A Cup Shows It Can Handle Itself--and Mug for Cameras

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION IN AFGHANISTAN —  On Nov. 25, as U.S. forces were mobilizing for the international campaign against terrorism, a personalized coffee mug disappeared from the wardroom at a San Diego Marine air base.

Three weeks later, the owner, Marine Maj. Dennis Stephens, received a photograph via e-mail of his coffee mug aboard the Navy amphibious assault ship Bonhomme Richard somewhere in the Pacific Ocean en route to South Asia. The photo showed the coffee mug nestled in a Navy life vest. It was accompanied by the following message addressed to Stephens under his aviator call name Nunya:

Dear Nunya, I am sorry to have left without saying goodbye, but I have always longed to sail the high seas and saw the Bonhomme Richard as my best opportunity. I promise to be careful, and will try to stay out of trouble. Sincerely, Mug.

Thus began the Many Adventures of Mug. Not long after that first message, a Marine pilot’s prank pulled on his former executive officer was being shared via e-mail with hundreds of U.S. service members around the world, a military manifestation of the “traveling objects” trend. In the lonely and often tedious routine of overseas military duty, Mug’s travails provided relief.

For despite his promise, Mug did not “stay out of trouble.” Oh no, he did not.

Mug’s misadventures included nearly getting killed in a terrorist attack in Singapore and being roughed up in a fight with U.S. Army soldiers in Kandahar, Afghanistan. Through it all, Stephens good-naturedly played the role of Mug’s concerned master.

A Times reporter encountered Mug and his Marine friends in Afghanistan. On the condition that the cup’s exact whereabouts not be revealed, the officers shared some of his messages and photographs. The following is an account of Mug’s exchanges with Stephens:

Nov. 25, 2001: Porcelain mug bearing Marine aviator wings and name Nunya disappears from coffee room of Marine Corps Air Station in Miramar. Stephens, executive officer of the HMH-462 “Heavy Haulers” helicopter squadron, reports the disappearance to his commanding officer, Lt. Col. Rick Schmidt. Mysteriously, Schmidt’s mug, a.k.a. Pappy, is left untouched, although the cup reportedly suffers depression over the departure of its friend.

Dec. 15: Stephens receives first message from Mug aboard the Bonhomme. Mug reveals that he left California by stowing away in the helmet bag of Capt. W.D. “Slick” Collier, whose itinerary appears to match that of the cup almost exactly.

Dec. 18: Mug reveals that he was caught stowing away on a Super Stallion helicopter flight over Wake Island and confined to quarters.

Dear Nunya, I finally made it onto my first flight today, but unfortunately I was apprehended in the act. I had made it into the cruise box of one of the aircraft, and when I thought it was safe to look outside a crew chief grabbed me! Sincerely, Mug.

Later in December: Mug writes that he has been hanging out in the Bonhomme Richard’s command tower:

Dear Nunya, As you can see I am back at work on the ship again. I like hangin’ with the Boss, he lets me talk on the radios, and I feel like I can make people do stuff. . . . I don’t know if I will be allowed to be the tower flower anymore. With all those colorful switches and buttons around, I couldn’t resist seeing what some of them do. Turns out one of my favorite ones sounds the collision alarm, and the other is a fire alarm. Anyway, I got to meet several high-ranking individuals who sure know how to make you feel guilty for singing on the 1-MC. I mean, who couldn’t love my rendition of Hank Williams Jr.’s “If Heaven Ain’t a Lot Like Dixie” anyway? Sincerely, Mug.

Jan 10, 2002: Alarming news from Singapore, where the Bonhomme Richard is making a port call. Stephens receives an anonymous e-mail from some of Mug’s Marine comrades with a photograph of a shattered coffee mug:

To whom it may concern: We regret to inform you that Mug has been a casualty during a recent port call in Singapore. While standing guard aboard USS Bonhomme Richard at Changi naval base, Mug was witness to terrorists’ attempts to sabotage the U.S. ship. A group of 3 swarthy terrorist bastards approached the ship while it was docked and threw a grenade toward the catwalk. The grenade failed to make it more than 4 stories up the ship, however it came to rest on the catwalk where Mug was standing his watch. With less than a matter of seconds to make a decision, Mug jumped from his post and threw himself on the grenade. The majority of the blast and shrapnel was absorbed by Mug. This entire event was witnessed by over 200 Marines and sailors who quickly overwhelmed the terrorists, disemboweled them, and fed them to the local fish and sea gulls. Mug’s actions prevented possible damage to vital portions of the ship, to include the wardroom lounge big screen television and adult movie collection. Mug is currently in stable condition. . . . With luck, and a little super glue, [he] may someday be able to hold room temperature beverages again.

