Expressions you didn't know we got from the tall ships…
by CJ | Feb 23, 2014 | Journal | 31 comments
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battens are wooden strips that would be laid across the hatches and nailed to the deck timbers.
Armed to the teeth (this is speculation), in those days, firearms were single-shot and took time to reload, so you carried as much weaponry as you could carry and still fight effectively. I doubt it had anything to do with people carrying knives in their teeth (a most inconvenient way to “widen your smile”)
I have heard that the word “chit” comes from Hindi for “paper”, although that’s not certain. It is a small piece of paper used for writing notes, offenses, etc., until they can be put down in a log. Also, the sailor would be given the chit, and would have to carry it conspicuously until directed to remove it.
I’ve seen the term “flaked out” as “faked”, there are flemishes, fakes, and other decorative ways of putting up the ends of various lines on the ship. (by the way, there are no “ropes” on U.S. Navy vessels, except for those made of wire. There are lines, hawsers, and cables, but no ropes……even the small bits of tarred twine, called marline aren’t ropes)
Gingerbread is the decorative woodwork on the taffrail (which is the rail at the fore of the poop deck). Depending on the wealth of the captain, the ship could be decorated with intricate gingerbreading and gold leaf, or none if the captain was poor or parsimonious.
Idlers were rarely “idle”, they were given warrant officer status, as was the sailing master, but did not stand watches. The lieutenants, petty officers, and seamen stood watches, usually port and starboard. The watches were 4 hours each, except for the two “dog watches”, which were 2 hours each. They were “dogged” so that the port watch did not stand the same watches every day, or the starboard watch, so that they got equal amounts of sleep.
The watch rotation began at 2000 with the first watch, then the midwatch, the morning watch, the forenoon watch, the afternoon watch, the 1st dogwatch, 2nd dogwatch, and back to the first watch. (I love Navy tradition….)
better stop here, I’ll get carried away.
as for the “whole nine yards”, I’ve also heard it attributed to the belts of ammunition for the machine guns on fighter planes. Due to weight and space restrictions, the plane could only carry a certain amount of ammunition. Some say 9 yards was the limit, so that when a fighter returned to base emptied of ammunition, it’s said he shot the whole nine yards…..not necessarily the origin of the phrase…
Love it, Joe. I fell in love with tall ships and the sea while living in Oklahoma…I was 6, I’d just learned to read, and my parents had (at a time when we were fishing on the weekends because we couldn’t afford meat otherwise) bought a whole set of World Books. My favorite entry was a tall ship with all the parts and sails named, and I began to memorize them and wish very much to see an ocean. I finally did, aged about 17, in a fog so thick I could only see the edge of the water. But I was happy.
I started with C.S. Forester and the Hornblower series, and of all of them, my favorite is still Alexander Kent’s Richard Bolitho series. I’ve read O’Brien, but left off after probably the 7th or 8th book in the series. I just lost interest in them…..
I used to have a collection of books from Time-Life when they put out series of books, this one was “The Seafarers” and ranged from very ancient times up to about World War II with a little bit of modern naval history, too. My favorite volume was “Fighting Sail”, where they had illustrations of a full-rigged ship. Of course, they also had a volume on “The Clippers” and those were absolutely gorgeous ships under full sail. Four masts, and tons of canvas…..I couldn’t have made it as an ordinary seaman on a wooden ship, or else maybe I would get over this fear of heights in a hurry, especially with a petty officer’s “starter” at my backside.
I learned back-and-fill as a turning maneuver in a tight space.
Then there’s hitting the sack, as opposed to hitting the deck.
I learned back and fill as a method of terracing a hillside. One built a wall, or backing, and filled it with soil.
Uhm. Also, to flesh out a lie with details.
What I loved about that link was the O’Brian quotes. I believe I recognized most of the quotes even if not knowing the terms (i have reread those books almost as often as yours, CJ). His use of obscure nautical terms (concerning which Stephen was always mystified and which enabled Jack to use the accurate terminology, and to provide explanations of them in a way that was amusing and was consistent with the characters and in fact carried forward the characterizations) was always one of the many delights of those books, for me. It was also fun to locate the terms that have passed into the vernacular, sort of like reading or seeing a Shakespeare play 🙂
aka The British Navy
I’m surprized he doesn’t have an explanation for “bucaneer”. What I’ve heard is it comes from a green-stick grating used by the Caribe Indians to “bar-b-que” meat over an open fire, a “boucan”, a method favored by later pirates.
and I’ve heard that it was from “boucanier”, a person who made charcoal by burning it in ricks. They lived in the woods, and you could tell a boucanier by the smell of the smoke. When it became unprofitable to make charcoal, supposedly the boucaniers turned to piracy, hence the name, buccaneer. It has nothing to do with the price of corn-on-the-cob…..
