parts all over and of course, the smell! My UI, not learned enough to keep his mouth shut yet, made remarks that belied his revulsion. Smoker, as we called him, lifted the ball valve and showed us some heavy scoring. The cause of the excessive blow by that sent up the flag on the maintenance for that crapper.
The UI was not intrigued by the visible damage to the ball. But when smoker lifted the ball up to his lips and licked it from bottom to top, that got his attention. I have to admit it put a frown on my face as well. He held up the ball as if to invite anyone else who couldn't resist an opportunity to satisfy their urge. But not being one to dwell on the disgusting aspect of personal choice, I continued my rounds... without accepting his gracious invite.
The following night I was going off at the mid-night watch and got the lucky draw of cleaning the drain pump duplex strainer as my off going work assignment. I had my UI and so I once more demonstrated the proper tag out procedure. As we were starting the job in Engine Room LL Main Seawater Bay we were surprised to be visited by Smoker. He was doing PMs on the H.P. air compressors.
As we hung the tags and verified the condition of the active components he filled us in on how the shitter ball valve job turned out. Nice and tight. Great.
As we talked the UI performed the tasks as I told him the order. As the cap came off of the starboard strainer Smoker looked in and got visibly excited by the site of some stroganoff noodles that managed to make a considerable pile in the bottom of the basket style strainer. Along with some peas, pubic hairs, some floaters we called grease biscuits and God knows what else. After all a lot of junk goes through here every day.
As the UI pulled the strainer up from the casting Smoker helped himself to a polite few noodles and swallowed them after a satisfying chew while looking straight into the eyes of UI.
I had to avert my eyes.
Now it became clear as to why he was he was present at my 'job'. He wanted to turn the stomach of my UI. 
And as UI emptied his gut into the bilge Smoker walked away satisfied that he was still the King of gross.
Not much more happened the next few days. I suppose Smoker felt he had made his point.
Then one morning on the way to chow I walked into the lounge and there sat Smoker. Wrapped in a blanket eyes closed and looking unconscious. Something else was peculiar about him. What was it? He had a pallor that I thought not possible without pancake makeup. He was yellow to the point of being nearly orange. Sweating like he just came out of the shower and chilling.
I had breakfast with the corpsman and felt compelled to inquire as to Smokers incredible color. 
HM2/SS Santini informed me that MM2/SS Smoker was most likely suffering from a severe case of hepatitis. But some tests were being done to verify that. The concern was where the hell did he get it? A huge investigation would have to be done to locate the source of the infectious material. 
Until that was done the entire crew was in danger.
Being basically ignorant, the question begged to be asked, "What causes hepatitis?" 
The answer although surprising at that moment figured.
"You have to eat shit" was the answer. 
"Oh", I said. "That explains that." 
"What do you mean" Santini asks. 
So I filled in the Corpsman to the things I had seen Smoker do in the name of what ever it was he was trying to accomplish.
The corpsman was relieved and immediately reported to the CO that he had discovered the cause of the illness. It was okay to inoculate the entire crew now.
Hemoglobin is a thick substance used to combat infectious diseases such as Hepatitis. And it is administered to each by weight. And the entire crew was the recipient of their 'fair' share of hemoglobin.
Smoker was isolated in the missile compartment berthing area and had exclusive use of the associated head. He was incoherent for the better part of ten days and in the early days we were all afraid he would die.
The good news is he didn't. The morale to this story? I didn't actually have one in mind when I started to write this but now it seems in need of one, doesn't it?
So for those of you waiting, the morale to this story is: No matter how tempted you may be by visible attractiveness, NEVER eat someone else’s shit. If in doubt, spit it out.
If you feel the need to impress someone with your abilities try trivia.