We were steaming toward the Persian Gulf during Desert Storm. The threat of chemical attack forced to C.O. to order all doors and hatches closed, so you can imagine the intense heat and humidity in the machine shop located on the 2nd deck directly above the fire room. One of my shipmates, Noble, had sat down, leaned against the bulkhead, and was fast asleep with his mouth open. Schwartz, always the prankster, ran up to the mess decks and found a hot dog, then unzipped his dungarees, and stood in front of Noble. I'm sure you can surmise what he did with that hot dog, and when Noble woke up and saw Schwartz in front of him with zipper down and salty taste in his mouth, it was rodeo time!