Stephen Fry devoted one episode of Fry’s English Delight to words and phrases with a nautical origin; the show isn’t being broadcast at the moment but is frequently repeated in its entirety and fascinating to listen to. (took a moment to check my FED on CD … that particular episode is “Metaphor” from the first series)
I believe there are several origins for the phrase “the whole nine yards.” Nine yards was (supposedly) the amount of cloth needed to make a complete suit or gown for nobility plus decorative bits and such, when pattern matching was required in the middle ages. Keep in mind that cloth was not standardized in width and tended not to be as wide as today’s more standardized widths with fabric doubled over on a long spool.
I seem to recall that 23 to 27 inches was the common width of cloth. Broadcloth, that of 36 inches or more, was woven on a loom requiring two very coordinated weavers.
PJ, I learned that as a boxhaul, backing and filling applying to one sail repeatedly to try to hold the ship in position, neither going forward nor back; thus, temporizing or indecisive.
I used to be active on the PO’B lists. One question was about, “Three sheets to the wind,” meaning extremely drunk. The ship’s boats were usually rigged (ignoring many details) much like a modern sloop, with a jib, having two sheets, and a mainsail, having one sheet. So, our hypothesis was that three sheets to the wind referred to a ship’s boat, coming back from liberty, completely out of control with all three sheets blowing in the wind. Any situation involving a tall ship itself tends to involve many more sheets.
Many common expressions come from old firearms. A flash in the pan is a failed firing of a muzzleloader, the flash in the pan not continuing down the touchhole to fire the gun. Going off half cocked is having loaded and primed a flintlock, but having forgotten to move the cock to its full back position so it can strike a spark in the pan. We talk about having something in our sights, something misfiring, or something primed and ready.
Great topic. I was amazed at how well the movie Master and Commander showed a landlubber like me how a tall ship worked and how the crew worked. The use of language, with deep meanings, was remarkable too. I’d started on the first Aubrey-Maturin novel and the first Hornblower novel, but life sidetracked me. I could tell, though, I’ll love both when I get back to them.
I have a question: How is it we have both “warrant officers” and “petty officers,” and why did the two forms either separate or stay separated over time? My understanding is that initially, there was no real distinction, that senior, experienced crewmen were given warrants for their service as, essentially, sergeants over the less experienced “able seamen” (seasoned hands) and “ordinary seamen” (less experienced or a raw recruit). The warrant officers got special coats and hats so their status, rank and position, were apparent to everyone. But then at some point, there were other “warrants” for professionals like doctors, and then there came to be a separation between “warrant officers” (who held a warrant but not a commission) and “petty officers,” who were like “little officers,” the literal meaning. Also along the way, doctors and other professionals (college/university educated, gentlemen or commoners) becamed commissioned instead of warranted, and the “warrants” were (as before) issued by the ship’s captain or master, or the admiralty, to put a skilled man in a supervisory position, although neither commissioned nor non-commissioned nor enlisted, and also, perhaps not permanent, but for the duration of the warrant.
That’s my understanding of it. But why maintain two categories? Why wouldn’t petty and warrant officers merge back, or phase out the one and keep the other (whichever one)? And yet, it’s still done in whatever form it’s become in modern times.
For that matter, current practice is that you’re an officer or not. Officers still get an education at a naval academy (likewise marines) and non-coms generally get college classes too. Enlisted men and NCO’s proceed on one track, so you have older or more experienced and educated non-coms, loosely parallel to senior officers. What if the distinctions were solely on education and work experience, and not age or the chance at upper-class patronage (since academy entry and commissioning do require recommendations, patrons). I can see how having a “young kid” who’s senior to an “old guy” would cause potential social problems within the ship’s company, but I wonder if, in the future, the distinctions might be less important. (And by the way, that’s no slight to the “old geezers.” since, ah, I’m 48 in less than two weeks.)
Just wondering about the warrant versus petty officer divide.
