again...

 

 

 

Visiting Ronald Regan's' Boyhood Home

(volume II)

 

 Michael W. Bell

 

Disclaimer: Ah, yes, the part where I say:

 

          "This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed

                  in  this book are fictional,  and any resemblance to real people or

                incidents is purely coincidental"

Disclaimer from "Into the Looking Glass" by John Ringo

 

Why lie? I named every character after people I know. The main villain is someone who delighted in tormenting me in 9^th grade (Steve Grant); another villain (Sam Brownback) has never directly harmed me but he is the Senator from "my" state and he tried to fuck with the NOAA Uniformed Officer Corp; the third villain (Bill Nichols) went out of his way to fuck with my job and I fucked with his character.

 

However, the events are purely fictional.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 2005 by Michael W. Bell

 

 

 

Author's Preface:

 

At Oregon State University, Dr. Dean Jeffers told me that I had a "Navy Story inside me". He told me this around 1977. I hope it isn't too late to tell him that I'm finally telling that story.

 

This is a "Cowboy Story". That is, the facts in a "Cowboy Story" are always true. If they don't match the real facts, well, they should! Elements of my story are implausible but then some of the apparently implausible elements are actually true. Take YPs (Yard Patrol Craft) for example: they are used for training Navy Academy Midshipmen and can stay out for a week or so without re-supply of water or diesel fuel. In my story, I will be extending this endurance for the benefit of my story.

This won't be the first story which takes liberties with the Catholic Faith or rather with the natures of Priests. You'll see something I suspect could have happened.

Apologies to the MASH character of Father John Francis Patrick Mulcahy. I kind

of changed his character a bit to fit my plot. Oh, well, it's not like I'm insulting a real person. Think of it as the third version of "John Francis Patrick Mulcahy". The first was the movie, the second the TV show and the third (that I know of) is here…

 

I couldn't find the dates the last troops left 'Nam but the Fall Of Saigon was fairly clear.

 

Beyond that, this is my story…

Index:

Chapter one - battle at sea

Chapter two - The Lieutenant's Story

Chapter three - The Cop's Story

Chapter 4 - The Quartermaster's story

Chapter four: Final Preparations - Part I

Chapter five - Final Preparations - Part II

Chapter 7 - "In the Beginning…" part 1...

 

                                       

Chapter one: Battle at Sea

 

It was the late evening on the USS ELBERT C. LEE SR (YP 674) when everything became entirely too exciting. When it was over, it was far from over and repairs had to be done on more than just the boat.

     HMCS LeRoy Scott was strolling up the port side of the LEE with Staff Sergeant John Markham and talking as friends will.

     "John, you look like one of Castro's boys. I thought Army regs didn't allow beards. You're wearing those fucking greens and got more hair on your face than I have on my head."

     "Ah, Senor Chief, Senor Chief, Senior Chief, you're just upset that I can grow a beard and yours looks like the back of a dog with mange. May be you should try dying it a little?"

     "Hummp", the Senior Chief sorted and thought to himself: "my wife was saying the same thing and I did dye my beard but this young fart doesn't seem to have noticed!" He glanced away, then started in surprise and exclaimed "What the fuck!".

     Approaching from their port side was a dark boat. Given that the LEE was cruising eastward across the East Celebes Sea just south of the P.I.^[1] island of Mindanao and that it was too far from port for bum boats to be carrying merchants and that the heavily armed men on the boat had obviously tried for a silent approach, Scott and Markham found it easy to believe these were pirates. That notion was reinforced when they saw a second speed boat approaching and someone on that boat opened fire on them. The shot was high and clearly meant to scare the Yankees into heaving two and allowing themselves to be boarded.

     The simple minded bastards probably thought the crew of so small a U.S. Navy ship might do so; they clearly didn't know of the U.S. warrior codes.

     HMCS Scott bellowed: "Bridge! We've got pirates coming up on the port side."      From the bridge, they could hear the CO bellow "Bill, take the helm. Right full rudder and ahead full. Erica, get on the CW and call the AMERICA. Have them tell CAPT Puller we're under attack and want some fast movers for backup. Senior Chief, you and John shoot back."

     Markham had gone to the weapons cache in the deck house and came back out with both of their Stoner 63s under one arm and a hand grenade in the other. He handed the Stoner 63s to Scott and heaved the grenade at the closer of the two boats. The grenade fell short but the explosion convinced the boat driver to leave and both boats turned and opened their distance from the LEE. Hoping to scare them off, Senior Chief Scott hosed both pirate boats decks with bursts from his Stoner. Staff Sergeant Markham added a couple of bursts across the enemy's decks. Unfortunately, the enemy wasn't inclined to run and began returning fire with what appeared to both warriors to be AK47s. The YP didn't look like a war ship and being made of wood and aluminum, the superstructure began to sport holes. It was a bad situation.

     Their ET awoke from sleeping for the mid shift and armed himself with a handgun he was barely qualified to shoot. He crept onto out of the deckhouse, saw his shipmates firing the two working Stoner 63s and began carrying boxes of ammo out to them. He kept below the top of the deck railing and no one had the heart to tell him how futile this was.

     They could tell the distance from the enemy boats was slowly increasing and it was likely the hoped that would reduce their target size. From below, in the deck house, they could hear the sound of the CW radio. RM3 Erica Hanson was a fast operator under normal conditions and now she was blazing! Later, they read the transcript from the AMERICA.

"SOS SOS SOS DE KLEE KLEE KELL K"

 

"KLEE DE CVA61 GA K" ("GA" meant "Go Ahead" and "K" meant "over")

 

"CVA61 WERE BEING ATTACKED. HOLD ONE."

      "Hey," she shouted, give me some news! I've got AMERICA on Morse."

       LT Anderson-Pierre had nearly fallen down the ladder to the flying bridge getting to her.

     "Tell then to have the Captain come to the radio room. I'll need to talk to him."        She nodded and tapped out: "MY L T WANTS TO REPORT DIRECT TO YOUR CAPTAIN."

      She heard the Morse code for "OUR CAPTAIN IS HERE AND THE XO HAS THE BRIDGE. THE CAPTAIN (she knew this meant the carrier's Captain) WANTS A REPORT".

     LT Anderson-Pierre nodded and said: "Tell him we're under attack by two small boats. I saw pistols and AK47s and they fired at us. I had my QM take helm and steer a course away from the boats. My shooters say they [the enemy] fired over our mast and one of my people tossed a grenade at them. Both my shooters are armed with Stoner 63s and it looks like they're holding the enemy off. But, the enemy is shooting up the top of my deck house. Humm, over." She didn't send the "humm".

"HAS THERE BEEN ANY CHANGE IN STATUS." This from the America.

"HOLD ONE." This from the Lee.

      "Bill," the LT shouted to his Quartermaster, "what are they doing?"

      "They're sitting next to each other maybe a half mile off and occasionally shooting at us. The Senior Chief and Sarge seem to be keeping them off deck. We're running as fast as we can and that mechanic of our ain't bitching for a change. I'll let you know what happens."

      Send this: "THEY ARE HOLDING OFF AT ABOUT A HALF MILE. MY BOYS ARE USING OUR STONERS ON THEM AND I'M HOPING TO GET AWAY."

      The AMERICA's radioman sent: "THAT'S PROBABLY A FUTILE HOPE. I'D EXPECT THEM TO COME BACK AFTER SUNSET."

     "Send this: THEY PROBABLY WILL BUT I'M HOPING TO DARKEN SHIP AND HIDE FROM THEM. I'M ALSO HOPING YOU COULD DISSUADE..."

     "How the hell do you spell that word, sir?"

 

"D I S S U A D E."

 

 

"DISSUADE THEM OVER."

 

"I LL GET THE AIR BOSS ON IT. KEEP YOUR HEADS DOWN."

      "Easy for him to say", the radio operator muttered and her CO rolled his eyes.

     "Hey boss," bellowed the Senior Chief, "one of those fuckers is making a run towards us."

     "Report that!"

     "Yes, sir." Then Erica tapped out: "THE SENIOR CHIEF SEAL SAID QUOTE ONE OF THOSE FUCKERS IS MAKING A RUN TOWARDS US...OH SHIT, I CUSSED ON THE RADIO. NOW THE FCC IS GOING TO KILL ME WITH FINES"

     Seconds later she heard from the America's radio operator: "THE CAPTAIN SAID 'NOT TO WORRY ABOUT THE CUSSING'. HE SAID YOUR ARE FORGIVEN." Then the radio operator on the carrier, safely miles from any gunfire and protected by several heavy metal bulkheads continued: "I THINK THE OLD MAN WAS AMUSED BY YOUR LANGUAGE. KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN."

     The carrier sailor could afford to be relaxed.

     The approaching pirate boat swung sharply to their port in a sweeping left turn and emptied clips into the top of the YP's deck house. From the flying bridge came an "oh shit" and QM1 Bill Tanner practically fell down the length of the ladder.       "Request permission to steer from down here, SIR!"

     "Good idea, Bill, I should have brought you down sooner."

     "Send this: STRUCTURAL DAMAGE TO BOAT BUT NO ONE HURT YET."

     One of the two shooters called out: "The boat that shot at us is heading off and his buddy is coming towards us. I don't think our fire is having any effect."

     LN1^[2] Sillings, who had been watching the radar left his post, grabbed the grenade launcher from their weapons cache and said "I'd like to go on deck and help out."

     The LCDR nodded.

     Then Staff Sergeant Markham reported: "The attacking boat has kicked up onto the plane. This looks serious."

     At this, the radio woman looked seriously pissed off and sent via morse "I'LL BE RIGHT BACK." She looked at her CO and said "nobody can fuck with my family. Nobody." She then stormed off to their weapons cache and picked up the crown jewel and lugged it up on deck.

     Both the Senior Chief and the Staff Sergeant looked at her and one yelled "what the hell do you think you're doing girl?"

     She got a good position with nothing behind her, carefully aimed the boat's only LAW (light anti-tank weapon) and fired. The legal man, who was having trouble loading his grenade launcher, dropped this weapon. Both shooters watched the LAW missile flow across the sky, strike the attacking boat and explode with a lovely roar. Then, the enemy's fuel tank went off and that was an even better explosion!

     The legal man looked at RM3 Erica Hanson like she had suddenly turned from young woman into an Amazon; a slender and not very physically powerful Amazon but an Amazon none the less.

     "Nice job, kid" and the Senior Chief actually smiled at her.

     She returned to the radio and reported to her CO: "I used the L A W on them."

     From the AMERICAN came: "WHAT IS HAPPENING?"

 

"I USED OUR L A W TO KILL ONE OF THE BOATS. NO ONE FUCKS WITH MY FAMILY."

 

"CAPTAIN PULLER SAID QUOTE I TAKE IT THAT RM3 HANSON MADE THE KILL UNQUOTE"

     The Lee's CO said: "Tell me 'yes'. I authorized you to use the L A W.

     Erica paused and said in a plaintive voice: "But I didn't ask your permission, sir."

    "I am in command of this boat. By not stopping you, I implicitly gave your permission. Send my remark."

     "Yes, sir" and sent: "MY CAPTAIN SAID HE AUTHORIZED ME, ERICA, TO USE THE L A W, SIR."

     On the carrier, the radio operator smirked and said "I know that girl. I'd bet she grabbed the L A W, made the kill and let her C O know about it afterwards."

     "Indeed, that comment about 'NO ONE FUCKS WITH MY FAMILY' suggests she is rather protective of 'her family'. I think you're right and I'm not about to take a sucker bet."

     Back on the LEE, the other boat had eased up to where it's sister ship had been. The sun was perhaps a half hour from dropping below the horizon and the clouds were becoming a beautiful pewter gray. QM1 Bill Tanner had been planning on doing a full set of star shots that evening and most of the ship's crew had been planning on helping him do the star sight reductions.

     By this time, the legal man had gotten his grenade launcher loaded, with a little help from the Staff Sergeant. The remaining enemy boat began a run towards the LEE. The shooters figured the boat would stalk them and try for a kill after dark, when it would effectively be invisible.

     The Senior Chief bellowed: "Boss I'm going to have young Sillings fire the grenade launcher at that boat."

     "Good. Send this: 'MY LN1 IS GOING TO FIRE THE GRENADE LAUNCHER. WILL ADVISE."

     There was the sound of the grenade launcher firing and an "oh shit". Then, they could hear some coaching and the sound of the grenade launcher being fired again. There was another "oh shit."

     "Senior Chief, what the fuck just happened?"

     The radio woman's eyebrows crawled, no lurched, up her forehead at the word "fuck" coming from her CO's mouth; the CO who was a Catholic Priest's son and didn't cuss...

     "Young Sillings bracketed the enemy and he's running...

     "It was pure luck," Sillings interjected.

     "...running away. It was luck that the two grenades bracketed the bastard but sometimes it takes luck."

     "Send this: MY LN1 BRACKETED THE ENEMY AND HE'S RETIRING. WE ALL THINK HE'LL BE BACK AFTER DARK."

 

"NOT TO WORRY. MY AIR BOSS HAS LAUNCHED A FAST MOVER SO HUNKER DOWN." The carrier radioman didn't bother saying "MY CAPTAIN SAYS".

 

"THANK YOU, SIR."

     "Everybody, we're getting some help real quick. Helm, RIGHT FULL RUDDER STEADY ON COURSE ONE EIGHT FIVE!"

     "RIGHT FULL RUDDER, COMING UP ON ONE EIGHT FIVE, EASING THE RUDDER AND STEADY ON ONE EIGHT FIVE." When it came to driving the boat, QM1 Bill Tanner was a stickler for tradition.

     The AMERICA was perhaps sixty miles ahead of the LEE and that meant the "fast mover" would be overhead in perhaps five minutes.

     "Everybody, hunker down and grab something solid. Incoming!"

     The LEE's Captain ran up to his flying bridge and watched as an F-14 screamed overhead. The fleeing enemy boat made an utterly futile attempt at "evasive maneuvers". The F-14 screamed into a turn and LT Anderson-Pierre purely loved the sight. Angels should carry swords and the two angels coming to their rescue were wearing a sword - an F-14 actually - but a sword nonetheless.

     Technically, the 500 pound bomb their "Angels" dropped missed it's target by perhaps ten feet but that didn't prevent their target from being turned into very small and bloody chunks.

     The sharks appreciated the chumming.

     Captain and crew of the good ship the USS ELBERT C. LEE SR (YP 674) approved of the chumming as well.

     When the attack happened, LT Anderson-Pierre had chopped power from the flying bridge and yelled "go take a look". The whole crew, including even their engine man who normally lived with his diesels most of the time and the electronics technician who had been sleeping before the mid shift, were on deck watching the F-14 circle overhead. It was a lovely sight.

     Taking a longer, safer, trip down the ladder, LT Anderson-Pierre sighed. More talking to do.

     "Send this to the boat: YOUR FAST MOVER DID A REALLY NICE JOB OF FINISHING OFF THOSE SOBS...AND THERE WON'T BE ANY SOB S FROM US. PLEASE TELL THE PILOTS THEY DID A VERY NICE JOB AND WE TRULY APPRECIATE IT. WE REALLY APPRECIATE THE JOB SINCE I FIGURE THE SURVIVING PIRATES WOULD HAVE ATTACKED US LATE TONIGHT AND I DON'T THINK OUR RADAR OR MY LOOKOUTS COULD HAVE SEEN THEM IN TIME."

"YOU'RE WELCOME. I'LL PASS THOSE KIND WORDS TO THEIR SQUADRON. THE AIR BOSS SAYS AND I QUOTE, YOU AND YOUR BOYS OWE A ROUND OF BEERS TO THEIR SQUADRON. END QUOTE. BY THE WAY, DID YOU FOLKS HAVE DINNER YET?"

     Huhh?

     With malice aforethought, the Radio woman sent her Commander's entire reply:

"AHHH, NO SIR, WE DIDN'T. WE WERE, AHH, GOING TO HAVE C RATS AND RICE WITH THAT VIETNAMESE FISH HEAD CRAP THE SENIOR CHIEF AND MY COP SEEM TO LIKE SO MUCH. PERHAPS A CHANGE OF DIET WOULD BE NICE." Erica then continued: "ERICA HERE. PLEASE CAPTAIN SIR, SEND SOME REAL FOOD, SOME REAL NAVY FOOD, OVER HERE I JUST DON'T LIKE THE SIGHT OF THOSE DEAD FISH EYES ON MY FOOD. YUCCK."

"DON'T REPEAT THIS TO ANYONE. I WILL DELETE YOUR PLEA FROM THE TRANSCRIPT WE'LL BE SENDING OVER LATER AND THAT'S JUST TO KEEP YOU OUT OF TROUBLE. TELL YOUR CAPTAIN THAT I'LL HAVE MY COOKS SEND DINNER OVER TO Y'ALL. IT'LL BE NICE NAVY FOOD."

     She kept forgetting that the Senior Chief was not just a highly skilled SEAL medic and former Small Craft Skipper. He had served as the alternative morse code operator on his teams and read morse faster and better than Erica did. She couldn't figure out his laughter.

     She turned to the LCDR. "The bird farm captain says he'll send dinner to us."

      "Good!"

 

"HE AGREES TO DINNER. HOW WILL YOU BE SENDING IT?"

 

"TELL HIM WE'LL GET A HELO TO YOU WITH DINNER."

      "Ask him: DO YOU HAVE ANY TELETYPE TRAFFIC FOR US."

 

"MY RADIOMEN SAY WE HAVE SOME MESSAGES FOR YOU. HAVEN'T YOU BEEN ON A DAILY MESSAGE RECEPTION SCHEDULE AT NOON?"

 

"YES, SIR, WE HAVE. I THINK IT WILL BE GOOD FOR MY ET TO ESTABLISH THE COMMS LINK AND COPY WHATEVER WRITTEN TRAFFIC WE HAVE."

 

"YOU ARE NOT HAVING YOUR RM3^[3] DO THIS?"

 

"THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME SHE EXPERIENCED VIOLENCE AND I WANT TO TALK WITH HER. MY SENIOR CHIEF AND SGT AND I WILL SPEAK WITH HER."

 

"CVA61 DE KLEE ENDING COMMS KKK"

     The CO and RM3 headed to the back of the boat and the LN1 went up to the flying bridge to "take the conn". The Senior Chief took the key and sent "CVA61 DE KLEE SENIOR CHIEF HERE K"

 

"KLEE DE CVA61 CAPTAIN HERE K"

 

"CAPTAIN...MY CO AND THE QM1 WILL TALK WITH MY RM. SHE IS A TOUGH GIRL BUT HAS NEVER BEEN IN A VIOLENT SITUATION BEFORE. AFTER THEY TALK WITH HER, MY SARGE AND I WILL TAKE HER UP ON DECK AND GIVE THE REAL ORIENTATION. WE'VE BOTH HAD TO DEAL WITH FIRST KILLS AND WE BOTH HAVE STRONG IDEAS...STRONG FEELINGS...ON THE SUBJECT."

 

"WHAT IS YOUR COMBAT BACKGROUND, SENIOR CHIEF?"

 

"I AM A SEAL WITH THREE TOURS IN 'NAM AND MY STAFF SERGEANT IS AN ARMY MP WHO DID SOME SNIPPING IN 'NAM AND DID THREE TOURS IN 'NAM AS WELL. I'D RATHER NOT DISCUSS THESE SUBJECTS SO OPENLY. K"

 

"AGREED...AND MY AIR BOSS SAYS THE QUOTE REAL NAVY FOOD UNQUOTE WILL BE WITH YOU SOON K"

 

"THANK YOU CAPTAIN AND DO YOU SUPPOSE THAT QUOTE VIETNAMESE FISH CRAP UNQUOTE WOULD GO WELL WITH THE QUOTE REAL NAVY FOOD UNQUOTE...SIR K"

 

"I SUPPOSE IT MIGHT. DOES SHE KNOW JUST HOW GOOD YOU ARE AT MORSE K"

 

"NO SIR AND LET'S KEEP IT THAT WAY. SHE NEEDS TO HAVE SOMETHING UNIQUELY HERS, SOMETHING SHE AND ONLY SHE CAN DO. HER SELF ESTEEM NEEDS IT. K"

 

"I'LL HAVE MY COMMS OFFICER DO MORE DELETING. WOULD YOU MIND WORKING WITH MY TECHS TO PICK AN OPERATING FREQ FOR A SECURE COMMS LINK K"

 

"NO SIR, I'D BE HAPPY TO HELP. K"

     The next set of messages had to do with the send and receive frequencies and the ET quickly set up their HF transmitter and HF receiver to the appropriate frequencies. Then, the ET began working the comms. The Senior Chief quickly signed off and his RM3 would never find out just how good her "competition" truly was.     In the message traffic were three messages about the typhoon that had sent their little boat running from Guam to the P.I. and four messages about pirate activity in the area the LEE was charging through. One message warned all ships under the size of a destroyer to stay away from the straits they were in or to travel in heavily guarded conveys.

     The helo arrived just after the meeting with Erica broke up. A box containing trays of Navy mashed potatoes, gravy, well done roast beef, rolls and butter, mixed vegetables and apple pies was lowered. A very well wrapped bundle proved to contain several bottles of White Zinfandel. Possession of the White Zin on either the carrier or the YP was illegal but Naval Captains can bend the rules when they see fit (Captains of Naval Vessels and especially the very senior one are the last of the absolute monarchs) and the LEE's officer and crew were grateful for all they got. They certainly were grateful for the wine and that was something they did not discuss "outside the family".

     In the message traffic was a personal note from the Captain of the AMERICA to the Captain of the LEE requesting the muster list of the LEE. The LN quickly drafted a reply with his CO's approval and sent it over the secure (encrypted) teletype.

     A final message from the AMERICA gave the location the AMERICA's jet jocks had for the late pirate boat and the location the helo crew had for the LEE. This was a subtle way of letting QM1 Tanner know he did not need to do his beloved "ring of stars" that night and thus, not have to generate the ship's position fix.

     After their meal, the QM1 took the "deck and conn". The Senior Chief had been scheduled to stand the OOD (Officer of the Deck) watch in the evening but the LN needed to talk with him     The LN was standing by the table that formed the center piece of the deck house. The Senior Chief was to his right, the Staff Sergeant to his left and the CO had only the chair across from the LN to sit on. The Captain spoke:.     "I need to make an after action report. I need to do this myself."

     "Yes, dear, you can write your 'after action report' in your deck log. You're fairly good at writing...for a line officer...writing deck logs. But, they are not after action reports. Senior Chief Lee writes SEAL after action reports and Johnny writes excellent section, MP section that is, after action reports and I am your only lawyer." He grinned.

     LCDR Anderson-Pierre reflected that Sillings^[4] was gay and trying to hard to hide it. Fortunately for him, everyone on the LEE know and no one was threatened by this or even cared. The LEE had a very stable and sane crew; even Erica was fairly sane in her own way. Still, it was always surprising when Sillings accidentally "deared" anyone.

     For the next forty-five minutes the CO and his two experienced shooters wrote their after action reports and rewrote them to LN1 Sillings' demanding standards. Finally, Sillings sighed and said the reports would do and that they weren't too bad for "after action scribblers". Then, he began drafting amended reports and Erica's after action report. He was standing up, thinking he had done a fine job and was thinking of getting a little nap before taking the radar watch at midnight, when the three "poor writers" ambushed him.     Somehow, LN1 David Sillings had forgotten to draft his own "after action report". His three grinning "after action scribblers" were not at all merciful with respect to Sillings's own report...

 

The Aftermath

 

R 220157Z JUL 78

FM USS ELBERT C LEE

TO USS AMERICA

BT

UNCLAS //N00000//

SUBJ: PERSONNEL ROSTER USS ELBERT C. LEE ON 21 JULY 1978

MICHAEL HENRY ANDERSON-PIERE, LT,  CO, MEDIC

LEROY DAVID SCOTT LCPO, HMCS, OOD, RN, LICENSED SURGEON

WILLIAM LEONARD TANNER, QM1, LPO, OOD

DAVID THOMAS SILLINGS, LN1,  OOD(UI), LEGAL OFFICER

JOHN NMN MARKHAM,SSGT,  OOD(UI), ASSN'T ENGINEER, MP

WILLIAM THOMAS NICHOLS, EN2,  ENGINEER LOOKOUT

JEFFREY JACQUES MAXSON, ET2, ASSN'T COMMS, LOOKOUT

ERICA LYNN HANSON, RM3, COMMS, LOOKOUT

NOTE: SSGT IS THE ARMY RANK OF STAFF SERGEANT

#0002

NNNN

 

     CAPT Puller read over the message giving the crew muster list of the USS ELBERT C. LEE and considered the final after action report which LEE's "lawyer" had sent. Then, he considered his lawyers had remarked that LN1 Sillings had spent five years at night school while on shore duty at San Diego, had graduated from that law school and had recently taken and passed the bar exam. Sillings had been admitted to the bar on Guam and Puller's lawyers believed that Sillings would not lie. They had then created the paperwork CAPT Puller needed in record time. They had created it by midnight.

     They had created a series of recommendations for eight Navy Achievement Medals and one quasi-peacetime award of a Purple Heart. His recommendations had gone to the Pacific Fleet Commander via Immediate Precedence message shortly after midnight and had been immediately approved by 7 am Honolulu time. The Fleet Commander had used a secure satellite connection to talk directly with the Chief of Naval Operations about the Purple Heart. The two of them had talked with the Secretary of Defense, who had approved the award. Then, the Secretary had authorized the Fleet Commander to have one of his fastest fighters fly the medals from Honolulu to the AMERICA. It took a areo-refueling from Guam and a second air to air refueling from one of the AMERICA's fuel planes.

     It was worth all the money.

     It was good for morale, good for the planners to plan something on very short notice and good for the air crews to execute an unexpected mission.

     During the night, the AMERICA had turned and cruised towards the LEE at 30 knots. The LEE had continued towards the AMERICA at 10 knots. CAPT Puller had done the math: the rendezvous had taken a mere hour and a half. Then, both craft turned back on course across the East Celebes Sea.

     Shortly after breakfast, the LEE came alongside the America and the AMERICA's deck apes dropped bumpers and the LEE had tied up alongside the port stern of the AMERICA. The AMERICA went dead in the water first in order to prevent the prop wash of the AMERICA from dragging the LEE into the AMERICA's screws.

     CAPT Puller had personally gone down a ladder to the LEE.

     The entire crew of the LEE was lined up to receive him.

     Upon stepping onto the LEE's deck, CAPT Puller immediately turned toward the LEE's stern, came to attention and saluted smartly. Then, he turned and walked several steps to where LT Anderson-Pierre and saluted. "Sir, request permission to come aboard." LCDR Anderson-Pierre returned the salute and replied "Sir, permission granted. Welcome aboard, sir."

     In the Navy tradition, although CAPT Puller outranked LT Anderson-Pierre, LCDR Anderson-Pierre was Captain of the USS ELBERT C. LEE and the senior officer present. Thus, the Naval Captain saluted the Naval Lieutenant.

      LT Anderson-Pierre stuck his hand out, smiled at his friend and former CO and said: "Welcome aboard my boat, sir. It may not be much to look at but she's mine and I firmly believe I've got the best crew in the fleet!"

     "I feel the same way about my crew, CAPT Anderson-Pierre and of course, we're both right. We do have the best crews in the fleet."

     RM3 Hanson muttered "that's bullshit".

     LN1 Sillings replied "that is a true paradox".

     CAPT Puller smirked and was amused by the way CAPT Anderson-Pierre had rolled his eyes.

     "Some young folks don't realize that old farts like me, even old pilots like me, sometimes have very good hearing, eh Michael?"

     "Could be, sir, could be. It could also be that some ditty chasers don't realize they're losing their hearing and think everyone else has hammered hearing." ("Ditty chaser" was Navy slang for morse code operator.)     RM3 Hanson sighed, actually looked embarrassed and slightly worried.

     "Well, Captain", CAPT Puller continued, "please introduce me to your crew.     They walked the several feet to where his crew was lined up.

     "Sir, this is Senior Chief Scott. He is my leading chief and medical officer."

     "Senior chief, I seem to recall you graduated from nursing training before you joined the Navy and then got your MD in England?     "No, sir, I am a Registered Nurse but the degree is 'Licensed Surgeon'. The Brits distinguish between an MD and a Licensed Surgeon. An MD does all medical practice and a Licensed Surgeon does surgery and some diagnostic work."

     "That's what my chief medical officer told me. Seems the Navy doesn't know what to do with you. You're not an MD so you can't practice as one but you're licensed to operate by the Brits and you should be allowed to practice. Strange."

     "Well, sir, I did graduate from the Army Special Forces medical school. The Chief of Naval Medicine said that I may serve as a Physician's Assistant but that I can't be promoted to Warrant Officer."

     "I think I can do something about that." CAPT Puller was thinking that HMCS Scott would make a fine Master Chief and that his former CO from 15 years previously could get Scott the right to practice at Navy Hospitals. After all, what was the point of knowing the Chief of Naval Operations if not to help the deserving out?

     "Thank you, sir."

     They moved onto the next person.

     "As you know sir, this is Quartermaster first Tanner."

     "Petty Officer Tanner, a pleasure to meet you again." Then, leaning forward, he continued: "So, is serving on this command everything you hoped it would be, Bill"?

     "Yes, sir, it is. I'm grateful that you and my L T arranged it."

     CAPT Puller remembered that Robert A. Heinlein had said that Japanese had some 16 words for "thank you" and they all translated as "resentment". Wonderfully enough,  Bill Tanner obviously did not resent the actions taken on his behalf.

      The next person was LN1 Sillings.

     "Captain, may I present Legalman first Sillings?"

     "Pleasure to meet you Petty Officer Sillings. Weren't you on my legal staff some six or seven months ago?"

     "Yes, sir, I was. I'm surprised you remember me. Sir."

     "You did a nice job of defending that sailor at Mast. I like a lawyer who defends people when ordered to and you saved that boy from a lot of trouble. You also saved me from a punishment I really didn't want to hand out. The sailor was just defending his self.

     "Thank you, sir."

     "I understand you've completed all the required courses for a law degree and should have taken the bar exam. My staff "Legal Beagles" think you'd be a fine lawyer."

     Sillings said nothing.

     "Sir," the Captain's aide stated, "he has already passed the bar exam administered by the Defense Legal University. Then, he can practice in the Armed Forces and could easily be grand fathered into practice in whatever states he finds himself in."