Jan. 12: Stephens erroneously assumes that Mug has been killed in action, which would be the fourth mug that has been mysteriously lost from his command. Although devastated, the major informs the men that unless they come up with another mug, they will be reassigned to a desert base.

Gentlemen, The news of Mug’s passing has indeed hit me hard. I have received cards and condolences from all corners of the planet. I can sense they are heartfelt and sincere as I know each of you shares in my grief, particularly those now obligated to replace Mug. His selfless (and ultimately his last) breathtaking act of bravery will echo in eternity (I heard that in that cool gladiator movie). It’s the kind of heroic deed that can only be inspired by years of porcelain training, shared hardship, a deep love for ones fellow man/mug, and/or a really awesome collection of classic boat porn. As this is the 4th in a series of 5 mugs, and since all but one have incurred similar, equally heroic and tragic deaths, I am moved to recover, at any cost, the 5th and final mug. . . . Rest assured that if you fail in your task I will not fail in my task of securing a tour for each of you at our most beloved training center: 29 Palms. Love, XO (executive officer).

Later in January: Concerned about possible retribution, Mug’s helpful comrades, who seem to communicate through Collier, send Stephens a photograph of a replacement mug: a baby bottle filled with milk. The major, on duty in the Mariana Islands in the Pacific, is touched but not totally forgiving. Stephens writes back:

Dear Mug, I was certainly touched by your offer to send a replacement. Imagine the joy I felt when I discovered you actually sent me pictures--again. Just knowing you are still risking your delicate porcelain while I sit here in the peaceful environs of the Mariana Island Chain fills me with a sense of despair. . . . Still, it is no replacement for the joy you provided. Heed my earlier warnings; there are still those among you who will attempt to defile your integrity. I long for the day when they will once again fall under my power and authority. Your Mentor.

Jan. 19: Great news. Mug has recovered. He writes from Kandahar about a fight with Army soldiers. The e-mail is accompanied by a photo of Mug ensnared in concertina wire in front of the Kandahar airport terminal.

Dear Nunya, I am happy to say that I have recovered from my concussion and shrapnel injuries, and have made it back into the fight. . . . You should see all the Army guys here! They are all a little overweight and need haircuts. . . . Some of them . . . were singing, “Short people got no reason--” (I know you can relate) and a small scuffle broke out. I ended up stuck in this concertina wire, but they went away with some porcelain impressions in their heads! . . . I bet if Pappy Mug had been here we coulda’ taken ‘em! I don’t know what kind of airport this is, I looked forever but couldn’t find a bar anywhere! Sincerely, Mug.

February and early March: Mug has adventures in Kenya, which he says is not nearly as hot as Twentynine Palms. Finally, he travels to a location in Afghanistan that is headquarters for Operation Anaconda, a major battle in the eastern area of the country. It is here that Mug, accompanied by Collier, is interviewed and photographed. By this time Mug is a hero known to all on the base, where more than 3,000 American personnel are posted. Mug and his Marine pals live in a squalid tent next to outhouses. But, according to Collier, nothing seems to dampen Mug’s spirits.

March 12: Mug messages from the front, accompanied by a picture taken with some rugged-looking Afghan fighters.

Dear Nunya, As you can see, I am back in the land of Afghanistan and meeting lots of new people. My two friends here Mike and Jimmy live locally, and were happy to be in a picture with me. The mountains here are beautiful and covered with snow, but I have not seen any ski resorts yet. Sincerely, Mug.

March 15: Alarmed by the looks of the men holding Mug in the photograph, Stephens responds in mock desperation:

For the love of GOD. . . . I’ll pay any ransom if you don’t let the guy on the left drink from Mug. . . .! Helpless in the Marianas.