“Warrant officers” are not commissioned officers, such as lieutenants or commanders. They hold a “king’s warrant” authorizing them to be members of the crew. Midshipmen are warrant officers until they pass their lieutenant’s exam (this is from Forester’s Hornblower series). The Sailing Master, the Carpenter (but not the Walrus), the Sailmaker, etc., are all warrant officers. They berth in the so-called “gun room”, not the wardroom which is the realm of the commissioned officers, except for the captain. Warrant officers are now made from the enlisted rates, and are considered to be specialists in their fields. Warrant officers serve as division officers, same as junior commissioned officers do, but have fewer collateral duties than the commissioned officers. They’re considered to be “untouchable” when it comes to extra duties, since they’re really quite senior. Most warrant officers receive their warrants after achieving the rate of E-7 or E-8 (Chief Petty Officer or Senior Chief Petty Officer), which can take over 10 years or longer.
(BTW, onboard a naval vessel, it doesn’t matter what the actual rank of the commander happens to be, he/she is still “captain”. If an officer holding the actual rank of captain comes on board, they are ceremoniously bumped up one rank and are addressed as “commodore”. There can be only one captain on the ship, so they don’t want to confuse the issue by saying, “The captain wants to go ashore.” when they mean the visiting officer, not the commander.
Petty officers are enlisted, they hold no commission, no warrant, and are advanced (not promoted) by virtue of experience, performance, etc., The various “mates” are all petty officers, and then you have the seamen, the non-specialists who do all of the work. Petty officers are hardly petty, it’s just a corruption of “petit”, and in this case means a member of lower status, but still in charge of a group of men.
In the U.S. Navy, Petty Officers are designated by specialty marks on their rank insignia on the left arm, these are called “rating badges”, since enlisted sailors have “rate” not rank, and ratings are their specialties. For example, I was a Radioman, so my specialty badge was a set of 4 sparks or lightning bolts. On my rating badge, there is an eagle facing forward, and under the eagle are the appropriate number of chevrons (upside down from the Army or Marines). The specialty mark goes in between the eagle’s claws and the top chevron. Also, it’s someone counterintuitive, a sailor with 3 chevrons is a Petty Officer First Class, while a sailor with one chevron is a Petty Officer Third Class. Then you have instances where the chevrons are gold instead of red – that’s 12 consecutive years of good conduct, and yes, it’s a big deal. When I retired, I had a Chief’s rating badge, which is the 3 chevrons, but also has a curved “rocker” on which the eagle is perched. I had 5 service stripes on my left sleeve, each one represented 4 years of service. All of them were gold, so in my dress blue uniform, I wasn’t as glittery as a Marine or a soldier, but for Navy, I was kind of glittery.
As for education, I had a Bachelor’s degree when I enlisted, but that got me exactly 2 pay grades over my other enlistees. Having a degree is not a guarantee to a commission, since it’s what you study, and how it relates to the Navy. Even with a college degree, I would have had to have taken some Naval Science classes. You don’t commission an officer and put him/her in charge of 25 or 30 enlisted people without them having some experience of shipboard life, and Naval life in general. Imagine putting a manager in the position of running an entire production line, when that manager has never seen any of the machines or the products that come out of the line.
I’m sorry, I get involved with this, especially since it was my life for 22 years, so please forgive the long-winded answer.
Oh, and one more thing…a young ensign out of school isn’t expected to be able to do a lot, that’s why they insist that the ensign listen to the senior enlisted in his/her division. They’re the most experienced, they’re the ones who know how to handle the crew, and they’re the ones who will run the division while the young officer is busy getting his qualifications in other areas, and learning his/her own way around. A good senior enlisted is the best thing that can happen to an officer, because when it comes time to submit reports, etc, the senior enlisted will make the report, write it up, and then explain it to the officer, who will sign it once he/she understands it, and then the officer will take the report to his/her boss for the rest of the way. The way you treat an officer is going to reflect on that officer’s career, and possibly on other enlisted men that that officer will be over.
There’s a segment in Heinlein’ “Starship Troopers” (the book!), where Johnny is talking to Captain Blackwell about what it’s like to be an officer, and Captain Blackwell gives him some very sage advice. “Ask your platoon sergeant, you don’t have to take his advice, but if you don’t ask him, he’ll think you’re stupid and a poltroon, and he’ll be right.”
Joe, your answers are great and the detail really appreciated!