     CAPT Puller reflected that he was lucky to have an aide who was not only a Command Pilot (F-14s and COD^[5]) but a lawyer. Why a lawyer would want to be a pilot and not to pilot a desk was something the Puller would never think to question. CAPT Puller expected this aide to win his SWO^[6] pin within weeks.

     The Commissioned lawyer and the Enlisted lawyer nodded to each other and then LN1 Sillings began to look worried. He had passed this test and was now facing the real test of practice in the Navy; Captain Puller was pulling for him and he didn't want to let the old man (all of 55 years old) down!

     The next person was Staff Sergeant Markham. He was braced to attention with a precision that neither Captain - Puller or Anderson-Pierre - had seen since their Naval Academy days. There was a quote from a book by Jerry Pournelle that Markham liked to repeat. It seemed that one of Pournelle's characters had entered a hanger bay on an interstellar carrier and "across the hanger bay, a group of Naval officers and men stood in that relaxed posture the Navy was pleased to call 'attention'".

      "Good morning, Staff Sergeant. You do realize the LEE isn't your typical Naval vessel."

     "Yes, sir, I do. Sir, this boat is a lot like a section squad, commanded by a junior officer, sir. Sir, this unit has become a family, a reasonably well adjusted family, sir."

     "I understand you're under instruction for officer of the deck?"

     "Yes, sir! I like it; it reminds me of being point in 'Nam and of the squads I lead. Sir."

     "Good, very good."

     "Isn't a squad part of a section. Thus, 'section squad' seems a strange verbal construction." Markham looked a bit startled. "Don't worry about it. One of your officers, a former LT Paul Wolfe sent word to me that you were out here." Now, Markham really began to look worried and this simply amused CAPT Puller and confused CAPT Anderson-Pierre.

     Chuckling, CAPT Puller allowed CAPT Anderson-Pierre to lead him before RM3 Hanson.

     "I've heard good things about you, Petty Officer Hanson. How are you doing on this ship?"

     "I'm doing just fine, sir. Like Johnny said, this is a family with a daddy, uncles and irritating older brothers. Being the only girl here isn't too bad; they treat me very nicely."

     "Any problems?"

     "None, sir, none at all! Like I said, sir, a daddy, uncles and pesky older brothers." She paused, then spoke again. "I'd like to talk with your medical officer, Captain. I don't have any problems but I'd like to talk with him anyway."

     "Certainly." CAPT Puller turned to his very capable aide. "Please contact the ship and have the CMO come here."

     "Yes, sir". The aide then turned towards the AMERICA and towards where one of the signalmen was standing. Using the semaphore he had learned in the Boy Scouts and relearned whilst standing very long and boring bridge mid watches, the aide signaled "SEND C M O". The signalman relayed this message to a comrade, who then called medical and send "R" for "roger".

     QM1 Tanner read the "R" with puzzlement.

     The signalman on the carrier listened to his phone talker who had been watching the officers on the LEE and sent: "INT TROUBLE".

     The aide replied with "N" or "no" and got an "R" in reply. CAPT Puller had watched his aid "semaphoring" and was even more pleased with this most capable aide. Tanner knew that "INT" was short for "interrogative" or "question follows" and wondered what the aide has signaled.

     "This is engineman second class Nichols. He was the only person wounded last night."

     "How were you wounded, son?"

     CAPT Puller already knew as LN1 Sillings had sent a "PERSONAL FOR CAPTAIN" message at the end of his teletype session the night before giving a very concise summary of the various post action reports.

     "Several rounds came through the ass end of the boat and whacked a couple of my thingies" (he was always precise in his technical language concerning his engines). "A splinter cut me a little."

     "That's a bit of an understatement, Captain Puller. Senior Chief had to do a bit of surgery to remove that splinter. We're going to frame the splinter and award it to LeRoy David."

     "Well, I hope you recover quickly. How will this affect your ability to work?"

     "Not much, sir. At sea, I can't work on the equipment anyway. If I did have to, Sergeant Markham is a great assistant and can do the heavy work for me. We'll make it to port easily enough and I can supervise the yard dogs."

     "Good. Very good."

     The last sailor introduced was ET2 Michael Wagner.

     "Good morning, Petty Officer Wagner. How are you?"

     "Fine, sir, just fine. I guess last night's excitement reminded me of why I joined the Navy and didn't let myself be drafted."

     "You're happy to be here?"

      "Yes, sir! I remember reading 'all men despise themselves who have never soldiered or been to sea'. I've done both, now. I didn't shoot at anyone last night but I did lug ammo so I guess I was fighting. I suppose."

     "Yes, you did. All of you fought last night. You were armed with two shooters and enabled them to shoot. The rest of your comrades did their jobs and that was fighting as well. I'm quite proud of all of you."

     CAPT Puller turned to CAPT Anderson-Pierre.

     "Let's head over to the stern; I've got some news for you."

     At the LEE's stern, CAPT Puller continued.

     "How is your young lady working out? Any problems?"

     "No, sir, none. She really is a pesky little sister. She is also an excellent radio operator and I think will grow up to be a fine senior petty officer. Her self control is improving daily and I think that Senior Chief has a lot to do with that.

               "Senior Chief is a good leader?"

     "Sir, Senior Chief Scott is an outstanding leader. He is also raising three daughters and that gave him practice. Erica has a touch of autism but is learning to live with it. We're all learning with her.

     "I'm going to have an awards ceremony."

     "Senior chief needs to know about this; he is my XO."

     "SENIOR CHIEF! Please join LCDR Anderson-Pierre and I."

     There was a brief pause and CAPT Puller quickly murmured something to Anderson-Pierre.

     "Senior Chief, I've pushed the paperwork through and there is going to be an awards ceremony in a few minutes. Navy Achievement Medals for all, a Purple Heart for your snipe (Navy slang for anyone working in the engine room) and a Navy Commendation Medal."

     "Sir, as much as I think the Lieutenant Commander deserves the Navy Commendation Medal, I would have to recommend against it. His rank is a bit divisive in a unit this small and awarding him the NavCom would be more divisive. I don't mean any disrespect, sir, but this is a family."

     Senior Chief Scott looked highly offended when both officers cracked up. He reminded Anderson-Pierre of Star Trek's "Mr. Spock" when his humans did something inexplicable.

     "I agree with you and therefore had to cancel the NavCom for him. But, it wasn't meant for your CO, it was meant for you, Senior Chief."

     For once, the often verbose Senior Chief LeRoy David Scott was speechless...

     The three returned to the waiting crew.

     "OK, people, everybody get into your undress whites. We've got some official business coming up."

     Fifteen minutes later, all hands were on deck in short sleeve whites. CAPT Puller and CAPT Anderson-Pierre were sweating into their dress white tunics. CAPT Puller addressed the group:

     "Before we get started, my Chief Medical Officer (CMO) would like a word with RM3 Hanson. We can wait inside.

     They went into the deck house. In the firefight, one of the windows had been blown out and a work crew from the AMERICA had tarped it over before CAPT Puller had arrived. This same crew had caulked some 109 bullet holes and an external air conditioner was working on the bow. This A/C was powered by a cable from the AMERICA and would only be there as long as the two ships were alongside.

     The CMO and a Chief Petty Officer arrived, did the arrival saluting routine and was permitted aboard by one of CAPT Puller's junior officers. This junior officer was standing quarterdeck watch as a favour to the LEE's CO.

     The CMO and his assistant, a CPO, took Erica Hanson to the flying bridge. There, they looked at each other for a moment in clear disarray.

     "So," the MD began, "how do you like being on board a Navy ship?"

     "Well, sir, first off all this is a BOAT and not a SHIP. Boats are under 400 foot in length. I learned that, sir, by calling this boat a ship and I heard about it for several days."

     "From whom?"

     "Ok, sir, so it was just a couple of hours, really. The L T and the Senior Chief and Bill-the-Navigator let me know. It was no big deal, sir, they were just joking about it and just wanted to set me straight. But, to answer your question, sir, I like it just fine. Being on the LEE beats the hell out of shore duty and the food is actually better."

     "You're kidding!" The chief looked surprised by this revelation.

     "No, sir, Chief, no joke. Bill-the-navigator has a girl friend and she taught him cooking. She likes it when Bill brags on how much we like her recipes. The Senior Chief ate all sorts of crap in 'Nam and actually learned how to season food. His wife and I had a chat and she says that her husband still had some strange cooking ideas. The cop lived in France for a while...oops...I wasn't supposed to say that. Please pretend I didn't say anything!"

     The MD and his Hospital Corpsman Chief both looked puzzled.

     "Why would you not want to talk about 'the cop' having lived in France?"

     "His father was in the Air Farce, sirs and our Staff Sergeant Markham got fucked over by some of his precious classmates in junior high. I guess that anyone asking him about this back bad memories." Actually, Erica thought, it was what Markham had done in France long after junior high that was classified. There were some details that Markham had babbled while in a high fever after leaving Yap for the first time and no one on the boat was planning on ever repeating them!

     The officer and Chief looked at each other, realizing they would probably never be told the truth and moved onto more important details.

     "You are a young woman in a group of men. Has this caused you any problems?"

     "No. If I have any 'woman problems', Senior Chief is both my MD and must be near my daddy's age. He told me that he and the Captain are acting in 'loco parentis' and so I trust them. The other guys are no problem at all."

     "You mean to tell me that you're in very cramped quarters with seven men and this isn't causing you problems?" The MD, a Commander, was clearly incredulous at this notion. The Chief, who had lived in the very cramped quarters of first the enlisted areas of ships and then in the somewhat less cramped Chief's quarters had no problem with that concept.

     "Well, sir, this class of boat is meant for 'two officers and six enlisted'. I sleep in the 'Captain's Quarters'. Err, I meant to say I sleep in the small cramped area intended for the Captain. The Captain sleeps in the quote other officer's berth unquote and the Senior Chief has a lower berth. He says that 'his old bones aren't up to climbing into an upper rack'!"

     Erica broke into laughter that decayed into giggles and then hiccups. The two medics were puzzled.

     "Well, you see sirs, our Senior Chief is a SEAL. He's only 39 and can still outdo everyone on the LEE in terms of sit-ups, pull-ups, pushups and all that good "happy horseshit". He likes to teach rock climbing to the jarheads on Guam and is really in great shape. He's in even better shape than our cop." (This wasn't true but "the cop" had his reasons for keeping his physical capabilities quiet.)

     When she got calmed down, Erica continued: "The boys are like a father and uncles and brothers to me. No one has come on to me; they all treat me like the little sister. Senior Chief is like another father, the LCDR and the quartermaster and "the cop" are like Uncles. The rest even refer to me as "little sister" when they don't think I can hear them."

     "Do you like them", the MD continued.

     "Well, yes, sir, I do."

     "Do you really like them?" The MD put a special emphasis on "really" and the CPO focused even closer on RM3 Erica Hanson.

     "Well, uh, uh," and she stammered a bit when she realized what was really being asked. "No Sir! There ain't nothing sexual going on! That's a disgusting idea. I'm not attracted to any of the boys and I don't think they are attracted to me!"

     She got up to leave.

     "Wait a minute, young lady. Just calm down a bit", the Chief said in an attempt to placate her. "These are obvious questions and could be asked by far less trusting folks who haven't got the advantage of talking with you."

     "You were initially assigned to this vessel thinking it was a 'day job'"?

     "Yes, sir."

     "Then, you found out the LEE's mission was to 'show the flag' and to take medical and legal help to the native peoples in the islands?"

     "Yes, sir."

     "Did you feel betrayed or did you wish to leave this boat?"

     "No, sir."

     "No, sir? Please expand on that answer."

     "Well, I was living in the 'Wave Cage', the all female enlisted barracks when I thought this was a 'day time only boat' that always tied up before evening supper. When the LCDR told me that we would be spending days at sea, I thought it would be great! You have no idea what bitches live in the 'Wave Cage' and how nice it is to be around folks who never have a 'bad time of the month' and who never seem to get bitchy. Besides, when we're in foreign ports, the Navy pays to let us live in nice hotels and the natives are often really good cooks. It's the best vacation I've ever been on. I get to do radioman work, the bridge officers trust me to take the weather observations and launch the BT probe and I have my own room. What more could a girl ask for?"

               "Are you having any 'female problems'? Is there anything going on that we need to know about?"

     "Well, no sir." Her hesitation would later cause both medics to ask the folks who were talking with the men what she might not have wanted to tell her. That information almost caused the MD to lose his lunch and greatly amused the Chief. The Chief's wife was more than a bit disgusted and couldn't wait to tell her "lady friends" and thus was started the legend of "Erica the Fishing Woman"...

     After the other three had left, CAPT Puller turned to the assembled Captain and crew of the good ship ELBERT C. LEE.

     "Gentlemen, some of you have just come through your first firefights and some of you are repeating acts you probably never thought you'd relive. How are you handling this?"

     No one replied.

     "Lieutenant Commander, you commanded a riverine warfare boat and I know you were in combat."

     "Sir, I did command a boat but I only fired a rifle once. That was when NVA troopers tried to move from the shore onto my boat. We were in a deep and narrow canal. I fired and may have hit someone. I was able to drive the boat out of there."

     QM1 Tanner had heard from a friend - the coxswain of the LT's boat - that the LT automatic rifle fire had nearly cut in two one enemy trooper and surely killed two others. But, if Michael Henry Anderson-Pierre wanted to believe he was still a "death virgin" then Bill Tanner wasn't about to shatter his illusions. CAPT Puller also knew of the after-action reports that Anderson-Pierre hadn't read and he changed the subject.

     "Petty Officer Sillings, what about you?"

     "Sir, I got lucky with my shots and they weren't that good."

     "Good enough to bracket an enemy boat and drive the bastard into retreating." SSGT Markham had fired more than one grenade launcher in his career and wasn't going to let Sillings feel bad. Later, Puller asked Markham about this and Markham had replied: "Soldiers new to combat don't have a proper basis for judging their own performance. That's why old NCOs like the Senior Chief and me have to do the judging, the evaluating; we're more objective and we know what should be happening." Captain Puller thought the same about his new pilots; Puller had flown combat missions in 'Nam and knew the subject well.

     "Senior chief, sergeant, how are you with the return to the violence of a combat mission?"

     "Actually, sir, it wasn't that bad. I don't recall actually seeing any enemy trooper get killed. True, one did drop but I couldn't tell from what reason. I suppose it is most logical to assume that my sergeant or I shot him." The senior chief paused and continued, "the only real kills we can confirm are the L A W kill of one boat and that beautiful bombing of the other."

     "No one bailed out of either boat so I think we can assume both boat's crews were wasted." CAPT Puller didn't really like the Staff Sergeant using the term "wasted" but he was too old a warrior to fret about it.

     "No one else bothered much?"

     LN1 Sillings cleared his throat.

      "Under international and U.S. law, our actions were in legal self-defense. We responded to an unprovoked assault. Also, contrary to what you may have heard, I was not trying to bracket that boat. I was trying to kill it."

     Someone muttered "no shit" and the resulting laughter broke the building tension.

     "Ok, one final issue. Navy regs were strained a bit with y'all having a woman onboard an out-to-sea boat. Have there been any problems?"

     "Erica is everyone's bratty sister, sir. There have been no, ummm, sexual problems because to be blunt, no one is sexually attracted to her. It's hard to believe, I suppose but true."

     LCDR Anderson-Pierre looked embarrassed to have said this.

     "Everyone close your eyes and give me a show of hands, people and I want candid opinions. Is anyone sexually attracted to Erica Hanson?"

     No one raised his hand.

     "What do you think of Erica?"

     The Senior Chief replied: "She reminds me of my middle daughter and I tend to treat her like a daughter. The LCDR is like an uncle to her and the rest like older brothers or uncles or senior NCOs depending on the situation."

     The engineman hesitantly spoke up: "She's a fine person but I don't speak with her much. Different shifts, sir and I tend to get along better with my engines and a couple of the lads. Still, I like her but I wouldn't want to date her."

     "I like her sense of humor", QM1 Tanner remarked. "One day, she was going on about how 'you men' are so uptight about the things 'we girls' have to go through. I bet you're just appalled by 'feminine products'!"

     "She chased a couple of the crew around the boat with a used pad. They had been making crude remarks about her 'dripping' or 'bleeding to death'. The Senior Chief had a little father-to-daughter talk with her and the Captain had a you-stand-at-attention-while-I-storm-around talk with the boys doing the teasing and that ended it." The Electronics Tech seemed quite amused.

     "Which ones?" Captain Puller wasn't so amused.

     "I'd rather not point fingers, sir, the Senior Chief and I got everyone straightened out. Then, we did a bit of fishing." The LT seemed a bit too amused.

     CAPT Puller had a horrible idea why the LEE's men were smirking and his aide, who had a wife with a crass sense of humour, smirked in anticipation of the reply.

     "Fishing?"

     "Erica thought we'd catch more fish if we chummed the water. So, she tossed the 'used pads' into the ocean. We did get some fish that way but I think Erica's fish may have been mixed with the fish brought up by the exploding hand grenades."

     "Interesting. Come to think of it, how is it that a Navy boat somehow has Stoner 63s, weapons meant for SEALs and Green Berets, an L A W, grenade launchers and according to one of my boatswain mates, enough ammo to fight a small war?"

     "It's a long story, sir, suffice to say that Staff Sergeant Markham knew of an Army Command which had received a rather large shipment of weapons in 1975. This command had ordered these weapons during the Tet Offensive in 1968 and by the time the Army sent said weapons, this command had shrunk to one officer and two senior NCOs. These good people simply stored the weapons in a secure, air conditioned shack and when we asked them for weapons, the appropriate Army command let us have them. The weapons had been written off the books years before and the Army wasn't interested in being embarrassed." The Staff Sergeant had left most of the story out but CAPT Puller didn't need to know that.

     "Ok, then if anyone asked, your ship obtained weapons through Army channels or perhaps Special Forces channels. This is after all, a joint forces command - Army and Navy. Joint operations are going to be the big thing and this can only help careers. So, Sergeant, I understand you're trying to become an Officer of the Deck (underway)?"

     "Yes, sir."

     "Get that qualification done, Sergeant. It might look good on your 'resume' and certainly will look good on your fitness reports." Then, CAPT Puller turned back to the group.

     "Where does your radiowoman sleep?"

     "A boat this size is set up for 2 officers and 6 enlisted, sir. I've got her billeted in one of the officer's cubby holes and I have the other. Erica is quite good about privacy; she dresses in her cubby and stays out of the 'enlisted quarters' when my men are dressing. Technically, Senior Chief should have one of the officer cubbies but he gave it up for the cause."

     "Thank you Captain and thank you Senor Chief. Now, we have an awards ceremony to attend. Staff Sergeant Markham, I don't know what Army regs are regarding beards but in your greens, you look like one of 'Fidel's Boys'!"

     "Yes, sir, I get that a lot."

      CAPT Puller turned to his aide. "Can you make some arrangement or argument to allow him to obey Navy regulations with respect to his beard?"

      "I had the staff lawyers check into that several minutes ago and they say he can wear a beard and look like one of 'Castro's Boys' if he wants to, sir. As someone in a joint command and serving on the ship of a different service, it is our lawyer's opinion that he can be bearded in accordance with current Navy Regulations."

      LN1 Sillings clearly didn't agree but he wasn't one to shaft a shipmate. 

      "Good! If anyone asks, tell them that I ordered Sergeant Markham to wear a beard. No one will ask and it won't matter anyway. Unless I fuck up royally, I will be a Rear Admiral in less than a year so I'm golden."

      CAPT Puller didn't fuck up and he made Rear Admiral. A clean shaven Sergeant First Class Markham and his wife were among the guests personally invited to his promotion ceremony.

* * * * * * * * * * *

     LCDR Anderson-Pierre assembled with crew whilst CAPT Puller had an urgent conversation with the Staff Sergeant. The delay was needed as the Senior Chief had ran from the deck and changed into his dress whites.

      Facing the Captain and crew of the Lee, CAPT Puller began to speak.

      "First, we're going to have an awards ceremony. Every one of you has been awarded the Navy Achievement Medal. Now, I realize this is rather unusual for someone in the Army but when I pushed the paperwork up thru the chain last night, the Army Chief of Staff was notified and gave his blessings.

      CAPT Puller went to LCDR Anderson-Pierre: "Lieutenant Commander Michael Henry Anderson-Pierre, it is my honor and pleasure to award you the Navy Achievement Medal for your courage and leadership in the combat action of last night." Then, CAPT Puller took the medal, which had arrived via F-14 that morning and pinned onto LCDR Anderson-Pierre's dress white tunic. They exchanged salutes.

      CAPT Puller turned and moved over to the Senior Chief. "Hospital Corpsman Senior Chief LeRoy David Scott, it is my honor and pleasure to award you yet another Navy Achievement Medal for your courage and leadership in last night's combat. You provided a very nice example for your shipmates! "CAPT Puller then took the medal and pinned it HMCS Scott's dress white tunic. They exchanged salutes.

      It took several minutes but CAPT Puller awarded the Navy Achievement Medal to the remaining members of the LEE's crew. Then, he turned to two extra men in dress whites who had been standing nervously watching the proceedings. These were the pilot and bombardier/navigator of the F-14 which had wasted the enemy boat the previous night. CAPT Puller had gotten permission to grant them both Distinguished Flying Crosses and with these medals, guaranteed promotions to Lieutenant Commander and the right to expect to be able to retire at 20 years. They had earned it.

      "We have one more award to go but first Staff Sergeant Markham will have to set the stage."

      "As you know I'm more than an Army MP 'slumming with the Navy' to quote my Colonel when I was sent here. Even though I'm told I look like one of 'Castro's Boys', I am a bit more than that. As I'm sure everyone knows by now, having read my orders, I am part of a military intelligence collective. I can tell you now that while global communism is a major problem, it is a problem that will fade. After all, communism is an economic theory as well as a political theory and a failed religion. Communism will die. Communism is not our real and truly dangerous enemy. When we lose communism, hell will be loosed on Earth and the name of that Hell is 'Muslim Arab Fanatics'".

      "They will be far worst that even Stalin or Moa could have dreamed of being."         Suddenly, the normally exotic and somewhat innocent looking Staff Sergeant John Markham looked like an ancient God of War.

      Not a happy God at all...

      "First, let's discuss the current threat: communism. Pure communism has never existed on this planet and probably never can. It is a religion masquerading as a political and economic system; it is both of those, of course. The problem with communism is that it ignored human nature. It might be idea for a bee hive but bees haven't evolved intelligence and probably don't need to!"

      "The primary tenant of communism is 'from each according to their ability, to each according to their need.' I may have gotten that reversed but it doesn't matter. The most important point is who decides? Who decides what a given person's ability is? Who decides what a given person's need is? The Soviets use little groups of people called 'Soviets' or 'collectives'. Does anyone doubt the opportunity for pure corruption?"      "Let me give you an example. You've got a fine young man who loves to study war. He and his friends have read and studied Sun Tzu's book on war; they have recreated the battles of Tamerlane and Caesar and Napoleon and later generals. He lead his Young Pioneer platoon is every manner. You'd think this lad is going places and should be sent to the Soviet version of West Point or perhaps Annapolis. If you thought so, you would be wrong! He would be lucky to avoid the work brigades. So, let's give him a happy career, given the handicap of his family history: He gets accepted at a 3rd rate engineering school but is drafted into the Soviet Navy before starting college. He becomes a radio operator and first serves in the Black Sea Fleet where he proves to me a brilliant operator. Then, he is transferred to a blue water unit, say a heavy cruiser. He is so brilliant that he is sent to serve as the radio operator on a Naval heavy bomber, a Bear. After his honourable discharge, he is allowed to attend and graduate from a second rate college. Then goes on to work in a tractor factory and designs such outstanding products that he becomes a Hero of the Soviet People in spite of his family history. Good on him!"

      "The other lad wasn't much really. He didn't do all that well in the Young Pioneers and probably would have made a fine assembler in our Hero's tractor factory. But, he is forced to attend the 2nd rate Air Force Academy and he becomes a MiG pilot in the Far East and eventually augers in from having one vodka too many the night before. Sad, sad on him! Sad since if the West were ever to fight the East, young warriors like the two young men CAPT Puller honored would have been better off fighting a pilot like our second example. Fortunately, while there are some incredibly brilliant Soviet Pilots, there are many more like our second lad."

      "So why the difference? The brilliant lad had the misfortune of being the grandson of rich peasants; worst, they were rich landowners. When Stalin rammed through collectivization, his grandparents went to Siberia and his parents were lucky to survive. During the 'Great Patriotic War', his father fought in the PBI: 'Poor Bloody Infantry'. His mother helped build tanks. This was a start at erasing the stain of his grandparents. I could have made his live really bad if I've made him a Jew or Gypsy or very religious. Making him a religious Muslim would have been the kiss of death."

      "The dullard's grandfather commanded a Cruiser. When the Russian Navy mutinied, his grandfather had gone over to the Soviets. During World War II or the 'Great Patriotic War' as the Soviets refer to it, this lad's father commanded a tank brigade on the Eastern Front and lead a column into Berlin. We won't speculate what he might have done to the Germans but it should be noted that rape and torture were common. Need I say, the Russians proved to be the villains? His mother helped form a Woman's Sniper Battalion and led 'her girls' into combat. His mother won combat awards and was considered a very formidable person. She may have been more deadly than her husband. So, I have the dullard an outstanding military heritage and made him a member of the New Aristocracy. Quite a heavy burden for frail shoulders to carry; our radio operator could have handled it with ease."

      "My point? Someone owed someone favours and that changed the perception of what one young man's ability was. Someone else was thought to come from 'bad seed' and that changed drastically what someone thought his ability was."

      "This is the current threat and will be superseded by a much more serious threat: militant Muslim radicals. Communism will fail because it does not meet the needs of the people. We will miss it because it is organized, with central command structures and because our economy needed the production that comes with building weapons to 'Kill A Commie For Your Mommy'." He was the only one who smiled at this jape. "Muslim Radicals will be far less centralized and far less rational. They will receive foreign aid from various Islamic Republic; an 'Islamic Republic' is your basic dictatorship. They will be far more dangerous. At first, the Soviets will support these movements. Then, later, their Muslim puppets will turn on the Soviets and try to get the Soviet Muslim populations to rebel. Later, they will try the same thing with the People's Republic of China but that will be a much 'harder sell'. It could be successful, though but that won't be until well in the 21^st century. First a bit of history:"

      "The followers of Judaism, Christianity and Islam are all 'people of the book'. That is the Old Testament. The Christians have the New Testament and the Muslims have the Koran. At one time, Arab Muslims were a vital and expanding nation. The glory days of Spain were when the Muslims ran that nation and forced religious tolerance upon the Spanish. When the Moors left, the Spanish Christians let their infrastructure decay and learning ended in Spain. The Muslim were the conservers of Classical History and preserved the basis for Western Civilization. They had the 'Islamic Nation'. Their nation fell apart several centuries ago and their civilization with it. They want their nation and civilization back."

      "So, why don't they recover it? Because the Arab Muslim Nations are basically theocracies or other forms of dictatorships. The economies are shot. Their people have little hope. They are reproducing at a rate that would embarrass rabbits. That is, if rabbits were intelligent. They can't face the notion that it is their own damned faults that they are such fucking losers!" He shouted the last words. "So, groups of Arab Muslim theologians have come up with the concept of "The Great Satan". That is Israel. How could a bunch of refugees from Nazi Europe or Soviet Europe come to Palestine, build an army and hold off something like thirteen Arab nations. More than hold them off, take and hold Arab lands! The answer appears to be the Israelites have a pact with the devil. The concept that they lost because they deserve to have lost isn't acceptable to the masses."

      "It's going to get every better, my friends! They are coming up with the concept of 'The Great Satans'. That is plural Satans and the U. S. of A. is being groomed to play her role as the second of 'The Great Satans'. Take note of this, we are going to be bleeding in another generation because of this Arab fantasy."

      "We were attacked by a group of Communists who are trying to take over the Philippines. They are ingesting Muslim radicals moving in from Indonesia. Interestingly enough, the home of much of the radical movement is in Saudi Arabia. Saudi Arabia is a kingdom ruled with a very radical and fundamentalist form of Islam. It is not a marriage made in Heaven."

      "Anyway, not for the west! We are at war with the Muslim Radicals; they have already told that! The Soviets are also at war but they don't know that yet, the poor bastards!"

      He sighed.

      "I think that we've kept everyone in the morning sun too long as it is. I'll probably end having to buy everyone a round of beers to appease you." Then, suddenly serious again, "CAPT Puller, shall we begin?"

      At that Captain's nod, the Staff Sergeant looked at Engineman 2nd class Nichols. "Petty Officer Nichols, stand forth!"

      Nichols took two steps forward, braced himself and looked nervous. From behind him someone said "don't lock your knees."

      Staff Sergeant Markham made a nod towards Captain Puller that was more like a bow.

      "Captain?"

      When CAPT Puller nodded no, Staff Sergeant Markham nodded toward LT Anderson-Pierre. "My Captain?"

      LCDR Anderson-Pierre walked over to EN2 Nichols and positioned himself so they would both be caught by the Photographer's Mate's camera.

      "Petty Officer Nichols, it is my solemn duty to present you with the Purple Heart for wounds sustained in yesterday's action."

      "But, sir, it was just a splinter!"

      "It was a splinter that required the Senior Chief to use pain killers, a scalpel and stitches. That is more than just a splinter." Nichols looked suddenly ill at the memory.

      Then, CAPT Anderson-Pierre pinned the Purple Heart onto Nichols' undress white shirt.

      After that, they posed for more photos.

      Everyone suddenly felt at a loss. The LT was invited to have lunch with the carrier's senior officers, the senior chief and staff sergeant were invited to have lunch with the senior NCOs on the aircraft and the other crew members were invited to eat with the Petty Officer 1st class mess.

      When the Capt.'s aide suggested a 'steel beach picnic' on the LEE in lieu of the officer, senior enlisted and crew of the LEE dining on the aircraft carrier, a potential problem was solved. (The Captain's personal cook brought a truly outstanding steak and lobster meal to the LEE and CAPT Puller joined the LEE's personnel in enjoying this. The aide and the two pilots also enjoyed this meal.) This 'steel beach picnic' on the LEE had to have it's counterpart on the carrier to avoid jealousy but the carrier sponsored 'steel beach picnic' would be the next day. The aide had an ulterior motive for having the steak bash on the LEE: it kept RM3 Hanson off the AMERICA and avoided possible problems. As much as he wanted to think he was wrong, the aide knew he was right...

