If you saw what goes on at naval bases you’d be suprised we fight wars.
The British had a base on the beach made out of wood, beautiful material, especially in contrast to what our quarters are usually made of, in thirty years I’ve never seen a nicer looking naval base, but that wasn’t all. Inside all the walls were covered with paintings of naked women, Do you know what that means? “Desnudos”. Yes, beautiful naked women everywhere And their beach was heated, I couldn’t believe it the first time I set foot on it but, day and night, that sand never got cold.
One day we were having a beach party with the Argentinians, a cook out, only they didn’t have any supplies; they had lost it all gambling on football games and we realized that if war ever broke out between Argentina and Chile the government would have to decide what it would rather fund, football or the war ––and, even then, supplies would only arrive in time for us to enjoy them at their bases. Anyway, all of our bases were near an active volcano or something because as we were having the beach party an island started to form off the coast in the water; the British, who had their base right there, went on high alert and frantically accounting for their members on the beach. Well, the helicopters that came in to rescue the sailors were Chilean, as we had some stationed at the base, and so we saved the Argentinians and the British that day.
On another occasion I was stationed in Bogotá, “Colombia”, back before things really started to pick up. Every night when the admiral went home he’d get in an armored car, drive out the gates of the base and then down two blocks where the driver would park and walk the admiral into a safe house. There he got out of his uniform and put on a ton of local garb, I mean colorful clothes and hats and all sorts of stuff, a real maricón, “Got that? Mar-i-cón.” Si…, and from there he’d walk two blocks into another safe house where he’d meet a jewelry maker and he’d get a gemstone broach with something engraved in it. Those were his orders.
And, sailing to Spain, all you could hear over the radio was this jungle music, stuff they play on the streets of Brazil, “For capoeira?”, don’t know what that is but it’d just be this really low beat with a constant “hooga hooga hoogaaa hoooga” over and over most of the way to Spain, that’s all we had to listen to on the radio.
This lecture was transcribed and translated almost exactly as it was spoken by a Chilean Marine. Viva Chile.