Joe, thanks, and the detail is what I wanted and needed. That helps a great deal.
Joe’s covered the modern navy very completely.
Before the Royal Navy, a ship had a Master who ran it routinely and an Owner (commercial ships still do, I think). When such a merchant ship was used for military or political purposes, a noble would come on board as the ship’s commander. The commander might know nothing about sailing: his job was to decide where to go; the Master commanded the crew to get the ship there. (A passage in Patrick O’Brian talks about the “gentleman captains” versus the “bosun captains”, the latter having technical knowledge of sailing.) This was the state of play during Francis Drake’s time.
The Royal Navy developed over time, especially in the 1600s and after the Act of Union of 1707, which brought three Scottish ships into the Royal Navy. Officers were permanently commissioned instead of being a handy noble. Lieutenants were tested and given royal commissions. The first lieutenant was merely the lieutenant on a ship with the most time as a lieutenant. A lieutenant could command a very small vessel (oddly called a brig whatever her rigging), being a “lieutenant, commanding”, commander of the brig. A sloop (between a brig and a ship) had one lieutenant; except for small frigates, a ship had two lieutenants per gun-deck plus the first lieutenant.
(By the way, those small frigates were 6th rates; larger frigates, 5th rates. Two deckers–two decks full of guns–were 4th rates and 3rd rates (except sometimes heavy frigates like USS Constitution were considered 4th rates by weight of metal their guns could shoot). Three deckers were 2nd and 1st rates, so the biggest and best of something is “first rate”.)
Lieutenants could then be promoted by the RN to be the Master and Commander of a “sloop”, by courtesy called captain. (Masters, in the USN Sailing Masters, were warranted by the navy and were in theory more expert in sailing the ship than the captain.) A Master and Commander could be promoted to captain (commanding a ship) and placed on the captain’s list, where he would rise automatically. In three years, he would become a senior captain. The very top of the list were admirals. Not all officers were employed at all times; when not, they got half pay (including lieutenants, but midshipmen were not officers).
Gradually the RN used merchant ships rarely. The organization of the RN was something of a dog’s breakfast. Gunnery was developed for both the army and the navy by the Board of Ordnance, who gave gunners warrants and appointed them to ships. Surgeons were warranted and appointed by the Sick and Hurt Board. The Master and Carpenter were warranted and appointed by the Admiralty, but even so a captain had limited control over any warrant officer.
The crew were under the complete control of the captain. He could rate or dis-rate them. Rating was for very minor officers, like quarter gunners (one per four guns), “captains” for each mast; and for petty officers, midshipmen, or Master’s mates (senior midshipmen, possibly passed for lieutenant but not yet commissioned).
Gradually, the RN and the USN (and other navies) co-evolved into the professional forces we have today, but even as late as WWI, some of the RN admirals were not quite the professionals we expect today.
Walt, thanks, that helps fill in the origins. Very interesting stuff.
Ooo, there’s lots more not given in the reference. I’ve always enjoyed “slanguage” and for the past 15+ years have maintained an online nautical/military slang dictionary. I disagree with Brian’s definition of a hatch–the hatch is the opening, the thing you use to close it is called a ‘hatch cover.’
Machinegun ammo belts are not (never have been, as best I can tell) 9 yards long.
Some favorites not on the list:
“All Acockbill” – when the ship’s yards are not all aligned so as to catch the wind efficiently, they are said to be acockbill. Which leads to:
“Square Away” – when a ship wants to get before the wind, all the yards (and therefore the sails) must be trimmed to catch the wind. So when anything aboard ship is disorganized or is messed up, the command is to “square away down there!”
“Irish Pennants” – this has come to mean lines adrift, not secured and blowing in the breeze. Now can often mean bits of clothing with tag ends of thread visible.
There’s oh so many more!
But I will leave you for now with some of the traditional acronyms for things not being done well, some of which may be new to you:
SNAFU – Situation Normal, All (Fouled) Up (everyone knows this one)
FUBAR – (Fouled) Up Beyond All Recognition
JANFU – Joint Army-Navy (Foul) Up
SAPFU – Surpassing All Previous (Foul) Ups (my personal favorite)
Also:
IDGAF – I Don’t Give A (Foul) and it’s elder sister
DILLIGAF – Do I Look Like I Give A (Foul)
One may simply say ‘dilly’ for the last, and may well be understood!