 

Chapter two: The Lieutenant's Story

His Maculate Birth^{[7] [i]}

      This was not the first camp that Jacques de Malay Anderson-Pierre had been in. The Army years in World War II had certainly lead him through many camps and sleeping under the open sky. Since his college years, he had spent a few nights sleeping on the hard ground and he had spent many nights in various camps. This Mobile Army Surgical Hospital was a rather nice one in this Year Of Our Lord, 1952.

      He was a soldier both of God and of Man, in his case the United States of America. He was there to visit a Brother and it was not going to be a happy visit. It seemed to him that he would end up having to apologize for not visiting sooner.

       He headed for the mess tent.

       On the way, he passed several nurses. One noticed the plain cross worn in plain view. "Sergeant, isn't having a cross in plain view a violation of Army regulations?"

      "Yes, ma'am, it probably is. However, it would help me blend in here."

      "I don't' think so!"

      "Perhaps I should put fish hooks on my hat like that man over there? Doesn't Father Francis wear his cross outside his tunic?"

      "Do you mean Father Mulvane? Well, he does at that."

      "Thank you, Lieutenant."

      "What your name Sergeant?"

      "John Anderson, Sergeant First Class John Anderson is how the Army thinks of me.

      Sergeant First Class Anderson-Pierre went into what might be called the position of attention and gave the nurses a sharp salute. They left thinking he had been cute about his name; he hadn't been.

      The meal in the mess hall was some sort of mystery meat, a pasty substance that might actually contain potatoes, a dollop of indeterminate greens and a desert. The desert was cherries and apple and was quite good. The meal was fine, the coffee actually drinkable and copious amounts of lemon and too much sugar hid the flavour of the "ice tea".

       As moved to return his tray, he saw his prey in the distance. To his surprise, a young man walked over to him and said "I'll take that tray for you, sir. The Father is over there."

      "Corporal O'Riley, I'm a Sergeant First Class, not an officer."

      "Yes, sir, whatever you say."

      SFC Anderson-Pierre stopped in front of and across the table from his Brother: Francis Muleteer. Father Mulcayee's eyes went wide in shock and surprise.

      "Hello, Francis. I came as fast as I could."

      "I really didn't expect such as a fast response. I should not have written you. I'm fine and you really don't need to bother with me."

      "I'm afraid I do, Brother. After I read your letter, I spoke with your commanding officer on the phone. Colonel Porter seems like a very fine person. I remember talking to a clerk." He snorted. "Of course, that explains it! Your Colonel said that an officer needed to speak with Major Hullican. No wonder your Radar O'Riley sired me several minutes ago!"

      "I really don't need any help. Besides, would you be here otherwise?"

      "You've got me there, Francis, I haven't exactly been much of a visitor. Besides, didn't you get enough of me at the seminary?"

      "No, you were a fine Brother even if you did go back and go with the Jesuits. Even so…"

      "Do you doubt the family still loves you? Do you doubt that I love you, Brother? You should not!"

      "I have to go!" With that Father Mulcannee lurched to his feet and stumbled out.

      "Francis!"

      SFC Anderson-Pierre stood and felt surrounded by the sudden dead silence.

      A Captain who was proudly out of uniform walked over.

      "Sergeant, don't you know you're not supposed to refer to your superior officers by there first names?"

      "Lectures in proper military etiquette from Hawkeye Pierce. I would never have believe it. Never would I have believed it!"

     He stood to attention and saluted sharply.

     "Sir! I will inform my brother Francis of the manner you reprimanded me, sir and of how you reminded me sir, of the need to refer to my brother as 'sir'! Sir!"

     SFC Anderson-Pierre then did an about face and started to march out. The three nurses were goggling at him and he smiled at them.

      "Francis…oops…Father Mulcanne is my brother. His letters to me lead me to believe that your Captain Pierce was not very military!"

      The nurses and a number of the other folks in the mess hall laughed.

      His visit to Colonel Potter was not quite as mild.

      Radar was not there and he rather let himself in.

      "Colonel, we spoke on the phone. I am Father Jacques deMalay Anderson-Pierre. I've come here in respect to Father Francis."

      "What the Sam Hill is a Priest doing wearing the uniform of an Infantry Sergeant?"

      "That is what I do, Colonel. Even Priests serve in the Army, in the PBI, sometimes!" Anderson-Pierre smiled gently.

      "PBI, Poor Bloody Infantry. Now there is a phrase I haven't heard in a very long time."

      "True. It was really true during the last big war. Now, I'm in a slightly different Army. As you know, for a very long time, Mother Church was not the pacifistic organization it seems to be today. So, what is wrong with our Francis?"

      "Father, I think Francis is losing his faith. I don't know what to do about it beyond calling your bishop and they sent you. What is special about you, son?"

      And so Jacques de Malay Anderson-Pierre, AKA Jack Anderson, then explained.

      When their meeting was over, Colonel Potter escorted his guest into the outer office and told Radar O'Neil, "Radar, please put this officer in the visiting officer tent."

      "Colonel, I am not an officer."

      "Don't argue with me, son!"

      "Sherman!"

       Anderson-Pierre sighed, realizing that he'd just provided the "evidence" that he was not only an officer but a senior officer at that. He missed Potter's smirk as the clerk escorted the Sergeant First Class out.

      Anderson-Pierre read quietly the rest of the afternoon and then had a simple evening meal. Simple since the camp cook simply didn't create complicated meals.

 

      Anderson-Pierre walked the camp after the sun had dropped below horizon and the camp lushes had gone to the "bar-tent" and the tea lovers had retired for the night. He liked the feel of being in the dark, it matched his mood at times. As always, when leaving his "quarters", he knew he might end up running for his life. (He had been a soldier for some years, after all.) He wore a web belt with full canteen on his right hip and a rather large knife on his left hip; the 1910 model .45 caliber pistol hung from the web belt at his back; hung down the crack of his ass. He believed in carrying several full clips as well.  He thought it was a silly thing to "hide" his piece but he didn't want to offend Colonel Potter by "packing in public".

      One of the nurses left a common tent, sobbing and waving a letter. She found a secluded spot, sat on a bench and sobbed quietly. Anderson-Pierre sighed and wandered over.

      "Debra? It is Debra, isn't it?"

      "Yes."

      "I heard you referred to as 'Debra' and 'Debbie'. I know I shouldn't intrude but I hate to see people in pain."

      "You're a soldier."

      "Yes and so are you. I am also man of God as well as a man. I simply wanted to see if I could help."

      "I don't know that you can. You are a man…"

      "Just the genetic arrangement and the plumbing I was born with. It really bothers me to see you in such emotional pain. I'd like to help you…"

      "It is my husband…that bastard!"

      He simply waited.

      "He said that 'I was ugly, that no man could possibly want me, that he had found a real woman and was going to have her instead of me'."

      "That is simply not true."

      "He also said 'you're stupid, incompetent and only the Army would have hired you on as a nurse'."

      "My brother has written me about all the people at this camp. He spoke quite highly of you Debra Santos. I respect his ability to read people. Also, your Colonel Potter discusses officer fitness reports and enlisted evaluations with my brother Francis as he is writing them. Francis wrote only good thinks about your kindness, your ability, your high level of competence."

      "Father Mushily is your brother?"

      "In a manner of speaking." He pauses, "please tell me more of this man's lies."      "He said 'that I am ugly' and that 'no man would ever see me as attractive'."      "It think you're beautiful."

      "He said 'that I kiss worst than our dog and that on one could ever want to kiss me'."

      "I would…"

      "Really?"

      She grabbed his head and kissed him. It took a minute for him to get used to the notion of being kissed but then he had always been a quick study.      "Now! Was that horrible?"

      "Not at all, my dear, not at all!"

      "He then said that 'I have a figure like a potato sack; a lumpy sack full of spuds'."

      "I will admit that I haven't been able to study your figure because of your baggy uniform but I believe you have a most attractive figure."

      "Really?"

      "Really!"

      "He then wrote that 'your tits remind me of a cow!'"

      "Bullshit!"

      She then unbuttoned her blouse and revealed a very nice, attractive, figure and quite lovely breasts. Breasts like this he had dreamed of for years…

      He took the letter and scanned it quickly.

      "What is this reference to cheese?"

      To his puzzlement, she really began to sob.

      "Please explain!"

      "There were times when we were dating that he thought cunnelinious was a wonderful form of foreplay. Then, he started saying 'I smelled like old cheese'!"

      He couldn't think of anything to say and kissed her a few times. Given the vows he'd sworn and the one vow he was not required to swear to, he felt no guilt at kissing this Debra Santos.

      "Let me help you take your shirt off."

      He more than helped her take her shirt off; he tried to unfasten her bra. He failed miserably at this and she laughed gently as she undid the clasp. He kissed her nipples and then sucked them gently for several minutes.

      "He clearly does not know what he was talking about!"

      She unbuttoned his shirt and he removed his shirt and undershirt. The, they both sat on the bench and removed their shoes, socks and trousers. Removing their underpants seemed a barrier they were reluctant to pass.

      He began to kiss her some more.

      "What do you want to do?" She was curious.

      "Did you know the original form of crossing one's self was to touch one's lips, genitals, right nipple and left nipple? I am simply to kiss the cross upon you in modified fashion."

      "How so?"

      He stood her up and removed her panties.

      "I have already kissed your mouth and breasts and now it is time to kiss your genitals."

      "I don't know. I don't know if we should do this. I don't…please don't stop!"

      For a virgin, "Jack Anderson" did quite well; he had paid attention to the men confessing to him and was easily able to apply theory to practice. He never though of wetting down his spare hankie with the water in his canteen. She found his attentions very much to her liking…

       "That was very, very, nice."

      "It was also my first time."

      "Then, I suppose this is going to be new to you, as well?"

      He was actually puzzled as she pulled his shorts down and began to felate him.

      His legs collapsed under him as he experienced his first orgasm with someone else. It took a while but he quickly learned two different positions of sexual intercourse and left her thinking she was one hell of a woman and lover.

      She was correct.

      At breakfast the next morning, Anderson-Pierre got his breakfast tray and went to an empty table. Debbie, who was seated at the end of a nurses, waved him over.

      "Hello John!"

      "Debbie, I'm delighted to see you!"

      "Why didn't you come over?"

      "I was feeling shy and wasn't sure the reaction I would get."

      They had a pleasant breakfast and "John" spent so little time talking with the other nurses that they were highly amused. Later that day, the rumors began swirling about him and her and went to discuss them.

      "John, I've heard some funny stuff about you. You wear a Sergeant First Class' rank tabs but Radar says you're an officer. You called Colonel Potter 'Sherman' and called Father Mulcahy 'Francis'. What the hell is going on here?"

      "Ummm, technically 'hell is not going on here'. We hope. I will have to explain some details about Francis and me and why he is my Brother. When you think of Catholic Priests, do you think all Priests are the same and trained the same?"

      "Well, yes."

 

      "Father Francis Mulcahy and I are both Catholic Priests. We both went to the same seminary, a Jesuit seminary. His last year was spent at a Benedictine Seminary and I went to a Templar Seminary^[8] instead. There is a difference in our duties and a difference in our vows."

      He raised his eyebrows and wondered what she was going to say.

      "You…are…a…Priest? I SLEPT with a Priest, a calibrate Priest!"

      "A Priest yes, celebrate no. I was ordained in a warrior order that doesn't require celibacy. Francis was ordained in a non-violent order that does require celibacy. My full name if Jacques de Molay Anderson-Pierre. My father was a member of the Templar Order as was his grandfather. Once, Mother Church was a warrior Church; with the loss of secular power, the various Orders became far more pacifistic."

      "That is strange."

      "After the Knights Templar was suppressed, that Pope's successor realized the French King had conned the Pope into agreeing to the murder of that order. The King needed money and in order to get it, the Pope declared the Knights heretics and outlaws. The Knights were then tortured until the confessed. This Pope died shortly after many of the Knights Templar were murdered. The next Pope recognized the need for an armed order of Priests and Men At Arms. In order to actually obtain recruits, the Pope granted relief from the chastity rule."

      "That sounds ideal."

      "No, not really," he sighed, "I have to confess to my brother. If there were other Priests or ordained Brothers of my Order available, I would confess to them. But there are not and my Francis is not too inclined to 'Christian Charity' towards me right now."

      "Why is that? He is a very sweet and loving person."

      "I know but right now he has got a crisis of conscious. This could be very serious."

      She had to go on duty and he spent the rest of the afternoon in meditation. Then, he had to send an apology to her since Father Mulcahy had asked him for dinner, a private dinner, that evening.

      After a dinner spent in tense avoidance of real issues, Jacques poured Francis a snifter of brandy and himself one as well.

       "That was a lovely meal."

      "It was Army food, made by an indifferent cook."

      "Francis, why do you think I'm here?"

      "We both know why you're here!"

      "I know why I'm here but why do you think I'm here?"

      "You're with the fucking office."

      "Which office, Francis?"

      "The Office of the Inquisition, that office."

      "The last Office of the Inquisition, the Spanish Inquisition, closed in the 1800s if I remember correctly. If there is an 'office', then I've not been told about it."

      "Before I met you and before your last year of Seminary, I would not have thought a Warrior Order like yours could even exist."

      "I am here because the families are very worried about you. My order, your order, the Colonel and his son Radar and the combined medical and nursing staffs are very worried. Without going into names, the MDs, nurses and support folks went to your Colonel. He contacted your superiors in both your Order and the Military Catholic hierarchy and they contacted my superiors in my order. We're like an intelligence organization; we know as much as we can about the orders and families."

      "Well, Jacques, you are a spy and you are a member of a spy order."

      "True, so true. The important matter is you're drinking a lot, you're losing your temper and you've been heard asking 'what does it matter'? This is wrong thinking for a Priest, especially a Priest of your order."

      "Wrong thinking? Is that what you call it, wrong thinking?" The speaker may have been an angry blond but she was blond in hair only; otherwise Margaret Houlihan was one very sharp operator.

       Major Margaret Houlihan appeared in the door to the Good Father's tent along with 1LT Debbie Ryan.

      "I want to know what the hell is going on here! Father!"

      Both priests answered "yes?"

      "My priest, not Debbie's priest. What is this 'wrong thinking'?"

      She glared at both Men of God.

      "Well, Father Sergeant?"

       Then, she glared at Father Jacques as he simply lost his composure and laughed himself into giggles and then chocking on tears running from his eyes through his nose.

      "Well, indeed!" Then seriously, "his 'wrong thinking' is in losing his faith in God, losing his faith that the evil he has been witness to is part of God's Plan and the increasing difficulty Francis is having in reconciling a loving God and war. I know the feeling, I know it even more than Francis yet I have been able to reconcile this. I know that someday all will be explained to me and my patience will be rewarded."

      Both women and his fellow priest were stunned by this expression of unconditional faith from a warrior priest and we rendered silent.

      "Francis, what can I say to make you feel better."

      "Nothing, Jacques, nothing."

      "John, may I call you 'John' or do you prefer 'Jack?"

      "Either will be fine, Margaret but I'd rather be called 'Jack'."

      "Francis, will you talk to me?"

      Father Francis nodded silently to Margaret. Father Jacques glanced at Debra and turned his head toward the door. They looked back, through the open tent flap, to see Margaret kiss Frances and then cradle his head against her breast. As Jacques was lacing up the tent flap, Margaret again kissed Francis, who returned the kiss clumsily. Then, she dropped to her knees and the look of shock on the face of Francis told both Debbie and Jacques all they needed to know.

      "Well," she said as they quietly tiptoed away, "it looks like a couple of people will need to attend confession tomorrow."

      "I know an understanding priest who will assign them five Hail Mary's and extract a promise that Francis confess to me the next time this happens."

      "Do you really think this will happen again?"

      "Do you doubt my hypothesis?"

      "No, I don't. Maybe you should come back in a week or so."

      "I'd like to, my dear, I will miss you."

      "I was thinking of coming back to hear their confessions!"

      "Oh, well, OK then…"

      "And to visit me, of course."

      Since there had been "no issue" from the Union of the Ryans, the courts had bemusedly granted Debra Ryans request for Marriage Annulment vice divorce. Her ex thought this was funny but really didn't think about it; he was too busy working his way to his second marriage and it's subsequent financially ruinous divorce.

      The Templar Order forbad them to marry within the Church since his Order had not given pre-permission for Father Jacques de Moray Anderson-Pierre to court Debra Louise Ryan. Father Church informed the couple they could wed in a Civil Ceremony They did so.

      By this time, Jack Anderson had tired of war and tired of killing. He was transferred to an Army post in northeast New Mexico. On the way there, the couple spent a month on Temporary Duty in England. There, he officially "transferred" to the Church of England. He was consecrated a Priest of the Church of England on a lovely Sunday. The following Wednesday, the Church of England gave him official permission to have an Church Wedding. Actually, they were ordered to wed in the Church.

     The elders from his order attended. Thanks be to orders cut at a very high level, Colonel Potter attended to 'give away the bride' and Father Francis was Best Man.

     The following Sunday, the Church of England Priest Jacques de Molay Anderson-Pierre was "transferred" back to his old order in Father Church and began serving as a legally married Catholic Priest.

      The deal had been brokered by very high level talks and the Pope had personally signed the authorizing papers. The Pope was an old romantic at heart and thought a good thing was happening…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

His Education

 

      Their first child was Michael, their second was Elizabeth and the third Robin. The kids had a fairly happy childhood even if it was a bit strange to have a Catholic Priest for a Father and a Surgical Nurse for a Mother. There was one time when Michael had been accosted by some knife waving punks off base. When the tall and slender "Father Father" appeared, the young punks had thought they have an easy time of dealing with him. They didn't know that "Father Father" had been a Ranger in War Two, had "worked" in North Korea retrieving lost Allied Pilots and air crew as well as sneaking Catholic Priests and Nuns south out of China and North Korea and had Mastered a number of Oriental fighting systems decades before. "Father Father" (as he was known) taught four different styles of combat (Savate, White Crane Gung Fu, Karate and Aikido) to special forces troops rotating through the northeast New Mexico base and more than familiar with several more.

       Jacques, AKA "Father Father" had fought so smoothly and effectively that some witnesses through it was a choreographed event.

      It was not.

      The blood and screams of Jacques' targets were too real.

 

      Michael should have graduated high school in 1970. However, he had very good grades and was able to graduate a year early. Thanks to patrons at high levels, Michael was allowed to enter the Navy Academy on his 17th birthday. He graduated in June 1973 and spent four months at sea on a cruiser.

       He then transferred to a Special Warfare Group in the Rat Sung swamp of 'Nam. There he commanded a riverine warfare craft and was granted the "Small Craft Commander" pin. He would later would be awarded the "Special Warfare Surface Warfare Officer" pin as well as the "Surface Warfare Officer" pin.

      He counted himself lucky: he was not awarded the Purple Heart and none of the men on his boat were hurt. He was one of the most lucky commanders.

      He developed an interest in anti-submarine warfare and his Navy Graduate Masters was in "Applied Physical Oceanography". He dreamed of new ways to collect and use oceanographic sounding data. Part of his thesis was a proposal for a unique data collection platform.

       He really didn't expect anyone to take him up on this.

 

 

 

 

Lumps, Bumps and Restarting a Career

      Between 'Nam and starting Grad School in 1976, Michael set out to become the finest ship driver in the Pacific Fleet. He succeeded and was declared OOD (Officer of the Deck) of the Quarter twice. It was a magnificent send off to graduate school.

      Unfortunately, some times the great racer's starts don't continue with great races…

      By the end of his third week on the USS ENGLAND, Michael realized that his ship driving skills had slipped some. He was on the bridge of the ENGLAND.

      "LT," LCDR James R. Johnson, his department head commented, "how could such a screw-up like you ever get qualified to drive ship?"

      Michael couldn't believe he'd heard that.

      "Lieutenant, I just asked you a question. What is your answer?"

      "I'm not a screw-up so I don't really need to give you an answer. Sir."

      "Really? Then explain everything you've bungled!"

      "Sir, why don't we have this conversation in private with the XO, sir?"

      "We can have it right here."

      "No, sir. Bad idea, sir."

      Michael turned to the bridge team, which had watched this verbal assault with the fascination of watching a slow motion car wreck and with the fear that one of the officers would nail them for the hearing.

      "Let's go over that plot again. I'd like to see what happened."

      "LT Anderson-Pierre! I will not have you ignoring me."

      "Sir! If you want to discuss my profession behaviour, sir, then sir, it would be best, sir, to have this conversation, sir, in private discussion, sir, with just you, sir, me, sir and the XO, sir. Sir!"

      "What the hell was that, boy? Are you being sarcastic?"

      "No, sir, let's talk with the XO."

      At this point, the XO stirred himself out of his bridge chair, looked at LCDR Johnson and commented: "My office. Now!"

      As the two left the bridge, the Department Head glared at the Bridge Officer.

      The Quartermaster Leading Petty Officer brought over the plots that had been made of the various maneuvers.

      "Well, sir, here is the plot of the latest Man Overboard Recovery Drill. The ship was here and on this course when 'Oscar' as reported overboard. Here is when you started your racetrack turn. Here we have the wind directions and swell. You didn't, in my opinion, quite factor in the wind effect. This boat is a lot bigger than what you're used to, sir."

      Then realizing he'd been criticizing an officers, the LPO shut up.

      "Keep talking, I'm not worried about what you could say to me!"

      "It'll be more gentle that the crap I've heard blowing around in the past few minutes." The bridge crew may not have liked LCDR Johnson but they were not ready to risk everything by supporting this new officer.

      "The effect of my fuck-up?"

      "Not a 'fuck-up', sir, not at all. When you completed the racetrack turn, the wind simply put the boat about ten feet further from 'Oscar' that it might have been. Sir. None the less, our boys in recovery (the boatswain mates who specialized in recovering objects in the water) would have had no problems with they boat hooks. Also, sir, you had slowed the boat enough that we could have launched the inflatable and recovered 'Oscar'."

      The Quartermaster LPO straighten up into almost a position of attention. "In my opinion, sir, you did just fine!"

      "And in mine as well, sir." The unexpected voice came from the Command Master Chief, a man who had the disconcerting ability to suddenly appear in places one would not have expected him to be.

      "Give me the charts and logs of all five evolutions conducted this morning. I want to check them over.  LT Anderson-Pierre, given your time away from boat driving, I think you've done well."

      The Master Chief, who had been a tug skipper when he was a Quartermaster Senior Chief, walked into the unoccupied signalman's shack and was seen looking at the plots of the morning evolutions and reading the various logs. After a tense half hour or so, the Master Chief returned the paperwork to the Bridge Boatswain Mate of the Watch, nodded to LT Anderson-Pierre, murmured "gentlemen" to everyone present and strolled off the bridge, carrying the paperwork with him.

      He may have "only" been enlisted but he was the Senior most enlisted on the boat and reported directly to the Captain. He held as much power as a Department Head and in some ways, as the XO his self. He was not someone to fuck with.

      Thinking the evolutions were over, Anderson-Pierre called XO's office and asked his Yeoman to speak with his "beloved" department head. The XO's Yeoman replied that LCDR Johnson and the XO were in a closed door session.

      "Well," Anderson-Pierre said to the bridge crew, "it looks like the exercises are still going on."

      Shortly afterwards, LCDR Johnson returned to the bridge.

      "What is our heading and speed?"

      The answer angered him.

      "Why didn't you put the ship back on the ordered course and speed we were on before the drills began?"

      "You did not direct me to do so."

      "That is a piss poor excuse. We'll talk about this in the signalman's shack."

      "No, Mr. Johnson, discussing the matter here will be just fine." The person speaking was the Ship's Captain. He did not look very pleased. He had not planned on coming to the bridge so close to lunch as he had a lot of paperwork to do. There were fitness reports to deal with, the Command History had been sent back by fleet for amplifying details and he had to read his Command Historian's replies and he still hadn't written his wife in over a week.

      He had not be thrilled when the Command Master Chief had knocked on his At-Sea Cabin door and said, "We've got a problem, Skipper."

      "Enter."

      "It's about this morning's bridge drills, sir. Given that he is a bit rusty, LT Anderson did fairly well. But, LCDR Johnson keeps busting LT Anderson's balls and busting them in public."

      "In front of the bridge crew?"

      "Yes, sir, in front of God and crew. It's bad enough that Johnson is slamming Anderson in front of the Ensign and that midshipman, but to do so in front of our sailors is really bad form."

      "Yes, it is!"

      "Show me what the supposed problems were."

      For the next 20 minutes or so, the Command Master Chief laid out the evolution of the five morning exercises. He also gave some pithy comments based on his years of service and having been CO of a tug boat.

      "Captain, the young man did just fine! LCDR Johnson was completely out of line with that 'boy' crack. In fact," the CM/C paused and continued, "never mind, Sir."

      The Captain nodded; he was relieved the CM/C had not gone into a discussion of UCMJ (Uniform Code of Military Justice) charges that could have been levied against LCDR Johnson.

      The phone rang, the Captain's Yeoman answered and hung up before respectfully knocking on the open door to the Captain's At-Sea Cabin. He had heard everything spoken by Captain and Command Master Chief but both those worthies knew the Yeoman would never repeat what he heard. To be a Captain's Yeoman required a person to basically take a vow of silence. The same was true of the XO's and CM/C's yeomen…

      "Sir, the XO's Yeoman said the XO and Mr. Johnson are heading back to the bridge."

      Captain and CM/C nodded to each other and rushed out. The CO's Yeoman made a neat bundle of the various papers and followed them.

      "No, Mr. Johnson, discussing the matter here will be just fine." The person speaking was the Ship's Captain and he wasn't pleased after having his talk with the CM/C.

      "The ship is on the course and speed you left it on, Mr. Johnson. If you didn't turn over deck and con to LT Anderson when you left with the XO, you still had the deck and con. Therefore, you are responsible and I would appreciate your making those changes."

      LCDR Johnson quietly spoke with LT Anderson-Pierre and the duty Quartermaster. Then, he stated to the Captain: "Sir, if we return to course zero nine zero and make turns for fourteen knots, we can be outside San Diego Harbour by 1500 as planned."

      "Do it."

      "Helm, right standard rudder, steady on course zero niner zero. Lee helm, ring two thirds ahead and make turns for fourteen knots."

      "Sir, right standard rudder and steady on course zero niner zero', the helmsman responded, turning his big wheel.

      "Sir, ringing two thirds ahead", the lee helm replied as he clanged his way through the procedure, "and making turns for fourteen knots, sir" as he changed a setting on a dial in speed telegraph. The Engineering officer of the watch in main propulsion noted this, logged it and told the Chief of the Watch to increase the speed. The Chief of the Watch then increased the engine's output and his petty officer's began adjusting the "two thirds ahead" to what was needed to obtain a speed through water of fourteen knots. Both officer and Chief Petty Officer were pleased.

      On the bridge, matters were less pleasant.

      "Mr. Johnson, see me in my At-Sea Cabin at your earliest convenience after lunch."

      "Could we have that meeting now, Sir?"

      "No, we can't. We can have it after lunch, at my convenience!"

      The CO's Yeoman had brought the various papers onto the bridge only to have the XO nod at the CM/C. Then, the papers were spread out on the table of the signalman's office and the XO's memory was refreshed on the five exercises. After which, the long suffering Yeoman began to shuffle the papers together.

      One of the bridge duty Quartermasters entered and took the papers from the Captain's Yeoman and said: "I'll put them back where they belong, bubba. You took good care of them.."

      The Yeoman nodded a thanks and then began waiting for the CO to leave. When he did, the bridge staff was sufficiently aware of this for one to yell "Attention on Deck", a command that should have been yelled when the Captain had entered the bridge.

      "You may attend first seating in the Wardroom, Commander Johnson," the XO said. "Mr. Anderson, you may attend the second seating." The XO nodded at the remaining bridge crew. "Gentlemen."

      "LT Anderson-Pierre, the Captain, XO and I are pleased with the results of this morning's evolutions. You did well, sir." Not even the most junior man on watch missed the fact the CM/C had really meant "son" when he said "sir".

      LCDR Johnson ate a very hurried and unpleasant lunch and was at the Captain's At-Sea Cabin very quickly. He expected to be kept waiting and was not disappointed.

      LCDR Johnson was invited into the cabin. The Captain was seated and Johnson was not invited to sit.

      "So, what is your problem with LT Anderson?"

      "I don't believe he is as good a ship driver as he should be, Sir. I'm simply trying to train him, sir."

      "Yes, of course." Irony dripped from the Captain's voice. "Of course, you are."

      Johnson knew better than to reply.

      "Of course, there is no resentment on your part about the changes that Anderson brought to CIC. Of course, you don't resent him making improvements that you could have found in the literature."

      "No, sir." Johnson was lying.

      "Quite true, Mr. Johnson. The changes LT Anderson has been recommending were based on his PG^[9] thesis research and recent changes in doctrine. They haven't made it to the unclassified literature and we haven't had access to the classified literature." A pause and then: "Well, I've just gotten access to the classified material and will be briefing the wardroom soon. So, you have no rational reason to feel resentment. Anderson really wasn't trying to harm you."

      "Yes, sir."

      "Now that we've settled that, I want you to do some research and present a discussion to the wardroom and Chief's mess. You'll talk about "Conduct Unbecoming" and "Provoking Speeches and Gestures". If you don't have time to do this by tomorrow noon, I can always free up time for you."

      "No, sir, I can have a talk ready by noon tomorrow, sir."

      "Good. You may leave."

      Johnson knew the "free up time" meant putting him in hack or house arrest. Such a condition would mean Johnson would have to lead his department from his "cabin" and he would be at the mercy of his junior officers and senior NCOs, who could easily "screw up" and say the "errors happened because they didn't understand LCDR Johnson's orders". If that happened, he didn't think the CO, XO or CM/C^[10] would take his word…

            Johnson's talk the next day was through, short and so dispassionate that on one would have suspected how close Johnson had come to being hauled up on those charges.

      Prior to LCDR Johnson's little talk the next morning, the Captain had announced that he was going to run through some drills. In front of Johnson, Anderson-Pierre and his junior officers, the Captain ran through the same drills that Anderson-Pierre had the day before. The difference between the two was obvious. The Captain did so well that he made the drills look easy.

      At one point, the Senior Chief Quartermaster commented: "Why did you pick that course, sir? I would figured a course 3 degrees port of that?"

