“D, D, what?”

“DDS,” I said.

“Dude is that some sort of sick joke? I mean being at SDVs is bad enough, now they’re stickin you in something that sounds like you’re going to the dentist. One root canal comin up, no anesthetic please!” said my friend from SEAL Team Four.

“Its cool man, it’s not as bad as it sounds,” I said.

“Yeah, you keep tellin’ yourself that. I’ll call you when I get back from blowin shit up down in Panama and tell you what it’s like to be a real Team guy,” My friend said.

I was kind of envious, Panama sounded cool. I’d never been there. It was the mid 1980’s; the War on Drugs was in full effect. I was headed back down to Puerto Rico (PR) with my first platoon at SEAL Delivery Vehicle Team Two (SDVT-2). It was a Dry Deck Shelter (DDS) platoon. I’d made it through BUD/S, Airborne School, SDV School, and Advanced Operator Training and now I was going to be a chamber operator. A glorified hard hat diver, no offense to Navy divers. But, I wanted to be in an SDV platoon. I was disappointed. I would be turning valves, watching pressure gauges and launching SDVs off the back of submarines. I was told it was an important job. To me it sounded like the furthest thing from being a Team guy, from being an operator.

The first DDS had been used out on the west coast. SDV Team One was bringing its DDS out to the east coast. The west coasters were going to meet us in PR and teach us how to run it. At the time there wasn’t much of a SEAL compound in PR. A couple buildings out on a small point over looking Puerca Bay (Bahia de Puerca) just down the road from the Chiefs club on Roosevelt Roads Naval Station. There was a small office, a very small gym (one universal machine), an armory, a locker room and a supply room. The largest part of the mini compound was the open air bar and game room (this was a long time ago). We were told it was the first chiefs club or the old officers club or something like that.

zrack stretcher for the Master Chief that was in charge of getting the place set up, I never found one. The Master Chief laughed a lot, called me a dumb ass a few times then told me to go find forty feet of gig line. I never found that either.