I had read (somewhere) that FUBAR or something like it was sometimes spray-painted or stenciled on objects (buildings, equipment) that was to be left standing in place, abandoned. But now I can’t recall exactly if it was this acronym or another.
All those are (heh) fine assessments of a situation. 😆
Jcrow9, thanks for the other as well.
Also, there are other terms used for openings….
The walls are called “bulkheads”.
The floor is the “deck”.
The ceiling is the “overhead”.
An opening in a bulkhead is a door, an opening in a deck (or overhead) is a hatch. A smaller opening in the hatch cover used for entering or exiting singly and usually secured with a wheel is a scuttle.
I used to get my teeth on edge when sailors would call a watertight door in a bulkhead a “hatch”.
Not to be crass, but on the bridge of modern ships, there is the “captain’s balls”, which refer to two iron balls on either side of the magnetic compass column (called the binnacle). They’re used to counteract the magnetic fields of the ship, plus any stray magnetic forces, so that the compass isn’t affected.
There’s the “helm” and the “lee helm”, the helm is where the steersman guides the ship, the lee helm is the telegraph system to the engine room. This is the device you see in the movies when the captain wants to change speeds.
Propellers are called “screws”.
A gun turret is called a “mount”, and is designated by the size of the gun. So, “Mount 51” is a 5-inch gun on the forecastle of the ship, while “Mount 52” would be the second gun if the ship were so designed. “Mount 53” would probably be on the sterncastle.
There were two methods of naming compartments. For ships built before 1946, the designators were A and B. Anything forward of the forward bulkhead of the main engine room was designated A and then a number specifying that compartment’s location. All others aft were B-1 (the main engine room itself), and subsequent numbers for other compartments. Ships after 1946 were given “geographic” compartment numbers, consisting of the deck number, then the frame number (the rib in the ship’s hull), then whether it was port (even number), starboard (odd number), or centerline (zero). So, my berthing compartment on my first ship was 4-37-0-L (the “L” designates living quarters). Decks are numbered from the main deck, as “1” and all decks below are “2”, “3”, “4”, etc. Decks above the main deck are “01”, “02”, “03”, etc. So, the bridge might be 08-37-0 and wouldn’t need a letter designator. This aids in damage control so that any compartment or fitting can be located quickly, and also tells you what the use of the compartment might be. You certainly wouldn’t want to try to break into a fuel bunker! The secondary labeling system is more accurate, since it also gives the deck number. BTW, the main deck is not always the weather deck, it’s the lowest deck that goes continuously without break from the bow to the stern of the ship. My bunk at one point was on the port side, right next to the hull at the waterline. I could hear the water sloshing against the side when we were underway. You try not to think about being below decks if there’s a problem with hull integrity. 😉
Another acronym we developed was “BOHICA”, which was “bend over, here it comes again”, in anticipation of another unpopular evolution, such as an inspection, or what seemed like whim on the part of the captain.
JCrow9 is correct on Irish pennants, although I’ve yet to discover the origin of the term, maybe because to Englishmen, the Irish sailors were a slovenly lot (but then, the English tended to treat the Irish differently than they did English sailors.)
There were tons of acronyms similar to BOHICA (which was in common usage back when I was a mid at the US Naval Academy, aka Canoe U, aka The Company School, aka The Boat School, and so forth–during a flu epidemic in the 70s while I was there, we called it “Sickbay on the Severn”)
STFB (Stand the F By);
WETSU (my favorite sarcastic comment – We Eat This “S” Up).
DILLIGAF (Do I Look Like I Give a “F”)
ARAB (Arrogant Regular Army Bastard)
STAB (Stupid Territorial Army Bastard)
FIGMO (“F” It, Got My Orders), i.e. I’m outta here, deal with it yourself
And so on!
Oh, and many terms have a British or at least “UK” bent, or origin. The linked reference talked about “chock-a-block”, which strictly speaking is when a block (a pulley on a line) has been pulled as far as it can go, it jams up against a chock (the purchase or anchor point for the line, or a hole through which the line has been led); usage has come to also mean when a block and tackle (pronounced tay-kle”) which consists of two blocks with line rove between them, has been hauled in until the two blocks touch and can go no further. The US Navy term for this is “two-blocked,” and while it is usually used to say that the flag is fully hauled up to the top of the mast (“closed up”), it can also mean that you can go no further; you’ve given your all, are fully scheduled, etc.