      "Wait and see, Senor Chief".

      The exercise, a man overboard, went perfectly.

      "Senior Chief, I read a wind change in the waves and knew how that would effect the ship's turn." Thus, the Captain's legend was enhanced and on one had to know just how lucky the "Old Man" had been…

      The Captain sent LCDR Johnson to meet with the CO and CM/C before noon. After they had left the bridge, the Captain said: "Michael, return the ship to the initial point and you'll conduct those exercises. Relax, son, you'll do just fine."

      LT Anderson-Pierre did a couple of practice maneuvers to get warm up and then ran the five drills…twice. The Captain was quite pleased with his performance.

      "All good things must come to an end" and so did Anderson-Pierre's time on the ENGLAND.

      The day Anderson-Pierre was to transfer to the USS AMERICA on-route to Guam, the Command Master Chief had Anderson-Pierre come to his office. There, Anderson-Pierre's entire bridge crew (the sailors in Anderson-Pierre's watch section) and his CIC division were mustered.

      "LT Anderson, we have a gift for you. A little something to remember us by."

      The gift was a gold painted wood screw that looked somewhat like a penis.

      "Your Golden Screw, L T. You're not the first to get the 'Golden Screw' or the 'Golden Johnson' from Johnson. The problem is that aside from you Lieutenant, Mr. Johnson hasn't crossed the line. So, I let the troops have this little bit of rebellion."

      "Thank you, Master Chief." Anderson-Pierre carefully hid his shock at this disrespectful act of rebellion. Then, he was surprised to realize how happy he was to get this object. "I will treasure this."

      He then was invited into the Captain's At-Sea Cabin.

      "Have a seat, Michael. This won't take long. First the bad news. This is Johnson's first draft of your fitrep."

      The draft fitrep was the worst Anderson-Pierre had ever read. He had been given an overall rating in the top 40% and this was an absolute kiss of death. In the old stories, a French Officer given such a fitrep would have been offered a glass of whiskey and a pistol with one bullet.

      "Don't worry, here is the fitrep^[11] Johnson actually submitted."

      This fitrep was somewhat better and would not have prevented his promotion to LCDR but would certainly have stopped his career there. Anderson-Pierre was profoundly grateful the Navy was still using the rather relaxed wartime fitrep rules for promotion. Had he gotten this fitrep after ten years of "peace", it would have been a career killer.

      "Here is what the XO submitted."

      This fitrep was significantly better and with it, Anderson-Pierre could envision easily making LCDR and possibly even full Commander.

      "This is the fitrep that I submitted."

      The Captain's fitrep was even better than his XO's and Anderson-Pierre could see himself wearing a Naval Captain's Eagles some day. It was obvious to the Captain just what his junior officer was thinking.

      "You'll have to earn them, son. Oh, I've changed my mind, I want you to leave with all your insignia on."

      Before Anderson-Pierre left the ENGLAND via helicoptered to the USS AMERICA, the Captain of the England lined up all his officers and Chiefs.

      "When LT Anderson-Pierre came aboard, I asked him to not wear his ribbons and breast insignia. LT Anderson qualified as an OOD underway before going to Post Grad and he earned the Surface Warfare Officer pin. He served in 'Nam as a Small Boat Commander before that and ferried SEALs and Army Long Range Recon troops around the Rat Sung. Thus, he earned the Small Boat Commander pin and the Special Warfare Surface Warfare pin. His ribbons include the Republic of Viet Nam medals, a Distinguished Service medal and a Combat Infantry Badge. A Presidential Order, issued in 1972, allows naval officers serving under Army Infantry officers to earn the CIB^[12]. His CIB looks old because it is old; this is the CIB that his father, Sergeant Major Anderson-Pierre earned in World War II. LT Anderson was awarded OOD of the Quarter "

      Anderson-Pierre shook hands with the mustered officers and chiefs, including the horribly surprised LCDR James R. Johnson.

      Then, he boarded the helicoptered and left for the rest of his career…

      The XO asked: "What will he be doing when he leaves AMERICA and arrives at his real ship?"

      "Bridge officer," ENGLAND's Captain replied. He smiled to the puzzlement of his officers and Chiefs who wondered why he smiled and thought "a ship's Captain is certainly a 'Bridge Officer'".

      His arrival on the USS AMERICA was quite uneventful. He quickly met the AMERICA's XO, Commander Miller and was introduced to CAPT Puller.

      "Welcome to the AMERICA, LT Anderson-Pierre."

      "Thank you Captain Puller. If you want, you can call me Michael or LT Anderson. My father said most people found it easier to call him 'Anderson'."

      "Very well. I'm told you're going to be taking command of a Y P named the 'ELBERT C. LEE". This is your second at sea command?"

      "In a sense, sir, it is. Technically, my riverine craft wasn't a sea going command even though I took it into the open ocean once. The LEE will be my first 'real' at sea command."

      "Have you gotten your full crew yet?"

      "Not yet, sir. I've got my engineman, electronics tech, medic and an Army special forces Staff Sergeant. The Sergeant's presence on my crew was supposed to be a secret but Navy Times has already written an article about this 'experimental joint command', Sir. I still need an LPO, preferably a Boatswain Mate first or a Quartermaster first. Then, I need another good petty officer with more specialized training. I'm looking for a really good Yeoman, Chaplain's Assistant or Legalman. I'd like a first class but can settle for a good second class."

      "Well, I might be able to help with the Quartermaster first. I'd like you to meet him."

      They left the Captain's At-Sea Cabin (a rather large and well furnished office with pictures of his family, CAPT Puller's previous command - a fleet oiler - and the various aircraft Puller had flown. He had once flown what appeared to be an early version of the Huey and that surprised Anderson-Pierre.) and walked down a non-descript deck.

      "I've got a young man, a Quartermaster first class, who got out of the Navy for several months and then came back. The preacher says he got out because he felt like a clog in the machine. He found civilian life not to his liking and thought that coming back 'home' to the Navy would be different. He's on-board for a refresher trip whilst going to Guam. He's to be a barracks Master At Arms and will stand out. I'm not sure he's quite prepared for the troublemakers he will find there."

      "Does he have a specialty, sir?"

      "The man is a fanatic for 'old fashioned navigation'. He loves to do six or eight star shots at dawn or dusk. If you want a full 'Ring Of Stars' done, he's your man. He is going to do a lecture on finding longitude by the moon."

      The lecture was very well done and the various Quartermasters and junior officers in attendance left with the realization that they'd been lectured on a very hard technique and a small few wanted to try it. After the lecture, the Quartermaster first class looked pensive or worst, perhaps a bit depressed.

      The two officers started to leave.

      "I think he has the technical skills I need. But, I need to know about his leadership skills and boat handling ability."

      "I think I can arrange that."

      They turned and watched as a young man wearing a blue working jacket without insignia sauntered up to QM1 Tanner.

      "So, this damn stuff actually works, sir?"

      The man spoke in a soft slow voice with a definite southern accent.

      "Yes, it does. Some of the best Navigator in history have used it."

      "Sir. Just how accurate can it be? Y'all have different errors with the moon sight and the star sight due to rolling of the ship. It would have to be really hard to get the closest distance between star and moon as well."

      "It is quite accurate, especially given how slow ships were when the method was most popular. They didn't move very fast then. Of course, it also took up to four hours to make a time determination."

      "Time determination?"

      "Finding longitude depends on finding the time at Greenwich England."

      "Interesting, very interesting. Where can I learn more about this?"

      "American Practical Navigator, volume 2 has a very good discussion. The only problem is that Bowditch is often opaque."

      "Not really, Lieutenant, I've read the first volume and found it rather interesting if written silted."

      The young man made to leave the room, nodded at his Captain and came over at his gesture.

      "LT Anderson-Pierre, this is Boatswain Mate first class Henry Becca. Henry, this LT Anderson-Pierre."

      "Pleasure to meet you, sir. Weren't you the one that took a riverine patrol boat across a fifteen foot chunk of land to go from a little river to a canal in 'Nam?"

      "Actually, it was closer to ten feet."

      "You were OOD of the Quarter several times about three years ago, weren't you? At least I seem to recall 'Proceedings' had an article about a Michael Anderson-Pierre having done that. Today's Air Ops and raw deck log showed a Michael Anderson-Pierre comin' aboard and I figure that must be you."

      "Quite correct, Petty Officer Becca. What do you think of Quartermaster William Tanner?"

      "He is very knowledgeable and loves what he does. But, he is not a person to be in the masses, he needs to stand out."

      "I've got an idea for checking out his leadership and I will need your help."

      Becca nodded agreement to CAPT Puller's request.

      "Sure thing, Cap'n."

      Anderson-Pierre found the AMERICA's Wardroom (the collected officers) to be rather pleasant. There didn't seem to be any examples of "The Line Officer's Syndrome" as there had been on the ENGLAND. Being a cynic, he decided this simply meant he wasn't seeing the signs and that his being a visitor and not a competitor left him immune. He was not a player and therefore wasn't a target.

      It was very pleasant to be in a group that actually met his expectations of "a band of brother", something he'd seen in movies but never in the five wardrooms he'd been a member of.

      The next day, the USS AMERICA approached the USNS General M.M. PATRICK. This very ancient troop hauler was taking a battalion of Marines to Guam, where they would then conduct exercises on part of the Naval Station.

      QM1 Tanner was brought to one of the aircraft elevators. There, a small boat rested, ready to be lowered. The young fellow from the night before and an engineman 3rd class (in undress whites) was there. CAPT Puller and a Lieutenant Tanner had never seen before were there.

      "Petty Officer Tanner, I'd like you to take this boat with some supplies over to the PATRICK. Your boatswain mate, Henry Becca is your helmsman and Mark Landford will be your engineman. Would you rather be lowered with your boat or go down separately?"

      "I'll go with the boat, sir. Henry and Mark can decide for themselves."

      "Why not just order them?"

      "I don't see any need to push their comfort zones too much, sir."

      "Then, get on with it."

      The other two were in the boat before Tanner was.

      The boat was lowered and went over to the PATRICK. They could remotely hear Tanner speaking and there were several course changes. The cargo transfer appeared to go well and then the small boat returned to the AMERICA. Two boatswain mates went to the boat and attached lines to it. The boat and the five sailors were returned safely to the elevator.

      "Were there any problems, Petty Officer Becca?"

      "No sir, none, he'll do fine for that job."

      "Thank you, Petty Officer Becca."
       Becca wondered off.

      "So, Petty Officer Tanner, who do you think of our Becca?"

      "He is very skilled and very knowledgeable, sir. I'd be surprised it he didn't make Chief in record time."

      "And what is his rank?"

      "I don't know, Captain, he dodged the subject."

      "He is a boatswain mate first class; made it in five years and had two meritorious promotions. Do you know the IQ spread in boatswain mates?"

      "Yes, sir, a bimodal distribution. Most have room temperature I Qs and a few have high I Qs. I'd guess he is on the high end."

      "That he is, that he is. We haven't shown him the test results since we don't want him to get a swollen head. One I Q test puts him at 175 and the other at 173. I don't suppose it matters which is which as he is quite a bit smarter than me." Captain Puller shrugged. "I trust his judgment."

      The two in his audience said nothing.

      "Did BM1 Becca help you."

      "Well, sir, he did have suggestions for handling that particular boat."

      "Did he exceed his orders or perhaps simply drive the boat as he saw fit?"

      "Yes, Captain, he did."

      "I thought it would. Did he say 'why'?"

      "Yes, sir, he said he wanted me to do well and looking good would do it. How did you know?"

      "He's a very intelligent person but he hasn't quite learned the lesson that other folks may not be as smart as he but experience and thinking about the world can sometimes come up with answers. If he hasn't helped you, you should have been sucked into the side of the PATRICK."

      "Yes, sir."

      "Lieutenant?"

      "I think he'll do fine, Captain."

      "Good." Captain Puller paused. "I'll be blunt. You left the Navy because you wanted to stand out and you weren't doing that on your last two ships. Then, you tried civilian life and where you went wasn't to your liking." Captain Puller snorted. "I wouldn't like your civilian life based on what you told me! So then you came back in. Is it what you expected?"

      "No, sir, it was not", Tanner replied slowly.

      "Do you know why?"

      "I'm not sure, sir."

      "I think it is because you wanted to be special, to stand out. When you were at Returnee's Boot Camp, you were treated as someone special. You would like to regain that feeling?"

      "Yes, sir, I would!"

      "We might have a job for you that would get that feeling back. Why did you put in for a Barracks Master At Arms job on Guam?"

      "To be candid, I met someone at Returnee's camp. She was being sent to Guam after having been discharged two months before. Her husband hassled her into getting out and then brow beat her after she did. Seems the prick really wanted her to stay in, be a good provider and a house cleaning and cooking wife while he fucked off! She decided that she was happier in than out; when he divorced her, he had got a nice job and she was unemployed so she got alimony for the last week she was a civilian. I'm going where she's going."

      "I'll be blunt. Getting out of the Navy isn't going to look good to the next Chief selection board. You'll need to show leadership."

      There was a brief pause and Captain Puller continued.

      "The young man thinks highly of you and wants you to succeed. So do we..."

      There was a brief pause.

      "Petty Officer Tanner, this Lieutenant Michael Anderson-Pierre. LT Anderson, this is Quartermaster first class William Tanner. The LT is taking command of a vessel in the near future."

      Both men shock hands.

      "Bill," CAPT Puller began, "if you're going to make Chief next promotion cycle, you're going to have to stand out and stand out in a good way. We don't think you're the kind of sailor who likes to be part of the herd. You left the Navy because you were just 'one of the boys' on your last two ships. Civilian life wasn't the great joy you thought it would be so you came back in the Navy. When I first met you, standing on the bridge wing, you seemed more happy than you do now. Are you having second thoughts?"

      "No, sir. I still think this is where I want to be."

      "You got out of 'Returnee's Boot Camp' full of the belief that you were the cream of the crop and were fixing to save the Navy. You expected to be welcomed with open arms and instead got the 'just another sailor new to the boat' response and you were once again just 'one of the boys'. Comments?"

      "Well, Captain, I knew that I'd be getting the 'just one of the boys response' when I started 'summer camp' and kind of figured it would be this way on the boat. Sir."

      Anderson-Pierre decided to enter the conversation.

      "Petty Officer Tanner, what duty station were you assigned to and why did you accept it? I thought you were going to snore duty? Strange duty for someone who loves to navigate as much as you do!" LT Anderson-Pierre finished speaking and gave a Gallic shrug.

      "Well, Lieutenant, I'm going to be the barracks Master At Arms at one barracks at Naval Station Guam. As to going there, I met someone at 'summer camp'. We really hit it off well and she is going to Naval Oceanography Command Centre Guam. This way, we could be together, sir."

      "What would you prefer: shore duty babysitting a bunch of young sailors or leading Petty Officer and Navigator of a small boy?

      "Michael," the old man exclaimed, "that's one hell of a loaded question! You sure you're not a politician?"

      "Quite sure, sir, not enough people love me to vote for me, not enough people hate me enough to vote against me and my father would never forgive me for stooping to politics. Besides, I'm kind of trying to nudge the conversation."

      "I would take the boat, Sir!"

      "This would not be as easy as simply being the duty QM and talking to the Officer of the Deck. You would have to become fully qualified as Officer of the Desk because you would be the Officer of the Deck. Probably during the mid shifts. You'd have to learn the rules of the road, learn the responsibilities of a boat officer and get proficient at working radar and taking weather observations. You'd have to speak for the boat to officers on much larger vessels and shore stations. Are you ready for this?"

      "Yes, sir, I am. I already talk with senior officers." This was spoken in a rather dry voice.

      "My boat is a modified Y P and is going to be named the `ELBERT C. LEE SENIOR'. We're going to be working the islands, providing medical care, legal services and possibly Chaplain services. Generally, we'll be out to sea during the day and may actually spend a couple of nights under weigh depending on the situation. You'll also have to become weapons qualified as pirates could have made their way from the P.I. up to where we're going to be. It'll be a major leadership role and you'll be in a crew of eight. Two officer billets and six enlisted. Right now, the two officers are me and a Corpsman Senior Chief." Tanner knew the Senior Chief wasn't an officer but he also knew better than to dispute the Senior Chief's right to being treated like a senior officer. "It'll be a family. Petty Officer Becca thinks you can handle it. So do CAPTAIN Puller and I. What say you?"

      "Will we be spending a lot of time at Guam? Will there be a lot of nights off? All this at first, anyway?"

      "Yes."

      "Will I be driving the boat?"

      "Yes."

      "Great, sir, when can I start?"

      "It could get better than that. As you know, folks who command a Y P for even as little as a week and put in at least six months duty on a Y P are awarded the Small Craft Command pin. If the Senior Chief, who was awarded the pin and I think you're a good enough ship driver, we've been authorized to make you 'Petty Officer in Charge'; the Petty Officer commanding the Y P for a short period. The Senior Chief and I will be TAD off the boat for perhaps a month."

      "Great!"

      In a dry voice, CAPT Puller said, "I'll have my writer send a note to BUPERs^[13] requesting the Petty Officer Tanner be reassigned from short duty. There should be not problems with this."

      As the two officers turned to leave, Petty Officer Tanner executed a parade ground salute. Given that saluting seldom occurred on the deck of an under weigh ship, both officers were startled but responded quickly.

      "So, Michael, any luck in finding your 'yeoman first class or chaplain's assistant first class or Legalman first class'?"

      "No, sir."

      "Ah, sir, I might be able to help." QM1 Tanner trotted up to them.

      "Were you looking for a good Legalman first class, sir?"

      "Yes, I am, do you know one?"

      "Well, sir, I met Legalman first class Sillings when I was in Rockford. Talked him into coming back in the squids. I think he'll do fine, sir. He attended legal school nights and some afternoons when he was stationed in San Diego. He graduated and I think he'd be fine, sirs."

      "LT Anderson, I've talked to my legal officer about the marvel they'd just gotten in legal. Young fellow, a first class, named 'Sillings' who really impressed his bosses. The lawyers all think of him as 'one of them' and wish he'd taken the Bar Exam."

      "This Sillings is a friend of yours?"

      "Yes, sir, Lieutenant, he is."

      "Are you recommending him because he is a friend and you want to help a friend? You could be causing him trouble; he won't be in an office with other lawyers and legal men. He'll be on a boat where he'll be THE lawyer. It'll be independent duty. I know most folks like the thought of that. What about him?"

      "Sir. I admit to being his friend and that I am trying to help out a friend. However, sir, I am also concerned with mission and would never recommend anyone who might compromise the mission, sir."

      "I didn't think you would. How about arranging me a meet this afternoon. Say around 1400 with you, me and Sillings?"

      "I'll do that, sir. Where can I find you?"

      "Mr. Anderson will be in Conference Room 4, getting a crash course on 'How To Be A Skipper'. He hasn't had the chance to attend the 'Prospective CO/XO School' so I've invited my XO and the CO of one of my escort destroyers to 'school him'. I think my XO sees this as an opportunity to get away from the normal XO paperwork and the tin can skipper thinks this is 'coming to the big town'. If you get what I mean."

      "I get you, sir. When I got to 'Nam, Da Nang seemed like a big nasty dirty place. After a couple of months driving boat in the Rat Sung and thinking the LST supporting us was home, going to Da Nang was like going to the big city. Movie theaters. Multiple mess halls. Hot meals three times a day. Clean clothes. Beer, cheap beer, in air conditioned Navy bars. Of course, we did have to put up with jarheads but you can't have everything…"

      "Well then Bill, you do understand why my visitor dumped the ship on his XO and came to 'the big city'. Of course, he 'goes home' every night and reviews what his XO had done to his ship. None the less, he seems to think the food is nicer here and he has spent a night or two. He seems rather fond of sleeping in a compartment which hardly moves."

============================================

      The XO and visiting Commanding Officer were shooting the shit when CAPT Puller and LT Anderson-Pierre walked in. The XO and the destroyer skipper had been classmates at the Naval Academy. The XO got gotten command first - of an A-6 squadron - but the destroyer skipper had gotten the big prize, Command At Sea first. It would be a year or more before the XO got his first at sea command and that might be of a oilier or command ship (like the USS BLUERIDGE) rather than a carrier. The XO was secretly hoping for an oilier since he'd not have to deal with an air wing; he'd "merely" have to deal with a ship! He didn't even want command of the command ship, at least not at first, because he wasn't quite ready for the hassle of both command of a ship and having to deal with a flag (i.e. an Admiral) and his staff.

      The destroyer skipper, CDR Thomas Quinton Donaldson V spoke first.

      "You graduated from the boat school and skippered a boat in 'Nam. So, you probably think you remember everything you need to know. No offense, but I thought the same thing and I think everyone does. We'll go over a lot of stuff and hopefully most of it will be 'oh, yeah, I remember that'. Some you'll be amazed that you ever know but it will all come back to you. XO?"

      The XO, otherwise known as Commander Ronald Wayne Phoebus, nodded.

      "We'll start with details of a ship's structure, tactical diameter, various maneuvers including the race track turn, helm and lee helm commands, rules of the road and the legal and moral duties of a Commanding Officer. Then, we'll talk about shipboard organization, logistics, communications, various watches, watch sections and everyone's favourite: writing performance evaluations!"

      They all laughed at this last statement!

      Everyone hated writing fitreps (fitness reports for offices and warrant officers), evaluations for sailors and the fitrep/eval for Chief Petty Officers.

      "I did a lot of ship driving on the ENGLAND so I think I've got the technical details of ship driving down. However, I didn't' really deal much with rules of the road. Also, we didn't speak of entering or leaving port and certainly didn't have to deal with customs!"

      "We will now", Commander Donaldson stated. "Let's begin. Buoys line the route from the sea into a port or harbour. Red, Right, Return means keep the red lights on your left when returning to harbour. Green, Left, Leaving means keep the green lights on your port side when leaving harbour. Use the center 'of the road' if you can. Move to the side of the center like you would a car. Remember to avoid running on the wrong side of the line of lights and do not hit on coming ships. Also, remember the primary rule: The Law Of Gross Tonnage!

      All laughed.

      "The ship with the largest gross tonnage has the Right Of Way. Now, we talk about ways of displaying a ship's status such as colored shapes attached to stays, flags on hoists, combinations of colored lights and flashing lights."

      The lectures lasted four hours, after which all three officers were happy to leave for their evening meals. After dinner, LT Anderson-Pierre walked to the bridge. There, he found QM1 Tanner standing on the port bridge wing, looking at the stars. It was exactly as he had expected.

      "Good evening, Petty Officer Tanner, how are you this fine evening?"

      "Just great, Lieutenant Anderson-Pierre. I like being outside on a nice night at sea."

      "Make it 'Anderson', it'll be easier to say. Have you had a chance to talk with that Legalman?"

      "Yes, sir, I did. I think he's interested. Shall we speak with him?"

      LT Anderson-Pierre nodded and lead the way to the legal office. It was a quiet night at sea, with light seas, no fixed wing aircraft up and only a single helicopter orbiting the battle group and monitoring the space around it. Some of the bridge staff were wearing goggles with red lens. Those were the officers and sailors who would have to go to dark places on the bridge to study the surrounding sea with the huge bridge binoculars.

      The bridge was on the O6 level or three decks above the flight deck. They went down a set of ladders the crew was authorized to use and then through a hatch and down a ladder clearly marked "Admiral Staff Only" to the 02 level. There, they went through a door clearly marked "Officer Country Only" as the corridor on the other side was lined with six man officer barrack rooms. The legal office was on the other side of another "Officer Country Only" sign and some 400 feet down an eight foot wide corridor.

      They entered the Legal Office.

      A tall slender man in dungarees and a first class crow stood up. Tanner made introductions.

      "Dave, this is Lieutenant Michael Henry Anderson-Pierre. LT Anderson, this is David Lee Sillings. Why don't we sit down and just talk for a while."

      "Petty Officer Sillings, I'm told you have several years of college towards a BA in History and several years of legal school in San Diego. I'm wondering why you didn't get the law degree and take the bar?"

      "Sir, I passed the exams and graduated. That is, to say, once I get my bachelors degree, I'll be awarded my legal degree. As for the bar exam, I was told that I couldn't take the bar unless and until I'd graduated from law school and that meant getting the bachelors, sir."

      "How are you coming on that BA?"

      Sillings sighed. "Not as fast as I'd like, sir. Being on ship makes it a lot harder. But, I might be able to take courses at sea and the lawyers are willing to help me out."

      "I did some checking. They have a nice little university there on Guam that can get you that BA easily enough. Your Navy experience and your law degree can shave over a year off that BA. You could work mornings and take classes in the afternoons. Of course, you'd have to be stationed on Guam or a boat off Guam."

      Sillings nodded.

      "This is really a job interview. I am going to need a good lawyer type and I wondering if you're that person. We're going to be cruising between the islands of Micronesia and providing emergency medical care, supplying existing medical clinics, providing legal aid, helping local ministers and perhaps even handling Christian ceremonies as needed. That is the primary duty. But, while we're going to be in port at various interesting places, we're going to have to 'drive the boat' to get there. That will mean watch standing on rotating schedules and living in close quarters on the boat. You'll have to take your turn at cooking, the water supply is limited so showers are likely to be very skimpy or simply a fresh water wash down after a salt water shower, washing dishes and having to eat my cooking!." He grinned. "Don't worry, no one has gotten sick from my cooking!"

      Both first class petty officers smiled.

      "Well, not yet anyway" and that got a laugh.

      "It will be cramped and you'll have to serve on a small boat, a Y P, with only seven others. This is going to be a 'Joint Service Mission' and that means folks from outside the Navy. We're going to have an Army Staff Sergeant and a female Radioman."

      "Radiowoman?" quipped Tanner.

      "Radiowoman, indeed! Getting permission for her to serve on my boat practically took an Act of Congress! When her presence was proposed to me, I agreed and the Chain of Command approved all the way through the CNO, Secretary of Navy, Secretary of Defense and the President. Both the majority leaders of the House and Senate approved. The good folks are with us. We must be careful as the troublemakers were not asked."

      "Who are these troublemakers, Sir," Sillings asked.

      "The wife's clubs, the religious folks who think that women on ship would be there solely for 'headers on the midders'" (Sillings rolled his eyes) and anyone trying to make political points. So, we need to keep her presence very quiet."

      "I agree with you sir, sexual politics, sexual favoritism or worst, the appearance of impropriety can be highly destructive."

      "What do you think of gays on ship, Petty Officer Sillings?"

      "SIR! If a gay man can live quietly, sir, without disturbing the squeamish, sir, then I see no reason to deny a man or a woman the right to serve their country, sir. I believe…"

      LT Anderson-Pierre held up his hand:

      "Try to hold it to one 'sir' per statement, Petty Officer Sillings. I'm not bothered by gays on ship as long as they don't bring attention to themselves."

      Sillings nodded.

      "There is an interesting anomaly in the way folks react to gays. Acts that men love from women are considered hideous if from a man; conversely, acts that women love from men are considered hideous by some men and many women if said acts come from women. I'm talking fellatio from men or cunnilingus from women. Obviously, most guys love to see women going down on each other or such is my impression from talking with shipmates in the Wardroom."

      Sillings interrupted with "you officers talk about women eating pussy?"

      "Well, some do. I have the reputation of being 'prissy' so some of 'the boys' clam up when I arrive and others go out of their way to regale 'the boys' with sex stories. They don't seem to realize I'm a lot more worldly then they think. If, however, the XO was around, there would be more appropriate conversation."

      "Why do they think that, sir," Tanner interjected.

      "My father was a Catholic Priest until he transferred to the Anglican Church long enough to marry my Mother and then quote joined the Catholic Church as a Priest unquote. So I guess being called 'an old bastard' is really just a factual description and not an angry remark. Well, sort of an old bastard…"

      He paused and finished with "I also went to a Jesuit High School and spent time summers in the Jesuit and Templar Monasteries. I've seen a large variety of different beliefs, etc."

      He sat up straighter.

      "What questions have you?"

      "Just what kind of watches would I be standing?"

      "Lookout watch, radar watch and helm. Helm means standing there steering the boat, reaching over to operate the Engine Order Telegraph. You'll be asked to perform legal procedures on shore and probably serve as the ship's ambassador."

      "That sounds fine to me, sir."

      "We're gong to be short on bodies. My Senior Chief and I are skilled ship handlers but he will need some refresher training. Petty Officer Tanner is going to get fully Officer of the Deck underway qualified as I intend for him to drive the ship at times. I don't mean to burden you too much but I'm planning on having you go through the same ship driving training as Bill Tanner and Lee Scott. But, not to worry! I will teach you driving by having you land and depart from a floating dock. At least, when you crunch into it, you won't be trashing me boat!" He paused. "One of the hardest things you can do is try docking a boat after a lengthy period of time at sea. I've read of officers who banged the boat and whose careers only survived because their squadron commanders edited the logs, swore everyone to secrecy and very quietly got the broken boats fixed. I don't think I've got those kinds of friends."

      "I would have to disagree with you, Sir," Petty Officer Sillings commented.

      "Well, Dave, don't be so damn tentative. Either disagree with me or not! Stating you're fixing to do something, er, saying 'must do something' or 'would have to do something' just irks me."

      "Very well then, Sir! I don't agree with you! To be given this mission, to be given such an eclectic crew as a SEAL medic Senior Chief with a British license to practice surgery, an Army MP, a female Radiowoman and me. You're Golden, sir, Golden."

      "Why do you say 'and me'?"

      "I'm a legal man, sir."

      "Petty Officer Tanner recommended you. I don't see any problems with you as long as you stay out of trouble."

      "I tend to do that, Sir."

      "Crunch time, folks. I need honest answers given that live on my boat is going to be crowded and people could be getting bitchy. So, Bill, can you live with me on my boat? David, can you live with me on my boat?"

      Both said "yes".

      LT Anderson-Pierre nodded and said "your body language agrees with your faces and your words. Petty Officer Sillings, are you gay?"

      Sillings paused and decided to be honest: "Yes, sir, I am."

      "I thought you were. Your private live is your private life. If you can keep your sex life separate from your official life, then I've got no problems with you. Your official life is basically your private life when you're around your shipmates."

      This caveat would later come back to mildly haunt Anderson-Pierre.

      Anderson-Pierre stood and said "I'd like to have you on my boat. Are you willing?"

      "Yes, sir, I am."

      Anderson-Pierre leaned forward to shake hands with his new lawyer and then shook hands with his future deck officer and navigator.

