Intrepid fellow Submarine Blogger Bubblehead from the truthfully named blog The Stupid Shall Be Punished has asked for your best duty van stories.
The duty van was always a chance for a huge screw up.
I actually got to be the duty driver in Charlietown during middie ops one year without a whole lot of problems (except for the Korean gas station owner who insisted that he could take a GSA gas card BEFORE I pumped a full tank and them matter-of-factly told me that his station didn't take them. Ironically, the only reason we were in the vicinity of the Weapons Station was to get a part for the CHOP so that the most official trip of van was paid for by yours truly while the GSA card carried the crew around the town on liberty for a week.)
Then we pulled into Rosie Roads and had the duty van ride from hell across the island to San Juan. And guess where the COB decided to make the one pick up stop in SJ? You got it. The Black Angus. (I kept wondering why we were going to a steak house!)
But, by far the best tale of the duty van was in Britain on Her Majesty's Secret Service (OK, so it wasn't so secret but were were in the UK.) FT1 Sureshot had been deigned as worthy of the international driving license and was very meticulous about the rest of us riding around in his rental van. We get to the last day of liberty and everyone is in a hurry to get a few last things done before we pull out and then IT happened.
FT1's preparation for international driving had left out one small bit about making a left hand turn and we had a wreck. Damage wasn't too bad but I immediately figured all of the passengers would have to stay with the van as witnesses thereby eating up the last few hours of freedom. But, as soon as the door opened, one of our JO's jumps out, looks at the driver and says, "Good luck, I'm outa here." So's I figure, if the LT don't have to stay for the bobbies, why should I? And just like that, liberty was saved. I guess the MWR fund took care of the damage.