In re: Irish Pennants, yeah, agreed. The Irish were looked down upon, of course, and careless, slovenly sailors have all sorts of tag ends and bits and bobs flapping in the rigging.
The sick list keeping track of who was horse de combat due to illness used to hang from the binnacle on the bridge… so it is called the “Binnacle List.”
I was taught that while a ‘mount’ does not have armor (perhaps beyond splinter shields), a ‘turret’ does. You just never hear turret used because there are no ships left in service which have turrets. But while a destroyer might have 5 inch mounts, a battleship would have 16″ turrets, a heavy cruiser 8″ turrets, etc.
Ships can have floors–a floor is a piece of what would normally be called ‘deck’ but it does not run fully side to side and/or end to end, such as up in the forepeak (the tip of the bow) where everything tapers together and you need structural stuff that does not go full width. It acts as reinforcement.
Most people know this, but the ‘heads’ of a ship used to be open seats up in the foremost part of the weather decks (decks exposed to weather, as you’d guess), alongside the beakhead (a structure which helped support the bowsprit). This was ALL the way up forward of the bulwarks so that they got swept clean occasionally by the waves; since the ship was usually before the wind (or, as a square rigger, in most cases could not sail with the wind much more than a point forward of the beam), the resulting stench was blown away to leeward (pronounced “looard”). So if you had to go to the john, you went forward to the “head” of the ship.
There’s simply no end to this stuff. Last time I checked, my slang and terminology dictionary ran to 149 pages. Of course, some of that stuff is “true” (non-slang) terminology, which is made of of procedure words; these communicate a wealth of information regarding (for example) type of threat detected, weapon to be used, type of target, location, time, etc., in as few words as possible (and in a format the listener expects to hear) so you can say it fast and get off the radio net–because someone else needs to speak, too.
.
My, I do go on!
Dang auto-correct! “Horse” de combat indeed! 😀
whenever we had a firing exercise, even the Mark 45 which was an enclosed turret with no crew inside it was still called “Mount 51”. I suspect that the battleships might have called it something else, I can’t imagine “Mount 161, Mount 162, Mount 163, commence firing”
Oh yes, we used all of those acronyms, and then some….remember this is a family board, and sailors are notorious for “colorful” language.
Here’s one, why do sailors look like they’re drunk when they walk on the beach? Because their inner ears are still registering the motion of the ship, and they’re unconsciously compensating for the rolls of the ship. Yes, you can get “landsick”.
That is tremendously helpful. …And I’ve been using “hatch” wrong. I thought doors were also hatches. Er, will have to revise some things. …What I get for being a landlubber.
I could swear I’ve heard BOHICA somewhere, though I might be getting cognitive dissonance from (unrelated) Borinquén. Heh, and I don’t think where I heard it was college, though there were, er, quite a few similar terms used there, generally regarding exams and papers.
I attended a major university where there are civilian students and military cadets, and several of the traditional, ah, exhortations regarding games would tend to raise eyebrows. (LOL, which was only confusing background noise at the time, for me.) Formerly all-male military college, agricultural and mechanical. …Howdy!
i just recalled one rather confused plebe cadet who thought he was supposed to introduce himself to me the same way they were supposed to greet upperclassmen cadets. I used to remember all the things they were supposed to recite and in what order. This was to work on memorization and unit cohesion and teamwork, and to get them used to cadet life. … Yes, very glittery too.
Then there were the senior cadets, male and female, clomping across campus in senior boots. The senior uniform echoes old cavalry gear, so the guys wear jodhpurs and the girls wear riding skirts — and both wear the boots they’ve earned after four years. … At least the girls don’t have to get crewcuts. 😉 (Though who knows if that would change in the future.)
I *think* that navy and marine branch cadets may have transferred (or started) at the Galveston campus, for sea cadet duty.
On Warrant Officers in the Army: They are relatively rare birds (so to speak). The majority of them are in Army Aviation, as helo pilots (true officer ranks being the domain of fixed-wing aircraft). There are occasional examples in other technical Military Occupation Specialties (MOS’s), they typically are designated as shop foremen, holding technical but NOT not line-of-command authority (unless there are absolutely no commissioned officers available). If no W.O. is available, the shop foreman job will go to a junior (2nd Class) Lieutenant (aka “butterbar”). Warrant school is available to any qualifying soldier of sergeant (E-5) rank or higher.