      "I've got to do some studying before I rake out. The XO and the 'visiting fireman' slumming here are going to test me on 'Rules of the Road' tomorrow morning. I don't want to disappoint them."

      Anderson-Pierre was about to open the door when Sillings blurted out: "How did you know, sir?"

      "I lived in two monasteries. You'd be surprised at how many gays there are in Mother Church. Gays have subtle mannerisms that I learned to read years ago. You, Dave, have them and you, Bill, do not. It's as simple as that."

      "LT, a shipmate of mine who served on the FORRESTAL told me a remark he'd heard from a 'salty old sailor'. My shipmate was 20 or 21 when he heard this: 'The only thing I've got against homosexuals is that they're going to get some tonight and I'm not. If there were women on the ship so that I've have the chance to get some, I wouldn't care.' I don't plan on starting anything and I just hope no one lets fear get into the way. That's the way it is."

      "Well, my rack is calling to me and is trying to drown out the voice of the copy of 'Small Boat Officer's Handbook' I was given to read. He nodded at both of his Petty Officers and left.

      As the door was closing, he heard Tanner say: "Are you sure there's no one else here?"

     Sillings replied: "Absolutely certain; I checked three times!"

      The next four days were very busy for LT Anderson-Pierre. The first three, Sillings was heavily tutored in general legal matters and on the fourth, he took a "practice Bar Exam". Since he knew this was merely a "test" test, he felt quite good about it and didn't know it was a legitimate Bar Exam. But, it would take at least two months for the exam to be graded and the results returned. This had not been an "official" testing and so the AMERICA's lawyers couldn't tell anyone about them. Before the exam results were officially graded, the lawyers on ship said he passed nicely…

'Chapter three: The Cop's Story

      The second groin attack sent him to his knees, vomiting and scramming in massive pain.

      Near him, the asshole who'd double punched him was running away and even the little pricks who'd started the mess were looking shocked.

      They took him to the hospital, called his Father in to see him and sent an Air Police car for his Mother and little brother. They called in the Presbyterian Chaplain and that didn't comfort his folks any.

      In spite of the morphine, the boy writhed in pain.

      This was more, much more, than a simple school fight or bullying. The Air Police sent their Criminal Investigation members and their report painted a painful report.

      "Major, your son has been bullied most of this school year. The teachers say they knew but didn't think it was their place to interfere. The school counselors refused to act because they say 'they have to be asked to help'. The kids say he was being taunted and started fighting back. He got slapped hard and punched the bully back. The bully then kneed him in the balls, chortled and stated 'I rule the world'. Your boy straightened up, punched again and the punch was deflected and he was then hit in the balls again. The boy who hit him is named 'Steven Grant'."

      The boys father, Major George Markham was furious.

      "Have they arrested him?"

      "He has been taken to the principal's office and is being interviewed. The latest result is that the perp, Steven Grant, said 'it wasn't his fault and he didn't mean to hit him that hard'."

      "If this were the States, he'd be hauled off to Juvenile Hall and do jail time. Why isn't this happening?"

      "No one has asked anyone to bring charges."

      "I wish to bring charges."

      "That would mean arresting him, fingerprinting him, strip searching him including body cavity searches and jailing him."

      "Then do it, Sergeant, do it. You are a Police Officer?"

      "You bet I am, sir. I'm going to enjoy 'processing' him!"

      The Lieutenant Colonel who commanded the Air Police walked in. Normally, folks thought the Boss Cop looked like a "kindly Uncle type"; he even acted the part nicely.

      "First of all, Major, let me express my anger and grief at what was done to your boy. I've read the reports: it's fairly obvious what happened." The boss cop turned to the officer who had been talking with Major Markham. "Jim, take that little piece of shit in. Charge him with 'assault with intent to commit grievous bodily harm'. Do the full arrest procedure."

      "Jim" called the Air Police head office, relayed his orders, listened for a minute and hung up.

      "Boss, that boy's daddy is at the school and denies that his son could have done anything like this. Says he wants to take his boy home."

      "I'm sure his does. Arrest the little turd anyway; his precious daddy can watch the processing." Anyone looking at the Boss Cops expression could have ever thought of him as being a "kindly Uncle type".

      The victim, John Markham, looked at his father.

      "Am I going to die? Are they going to cut my balls off?"

      "No, son, you're not going to die and the docs say you'll keep your balls." He didn't ad the M Ds has warned his boy might have been sterilized. "What happened."

      "I got tired of being teased and being bullied. So I screamed back and I punched back when I got hit. I never expected this!"

      "Why didn't you tell me, John?"

      "I was ashamed to. I didn't want to seem weak. I thought I was weak. I was afraid of pain; I was afraid to inflict pain. The pain of that punch was nothing compared to the 'boot in the balls' and the kick was nothing to the punch in the balls! Teach me how to fight Dad! Teach me how to fight! I want to learn! I FUCKING WANT TO LEARN!"

      A nurse slipped a needle into John Markham's left elbow and the boy settled down.

      "You didn't know this Major?"

      Major Markham was stunned.

      "No, I did not. I'd heard he had some trouble in school but he wouldn't tell me or his mother anything. I asked the school counselors and they said quote we don't see anything unusual about your boy that isn't happening with other children unquote. I'm pissed off!"

      "If you son wants to get his self confidence back from learning to fight, merely getting boxing lessons from his Father won't help. You live in the village of Le Ferre, don't you?"

      "Yes."

      "Good! I have a friend there who teaches 'la Savate', the French art of kick boxing. The Master will be happy to accept your son as a student. Oh, he'll get ten or fifteen minutes of fighting basics per night but he'll get a solid hour of physical fitness first."

      Major Markham nodded, not really listening.

      "We can talk about this later, sir." A Lieutenant Colonel calling a Major "sir" was unusual but appropriate.

      The next morning, the Police Chief arrived just before John was released from the base hospital.

      "Grant was arrested last night. I got the blessings of both the base XO and commander for this and the boss cop at SHAPE (Supreme Headquarters Allied Forces Europe). The base commander got permission to arrest from the wing commander in Germany and he got permission from the three star Navy Admiral who is the Head Legal Eagle at SHAPE. The boy was taken from the principal's office, fingerprinted, mug shots taken, strip searched, dressed in prison fatigues and given one phone call. He was allowed to call his parents, who were in the waiting room. Then, he was given a really bad prison meal and lectured for hours. They finally let him rack out about 2 am. I'm told that several drunk enlisted were brought into cells near Grant. They made noise all night."

      "Were there really that many drunks?"

      The boss cop was pleased with John's question.

      "Off the record, no. A bunch of the boys made a lot of drunken noise. The funniest was a first Lieutenant, an Air Force Academy graduate who can't pass the pilot pre-tests. He made the most vehement  'I hate those fucking officers' speeches. The troops loved it; some are quite concerned about him however."

      "Why", John's father asked, already knowing the answer.

      "We don't need officers with bad morale , they tend to reduce the morale of the troops. He has been requesting transfer to the Army as he thinks he'll have a career there."

      "He could," John's father stated, "not being a pilot will be the kiss of death for his Air Force career. He might do better in the Army."

      As it turned out, this first Lieutenant transferred to the Army. He graduated from platoon leader school, later joined the Rangers and retired a Bird Colonel. He had been a passenger on various helicopters and had told his sad story of not being considered "pilot material" to the pilots. They had let his try his hand at the controls. Then, these Warrant Officer Army pilots taught him how to fly and told him he was a natural pilot. He was sent to helicopter school where he graduated number one in his class and ended up commanding an Army Air Wing, leading from the front, in the First Gulf War.  Oh, well…

      After getting out of the hospital, John's father took John's chin between his thumb and index finger. "Son, don't you ever hide anything from me again! You got me?"

      "Yes, sir."

      "Don't be 'siring me' boy. You're my son, not one of my troops. Dad will be just fine!"

      "Great Dad. Oh, Dad, where they lying when they said I'd keep me balls?"

      "No lie, son, no lie." The father hoped he was telling the truth…

      They got home and were greeted by his little sister, who promised to protect her older brother and the in-between-brother who would be entering the 7th grade the next year. The 7th grade brother promised to kick the asses of anyone harming John…

      Right before lunch time, a French gentleman, who spoke English with a charming accent, arrived.

      "John, this is Colonel Henri Ramm. Colonel, this is my son, John."

      "A pleasure to met you, young man. Your parents were introduced to me by that rather charming Chief of Police for Laon Air Force Base. So, you want to learn to fight?"

      "Sir, I already know how to fight and I'm willing to fight. I just don't know how to fight very well at all."

      "I would normally ask you to do push-ups, sit-up, pull-ups and leg lifts but I'm not going to do so until your family doctor says it is safe. Then, I am going to wait another week first. I do not want you hurting yourself." There was a pause. "What do you know about 'la Savate'?"

      "Well, Colonel Ramm, it is supposed to be French boxing with a lot of kicking."

      "True, 'la Savate' started when Navy sailors learned to kick fight on rolling ships. Then one master went to England and saw British boxing. He combined both. A 'la Savate' match required two kicks for each punch. What do you think your training will consist of?"

      "Learning to kick and punch and block and a lot of sparing."

      John Markham was shocked when the adults laughed.

      "No, it won't. A lesson of an hour will be 50 minutes of physical fitness and perhaps ten to twenty minutes of learning to kick, punch, block, parry and dance. You need the upper body strength that comes from push-ups in order to hold your arms up for boxing. Running and stomach exercises are needed for the strength to lift your arms in kicks. You cannot hope to survive a fight if you don't learn the proper responses to kicks and punches. It is now the first week of April and your school ends the last week of May. You might have the agility to kick by the end of your school year. Are you willing to put in a lot of hard work? Are you willing to do so knowing that it will take a lot of time before you can really fight?"

      "Yes and yes and will the training put me above Grant in skill?"

      "Yes, it will. Are you my only new student?" Colonel Ramm looked at George Markham and his wife.

      "You say most of the training will be physical fitness?"

      "Oui, Madam Markham."

      "Kids, do you want to learn physical fitness with your older brother?"

      Both kids nodded "yes".

      "Young Mr. Markham, you will need to rest but you should have a little lesson now. After all, you will be going to school Monday."

      The Colonel went into a strange fighting pose. All that John recognized was the classic boxing arm pose: arms up, fists on either side of his chin, elbows in and covering his stomach.

      "I learned this when I went to the French Military Academy in 1936. I fought the Nazis for three years in World War II. Can you take this pose?"

      With help from his father, John, mimicked the boxing pose.

      Then, the instructor told John how to move his arms to block blows. He then dealt out a series of rather slow punches. The punches that went unblocked each stopped a constant inch from John's face regardless of how much John bobbed and weaved. Then, John was shown how to punch back. His experience of the day before gave his punches a surprising strength. Henri Ramm was reminded of the old story about who the Greatest Swordsman in the Kingdom feared most. It was not the Second Greatest Swordsman in the Kingdom, it was the Worst Swordsman! It was the Worst Swordsman since the actions of the Second Best could be reliably predicted and there was no telling what insane actions the Worst Swordsman could take.

      John Markham wasn't the worst boxing student the good Colonel had taken on but he was damn close to it. It certainly gave the good Colonel the most exciting match he'd had in years…

      The first day back to school was strange and stressful. All the other kids simply looked at him and the tension was thick enough to chock one. No one spoke to him. When he entered his first class, only his teacher asked how he was. All were looking at Steve Grant who just looked pissed off.

      When the teacher left to get some supplies, Grant said "I'm going to get you for what you did to me!"

      "What I did to you?"

      "You know what you did to me! You got me arrested. They stuck fingers up my butt…" Grant stopped realizing he'd said too much.

      "Bet you enjoyed it!" came a snide remark from another student.

      "I'm going to get you!"

      "Do you know what you did to me?"

      "You deserved it."

      "Why?

      "I'm going to get you."

      The young Air Police officer who had snuck into the classroom spoke: "Are you threatening him?"

      "Ah, no, sir."

      "Best not be. Oh, how did you get that bruise on your cheek. Did your precious Daddy punch you?"

      A girl spoke up, "I hear your dad whipped your ass with his belt. Your sister said you cried like a baby."

      The teacher returned and the class settled down. For the rest of the morning, Grant was seen working the crowd like a politician. What he was saying was far less pleasant; he was actively bullying and intimidating his classmates.

      After lunch, some girls confronted John.

      "Hey, I hear you lost your balls. No balls, no balls, no balls."

      "It hurt a hell of a lot. What's so fucking funny about what he did to me?

      He turned around and tried to walk off only to run into a group of boy who were less kindly than the girls. When John told one boy to "go fuck himself", he was shoved. The AP, who had vanished into one classroom, stalked up behind the pushy boy, grabbed him by the collar, shook the boy. Then, the AP said, "was that fun?"

      "You can't do that to me."

      "Why not? You have balls, don't you? How would you like it if a violent person like Grant tried to crush your balls? Do you have any idea how painful that was? Do you think you're man enough to endure it as well as this lad did?

      There was a pause and the cop looked at the boys mocking John Markham.

      "None of you simple fucks are men and you damn sure aren't better than this boy. What is your problem? Do you want to be Grant's next victims?"

      Two days later, the girls were back at it again.

      "Ooooh, John, I hear you don't have balls. I hear pea like a girl."

      A young black girl, who had transferred to the school in April and who didn't have friends since she didn't live in the "American Ghetto", spoke up: "Why do you bother him? What did he do to you?"

      "Hey, fat girl, shut up."

      "Fat girl, fat girl, fat girl." In 1964, at Laon Air Force Base, France, the students were Air Force brats and simply had not been raised in a racist environment. They realized this girl was "black" but that didn't mean anything to them; they harassed -er- teased her because the girl was perhaps ten pounds overweight.

      "Leave her alone."

      "No balls, no balls, no balls."

      Then, mimicking the three girls tones, John shot back at each in turn:

     "No tits, zits. No tits, no butt. Zits, big tits, big gut, big butt."

      The three girls ran for the counselor's office for some sympathy.

      The black girl said to John: "You must be that boy who got lynched last week? I'm Jasmine King."

      "I'm John Markham."

      John was ordered into the counselor's officer.

      "You hurt those girl's feelings and I want you to apologize."

      "Will they apologize to me."

      "They're not the issue here. Your cruel remarks are."

      "I got kicked in the balls and they were saying 'no balls', 'no balls' and they really hurt my feelings. What about that?"

      "It's not about you."

      "Yes, it is."

      "You will apologize to those girls!"

      "Sure, ma'am but only if they apologize to me first!"

      The counselor went to the school Principal who refused to back her. John's Father backed him. The counselor lost face and no one fucked with John the rest of the school year.

      Of course, the Air Police officers patrolling the school may have helped. The school was an old barracks, two stories tall, with school rooms made from two barracks rooms each. There were police officers in each of the four restrooms for the remainder of the school year. None looked happy to be there...

      At first Jasmine was John's only friend but that ended when other students gained the courage to remember they'd once been his acquaintance, if not friend.

      But John had found Jasmine and she might be a girl but she was a good friend.

      Jasmine had found John and he might be a boy but he was a good friend.

      It was more than sufficient!

HIS SUMMER:

      At first, John worked out two hours a day. By mid July, his young body and general good health was a define bonus. John, was doing multiple sets of sit-ups, push-up, etc. and his agility had gotten to the point where he was becoming proficient at kicking. It was fun.

      His siblings enjoyed briefer workouts and his best friend, Jasmine had slimmed down a fair amount. John's French had improved vastly and he had made some local friends near his age. Life was very good.

      His parents decided to go on vacation and his teacher encouraged him to enjoy himself. The boy needed a break and if he exercised on vacation, that was fine.

      The hardest thing John, Jasmine and their (as it turned out) siblings had to learn was to run properly. Not run in the usual sloppy manner but to run like a professional. It was perhaps the most important thing they were to learn.

ALL GOOD THINGS…

      Eventually, the summer ended and all had to return to school.

      Having forgotten that he'd started his problems with his assault on Markham but remembering the butt whipping he'd gotten from his father and strongly remembering what the Air Police had done to him (especially remembering crying like a baby during the rectum cavity search), Grant came seeking revenge.

      "Markham, you asshole, it's all your fault!"

      John was taken by surprise and when Grant charged up and swung a right haymaker, John swayed back and blocked the punch with what amounted to a swat of his left hand. It was an instinctive move and one which would have bemused his teachers.

      John took advantage of the next several seconds to position himself and responded better to Grant's next blow: something between a left haymaker and left jab. It was a rather sloppy blow.

      John blocked this punch with a rising right arm block that changed into a jab. It wasn't a full jab and was more that a little like a slap; it wasn't his strongest punch but it was enough to bloody Grant's nose.

      John backed up to give himself a bit more room and the teachers came out as Grant roared and swung at John again.

      They were taken to the principal's office.

      "What happened boys?"

      "I don't know," Grant replied.

      "He surprised me and punched at me twice," John responded.

      "You're unhurt," the principal commented, "and Steve has a bloody nose. Are you sure you didn't start this fight?"

      "He attacked first, sir and I blocked his punches. He didn't block my return punch. Just ask the witnesses."

      The assistant principal handed some notes to the principal. He read them and frowned.

      "The witnesses are agree that Grant attacked Markham and that Markham was taken by surprise but protected himself."

      Then, the principal bitched at both boys before letting them go. Grant was not punished and when Markham regaled his family that night, with the enhanced details of Grant's clumsiness, the elder Markham was not pleased. He was pleased with his son's ability but most displeased with the principal's apparent acceptance of violence in his school.

      Nothing changed despite the elder's efforts.

      Later that year, a few girl's began bugging Jasmine about having a boy friend. She slapped a couple at first. Then, her mother gave her a better strategy. She simply kissed John and told the mini-Gorgons "I've got a boy friend and you little girls do not!"

      That night, John told his parents about this. They asked, "what do you think about what she said?"

      John replied "she kissed me!"

      "No, seriously, she called you 'her boy friend'?"

      "She KISSED me!"

      John's parents, realizing that he was a lost cause, gave up commenting.

      John's parents and Jasmines were literally white and black. However, they were good friends and their race interfered very little in their relationships. John's father had flown Air Force fighters during the Korean War; Jasmine's father had been one of the first black Army Warrant helicopter pilots. He had rescued many downed fighter/bomber jocks and had flown one of the first armed, attack, helicopters. They were flying hunter/killers.

      Both had lived in the barracks life in their early careers and both had lived through the post integration era.

      Both men and their wives were part of the Military Culture. The Military Culture was separate from the Civilian Culture and socialized only with itself. They went to Military Churches, their children often went to Military Schools and they felt isolated from the civilians who lived near their stateside bases. Overseas, the Markhams and Kings lived in a French village (LeFere) and had made friends with their French neighbors.

      Most of the other Americans lived behind barbed wire with the other Americans. Many (including the Grants) lived their lives between the American Ghetto and the base; the base where work was, the movie theater was, the bowling alley was, the snack bar was and an informal teen centre was. A different facility off base housed the "American Only" swimming pool that American Mothers and their offspring congregated at during the summer months.

      The American civilians that they were protecting would probably not understand how one white family and one black family could not only be friends but could become close friends and remain close friends for the rest of their lives. They learned of the racial problems in 'Nam and thought that common to all US Armed Forces; they were very wrong...

      Such was life in the American "Legions". Caesar's "boys" would not only have understood but would have felt at home.

      Several months later, the two families were having dinner together. Somehow, the conversation got onto the subject of the kid's relationship.

      "Well," said one Mother, "I hope the kids don't get into trouble."

      "They're too young too," said the other.

      The Fathers looked at each other, remembered being in the 9th grade and grinned at each other.

      "Actually," one of the Fathers allowed, "they really aren't too young to get into trouble."

      "Well, I hope they stay out of trouble," her Mother stated, "I want my daughter to be a virgin when she marries."

      "I agree," his Mother agreed, "I want my son to be a virgin when he marries as well."

      The two kids in question, John and Jasmine, were listening and looked at each other in shock. Then, Jasmine left, went upstairs and when she returned, John noted something subtly different about her. The difference to adults eyes was not subtle: the girl who had been bra'd before going upstairs was unbra'd when she came downstairs. Still, none of the adults were concerned enough to comment…

      She said "John and I are going outside to see if the nettles are back in our garden".

      There, in the near darkness, she raised her shirt and 15 year old girl showed 15 year old boy that a girl's breasts we more than just God's  way of letting folks tell a girl or woman from a boy or man. They both enjoyed the touching and kissing.

      When they both returned inside, each looked quite smugly happy.

      The Markhams took their kids and left for home minutes later. Both John and Jasmine smirked at each other…

      Her Mother commented: "Funny how her nipples are poking through her blouse. That wouldn't happen if she were wearing a bra and it's too warm for them to be erect."

      Her Father grunted in agreement.

      "Now," Jasmine's Mother continued, "do you suppose that her nipples were stimulated? Maybe by John?"

      "I suppose it could have happened."

      "Well, it bothers me. I'd like you to have a talk with your oldest daughter."

      "Yes, dear", he replied giving the only real safe answer he could. He'd known the kids hadn't gotten into trouble; they had not had enough time. But, he never would have that talk with "oldest daughter" as he figured that was properly a task meant for a girl's Mother.

      John and Jasmine repeated this pleasurable experience several more times before transfers broke them up at the end of the 9th grade.

      It was also proof to John that God occasionally answered a boy's prayers.

      The breakup when John's Father was transferred stateside from France was heart wrenching to both kids. Each promised to write and actually kept it up for several months.

      The new school was the usual crap of not knowing anyone, laying low while checking out the new situation and trying to make friends. There was also the usual crap of the local bullies trying to see if they'd gotten a new victim.

      John responded to each verbal jab calmly and thought he was past the initial testing phase. Then, a group decided to fuck with him. It started with a pushing contest and as John was backing away from the worst of the lot, his anger and training kicked in. He suddenly saw them for the obnoxious louts they truly were and analyzed the "enemy layout" in terms of the appropriate assault.

      The local clowns saw their mark back up, slowly scan the room, then blink and hold the blink for a long several seconds.

      Then the mark opened his eyes, smiled and the predators saw a carnivore looking back, looking back and considering which one to attack first.

      For the first time, they saw the cat from the rat's viewpoint.

      They didn't like it and quickly dispersed. For the remainder of high school, John had the reputation of not being someone safe to fuck with. He ended up with a fine collection of friends and they had suddenly became safer for knowing John but they didn't know that, then…

      John, had a couple of girl friends but they couldn't compare to his Jasmine. He also continued the physical fitness and fighting training. He became rated as a Master of la Savate and then learned the White Crane style of Kung Fu, Judo and Aikido. He also learned two "styles" of boxing, more to appreciate the joke called boxing than to use "boxing" as a Martial Art (the hand fighting he learned in la Savate was somewhat different than the "boxing" he learned).

      During his senior year, he got in the diesel mechanic class during his 8th period. It was interesting, he didn't find the machinery very complicated and it felt good to work on the machines. Machines were easier to understand than people and he didn't have to work as hard as he did trying to understand his classmates. His crowning achievement was when he lead a team of fellow students who tore down, cleaned and rebuild an old train diesel engine. It was a high light of his life and certainly the high light of his high school years. (Not his junior high years; the only high light of his junior high years was Jasmine…)

      His grades had gone up with the increase of self confidence in the 9th grade but he hadn't didn't want to go to college so when the draft notice came, he didn't fight it. Instead, John hid the notice in his pocket, then left it in his 1961 VW "Bug" and went into to volunteer for the United States Army.

      He introduced himself as a willing volunteer and was allowed to enlist with the guarantee to getting Military Police as a specialty. John didn't know the Army recruiter knew he'd gotten the "Your friends and neighbors…" note and was very, very happy to be able to claim John NMN Markham as a real live enlistee!

      John had gotten tired of the stress of high school and didn't mind the regimentation of Boot Camp. It was a lot like martial arts training and he actually found "a better bunch of bastards" [to paraphrase a book he'd once read].

      Boot Camp was safe.

      Military Police school taught more weapons that boot camp did, taught military and civilian law, taught standard police procedures and taught the Uniform Code of Military Justice. It was a very through course. Part way through the first "semester" that a complete physical and the MDs thought John had been sterilized by the assault near the end of the 8th grade. They probably should not have told him.

      John became obsessed with revenge.

      Shortly before the semester break, PFC Markham asked to speak with the head instructor.

      "Sir, I'm interested in investigative work. I've got some ideas of how to track down a missing person and would like the opportunity to try them."

      "So, what are your ideas?"

      "Sir, I'd like to go to the National Archives and search various records there."

      "Who are you looking for?"

      "Just someone I knew in junior high, sir."

      "Well, I'll let you know. Dismissed."

      After John left, the head instructor looked at his Sergeant Major. "Find out what can you tell me about this boy."

      "Yes, sir."

      Shortly afterwards, the Sergeant Major walked in, shaking his head

      "It's a sad case, Colonel. PFC Markham was physically assaulted by a classmate in the 8th grade. They were afraid the damage to his balls had sterilized him but didn't want to "tell the boy" according to his FBI file. Our precious MDs just discovered his problem and told him. I've told those fools they can't be telling my students bad news without my permission but you can't get those shit for brains MDs to pay attention 'to a mere enlisted man'! I think the lad is looking for revenue and I think we should help him before he goes looking and does something stupid."

      "I agree, Top. I can think of several ways that Markham could get in trouble."

      The next day at a class on rules of evidence, Markham was summoned to the head Instructor's office. The Colonel and Sergeant Major were there.

      "This person you want to find. Is it personal?"

      "Sir, sir."

      "Would finding him bring discredit upon my Army?"

      "No, Top, I don't believe it would."

      "Fine. I like the way you think and what you wanted to look into. We can arrange for you to stay at a hotel we use and we've gotten you permission to search various files. I'll expect a full accounting when you return!"

      "Yes, sir and thank you sir!"

      When class ended for the semester, PFC John Markham was in the unprecedented possession of orders to conduct a classified information search, travel orders, per diem cash and an investigator's badge. John was staggered.

      The flight to DC was fun and novel even if it was peasant class. The food was better than Army. The hotel was rated as 3rd class but it was better than the barracks and he shared the room with himself and not some 40 other smelly, farting, burping, often drunken and occasionally insomniac soldiers.

      John was at the National Archives Building an hour before the place opened at 8 am. Showing his orders and investigator's badge granted him general access. He had a battle plan, intentions of getting his work done quickly and then playing tourist. He had no idea just how many files he would have to paw through and just how many files weren't quite properly filed…

      First, John checked the Air Force orders which sent personnel to and from various bases. He looked for Grant's father but not knowing his first name left him facing a huge number of names. Then, he decided to check base personnel rosters for Laon Air Force base from summer 1963 to summer 1966. There were three "Grants". Only two had kids.

      He looked for the school rosters for the Laon AFB Junior High but didn't find it. He had to ask several archivists before he found one who could direct him to the master records for all military schools. This information was contained in files for a place in Germany. These files had the information he wanted as an attachment to one report. The files gave the name of Steve Grant's father.

      Then, it was back to Air Force records and the personal records for a senior NCO named Grant. He figured out what towns were located near the base Grant was sent to. Then, he started looking through Social Security records. It was a large community and there were too many entries for "Grant, Steve".

      He told this to an old archivist who had taken an interest in John's work. The old man, who was vaguely reminded of when he himself been a "young eager beaver" gave John the breakthrough clue. Find out were your target was living and then look at the military annual end of year reports. Your target -er- subject should be listed by address.

 

      He found where the father was living and from that knew where the son was living.

      The final hunt was by Grant's name and Social Security Number and this lead through a couple of income tax returns.

      The good news was he found where Grant was.

      The bad news was that Grant had been drafted and was serving in a grunt unit in 'Nam.

      The not quite as bad news was that Grant was stationed at a large base as part of the base quick response team.

      The worst news is that it was Thursday, just after lunch and John's plane "home" left the next day in the morning. John would have to hustle to see everything he'd missed seeing. Actually, John had seen the Smithsonian, National Art Gallery and a couple of other places after the Archives had closed for the day. There was still the place Lincoln had died and several other locations that he'd have to cram in that afternoon.

      John invited the helpful archivist to a local sidewalk café, bought that worthy a couple of beers and himself a soda and then left for his tourism. This friendship would be remembered when he joined Delta 11 years later, in 1980. Then, the old man was told he had became a member of Delta himself after helping Markham and his Delta comrades. They waved the physical fitness and training requirements for the old man.  The old man had served in the 82^nd Airborne in WW2 and was very pleased to wear the Special Forces lapel pin....

The Plot Thickens…

      Immediately after returning from his trip, John wrote Jasmine and told her that he'd found Grant. He also said he didn't know what to do with that information.

      She replied that Grant needed to learn the errors of what he'd done and needed to be held accountable. She also said that her cousin Anthony was an MP at a major base in 'Nam. She also waned to see John…

      John talked to the assignments Sergeant about getting assigned to Jasmine's cousin's unit. This worthy Sergeant was a bit skeptical but the Colonel gave him the nod.

      John's parents lived about a hundred miles from Jasmines. After a couple of days at home with parents and siblings, Jasmine arrived to visit. Her parents greeted her like a visiting cousin and the two left to drive around.

      "So, you found him."

       "Yes, I've got myself assigned to your cousin Anthony's unit in 'Nam. He wrote me saying that you'd asked him to look out for me. 'Tony is going to met me at the airport and get me through the usual bullshit. It'll also make sure some bored jerk in 'Nam won't decide to change my assignment to something else."

      "Good."

      "What's your cousin like?"

      "He's a lot like me in some way but he's a guy and a lot like his father who is a lot like - sort of - his brother, my father. I think you'll like him."

      "I hope so."

      "Did you know we're only thirty miles from my college dorm room? My roomy is visiting her folks. Would you like to see my room? Get a tour of the campus? Get a tour of me?"

      "Sure would. I'd like a tour of campus and your room and you and would love to give you a tour of me. Sound good."

      Ten minutes later he commented: "Slow down! I'm a cop! We're not supposed to tolerate speeding."

      "Well, officer, you'll just have to search me before giving me your ticket. You are ready to use your, ah, 'pencil' aren't you?"

      "Oh, yes, oh yes, oh yes dear!"

      The room was nice, the kissing was very nice and kissing Jasmine's breasts was very nice and lived up to his memories. Then, she said "I'm on the pill. Would you like to see what that means?"

      He demonstrated that he could pick up on a subtle hint…

On The Starting Line And Waiting For the Starting Gun…

      The plane, full of very unhappy young men, mostly Army, landed in Saigon. From the bitching about having been drafted and sent to 'Nam, PFC John Markham decided not to reveal he had not only volunteered for 'Nam but had actively lobbied for it.

      They "de-planed" onto a very hot tarmac and walked to a reception building. There were M Ps and "White Mice" (Viet Namese police) everywhere. In the building, the incoming men lined up for in-processing and further assignment. A young black man, wearing an MP Brassard and armed with a rather large pistol on a belt, was talking urgently to one of the Senior NCOs. He looked around, spotted John and waved him over. John left the line, lugging his carry on luggage and was stared at.

      What could someone just off the "Freedom Plane" have done to warrant the attention of M Ps so quickly?

      The Senior NCO looked John up and down and then stated: "So you volunteered for 'Nam?"

      "Yes, Top." John figured calling this NCO "Top" would butter him up; he was right.

      "Well, go with this soldier, he'll get you to your command. Go through that door and you can get yur luggage before it gits too hot out." The old (must have been 35 years old) Senior NCO waved John and his new friend through the gate and to the luggage.

      "I'm Anthony King and I hope you're John Markham."

      "I am. You look like the pictures I've seen."

      "So, you're dating my cousin?"

      "I met her in 8th grade and we dated from then to the end of 9th grade. I just visited her not too long ago. She said to look you up."

      "Right."

      "Right! It took a lot to convince the detailer to send me here."

      They went to the MP compound in a suburb of Saigon. This building was surrounded by barbed wire, sand bags and an outer barrier manned by hot, bored and resentful grunts. However, the grunts knew they were in Saigon, were going to get credit for being in combat (Combat Infantry Badge) and would be able to get some beer and pussy that night. They could get penicillin the next morning…

      (Maybe they should have gotten the Purple Heart given the number of whores who worked for "Mister Charlie"...)

      For these guards, it was better than patrolling the jungle with the "real" grunts and getting the Combat Infantry Badge, no beer, no pussy and probably still have to see the medic but for heat stress and infected bites, stings etc.

      The check-in procedure was quite pleasant compared to boot camp and M P school; the senior personnel seemed happy to see the new men (for John was not the only new person there).

      The next month was spent getting used to Nam, getting to know Anthony King, learning the area, directing vehicle traffic on various bases (they were after all, cops and being a cop meant directing traffic), practicing with various weapons (the Boss Cop thought it would be a good idea for "his boys" to know Commie weapons as well as all the US weapons; he remembered the Tet Offensive all too well) and looking for clues to the whereabouts of his prey.

      After three weeks, John and the other "FNG" (Fucking New Guys) who'd arrived with him on the "Freedom Plane" were deemed worthy and were Meritoriously Promoted to Corporal. The "Boss Cop", an Air Force Colonel Bell seemed like a Marine to the Marine M Ps stationed at a brother command, like a Soldier to the Soldiers and not like Air Farce to the Zoomies. But then, the "Zoomies" (or Air Force Air Police) often seemed a lot more like infantry than they did Air Farce…

      It was nice to be a Corporal. John's parents were pleased by the speed of his advancement and John's father was careful not to tell his wife of his fears. His fears that promotions were needed to fill empty billets and that their son could easily be needing "replacement" very soon; replaced by some other Mother's son still in M P school…

      Five weeks after arriving, John and Anthony were patrolling the streets on a roving assignment. They were to "show the flag" and see if they could find any trouble. An infantry unit was ambling by and Anthony was the one to spot a certain individual: one Steven Grant. Grant looked like the pictures taken when he arrived in 'Nam some four months before. The M Ps had access to photos of all the arriving personnel and it had proven quite easy to gain access to these unit mug shots…

      It occurred to them that Grant was part of a stream of men moving from one base camp to the Army mess hall down the street they were overlooking. The next day, they were there and so was their target. The day after that was a repeat of the first two days.

      Anthony had brought a dark green shoulder bag and had put some local vegetables in it. While it was certainly unusual for him to be carrying this, no one really cared. If a soldier wanted to go to the market and buy vegetables, that was his business. After all, who would be carrying weapons in that bag?

      Anthony was wearing a weapons harness with pistol on his right side, K Bar knife on his left and a pouch with a couple of grenades. His visible weapons negated anyone's need to look into the bag.

      John looked at Anthony, then put his white M P helmet and MP brassard into the bag. He pulled out and put on a booney hat. Anthony did the same.

      John then joined the "man stream" and without being obvious about it started passing various ambling soldiers. He walked up to Grant from behind, paused for a brief second while Grant looked to his left and slammed a punch into Grant's right kidney!

      Grant's back arched forward, his head reared upward and he gasped in shock. Grant never saw Markham suddenly rush past on his right side and then slow down as if nothing had happened. By the time Grant could get his breath back, scream and look around, Markham was hidden in the sea of oblivious green. Markham stepped off onto a sidewalk and moved back into shadow. He looked like any solider taking a break from the noon sun.

      Although his tradecraft needed a bit of work, Anthony King walked past the screaming Grant and observed that Grant could not have "made" John Markham. Although most soldiers were indifferent, a couple of medics had appeared and were treating Grant. Several minutes later, a shaken Steve Grant resumed his walk to the mess hall, this time glancing around in fear and anger and not at all the self confident bully he'd been in the 8th or 9th grades…

      John and Anthony spent the next couple of days directing traffic at a base some twenty miles from the assault scene. They had requested this assignment and the desk sergeant had been very happy to oblige.

      The morning briefings mentioned that a soldier had been attacked on the street. It seemed said solder was a trouble maker, one who pushed the boundaries of proper Military Behavior and who had made a fine collection of enemies. There were at least a dozen men in that unit who bragged on having "done the deed" but since several had been on duty at the time of the assault, no serious investigations were conducted.

      Just another asshole who got what was coming to him…

      They waited until the unit schedules showed Grant's unit was being send into a field position at a Fire Base being constructed outside Saigon. They received permission to do independent patrolling to look for trouble.

      Command gave permission without second thought.

      The first day, they were on a hill overlooking the new Fire Base. Both were amused to see Grant being harried into physical labour.

      The second day, was a repeat of the first. However, neither realize they'd been seen the first day and this day, they had a Vietnamese watcher.

      The third day, the watcher who reported officially to the MP Top Cop, unofficially to the local head V C (Viet Con) and very informally to someone far more dangerous who was well concealed and watching well ahead of time.

      John and Anthony prepared a sniper's hide, one that provided just a minimum of obscuring. Then, John pulled out the .22 caliber Sniper Rifle they had "borrowed" from the armory that morning. He set the front bipod firmly into the soft soil and Anthony pulled out the Sniper Binoculars. These were actually Navy bridge officer/ lookout binoculars and had been fitted with a sunshade that also hid sun glint off the primary lens. Anthony began scanning for their target while John put a .22 caliber, long cartridge sniper round in the weapon. To compare this bullet with the .22 caliber bullets used by boys "in the World" would be like comparing a badger to a lap dog…

      They realized they'd get only one shot and so they waited under the hot sun for nearly an hour. Then, with both young men tracking their target, King said "looks good" and Markham said "fucking A it does" and gently squeezed the trigger. He was actually surprised when the round went off.

      Their victim went down with the round through his upper leg. There could be no doubt this time as to who had assaulted Steven King: it came from outside the unit!

      Both the sniper and his spotter eased back from their hide, hid as much of the evidence as they could and returned to their base. There, they cleaned the rifle several times, put it back on it's rack and were grateful the Armory personnel kept a slush pile of unaccounted for ammo for folks who wanted to "squeeze off a few rounds". They then went off on patrol.

      They had both been terrified as they returned, realizing that merely fantasizing about "Assault With Intent To Commit Grievous Bodily Harm" or perhaps "Attempted Murder" were no longer just offenses discussed in the Uniform Code Of Military Justice. They had cross the line.

      The shooting was the talk for the next several days. It didn't seem like VC since it had been done with a small caliber weapon. No one had heard anything and that suggested a silenced weapon. Both King and Markham realized they may have seriously fucked up in using a silenced weapon with built in flash suppressor.

      Something else bothered them and bothered them a lot. They had never read any quotes from Friedrich Nietzsche. The should have read:

 

                   "He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself

                     does not become a monster. When you gaze into the Abyss,

                     the Abyss also gazes into you."

Friedrich Nietzsche, "In Horror"

 

Paying the bill…

      Both Corporals King and Markham were summoned into the office of the Base Police Commander, an Air Force Colonel Donald Bell. Colonel Bell was seated and his Top Sergeant, a man who was Korean, was standing behind the desk and to one side. The two Corporals marched in, stopped precisely five feet from the desk, saluted and held their salutes while Corporal King announced:

      "Sir! Corporals Markham and King reporting as ordered, sir!"

      The Colonel finally deigned to return their salutes.

      "Just who the fuck do you boys think you are?"

       Top was pissed.

      "Sir?"

      "Have either of you heroes done anything to bring disgrace upon the U.S. government or the Army or this unit?" After speaking, the Top Sergeant then shook his head.

      "We're gong to speak off the record, Gentlemen," the Colonel remarked. "Just what the fuck reason is there for two of my M Ps shooting a soldier?"

      Both "visitors" looked at each other.

      "When I was in junior high…"

      "He was lynched! My man John was lynched for dating my cousin Jasmine."

      John knew that Anthony had the chronology wrong and the motivation for the attack wrong and no one really seemed to know the true motivation.

      "Well, you two got caught by a Viet who watched you from cover."

      "We didn't see anyone, sir."

      "This Viet faded back and dropped to the ground in a ditch after getting a good look at you two. Imagine my surprise when Top told me that a white MP used an MP sniper rifle to tag someone. He was with a black MP who used sniper grade binoculars to do the spotting. How did I know it was you two? Top says my cops call you 'the cousins'." The Colonel just shook his head at them. "It wasn't hard to find out who had checked out a .22 caliber Magnum sniper rifle and the binocs. Unfortunately, Top says the reports were never logged in and disappeared."

      The Top Sergeant simply grinned.

      "Top, what can we do with these two? Isn't there a unit we can dump them to in case of blowback?"

      "Sure is, brother, sure is," the Top Sergeant replied to the Colonel, "We can attach them temporary duty to that patrol Lieutenant Wolfe is leading into Indian Territory. He needs a good sniper and our boy here is obviously good. We can slip them out this afternoon."

      "Do it then, my friend."

      Both Corporals saluted the Colonel, who returned the salute quickly and left.

      Outside, one dared to speak to the Top Sergeant.

      "Top, did you call the Colonel 'brother'?"

      "Yes, I did because he is married to my little sister. We're close. His Father couldn't accept the idea of his son being married to a Korean so he is much closer to her side of the family than to his."

      There was a pause, "Now we don't know that Grant knows he was hit by cops. We're spreading the word that it must have been VC. We even made up a VC unit that is experimenting with low caliber sniper rifles. Still, we have to get you two out of town in case the word, the true word, gets around."

      The Top Cop looked at Corporal King.

      "Is your cousin close to this man?"

      "Yes, Top."

      "Are you close to this cousin?"

      "Yes, sir, Top."

      "Close enough to be considered family?"

      "Yes, sir."

      "OK. Well, then, Anthony King, you're going to protect your cousin here and he will protect you."

      "He's not my cousin."

      "Well, actually…"

      "If I say he's your cousin, then he is! You're dismissed, lads, dismissed until we get your orders cut."

      As the two walked off, the Top Sergeant heard: "you what…you did…damn, you dog, you… you really did???"

      Top did not need to hear more; he had heard similar conversations in Korean when growing up in a village near Seoul and in Seoul and in English in the U.S. Army. All conversations of "sexual conquests" seemed the same whether it was man about a woman, man about a man,  women about men or women about women. An old cop had heard everything and seen damn near about everything and he had quit judging folks many years before…

      In the distance, "Top" could hear his two young cops laughing. "Top" had read his Nietzsche and remember a quote from "In Philosophy":

                   "Perhaps I know why it is man alone who laugh: He alone suffers

                    so deeply that he had to invent laughter."

Consequences…

      Both men were sent to a back room of the MP headquarters where the were assigned filing duties. Their mission and it was one of great significance to the war in the Year of Our Lord 1970, was to make sure that the pictures of troopers were properly updated in unit files. It was boring and regarded as shit duty. They were saved from speculation and actually got some notoriety when a Desk Sergeant was heard to loudly sneer:

      "This will teach you not to drink and drive an MP jeep. This should really teach you two simple minded fucks not to get pulled over and hauled in by the White Mice!"

      The "White Mouse", who had watched John make his shot laughed. "Stupid white boys! You lucky I caught you! You not survive our jails!" (This VietNamese officer never could tell the difference from American "blacks" (who all seemed to have "white" facial features) from American "whites". But, this Vietnamese "White Mouse" didn't' mind the putdown of "White Mouse" since it was quite tame compared to what he often said to the desk sergeant about the "white American troops". It didn't seem to bother him that the "white" desk sergeant agreed with him quite often…

      With their supposed drunk driving being the cause for their isolation, both John and Anthony were kidded but it was nothing malicious. After a week of this, both were taken to an infantry unit where they were equipped with full jungle gear including a sniper rifle and pistol for John. Anthony brought his assigned CAR15 carbine. Both were given a lot more ammo to carry than they'd expected as well as a claymore mine each. Then, loaded down with about 100 pounds of gear, they were taken to met their new CO.

      They were assigned to an infantry company about to go on special operations. The Platoon Commander, 1LT Paul Randall Wolfe interviewed both and decided he liked them. John had come to him advertised as a skilled sniper (albeit unblooded, which was a lie) and Anthony a skilled spotter (albeit unblooded, which also was a lie). 1LT Wolfe briefed his FNGs (Fucking New Guys) that they'd be in the field for about a week. Everyone would be carrying four days of food and water, with resupply expected after three days. It was late in the day and both were released to the headquarters squad. There, they were given the "straight skinny", given a place to store their gear and went "to dinner" with their new squad. They realized the food was good and were slightly puzzled by just how good their new comrades thought the food was. They were slow to realize such good food meant "the condemned ate heartily".

      Departure was for 5 am. The troops were awake at 3:30 am, took their time about getting ready, the squad leader personally inspected everyone in the squad. Then, the section leader, who lead the command squad and two squads, inspected his section. The platoon sergeant and platoon leader inspected each other and went to inspect their troops.

      The platoon lined up for a last hot meal, with the junior man of the junior squad moving through first and the platoon leader moving through the mess line last. If it seemed that Wolfe would be cheated of a hot meal because the troops had gotten all the good food then this was a mistake. The food that platoon officer and platoon sergeant received was on standard trays but had come from the officer's mess and had been cooked by the General's personal chef...

 

RHIP: Rank Hath It's Privileges…

 

      The unit moved from the base with the other platoons of the company. Somewhere on the march, the unit was signaled to grasp the pack of the man in front of them and the unit was taken off the main path and into the jungle. The intent was to prevent the VC from knowing that a platoon had gone missing and in this it was successful.

      To quote Niccolo Machiavelli: "No enterprise is more likely to succeed than one concealed from the enemy until it is ripe for execution."

      The first day was nerve racking for Anthony and John as they were getting their "jungle feet". The other soldiers moved like ghosts and the troops behind our heroes smoothed out the traces of "the shooter boys". They were serious about concealing. That night, the unit was on 50% watch and everyone was tired the next day.

      The next day, "the shooter boys" had shown dramatic improvement in their jungle craft and little cleanup was needed. It was on the third day that matters got far more serious…

      The platoon set up a parameter around a small clearing that looks to be a place where a large bomb had gone off. They remembered the mass B-52 bombings during the Tet Offensive and some shuttered at the thought of such bombs "accidentally" falling on their platoon.

      A two squad section made up of the sniper team, the platoon leader, a radioman and their best, toughest, hunter-killer soldiers eased like ghosts through the pre dawn jungle. They crept past groups of NVA (North Vietnamese Army troops) and finally came to an opening in the jungle. Less than a hundred yards away, a wooden structure stood. From the top, it may have looked like a hooch in the woods. From ground level, it looked like an Army headquarters building. John was finally briefed on his mission.

      "John," 1LT Wolfe whispered, "an NVA General is going to come out of that building. I want you to kill him and then fade back to us. Can you do this?"

      "Yes, sir."

      "Anthony, can you do this?"

      "Yes, sir."

      Then, 1LT Wolfe nodded to the two squads and they low crawled back some ten yards. They disappeared into the foliage.

      Then, as the sun started burning off the twilight, activity began in the camp they watched. About 8 am, a group of men left the building and bustled around smartly. Near 8:30, a man in green uniform with as much decoration as a US Army Dress Uniform came out. Both sniper and spotter clearly identified the General. Anthony twitched up an arm to notify the escorts and John made his first kill.

      The NVA General simply slumped down and his staff began fussing around him. Both sniper and spotter were able to low crawl back to their escort before enemy troops realized that a killing had taken place. Several valuable minutes had been wasted while the staff officers waited for a medic.

      The alarm went off and the attack section ran through the jungle to met up with the rest of the platoon. There were more, many more, enemy troops in the area. They had clearly blundered and needed to escape. They ran through the woods for nearly a half mile and then squads split off in separate escape routes.

      Finally, 1LT Wolfe realized the situation was hopeless and knew the sniper team had to escape. The only hope for the entire platoon would be to convince the NVA that Wolfe's platoon had simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

      Wolfe lead a scratch squad towards the enemy and several of his best hunter-killers lead the sniper team to the emergency rendezvous point.

      At the rendezvous point, one of the medics noticed that Corporal Markham had blood on the arm of his left sleeve. When the medic cut the sleeve off, he found a gouge that had to have come from a bullet. The medic looked at John's pack and found a hole. Inside the pack, he found a deformed spent round. He cleaned John's bullet wound and dressed it. John put the deformed round in a shirt pocket. (The medical report was the basis for John's first Purple Heart.)

      There they took muster, listed the missing and the platoon sergeant made a terse report to their company commander. The company commander reported to his battalion commander. It was late afternoon before brigade authorized an incursion in force and the battalion surrounded what was then thought to be the base camp. There was stiff fighting but the command area was deserted and there were signs that documents had been removed.

      Because command had sent in a platoon, the company commander was reprimanded, the battalion commander relieved for cause and the brigade commander - a Brigadier General - reconciled himself to never getting a second star.

      A platoon was too large for a covert operation and far too small for anything approaching an overt operation.

      The man who had ordered the operation had once been an officer. No one knew which Armed Force but it was believed to have been a U.S. or perhaps Canadian service. This man, who had the power of a four star General, simply accepted that casualties were inevitable. (A few senior US Army officers knew him as "Mister Jones" but no one dared speak his name out out loud. Speak not the name of the Devil...) At this person's level, the capture or killing of a large squad barely rated mention in a hurried, informal, briefing.

      The capture of one First Lieutenant Paul Randall Wolfe, however, was an item of major concern!

      When John and Anthony returned to the M P compound, they were told that "the boys" believed both young men had been observers and not the sniper team. They were both shaken and agreed to the deception.

      Later, talking alone:

      "'Tony, I feel bad that you got involved in this. I also feel bad since I could see him, the victim, close up through the scope. It wasn't like spraying bullets in the direction of the enemy and they didn't tell me I'd feel bad!"

      "Well, I'm a killer now and it bothers me. But, we just got to remember that we killed an enemy General and it will take a while to replace him. Maybe an inferior officer will be picked. Maybe…"

      "You're not the killer, I am."

      "Maybe it will help you to say that?. No, my friend, you're not the only killer. You were armed with a rifle and I was armed with you. You shot because I confirmed that you should shot. Shoot!" When he heard "shoot", John knew he was really hearing "shit!"

      But life goes on and one person's moment of change is private and usually unknown to others who are fully occupied with their moments of change.

      Grant had been sent back to the states, complete with purple heart.

      Before pinning the Purple Heart on John's shirt, Colonel Bell asked John: "So, how does it feel to be shot?"

      "Horrible, sir. It made me afraid and I'm watching everyone near me. I keep having the feeling that someone is ready to shot me again!"

      "Well, they say there is only one bullet with your name on it."

      At the awards ceremony, John was awarded not just his first Purple Heart but a rather unusual gift. The deformed bullet had been engraved with the name "John" and a hole drilled through it. The Colonel had John remove his dog tags. Then, they put the bullet between the two dog tags and the tag was put around John's neck.

      As an aside, the legendary Marines, Major Land (father of the "modern" Marine sniper unit) and Gunny Carlos Hancock (the most famous or perhaps infamous of those Marine Snipers) were in Paris at a meeting with the folks "Gamma Section" worked for. They met the former 1LT Paul Wolfe and were told how Wolfe had been captured, tortured and compelled to join "Gamma Section's parent organization. Gunny Hancock's evaluation of Wolfe's last mission in 'Nam was "it one of the most ballsey things I've every heard of. It was also the stupidest operation I've heard of…"

      Wolfe was not pleased but Wolfe's apparent girlfriend, "Madeline", was amused…

      A week later, John approached the "White Mouse".

      "You have a lot of contacts, don't you, Sir?"

      "I am not a 'Sir', I am just a 'gook'."

      "I don't like the word, 'gook', sir. It reminds me too much of what folks say about my girlfriend."

      "Ah, the young blackamore. A very lovely young lady or so I'm told."

      "Blackamore?"

      "Is that not what you call those white folks with darker skin? Perhaps the soldier who taught my Father English during the War Against Japanese Aggression misspoke?"

      "It's an old term. How did you know about my girl friend?"

      "Your cousin, the young King, told me yesterday. He is quite fond of you and very fond of this cousin and wants both you and the girl to be well."

      "Thank you. I miss her a lot and … wait a minute! You're changing the subject!"

      "So I am, so I am. Very well, your officer Wolfe was captured by the NVA. Someone elsewhere was interested in Monsieur Wolfe. He is a prisoner of the NVA and is probably being tortured. It will be hard but the puppet master can do anything. Your Lieutenant Wolfe will be recovered and taken to a place of safety."

      "How would you know?"

      "Do you really want to know?"

      "No, sir."

      "Stop calling me 'sir'; I'm not an officer!"

      "Yes, sir, I will. It's just that you act like an officer, an officer who is trying hard to seem like an enlisted man. Trying, sir, without a lot of success."

      This was a common attitude in the MP command among officers, senior NCO and other ranks. The "White Mouse", who held the rank of a Sergeant in the South VietNamese Army, Major in the North Vietnamese Army and something called a "Level 7" in quite a different "Army" (Section one) was peeved that his cover had been so thoroughly seen through.

      On the positive side, the MPs (Army MPs, Marine MPs and Air Force APs) were social pariahs and the MPs simply didn't talk to folks outside their community.

      None of them ever wrote biographies either.

      The rest of John's tour was uneventful. That is uneventful for a Police Officer in a war zone. John ended up having to kill several NVA, several VC and once a soldier who had gone bat shit and was shooting up a bar. He handed out his one hundredth parking ticket less than two months after the disappearance of an officer he respected highly: 1LT Paul Randall Wolfe.

      In early 1971, when his first tour in 'Nam ended, John was invited to attend a specialized combat unit called "Gamma Section". There, John spent six months learning a wide variety of skills that didn't seem a lot like combat but which were very interesting. John was being groomed for membership in a unit that went after the enemy troopers who killed from the shadows. The training camp was in France and they wore the uniform of la Legion E'trangere (French Foreign Legion). John Markham had to give up his dog tags but the old puppet master insisted that John wear his "bullet". While much of the training was that of the Legion, much was of a more specialized nature. When John and his comrades graduated, he was awarded the "Kipi Blanc" or the White Hat worn by Legion Enlisted.

      John was then sent back to the U.S. Army, compete with his dog tags and the "bullet with his name on it between them". He spent a couple of months working in the D.C. area and a lot of weekends and some evenings with his Jasmine. She was working on an accounting degree, with hopes of working either at H and R Block or the IRS.

      John thought this an interesting contrast in future jobs.

      John went back to 'Nam from 1973 to 1974 and worked security at several different bases. This meant a lot of time spent "In The Friendly Jungle" [to quote the asinine name of a 19th century jungle survival book]. John worked with various units hunting the worst of the VC killers; the kind of men who would cut off the arm of a child simply because American or Allied medics had vaccinated the child. They thought these "men" to be the worst of the worst but then they had no way to know of the Kamur Rouge or the "Taliban" and other future Muslim Arab terrorist groups…

      In early February of 1975, John was sent back to 'Nam for his third tour. During his second tour in 'Nam and while in DC, he had been sent on brief "jobs" for Section. This last tour was to be spent purely in 'Nam.

      His AOR - Area Of Responsibility - was limited to Saigon.

      On 28 April 1975, John was ordered to check out a Navy Communications Station near the Embassy. His team walked him to the entrance of the Navy Building and took up guard outside. There were no guards and John detailed his guards to protect the entrance. He headed in the direction of the place which probably had the most interesting items: the communications centre (comm centre).

      The door to the comm centre was locked but a little something John had learned in France came in handy. The door was guarded by a cyper lock but the latch was spring loaded and not covered by a metal lip on the door rim. John used his security badge to slide the bolt back and was inside the room quicker than if he'd used the access code.

      Inside the room was a desk for processing messages to be sent and messages to be given to "authorized recipients". A restroom simply marked "HEAD" was to his right; no women would ever come into this place.

      He went through the heavy door into another room. Interesting equipment was in there. Along the wall to his right was a roll of teletype printers. In the middle of the room were racks of tape punch devices. Just in front of the wall to his far left were racks of teletype transmitter-distributors or tape reader devices.

      John knew the cryptographic equipment was through one of the doors on the far wall. Offices were to the right of the door to the cryptographic room probably lead to offices.

      There were three other men in Navy uniform in the room against the distant wall. Markham walked over to them.

      Two of the men wore Radiomen Petty Officer Crows and one a Petty Officer Crow whose symbol Markham didn't recognize.

      One of the Radiomen said "this just isn't right. There should be some security here."

      The other Radioman replied "I heard that everyone was ordered to leave this building. I guess the men in here simply left."

      The Petty Officer with the strange rank insignia spoke up with: "I was in the outer office waiting for messages when an officer came in and ordered everyone out. He chased me out and said the office was secure and therefore they didn't need to have a watch on duty. This officer said the ships were going to leave that afternoon."

      "Talk to me, gentlemen. I'm an Army M P, a cop and not a communications specialist."

       The three sailors were very surprised to see the intruder.

      "I am Quartermaster second class Bill Tanner. These are Radioman first class Matt Gerard and Radioman third class John Finch. So, you're a police officer?"

      "Yes, Army M P and that rates as 'Police Officer' here. Is there a security problem here?"

      The left side of John Markham's uniform bore his CIB (Combat Infantry Badge), Purple Heart and a Silver Star (he had been in stressful combat situations during his second tour) and his American parachute wings. The right side of his uniform bore the French parachute wings he'd earned when seemingly training as a member of the "Legion E'trangere". He was quite proud of them and they certainly got attention.

      "Is there a working phone here?"

      The two radiomen shrugged but the Quartermaster said "yes, there is."

      "Is there someone you can call to come secure this place?"

      "I suppose there would be someone at the Embassy." Tanner was speculating.

      The Radioman first class snapped his fingers and said "let me check the equipment room!"

      Two minutes later, the worthy First Class Radioman came back with a horrified look on his face.

      "They just bugged out! They just fucking bugged out! They left all the crypto running and…and…" The man was simply flabbergasted at this blatant violation of regulations.

      "Is there someone in higher authority who can take charge of this crime scene?"

      To an MP this was a crime scene; to the radiomen, this was an abandoned high security area; to the quartermaster, this was an office with unsecured classified material. It would be hard to say who was most disturbed.

      To change the subject, Quartermaster 2nd class Tanner walked over to a bin of paper tapes in one of the little rooms. "What are these messages doing here?"

      The radiomen looked at each other and one said "I don't know."

      The other said, "some of these are really old. They're Routine precedence and that means they may have never been relayed."

      "And that means," the MP asked?

      "It means that a field command sent these messages and they were stopped here. It means that someone wanted something and they were cut off. Think of it as a letter that was taken from the Post Office and tossed into the Dead Letter office."

      Bill Tanner walked over to the nearest of the tape transmission devices, unwound the paper tape, put it on the device and started sending it.

      The Radioman first class was floored. "What are you doing?"

      "I just want to see what was on this tape."

      "So, you put it on that TD and sent it?"

      "Sure. It'll go to a printer."

      "Well, yes, it will go to a printer. A printer in San Diego! You just transmitted that message shit head!"

      The other radioman interjected, "This is your first time at one of these centers. The send circuits go to the bottom row of printers. Let's read it."

      The text was a desperate message sent in 1968 during the Tet Offensive. The real question was why it had been sent Routine and not Immediate precedence for the message asked for a shopping list of weapons. The list started with Stoner 63s and this brought a smile to Markham's face; he loved the Stoner 63s with long barrel, flash digester, silencer and the big box magazine. There were a number of other weapons as well.

      In another box was a collection of other messages and four long tapes on what looked like reel to reel tape holders. A bell rang.

      "Well, guys," the radioman 3rd class stated, "San Diego just noticed that old message we sent and they want to know if sending it was a joke?"

      "These tapes represent the needs and memories of folks in 'Nam over a period of years? Right? If there were legal proceedings, these tapes would be evidence. Evidence must be preserved. Therefore, we need to see that these tapes are transmitted. It is not up to us to decided how to respond to these tapes, it is sufficient that we ensure their proper delivery."

       Markham had laid down the law.

      "There won't be any legal cases?"

      "Want to bet, friend? We lost this fucking war. Losers go to court and those tapes may be needful."

      "OK," the Radioman first class said, "I'm going to respond to San Diego. QUOTE: An officer has directed that we clear all old message traffic prior to securing this facility. UNQUOTE""

      The reply, "I talked with my traffic chief and he just threw up his hands and said 'then tell them ZAG IT, FAGGOT'!"

      "ZAG it, faggot?"

      "ZAG is code for 'send this message' and ZAG IT means 'send it' and…"

      "I get it now. It rhymes and the phrase is meant as a joke."

      "You're offended?"

      "No, it is rather clever compared to what I've heard in the Army over years. 'Wigger'^[14] is about the height of Army crude humour."

      There were eight transmission units and the radiomen began sending the ancient tapes. They had 168 old messages to sent. At the end, was a rather long message and four reels of tape. The label on the reels said these were command histories. Two were of a Marine LRRP (Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol) unit and one was personal reports of a Marine sniper unit. A unit that had included one Gunny Carlos Hancock. The fourth was reports of a unit which had conducted special weather observations in Northern Laos during "Operation Linebacker I and II".

      The senior radioman asked the comm centre at San Diego for permission to transmit the four tapes and asked if they could be split into sections. San Diego agreed and the tapes were sent.

      The radioman third had been checking the other communications links and found an active ship to shore link. He asked for the leading chief radioman on that ship, a command ship. The Radioman chief was summoned and briefed on the material in the otherwise deserted building. The Chief put them "on hold" and then came back with "the Admiral has instructed me to salvage what I can and to destroy what I can't. He wants all of you to leave. Give me your names and units."

      That information was sent; the radiomen had found devices intended to mount the tapes so they could unreel smoothly. Now, normally, teletype messages were wrapped around one's hand in what was called a "butterfly". These unwound from the centre of the "butterfly". The tapes on reels were simply too big so they had to be mounted on axles and the motors of the tape transmitter-distributors (TDs) pulled the tapes through.

      John was musing as he looked at the tapes.

      "How come you two aren't having to resend these messages or respond to complaints from them [he meant the San Diego radiomen] about garbled text? How come you're not having to resend garbled portions so those folks can repair your messages?"

      "We've got the finest communications link in the world outside of SAC, the Washington DC area and possibly the Soviet Missile Control folks. Everything goes out via clean landline to a very clean dedicated cable to Japan. Then, it goes via Guam to San Diego. We're sending at 100 words a minute or 75 baud. The landlines operate at 600 baud or 8 times as fast. There are error detecting and correcting codes and computers to handle the error correction. The computers are state of the art and operate with a clock speed of four megahertz." This meant nothing to John Markham but he whistled in amazement anyway, as expected. The radiomen would have been shocked to know that future computers would operate a over a thousand megahertz and thousands of times as fast and via satellites as well…

      The last message sent to the San Diego Radiomen was "We're sorry you're having to cut tapes for all the stuff we sent and kind of wish we weren't sending the big ones but orders are orders."

`      The reply back was "don't worry about it. They finally gave us computers and everything you're sending is being fed into them. Of course, we have to actually read what you're sending and process it."

      "Good bye, good luck. A Chief will be here shortly to shut down this place."

      "Good luck, boys and let us know how it turns out…"

      Their last message to the ship told the Radioman chief they were abandoning the comm center. They two radiomen went back to their ship; the quartermaster to his ship and the Cop went back to his escorts and lead them to a "safe house" deeper in Saigon; actually, there were no "safe" locations in Saigon.

      When Saigon fell two days later, John put on a Soviet Army Major's uniform and "his boys" put on NVA uniforms, gathered as many Viets who had worked for Uncle Sugar as they could into buses and "hauled them off to re-education camps". John made a fine looking Russian and was one arrogant, bad mannered, mean tempered, son of a bitch. Even a couple of Russians serving as advisors to the NVA thought he was a complete asshole and probably the scion of a Soviet military family. Section had ways of teaching their troops languages and John Markham spoke excellent Russian with a definite Moscow accent...

      He gave those Northern VietNamese Sons-of-Bitches a taste of the future: the "Ugly American" was about to be replaced by the VERY "Ugly Russian" and folks would reevaluate the "Ugly American" as the "Friendly American". At least the "Friendly American" had tried to buy his way "into the party" when he simply wasn't crashing the party. The "Ugly Russian" simply crashed the party if they even let the party happen…

      It would be decades before they were to find out what happened to the Communications Center (and the rest of the building for that matter).

      The Chief came from his ship with an eight man section of radiomen, several electronics technicians and a full section of heavily armed Marines. While the Chief went inside to do a recon of the comm centre, one squad of Marines began hauling packages and tanks down to the comm center. After that, another squad set guard at the building's entrance and the other two did a very through sweep of the building. They found no one but did "recover" a number of bottles of booze, several old vintage Playboys and we able to open and loot of cash a couple of safes. Perhaps the embezzlers in those offices had forgotten their loot or meant to leave it for anyone searching? Anyway, the Marines and their Navy Chief enjoyed several thousand dollars of US taxpayer money each…

      Back to our Radioman Chief Petty Officer!

      The Chief got into the comm center the same way Sergeant Markham had: he used an ID card on the door!

      The Chief noted that traffic had been sent when he glanced at the printers but his interest was in the cryptographic equipment: KY26s and KW7s^[15]. As he was examining the crypto room, one of his radiomen called him into the operations room.

      "Chief, they were clearing some really old traffic. We've got some old command histories here and two are still going out. What do you want us to do?"

      "Are the histories about done?"

      "Yes, Chief."

      "Then let them finish. See if you can save the paper printouts and the tapes. Maybe you can find some boxes around here."

      "Ah, Chief, those command histories were sent from reels. Four reels. The fifth command history was probably butter flied." (That radioman meant the fifth command history was sent from a wrapped or butter flied paper tape.)

      "Well, see if you can reel up those tapes. I'll take them back to the ship with me."

      Then, to the real business at hand!

      The Chief knew he would be in deep shit if he couldn't account for all of the crypto gear. So, he had one Electronics Technician (ET) map the room; that is, the ET simply sketched the layout of the equipment racks and what pieces of gear were in them. This was a standard layout but they were working for long term history…

      The other two ETs began finding and calling out the serial numbers of each piece of equipment. When the last message was sent, the Chief informed San Diego via a keyboard chat to the quality control operator there:

 

"WE ARE GOING TO SHUT DOWN THE CRYPTO GEAR SEQUENTIALLY. I WILL INFORM YOU OF EACH SHUTDOWN AS IT HAPPENS. I'M GOING TO CREATE MY "SHUTDOWN" MESSAGE ON-LINE SO I THINK YOU SHOULD PATCH ME INTO A TAPE CUTTING UNIT. BUT, BEFORE THIS, I'D LIKE TO KNOW IF YOU'VE SECTIONIZED THOSE HISTORIES? IF SO, I'D LIKE YOU TO SEND THEM AS INFO COPIES TO THE NATIONAL ARCHIVES AND THE NAVY MUSEUM AT BOWLING AFB."

 

"ROGER. THE COMMS CHIEF WANTS TO KNOW IFF'N YOU'D LIKE COPIES SENT TO THE MARINE CORP HISTORIAN, THE AIR FORCE HISTORIAN AND THE NAVY HISTORIAN?"

 

"YES!"

 

"THE CHIEF SAYS HE'LL BE ABLE TO GET IT DONE. WE'RE GOING TO SEND YOU TO A TAPE INTERCEPT POSITION IN FACCON."

 

      "FACCON" was "Facilities Control" or the "home" of the crypto equipment and circuit control equipment.

      The Chief created the heading of his message and had one of his radiomen dictate the various serial numbers of the crypto gear to another radioman who typed this information in. Then, the Chief began "tearing down" each piece of crypto gear. That is, the Chief directed radiomen who patched into each circuit and sent the "we're shutting down message" and got a "go ahead" from San Diego's Facility Controllers or crypto gear operators. As soon as each piece of equipment was opened, the radiomen marked down the serial number of each card reader device and this information was later sent with the Chief's message. Immediately following each radioman, two ETs physically removed the card reader devices and put them in bags they were carrying. The NSA would want them back…

      Then they did the same to the fleet broadcast transmitters and receivers and sent the device information to San Diego

      When they were on the verge of shutting down the final set of KW26s, after the Chief had added the serial numbers of the last working KW26, the Chief sent his last message and told the San Diego operators that he would send an unencrypted, unclassified, message to them with the text "LAST BRIDGE BURNED".

      When the last KW26 was field stripped, the Chief sent the last official message from that comm centre to San Diego. There was left only two last duties.

      There was four KW7 circuits up to the fleet. The Chief sent his last version of the destruction report to his ship (for he had "cut a tape")  and advised that the last set of KW7s would be removed. And so they were; the ETs physically removed the KW7 transmitters and receivers, put them on hand dollies and removed them to their commandeered truck.

      The Chief took the various tapes and printouts and nodded to the Marine 2LT who commanded the Marine Detachment. (This officer would most definitely get his share of the loot as he had been the one who had cracked the various safes.)

      The Marines then put a destruction block of termite on each piece of equipment and ran the detonating wire to a master control unit on the first floor of the building. Since the comm centre was in the basement, this was a lot of wire to string. They then created a back up: they tied each block of termite onto a very long "sting" of magnesium wire and ran this well outside the building. It took several reels of magnesium wire…

      Finally, they put twenty tanks of pure oxygen among the equipment racks; they had taken these tanks from abandoned gear in a nearby airbase. They wanted more than the destruction of the crypto gear; they wanted head so intense that it could melt the teletype equipment in the operations room. They wanted a conflagration that would not only destroy the building but would be remembered as the defining example of "Denial To The Enemy!"

      The Marines conducted a final sweep of the building, then the 2LT and the Chief cracked open the oxygen tanks so that the building was filling with pure oxygen. They left in a brisk wind of pure O₂.

      At the entrance to the building, the 2LT held roll call for all Navy and Marine personnel. Each man was required to stand forth and be physically accounted for by the Radioman Chief, the 2LT and his Leading Sergeant. They then verified the possession of the Chief's tapes and printouts and KW7 transmitters and receivers and the bag of card readers were safely in their truck. Only then did they set the timer on the termite detonator and a several hundred yards from the building, they lit off the magnesium wire.

      The convoy was nearly a half mile away when the termite should have caught fire. They paused and waited a while until they saw the upper portions of the building burning. A survey team the next day poked through the remnants of the building and said the basement was unreachable as the upper floors had collapsed inward. There were puddles of melted copper from the roof everywhere and they figured the crypto gear had been completely destroyed. It turned out to have basically futile destruction. The Soviets had gotten most of the crypto gear from the USS PUEBLO and what they didn't get there (the KW26s), they got from overrunning a South VietNamese comm center and of course what that bastard Johnny Walker (Red) gave to them.

      The destruction party wanted a "manly fire" and they surely got it… 

     

      Two days later, Saigon "fell".

      This was the start of a massive guilt trip and a massive cluster fuck in the military as blame was assigned and denied and the U.S. government spasmed. Despite this, there was the material that the Radioman Chief had recovered to be dealt with.

      They had to figure who had been granted access to the crypto keying material the Chief had recovered. Those worthies had to explain why they had abandoned working equipment along with the crypto keys. Others quibbled over the destruction of the crypto equipment and why could it not have been saved. The fact that everyone was trying to move people to the US Ships wasn't considered relevant. The rescue of the KW7s was criticized as a waste of man power and why couldn't the effort have been used to save people. The destruction of the building was regarded as "destruction of governmental property" and calls were made to Court Martial the Chief and the 2LT and the Command ship's officers who had authorized the building's destruction. The fact that criticism and requests for Court Martial had been drawn up in case the crypto and building had not been destroyed was defended as an interesting contingency plan.

      An exasperated William B. Saxbe, President Ford's Attorney General, got the President to issue a blanket pardon for those who'd raided the destroyed building. This accidentally included those who had abandoned the building and the group including Tanner and Markham, even through they were fairly innocent.

      Several JAG Manual Investigations were started and never resolved.

      The Pacific Fleet Admiral met with the Radioman Chief, the 2LT and the various ETs, Radiomen, Marines and (as it turned out) three boatswain mates who had driven the trucks. The 2LT and RMC (Radioman Chief) were granted Navy Commendation Medals and the rest Navy Achievement Medals. This was an unexpected honour that later helped careers.

      The Admiral then took the Chief aside and asked him to arrange for the Admiral's staff to get tape and printer copies of the original command history messages (the long tapes) and the messages that had gone out in sections (after the long tapes had been sliced up into sections). The Admiral wanted two copies of each item: one for himself, one for his Command History. The Chief arranged for three copies; the third for the Chief's personal safe keeping. The Chief created the appropriate messages and the Admiral's Flag Captain signed them with "CAPTAIN MEYERS, USN, SENDS". The copies were flown in two days later and the Chief reported he'd signed the receipts and the Admiral's Staff never saw them until the Command History came out.

      As an aside, in 1986, the Chief, who had become the Master Chief, had his communications center transcribe the paper tapes onto 5.25" inch "floppy disks" as well as the new fangled 3.5" "floppy" disks. In 1992, the Master Chief created his first electronic bulletin board and featured all these tapes plus a discussion of the events surrounding them. He got several hundred readers and a little bit of "underground" notoriety in some Navy circles. In 2003, one of his granddaughters found the material, still on her granddad's BBS and created a webpage featuring them. The old Master Chief was pleased. One of his grandsons advertised the web pages. This got them noticed. There were calls for the Master Chief to be prosecuted for "releasing classified material". The fact that the five command histories and the other messages were unclassified didn't seem to matter…

      Maybe someone high in the Navy hierarchy remembered the pardons. Anyway, the CNO ordered his legal people to ignore the matter and the Attorney General ordered his legal people to ignore the matter…

      But, back to our story…

 

      The two radiomen and QM2 Tanner wee surprised to be granted Navy Achievement Medals for "helping secure an abandoned communications facility and for insuring the proper delivery of Naval Messages".

      Sergeant John Markham was stationed at the Pentagon when he was summoned to a meeting of his entire "Gamma Section" section. His parents and siblings, Jasmine and her parents and siblings had quietly been invited. When John was called forth and it was announced that he "had been awarded the Navy Achieve-ment Medal for 'helping secure an abandoned communications facility and for insuring the proper delivery of Naval Messages", it was hard to tell who was most surprised. Certainly his team mates were and he had to get used to being called "Squid" or "Sailor Boy"…

      The next several years went by quickly, with John busy and Jasmine both graduating from college and wondering if she and John had a future together. The families had reconciled themselves to becoming relatives and all but John could see what was coming.

      In 1976, John pulled a hernia while operating with "Gamma Section". he had tried to pick up a sniper rifle which had frozen to the ground and ended up screaming. The mission was completed as another team member made "their hit" and John was hauled off to a hospital in Geneva, Switzerland.

      While correcting the hernia, the surgeons, who had read John's full medical file called for a skilled urologist. The urologist operated, her incision were small and easily hidden by the glue she had used vice stitches and no one bothered telling John NMN Markham about this secondary operation.

      He was out of operations for several months and assigned to a special operations centre. The function of this centre was to bribe various folks, with whatever they wanted. There was cash and coke and heroin and even really high grade pot to be sent out as bribes.

      John was feeling phantom pain over his left bicep and the pain, literally in his ass, from the bullet which had punched into his left buttock during his second tour in 'Nam. He thanked God that his third tour had not gotten him a third Purple Heart. This was nothing compared to the guilt he was feeling...

      He researched and found Steve Grant's address and piled some $40,000 into a cardboard box and mailed it. He'd had a French coworker write a little note: "SORRY ABOUT SHOOTING YOU."

      Grant received the box of money and for the first time realized that someone may have been angry enough to want to hurt him. He vaguely remembered hurting a boy so many years ago in Junior High but couldn't remember the name. The Air Force and FBI either couldn't or (as the case was) wouldn't give him John's name when he wrote asking for the case file. Writing "his" Congress members was equally futile as they were told of Grant's assault and feared for Markham's safety…

      Several moths later, after John and Jasmine had left a pre-marriage class (for Jasmine was Catholic and John Lutherian), he had gotten really bothered by the assault on him and the revenge he'd enjoyed. It seemed that Grant had reformed and was leading an anti-bullying group.

       John was stunned.

      He decided to make a final payback.

      He filled a rather large plastic bag with cocaine, tied it off with a simple wire tie and put it into a cardboard box. He added a small bag of world class pot and put a little "super flashlight" in with it. The "super flashlight" used a highly efficient visible light laser that wouldn't be released to the public for 20 years and an incredible battery that wouldn't be released to the public for 25 years. His French co-worker wrote another "SORRY ABOUT SHOOTING YOU" note and put it into the box. The box was sent from an address in Ho Chi Ming City. (John was no dummy and figured that Grant would believe a guilty 'Cong had gifted him.)

      Grant called the police and they sent the box to the FBI. The FBI reported to others, including John's bosses. They talked with John and decided he needed a break. They asked him "have you ever thought of taking a sea voyage"?

      "Wasn't that a line from a song, sir?"

      "Maybe. You need a break and there is a joint Navy Army project being planned. They need an MP and you're our best choice. We'll have to send you to some schooling first."

      "That sounds interesting, sir, so tell me more please."

      "This is more than unusual. It is in the literal sense, unique and…"

 

Chapter 4 - The Quartermaster's story…

      Bill Tanner had joined the Navy right out of high school in 1970. He hated boot camp but when he was at Quartermaster "A" school (entry level training), he began to appreciate what the Company Commanders (Navy Boot Camp D Is) had tried to teach them.

      Boot camp was all about doing things as a group, living in a group, eating in a group, showering in a group and learning to keep your area cleaned up. On ship, he was able to decide exactly when he ate meals and could decide to go to the mess decks by himself or with shipmates. There were individual shower stalls and the days of group showers were over. They even had a ship's laundry and he didn't have to wash his uniforms with a scrub brush and liquid soap.

      After his first ship, he transferred to small boat duty in 'Nam. His tour was from early 1971 to 1972, when the unit was disestablished and he was sent back to the states for further training. He had meritoriously "made" Quartermaster 3rd Class Petty Officer in 'Nam. The additional training was in various methods of "sight reductions" and this was what he'd joined the Navy to learn.

      Then, the first highlight of his career occurred He was sent from his ship to the major communications centre near the Embassy. There, he saw a man leave and when he entered the building, it seemed empty. He followed the wall signs and went downstairs to a secure door.

      He rang the bell at the message pickup window but no one answered. He rang it again with no reply. The door was open; he knocked, got no reply and walked in. Inside the room was a desk for processing messages to be sent and messages to be given to "authorized recipients". A restroom simply marked "HEAD" was to his right; no women had ever come into this place. An officer glanced at him and ordered him to leave. Bill Tanner obeyed. There were two radiomen, a 1st class and a 3rd class in the outer room. The officer told them "best get out of here right away."

      "The first class replied with 'yes, sir'."

      But, when the officer left, both radiomen walked through a door and Tanner followed the officer. The officer didn't look back and didn't see QM2 Tanner slip back into the comm centre and pull the door shut behind him.

      He went through the outer room and back into the operations room. through the heavy door into another room. Interesting equipment was in there. Along the wall to his right was a roll of teletype printers. In the middle of the room were racks of tape punch devices. Just in front of the wall to his far left were racks of teletype transmitter-distributors or tape reader devices.

      John knew the cryptographic equipment was through one of the doors on the far wall. Offices were to the right of the door to the cryptographic room probably lead to offices.

      One of the two radiomen noticed Tanner was there and said "what are you doing here?"

      "I am Quartermaster second class Bill Tanner and I'm here for a last minute traffic run. Who are you?"

      The first class said "I'm Matt Gerard and this is Radioman third class John Finch."

      "Doesn't it seem strange that everyone seems to have left the building. How come you two didn't?"

      "We don't work here either. We're off a carrier just off the coast. Our Chief arranged from us to be brought here on a small boat. When we got here, we were asked 'why are you still here'?"

      Bill Tanner walked over to look into the cryptographic room and noticed the equipment all seemed to have lights on. This suggested the gear was operating.

      There was a slight noise and Tanner glanced towards the entrance and saw a man in what appeared to be an Army uniform.

      One of the Radiomen said "this just isn't right. There should be some security here."

      The other Radioman replied "I heard that everyone was ordered to leave this building. I guess the men in here simply left."

      QM1 Tanner spoke up and repeated himself.

      "I was in the outer office waiting for messages when an officer came in and ordered everyone out. He chased me out and said the office was secure and therefore they didn't need to have a watch on duty. This officer said the ships were going to leave that afternoon."

      "Talk to me, gentlemen. I'm an Army M P, a cop and not a communications specialist."

      "I am Quartermaster second class Bill Tanner. These are Radioman first class Matt Gerard and Radioman third class John Finch. So, you're a police officer?"

      "Yes, Army M P and that rates as 'Police Officer' here. Is there a security problem here?"

      The left side of John Markham's uniform bore his CIB (Combat Infantry Badge), Purple Heart with a star and a Silver Star and his American parachute wings. The right side of his uniform bore French parachute wings; they certainly got attention.

      "Is there a working phone here?"

      The two radiomen shrugged but the Quartermaster said "yes, there is."

      "Is there someone you can call to come secure this place?"

      "I suppose there would be someone at the Embassy." Tanner was speculating.

      The Radioman first class snapped his fingers and said "let me check the equipment room!"

      Two minutes later, the worthy first class radioman came back with a horrified look on his face.

      "They just bugged out! They just fucking bugged out! They left all the crypto running and…and…" The man was simply flabbergasted at this blatant violation of regulations.

      "Is there someone in higher authority who can take charge of this crime scene?"

      To an M P this was a crime scene; to the radiomen, this was an abandoned high security area; to the quartermaster, this was an office with unsecured classified material. It would be hard to say who was most disturbed.

      To change the subject, Quartermaster 2nd class Tanner walked over to a bin of paper tapes in one of the little rooms. "What are these messages doing here?"

      The radiomen looked at each other and one said "I don't know." The other said, "some of these are really old. They're Routine precedence and that means they may have never been relayed."

      "And that means," the MP asked?

      "It means that a field command sent these messages and they were stopped here. It means that someone wanted something and they were cut off. Think of it as a letter that was taken from the Post Office and tossed into the Dead Letter office."

      Bill Tanner walked over to the nearest of the tape transmission devices, unwound the paper tape, put it on the device and started sending it. He simply wanted to see what had been sent in 1968; anything that old probably couldn't cause harm.

      The Radioman first class was floored. "What are you doing?"

      "I just want to see what was on this tape."

      "So, you put it on that TD and sent it?"

      "Sure. It'll go to a printer."

      "Well, yes, it will go to a printer. A printer in San Diego! You just transmitted that message shit head!"

      The other radioman interjected, "This is your first time at one of these centers. The send circuits go to the bottom row of printers. Let's read it."

      The text was a desperate message sent in 1968 during the Tet Offensive. The real question was why it had been sent Routine and not Immediate precedence for the message asked for a shopping list of weapons. The list started with Stoner 63s and this brought a smile to Markham's face; he loved the Stoner 63s with long barrel , flash digester, silencer and the big box magazine. There were a number of other weapons as well.

      In another box was a collection of other messages and four long tapes on what looked like reel to reel tape holders. A bell rang.

      "Well, guys," the radioman 3rd class stated, "San Diego just noticed that old message we sent and they want to know if sending it was a joke?"

      "These tapes represent the needs and memories of folks in 'Nam over a period of years? Right? If there were legal proceedings, these tapes would be evidence. Evidence must be preserved. Therefore, we need to see that these tapes are transmitted. It is not up to us to decided how to respond to these tapes, it is sufficient that we ensure their proper delivery." Markham had laid down the law.

      "There won't be any legal cases?"

      "Want to bet, friend? We lost this fucking war. Losers go to court and those tapes may be needful."

      "OK," the Radioman first class said, "I'm going to respond to San Diego. QUOTE: An officer has directed that we clear all old message traffic prior to securing this facility."

      The reply, "I talked with my traffic chief and he just threw up his hands and said 'then tell them ZAG IT, FAGGOT'!"

      "ZAG it, faggot?"

      "ZAG is code for 'send this message' and ZAG IT means 'send it' and…"

      "I get it now. It rhymes and the phrase is meant as a joke."

      "You're offended?"

      "No, it is rather clever compared to what I've heard in the Army over years. 'Wigger' is about the height of Army crude humour."

      There were eight transmission units and the radiomen began sending the ancient tapes. They had 168 old messages to sent. At the end, was a rather long message and four reels of tape. The label on the reels said these were command histories. Two were of a Marine LRRP (Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol) unit and one was personal reports of a Marine sniper unit. A unit that had included one Gunny Carlos Hancock. The fourth was reports of a unit which had conducted special weather observations in Northern Laos during "Operation Linebacker I and II".

      The senior radioman asked the comm centre at San Diego for permission to transmit the four tapes and asked if they could be split into sections. San Diego agreed and the tapes were sent.

      The radioman third had been checking the other communications links and found an active ship to shore link. He asked for the leading chief radioman on that ship, a command ship. The Radioman chief was summoned and briefed on the material in the otherwise deserted building. The Chief put them "on hold" and then came back with "the Admiral has instructed me to salvage what I can and to destroy what I can't. He wants all of you to leave. Give me your names and units."

      That information was sent; the radiomen had found devices intended to mount the tapes so they could unreel smoothly. Now, normally, teletype messages were wrapped around one's hand in what was called a "butterfly". These unwound from the centre. The tapes on reels were simply too big so they had to be mounted on axles and the motors of the tape transmitter-distributors (T Ds) pulled the tapes through.

      John was musing as he looked at the tapes.

      "How come you two aren't having to resend these messages or respond to complaints from them [he meant the San Diego radiomen] about garbled text? How come you're not having to resend garbled portions so those folks can repair your messages?"

      "We've got the finest communications link in the world outside of SAC, the Washington DC area and possibly the Soviet Missile Control folks. Everything goes out via clean landline to a very clean dedicated cable to Japan. Then, it goes via Guam to San Diego. We're sending at 100 words a minute or 75 baud. The landlines operate at 600 baud or 8 times as fast. There are error detecting and correcting codes and computers to handle the error correction. The computers are state of the art and operate with a clock speed of four megahertz." This meant nothing to John Markham but he whistled in amazement anyway, as expected. The radiomen would have been shocked to know that future computers would operate a over a thousand megahertz and thousands of times as fast and via satellites as well…

      The last message sent to the San Diego Radiomen was "We're sorry you're having to cut tapes for all the stuff we sent and kind of wish we weren't sending the big ones but orders are orders."

      The reply back was "don't worry about it. They finally gave us computers and everything you're sending is being fed into them. Of course, we have to actually read what you're sending and process it."

      "Good bye, good luck. A Chief will be here shortly to shut down this place."

      "Good luck, boys and let us know how it turns out…"

      Their last message to the ship told the Radioman chief they were abandoning the comm center. They two radiomen went back to their ship; the quartermaster to his ship and the Cop went was met by several men and they disappeared. It would be years before Bill Tanner learned what happened to the cop.

      QM2 Tanner returned to his ship via a water taxi that was making the rounds of the ships. He immediately went to see his Chief.

      "There were no messages for us, Chief. In fact, there were no messages at all to be had. The message center only had a few old messages there. The building was deserted; it was really strange."

      "What do you mean? No messages? Deserted?"

      "When I got to the building, there were folks leaving and I literally did not see more than a person or two. When I got to the communications center, the door was open but no one answered the bell. So, I stuck my head in and said I was there for message pickup. There was an officer - a Lieutenant Commander - there and a couple of radiomen. The officer ordered us to leave, so I followed him out. He charged out of there and I went back in the comm centre; I was still trying to pick up any messages for our ship."

      "Go on."

      "The two radiomen had gone into the inner room. I could tell there was no traffic waiting for anyone; that room was bare. So, I went into the operations area and had a conversation with the two radiomen. Then, someone in Army uniform walked in. The only messages there were quite old. It was as if the comms people had taken the current stuff and left the really old. Anyway, I took the oldest message and ran it off onto a printer. (Tanner wasn't about to admit to accidentally transmitting that message!) The radiomen got into a discussion with the Army guy about whether or not the old messages should be sent. The Army guy went off into a discussion of evidence and said the old messages should be sent. He figured the Army could sort out what was needed and that old messages should have finally gotten to their destination. He talked about letters in the dead letter section."

      The Chief was shaking his head; Tanner had gone off into irrelevant matters. Sending messages, even old messages, wasn't his concern.

      "So, there were no letters or messages for us? That business of sending really old messages is interesting but were any meant for us?"

      "I don't think so, Chief."

      "Well, you tried and I appreciate that. You didn't get hurt or in trouble did you?"

      "No, Chief."

      "Good, good, I'm glad. Now, do you want some coffee? The Captain's Cook made some kind of coffee cake and the old man brought it in here. If you get yourself some, get me a slice as well."

      Tanner had not planned on getting any coffee cake but could take a hint. "Chief, you want any butter on your slice?"

      "Sure."

      The butter was in the refer (refrigerator) and the microwave oven melted it nicely on the slices for the Chief and Tanner.

      Two days later, Saigon "fell". The folks on Tanner's ship were suddenly very busy dealing with refugees, who had to be feed, clothed and simply cared for. One of the more pleasant duties was hatch guard. There were a number of small children and the parent simply had to let them out of the cramped berthing spaces; rooms that sailors thought cramped were nearly unbearable to the refugees. So, the kids would wander. The ladders, which lead from deck to deck, were simply holes in the deck with a lip around the opening and a feeble chain "handhold". At one end, a ladder dropped into the ship or the bottom of a ladder went up into the ship.

      It would have been very easy for small children to fall down a "ladder well". So, sailors and translaters had to guard the "ladder wells" and the best way to do this was to entertain them. Tanner got lucky and was "assigned" a group of very intelligent VietNamese children who were bilingual in VietNamese and English. At first, he tried telling nice stories to the kids and this failed; Tanner then told stories about monsters - no human monsters - and became popular among the 6 year old crowd. It was one of the most pleasant times Tanner was to spend on board a Navy ship.

      He made his audience promise to not tell the "grown ups" about his stories. This lead to much smothered laughter and rolling of eyes among the adults who had listened to the stories from behind cracked open doors. Some 16 years later, Tanner met one of the children. This boy had become a fine young man, who had just graduated from the Naval Academy and had looked up "that Sailor, Tanner" (who had become a very senior Warrant officer). The young Ensign still remembered Tanner's stories but they had mutated over the years into something different that what Tanner had said. The vampires had become VC, for example...

     Another of his audience later looked up the others in the audience and did a folk lore collection of Tanner's origional stories (as transcribed by the listening adults) and the forms his stories had turned into. It made for a fine PhD thesis.

       Eventually, Tanner had enough of the Navy and thought he'd be happier as a civilian. He got out and went to his Master Chief's home town: Rockford Illinois. The second day there, he realized it was a mistake and it took him two months to get back in. (The details are in "Visiting Ronald Regan's Boyhood Home, Volume 1".)

      Getting back in was great!

      Returnee's Boot Camp was a joke, he met a young lady and fell in love, he got assigned to a command on Guam and took the opportunity to ride a carrier over to Guam vice going on airliner. There, he met the right people and was on his way to becoming the Leading Petty Officer of a small boat.

      He was looking forward to it!

'Chapter four: Final Preparations…Part I

      LT Michael Anderson-Pierre was at his parent's home when the phone call came. He was told that a jazzed up YP would be available for him on Guam. But first, he would have to practice ship driving on the USS ENGLAND and if he was lucky, could transfer over to the USS AMERICA for some added ship driving work. He agreed.

      Sergeant John Markham was at work when he was informed he would be serving on a small Navy boat and that would both be his penance and his salvation. The Navy was awaiting for him. He asked and found out the boat would not be armed. When he was told his "new" boat could be going through pirate waters, he'd said "the ship needed weapons!" His superiors said they couldn't get them but John Markham said he'd take care of it and he did.

      John remembered the messages that had been sent just before the fall of Saigon. In particular, he remembered the weapons message. It took a couple of hours but he was able to get a copy of the messages from Navy channels.

      John requested permission to go to a very small command in West Virginia.

 

      The command was located in a small wooded area; there wee a number of wooden buildings, almost shacks. At one of them, John left his government Ford Pinto "firetrap" and met a Warrant Officer, who was waiting for him on the porch.

      "Sergeant Markham, I'm Warrant McBride. You said something about 'old weapons'?"

      "Yes, sir. I remember seeing a message that ordered certain weapons to be sent here. I also seem to recall it was a rather old message."

      The Warrant Officer laughed.

      "That is was, Sergeant, that it was! Come on in and have a sit down. We don't get many visitors out here."

      The two men entered the building.

      "Would you like some coffee? My wife made a big batch of some kind of cinnamon coffee cake. I imagine you've had a long trip and would like a break."

      Markham liked this Warrant's style and when he became one himself years later, he emulated Warrant Officer McBride's style and was fairly popular.

      "During the war, this unit was stationed at a fire base north of Saigon. That fire base was overrun by the NVA and it took some very bitter fighting to save their lives. So, they sent in a somewhat hysterical request for a large variety of weapons. Somehow the request was never delivered in 1968 and magically appeared in 1975. I later heard that it had been held up in transit."

      "Sir, I think I can answer that one. I was in Saigon just before the fall and went in to check out a Naval Communications Centre. The communications centre was completely abandoned yet the crypto gear was running. The only messages there were in two bins. One bin had what turned out to be the weapons request and the other bin something like 168 messages. One of the sailors thought he was printing off the tape but actually transmitted it. Then, they had to abandon the communica-tions center and apparently no one ever got around to canceling it."

      The Warrant laughed heartily.

      "I knew it was something fucked up but I never would have thought that!"

      The old Warrant paused and then continued.

      "Well, according to our records, a huge pile of boxes showed up in August 1975. My predecessor signed for them and then wondered what to do with them. He called his headquarters and they took a report and said 'they would get back to him'. He called back six weeks later and was told there was 'no record of his August phone call'. He repeated his statements about the weapons. This time a Colonel told him that the whole matter was an embarrassment for both the Army and the Navy and that no one wanted to hear about these weapons."

      The Warrant Officer sighed.

      "So, my predecessor said 'he would take care of the weapons'. He then remodeled the shack next door and asked the Engineer Sergeant Major to install a high grade  air conditioner. Then, there was the problem of getting power and some stuff… well, never mind."

      "Sir, by 'some stuff' do you mean that stuff 'grew legs and disappeared'? Maybe C4 used for blowing stumps or the like?"

      "Wouldn't know about that, Soldier."

      Markham knew that an exchange of confidences was now necessary.

      "Would like to know how I know about those messages? I was there when they were sent. I didn't authorize the sending but I did convince the radiomen to send the others. When the San Diego communications center asked if the weapons request was serious, I told the radiomen to have all the messages sent. So, by not terminating the messages at San Diego communications center when I could, I implicitly became responsible for the message being delivered. Sorry 'bout that!"

      The Warrant Officer laughed.

      "Well, nothing grew legs. "Top" got a work party together to install the air conditioner and to run a buried cable to a transformer substation a couple of hundred yards away. It was just one of many such cables and served the purpose of keeping those weapons cool and dry." Markham had no problem with this rationalization. "A thousand rounds of M16 ball were given to the boys for target practice and a pound of C4 went to the Sergeant Major. Now, I shouldn't be telling this to an MP, I suppose, except that I've got the paperwork to prove I issued it to an appropriate recipient and if 'Top' dropped a few charges in a nearby lake for fishing, where who is to know?"

      "Who is to know indeed? Well, I'm not doubting your word on any of this and I'm not here to cause you trouble. I've borrowed 'Army shit' -er- 'stuff' before and I'm not tossing stones."

      From the Sergeant's facial expression, Warrant McBride knew there must be quite a story involved. But, he believed in letting sleeping dog sleep and in the sanctity of letting other folks keep their secrets. If the truth be known, Warrant Officer McBride had a few secrets of his own including what had happened to one of the Stoners: a Stoner 63, long barrel, with silencer and flash digester and box ammo magazine. This weapon had not been listed on the paperwork; it was sort of an extra. Then, there was the 10,000 rounds of "Stoner" ammo the paperwork alluded to and not the 13,000 to 14,000 rounds his predecessor had actually received.

      The three Stoners, the replacement parts suitable for making three more Stoners and the ammo had never been unpacked from their shipping crates. It had taken the old Warrant a quiet week of exploring to open the crates and see what treasures he'd found…

      There was something to be said about being the only person at a caretaker position at a command that was all but disestablished. The Army had forgotten about the 45th Special MP Support Command but maybe they were hoping to reactivate the 45th…

      "What would you like?"

      "I'm going to a small boat in the Central Pacific."

      "What! An MP?"

      "Yup! I'm going to a small Navy boat on Guam. An officer came up with the concept of using an innocent looking boat to 'show the flag' and also do anti-submarine work. They're going around the islands near Guam to provide medical care, legal care - if they can find a lawyer - and maybe ever a Navy preacher. I'm going to be the 'American Law Man' and will be helping the locals. It sounds like fun."

      "Why the weapons? Aren't those islands either U.S. property?"

      "Sure are but there is that matter of running from typhoons. You see, if a typhoon comes near Guam, we're going to have to run south or maybe southwest towards the Philippines. If we go north of the P.I., we're going to be bothered by pirates. If we go south, we could be bothered by pirates as well. Anyway, when I got briefed, I was told this boat wouldn't be armed. So, I figured I'd solve that."

      The Warrant nodded.

      "How much stuff to you want to be rid of?"

      "Basically all of it." The old Warrant paused, "I do have to admit to taking one of the Stoners… There was one extra and I've taken a liking to it."

      "Hummm, that can be arranged, sir. May I use your phone?"

      Markham had a brief, soft conversation in what the Warrant thought was a mixture of French, Russian and something that sounded like a Romance Language.

      "Well, Mr. McBride, I've arranged for you to get as much ammo as you might like. Some folks will be here in an hour or so to inventory the stuff… Would you like a beer? I'm in the habit of carrying a few cans with me in case I get the urge."

      "What kind of beer is this? What languages were you speaking?"

      "These are a fine German beer and these are a rather decent French beer and this is the lowest common denominator: Piss wiser!"

      "Ah, Bud or 'Piss Wiser' as you called it! I had to drink beer when I had a bladder infucksion in 'Nam. It worked…"

      A group of very fit young men in greens without insignia appeared and inventoried the weapons and bundled them onto a truck and left. They also left behind several boxes.

      A very cheerful young man hobbled in. It was obvious that his right foot or perhaps right calf and foot were artificial. He was carrying a box of tools.

      "Petty Officer Markham tells me that you've got yourself a lovely Stoner 63, there sir?"

      "Well, yes." If the young man wanted to call a "Sergeant" a "Petty Officer" than no one was bothered.

      "A Stoner is like a fine Brit car, it has to be properly maintained. There's one Brit car that spends more time in the shop than on the street and only rich boys can afford them. You mind iff'n I check out 'Bertha' here, Sir?"

      "Help yourself. I've been properly cleaning it, young man."

      "Well now, Sir, I ken see how you might be thinking that and I ken see that you're obviously a man who knows how to field strip the hell out of just about any weapon. However, this here is a Stoner, the finest weapon invented by Eugene Stoner his self!"

      The young man had found the Warrant's Stoner; it was in a custom case open to "public" display.

      The young man picked up the Stoner with reverence then placed it on a large piece of plastic. This was on the floor. He began to examine the weapon and nodded in satisfaction.

      "Looks good, sir!"

      Next, with the understated confidence of a Master, he field stripped the Stoner with a variety of custom tools taken from his case.

      "Sergeant, would you mind introducing us?"

      "Warrant Officer Duncan McBride, may I introduce Lieutenant Junior Grade T.J. Lincoln. T.J., may I introduce Chief Warrant Four Duncan McBride?"

      "Pleased to meet you, sir."

      "Young man, you outrank me and I should be calling you sir."

      "Well, sir, we all know the senior NCOs and Warrants really run the Navy…and I suppose the Army too. Besides, you're probably 20 years older than me and it's just good manners."

      "J.T. was medically retired for the missing leg."

      "J.T. was also medically retired for the stress of seeing most of my squad die around me. Seems the Navy doesn't want or need one legged 'warriors' who keep seeing their boys dying. I keep seeing my boys die when I try to sleep at night." LTjg Lincoln spoke in a dry voice.

      "So do I", said the Warrant.

      "Me too," said the Staff Sergeant. "I did some sniping and I keep seeing my target's faces."

      "It's the shits, ain't it?" Whoever spoke has spoken for all three.

      "So, what does the Navy have you doing, T.J.?"

      "Taking care of weapons and teaching proper attitudes to the new boys. Seems I can still outrun most of the new boys and I can still hide in the woods better than they can find me. I'm in charge of the armory."

      Markham decided it was time to settle matters:

      "Here's a deal: T.J. takes care of the Stoner and arranges to get practice ammo; Duncan, you take T.J. with you when you get 'target practice'. Does this sound good to each of you?"

      "Duncan?"

      Duncan nodded at T.J. and said "sure, T.J."

      "So, anyone want another beer?"

      Later, John was introduced to Duncan's wife who said "it's good to see him with a new friend who shares his interests. I'd better find hearing protectors for the two of them."

      T.J.'s wife had been invited over: "It'll do my 'T' good to be away from 'His SEALs' and be with another 'gun freak'. I'll have to make more picnic lunches for them."

      "I guess I'll be cleaning more fish with blown air bladders and helping salvage -er- clean bullet riddled deers." The Warrant's wife found her husband's hunting habits to be rather amusing.

      The general atmosphere lead to the drinking of more than John's European Beers; it lead to the drinking of locally made 'shine'.

      John spent the night at the Warrant's house and left the next morning before the household was up. He left a rather nice "thank you" note and told the Warrant he had been speaking a mixture of French (his best foreign language), Russian and Italian (a language he still had trouble with). The old Warrant thought the young Sergeant was lying; he wasn't. John had been taught five foreign languages and the other two were Mandarin and Japanese.

Jumping Out The Hatch Without Parachute…

      John invited Jasmine to his place for dinner. Afterwards, when they were drinking some brandy, John cleared his throat.

      "Well, you know, we've been friends for a long time. I think we get along well, I think we can both hold good conversations. I'm in love with you and been since junior high. I love you and hope that telling you that isn't redundant…"

      "Well, I love you too silly and I've been in love with your since junior high. Why do you think you're the only boy I've ever dated?"

      "Only boy?"

      "Only boy. Well, the only man. I dated a couple of boy in High School but that didn't get physical. You know what I mean? Anyway, I don't like girls in that way so I think it safe to say you're the only person I've ever gotten serious about."

      "As I was saying, I love you. We get along well, we even seem to know where the parts go in bed…"

      "Neither of us have build beds so I'm not sure you can really say 'we even seem to know where the parts go in bed'…"

      "All right, do I really need to say it?"

      "Yes, dear, you really do need to say it! Whatever could you be wanting to say?"

      "Well, do you want to get married or what?"

      "Or what? Married to whom? My dog thinks she and I are married and…"

      "You! Me! Married! To each other, silly!"

      "Well, I thought you'd never ask me! Yes, of course I'll marry you!"

      They then did some hard core kissing and well on their way to fully undressed when she pinched the skin over his ribs. "Silly? You called me 'Silly'?"

      "I could never do that, dear, dearest!"

      "I didn't think so…"

      The next day, John sat in front of her parents and put down his drink.

      "Well, Jasmine and I have known each other for a long time. We're in love and I think I get along good with you two. So, I'd like to marry Jasmine."

      "Does she want to marry you?" Her mother wanted to know.

      "Yes," Jasmine said.

      "Are you a young man of good character? Can you promise us that you'll take good care of our little girl?"

      "Well, yes, sir!"

      "What are your intentions toward my daughter, sir?"

      "Dear, you were supposed to say that first."

      "Why?" her father asked her mother.

      "Only honourable, sir."

      "Well then, John, welcome to the family."

      Notifying his parents was smoother with his mother merely saying "we were wondering what took you two so long".

      They decided to get married in Honolulu, as the ship John was headed for was expected to be in Hono several months later.

      John asked for permission to marry and got the blessing of this superiors for the wedding. John would never knew how grateful his superiors were that John was marrying as they thought it would settle him down nicely. They were right.

      In Paris, a young woman named Madeline told a young boy called Birkoff that some agents could leave Section without being first killed. Some agenta could even marry and be transferred to other military duty. An agent could even retire…

 

'Chapter five - Final Preparations…Part II

The Senior Chief…

      HMCS LeRoy David Scott sat in the airport at Guam and waited for transportation to take him to the Naval Station Guam and from there to the Chief Petty Officer quarters. It had been a long flight from San Diego and he badly needed sleep. He also needed to see what kind of housing he could get for the family; after the tour on "the new boat" was over, he would be taking over as the LCPO (Leading Chief Petty Officer) of a SEAL detachment on Guam.

      He thought back on his past and how he'd gotten here…

      LeRoy David Scott was 15 years old when he graduated very early from High School. He simply was a lot brighter than his classmates; the words "he has an IQ around 180" really didn't mean a damn thing to him. He was good at sports, made his parents proud when his grand-daddy took him hunting in the bayous of southern Louisiana and he could hold his own in a fight.

      He wanted to be a medical doctor.

      He went to Tulane as a premed student. He lasted two years and decided that becoming an MD wasn't quite right for him. He switched to a Registered Nurse program and graduated the summer of 1959, at the age of 20 and had decided he wanted to be in the Navy. He had seen Richard Widmark in one of his movies and his future was set!

      He was going to be a Frogman!

      The recruiter fell in love with LeRoy David Scott when the young man came in the sign up. Recruiting had been slow and the lad would help. However, he had to tell the young man that at age 20, he was too young to be a Navy Nurse; Navy Nurses were commissioned officers and he'd have to wait a year. Also, the Nurse Corps was the bastion of Women and those Women would make his life a living hell.^[16]

      So, would Mr. Scott like to be a Medical Corpsman?

      Ah, young Mr. Scott would like to be a Medical Corpsman! The problem being that to become a Frogman meant he could not be a Corpsmen; Medical Corpsmen could not attend Frogman Basic Training. He could go to the mini-school for "Frog Medics" but would never truly be "one of the boys". LeRoy David Scott wanted very much to be "one of the boys"…

      So, the recruiter advised him to enlist with the request to be a Gunner's Mate since the Frogs loved getting Gunner's Mates. It sounded good to Lee Scott, his parents gave their blessing to the deal and "young" Scott was off to Boot Camp.

      Boot Camp almost put him to sleep.

      "Frogman Basic Training" ran him ragged. However, he helped his shipmates, they helped him (as he was surprised to learn that he could ever need help!) and he was on track to graduating when the Navy Medical folks learned they had a Nurse mascararading as a Gunner's Mate and at "Frog Boot Camp" at that!

      These Medical Corps men went to the Chief Instructor and demanded that "Corpsman" Scott be dismissed from "Frog Boot Camp" and sent to Corpsman "A" school where he belonged.

      The Head Instructor responded with "we don't have any medical corpsmen here. That's against Navy policy."

      "You have Corpsman LeRoy Scott."

      "No. We have Gunners Mate striker LeRoy Scott here."

      "I'm not going to argue," the irate MD, a Commander stated, "he is a Corpsman and we are taking him!"

      The Head Instructor, who was wearing a blue t-shirt so his Naval Captain's insignia wasn't present, stated: "LeRoy David Scott enlisted as a Gunners Mate so that he could attend my school. He is second in his class and I fully expect to have the pleasure of graduating him in just over two weeks."

      "That won't happen."

      "Why not? He didn't enlist to be a 'Medical Corpse man' and you can't force him to be one. Also, I'll be damned if I'll let you fuck Scott out of graduating this close to graduation!"

      "We can make him become a Corpsman!"

      "No, you can't make him become a 'Corpse Man'. He could easily flunk out of Medical Corpsman 'A' school." The Head Instructor smiled.

      "This is not the end of this."

      "Please send a letter to the Head Instructor, sir and he'll deal with it."

      The letter came the next week and the response was the matter was being dealt with. Perhaps the Medical gentlemen could come visit the following Friday. The Head Instructor would see to it that LeRoy David Scott was present.

      The following Friday, the angry M Ds arrived to find that a graduation ceremony was in process. They were shocked to find that the "obnoxious man wearing a t-shirt" was in fact a Navy Captain and Head Instructor and that the MDs could visit with Gunners Mate LeRoy David Scott as soon as Gunners Mate Scott graduated…

      Upon graduation, the Good Naval Captain informed all concerned that Gunners Mate Scott could now transfer to the Medical Corps if he so desired and could remain a Frogman.

      There was no way to argue.

      The Head Instructor informed the MDs that Scott would have to first attend and graduate from Army parachute school, Ranger School and Survivor School. Scott graduated all three classes and subsequently attended and graduated from Medical Corpsman "A" (or entry level training) school as class honorman.  He even taught some of the material...

      In 1968, Scott attended and graduated from the Green Beret advanced corpsman school.

      In 1974, Hospital Corpsman Scott, by now a SEAL, was stationed in London England on an exchange programme with the British SAS (who are all Royal Marines). The British commander thought highly of Scott's medical skills and arranged for "his Yank Marine" (as he thought of Scott) to attend the two year "surgeon" programme at Oxford. This British Marine even arranged for the funding, arranged for Scott and his family to live in Officer's Housing; Scott's wife and kids became even more British than the Brits…

      Scott graduated and was granted the title of "Mister". In the British Medical System, Medical Corpsman Chief Mister LeRoy David Scott was fully qualified to perform surgical operations. HMC Mr. Scott became well known at several London hospitals as "that American Surgeon". He was quite successful in Brittan but the Navy didn't know what to do with him.

      So, they returned him to the Teams (SEAL Teams), put him through a bit of additional training and made him a "Physician's Assistant".

      Now, in early 1979, having been promoted to Senior Chief Petty Officer, LeRoy David Scott was waiting for transportation…

The Cop's Story…continued…

      When Staff Sergeant Markham arrived on Guam, he called Billeting and was instructed to go to the Chief Petty Officer BEQ (Bachelor Enlisted Quarters) since Marine Staff Sergeants were given the same respect as Chief Petty Officers. Staff Sergeant Markham didn't see why he should be treated any differently than a Marine Staff Sergeant and simply reported to the "Chief's BEQ", where he stated he "was a Staff Sergeant". The junior sailors definitely didn't know the difference between Army and Marine working greens…

 

 

The CO's Story…continued…

      When LT Anderson-Pierre arrived on Guam, he was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by an officer from COMNAVMAR (Commander Naval Forces Marianas). This Lieutenant drove LT Anderson-Pierre to the Orede Point BOQ (Bachelor Officer Quarters). He was assigned a room with a bathroom and was told how much the rent and room service ( ie a maid) would cost. It was much more pleasant than being on board ship and Anderson-Pierre had a bit of trouble believing the Air Force thought this BOQ too decrepit for their officers^[17].

      The escort drove Anderson-Pierre back to the COMNAVMAR Headquarters, at the top of Nimitz Hill and spend a hour or so briefing the local Rear Admiral, Thomas Quinton Donaldson V. This flag officer blessed his choice of a crew, including even the Radioman he was assigned. Rename the fellow on the boat!

      Then, LT Anderson-Pierre made several phone calls, went to his room for a while and then went to collect his "senior officers" for a dinner.

      LT Anderson-Pierre walked into the receiving area of the Chief's Quarters and told the Petty Officer behind the desk: "I am LT Anderson-Pierre. I'm here to meet with two of my people."

      "Yes, sir, Chief Markham told me that you were coming. I'll notify the Chief and Senior Chief Scott."

      "Thank you," Anderson-Pierre replied gravely. He was looking forward to calling Staff Sergeant Markham "Chief"…

      These two worthies arrived, got into Anderson-Pierre's government car. Then, they went over to the Petty Officer quarters. He walked into the receiving room of the Senior Petty Officers barracks and went to the desk. He had to clear his throat twice before getting a response from the rather lazy person behind the desk.

      "I am Lieutenant Anderson-Pierre. I am here to get two of my Petty Officers, QM1 Tanner and LN1 Sillings."

      "I'll call them, sir." This sailor dialed a phone number and said "Petty Officer Tanner, there is a Lieutenant Pierre here for you."

      There was a pause.

      "Yes, a Lieutenant Pierre is here for you."

      There was yet another pause.

      "Well, yes, he did say he was Lieutenant Anderson Pierre but it would be rude for me to use his first name."

      LT Anderson-Pierre had to try very hard to avoid laughing and cracked up once Tanner, Sillings and he left the Petty Officer Barracks.

      When he told those in his car, they all cracked up. They found his story of SSGT Markham being called Chief Markham equally funny.

      "Well, gentlemen, it's getting late and it is a Wednesday afternoon. We can go look at the boat if you want but it won't be much to see. The boat is still in a packing crate, if you can believe that! Anyway, I was thinking we could go out to dinner and get acquainted. Are there any dissenters? Did I mention I'm paying out of my 'discretionary funds'."

      There were no dissents.

      "I was thinking of going to the Top of the Mar Officer's Club^[18]; they are having Mongolian Barbeque tonight."

      The Petty Officers were scared at the prospect and "Chiefs" slightly blasé. The dinner was pleasant and the five men left much better acquainted with each other.

      The next day, met the remainder of their crew and headed over to the Ship Repair Facility, where they were going to met their boat…

 

Chapter 7 - "In the Beginning…" part 1...

      At the Naval Ship Repair faculty, the cargo crane picked a huge box off a cargo ship and gently lowered it on the dock. Then, a group of work men began removing wood screws and the crane removed the top and sides of the crate as one unit.

      It was the nicest present any of them had gotten.

      There was a Naval boat inside, resting on custom made frames. The boat had the letters "YP 674" on the port bow. It was oddly attractive, both homely and nice.

      They went aboard with "yard dogs": several civilian workers and a couple of Navy Engineer officers. The engines had been overhauled, a high capacity air conditioner installed, large water tanks and larger diesel oil tanks installed. On the port side, just aft of the deck house helm room, was a radio station. There were two HF/MF radio receivers (the venerable R390 and the chunky new R1051), a "medium wattage" transmitter, modulators and demodulators for the teletype, a teletype printer and message send unit (TD). There was room for the crypto gear but neither of the two KW-7s were installed. (One KW-7 was for sending and it's twin for receiving.) Both of these pieces of cryptographic gear were highly classified and could not be installed on a boat sent by crate. There were also the bridge radios consisting of a Navy frequency transceiver, a standard ship-to-ship transceiver and a CB transceiver.

      The "Orestes" crypto gear as the KW-7s were formally known as were known and used by U.S., Canadian, British, Australian, Kiwi (New Zealander) and probably one or two other nations. The Americans did not know that Warrant Officer John Walker, Jr. had sold the secrets of the Orestes gear to the Soviets and routinely sold them the keying material.

      The Soviets liked Orestes enough they created their own version according to legend.^[19]

      The YP or Yard Patrol class craft could not "make" it's own water and had to depend on large water tanks. They had a nice water heater that ran off propane tanks an and a rally nice water cooler. There was a small kitchen , with electric stove, two sinks and a nice refer (refrigerator). They even had a small freezer. There was another and much larger refer and that was meant solely for the various medicines that HMCS Mr. Stone was going to dispense.

      The plotting table had a book case next to it with a fine collection of Navigation related books. The LT and the QM1 were delighted by this, to the puzzlement of their shipmates.

      They had an 8 track tape player but by late 1978, there were no 8 track tapes to be had.

      Back aft, one could go down a small ladder to find the "engine room". This had two diesels, two electric generators and a very fine selection of tools. There was a nice parts locker.

      If one went below the "main deck" from forward, there was the "berthing area" (or living quarters). One the port side, there were two double racks, on the starboard side was a single double rack and a large closet. Aft of this, on either side, was a single rack on each side. Each single rack had a curtain past it's entrance.

      Since this berthing design was meant for two officers and six "men", the enclosed single racks were for the officers. LT Anderson-Pierre would have one and RM3 Erica Hanson the other.

      There was one Navy head on the "main deck"; this was probably taken from a mobile home. There was no shower save a salt water shower and rinsing with precious tanked fresh water. Clothing would have to be washed in salt water, rinsed in salt water and maybe dipped in some more of the precious fresh water if crew members were getting tired of salt water itchy water.

      The main deck had a long table, eight or ten light chairs, book cases, equipment storage and did not seem at all homelike.

      Yet, oddly enough, the boat had a lived in and homely feel.

      LT Anderson-Pierre had been given the honour of picking a name for their boat. He picked "ELBERT C. LEE". When asked why this name, he said that the grandfather of a friend was named "ELBERT C. LEE". This gentleman had served in the U.S. Navy during the late part of World War I. This would be his greatest honoring…

      One of the senior civilians at the Repair Facility asked for the desired name. He said it would take till the next day to get the name painted on the ship's stern. It was done late that evening and was dried adequately by mid morning the next day.

      Shortly after lunch the next day, the boat was gently and carefully lowered into the water of the harbour.

      There was one important ritual to be completed.

      LT Anderson-Pierre had invited the Admiral, his chief of staff, senior officers and their wives. The yard workers had hung a steel plate over the bow; the steel plate was backed with padding. The Admiral's wife was handed a bottle of cheap Champaign and asked to smash it against the plate.

      She spoke "I name thee the Elbert Christian Lee" and slammed it against the plate. The bottle, in a plastic net bag, broke and splashed over the plate and boat. The bag restrained the shards and the Admiral's wife was wetted but unhurt.

      LT Anderson-Pierre had finally gotten his boat but didn't have a clue of what to do with her that day. Oh, he knew he'd have to refresh himself and the Senior Chief in boat handling and train QM1 Tanner, SSGT Markham and LN1 Sillings in ship handling but that seemed secondary.

      Somehow, the Admiral knew what was going through Anderson-Pierre's head when he said "pretty overwhelming, isn't it CAPTAIN Anderson-Pierre?"

      "Yes, sir, it is. I suppose everyone goes through this?"

      "Really only those of us who got their boat fresh from the yard!"

      The entire crew of the Good Ship "USS ELBERT C. LEE" was invited to a late lunch at the Admiral's section of the "Top of the Mar" officer's club. Everyone, even the somewhat worldly Senior Chief and Staff Sergeant were favorably impressed…

      Yet, as nice as the boat was, it still needed many consumables. Various Senior Chief or Master Chief cooks were asked what they would need for a boat this size. They were told of the storage space, the refer and freezer size, the storage size and even personal food quirks of the crew. These cooks, who were really highly skilled restaurant managers, were assured that officer and Senior Chief would eat the same food as their crew. In fact, they were told what foods the LT and Senior Chief liked to cook…

      They were appalled at the notion of an LT and Senior Chief cooking for their crew…

      LN1 Sillings and RM3 Hanson went off to the Supply Corp "store" where they obtained cooking utensils, ten sets of meal settings, cleaning gear and a number of other items including a couple of really nice chairs.

      The LT, Senior Chief, QM1 and LN1 went to a Naval Communications Facility on the Naval Station where they were instructed in the proper usage and storage of the crypto keying material. (The codes that the Orestes crypto gear needed.)

      The NSA (National Security Agency) technicians came out and installed the KW-7s and placed heavy locked cabinets around them. Then, alarms were set. When the "LEE" finally went operational, the cabinets would be removed. Only if there were at least three people on the "LEE" and near the crypto gear would they be allowed to have the crypto gear uncovered.

      The "LEE" was moved by tugs to an appropriate spot at the end of a pier. This would allow them to depart, practice maneuvers and return without too much fear of whacking the pier or worst, another Navy vessel. Still, when the "LEE" was going to be taken out, a couple of small yard tugs would be standing by if needed.

      LT and QM1 hoped the tugs would go unneeded but both feared they'd be needed.

      They were…

      There were two radio receivers - the venerable R390 and the must hated R1051. The R390 required it's operators to spin a knob to change frequencies; this lead to "R390 wrist". The Navy, in it's infinite compassion for the troops came up with a replacement for the R390: the R1051. (As expected, the Navy fucked up royally again.) Operators would not get "R390 wrist"; they would get far more significant carpel tunnel damage. The R1051 used knobs that had to be clicked. Six of them. If a frequency drifted too high, the operator could have to adjust six knobs. It was hated with a passion!

      Erica turned on the R390, plugged in an external speaker and began sweeping through the frequencies. The reception was even better than she had remembered. It was rather fun to listen to Soviet manual morse on frequencies they weren't allowed to operate on, stuffy public radio announcers from Australia or maybe the "Crown Colony" and crappy Japanese (and American) Rock.

      Erica loved using the R390.

      She turned to ^^^: "Well, I checked out the R390. That means you get to check the R1051!"

      "Hey, wait a minute there! That wasn't fair, you got to the 390 before I could. Tell you what, since you're going to be using the 1051 for communications purposes, why don't you test you. You gotta get used to it; might as well start now!"

      "Bull Shit! I do not need practice with fucking piece or shit! Wait, wait a second there. You're gong to be working on it and you might as well learn how a healthy 51 operates. Got to get you used to those 'oh so nice tuning knobs'!"

      She smirked, he frowned and both were surprised when the Senior Chief cleared his throat.

      "Mike, you check the R1051. Do it now. Erica, when you check the demodulating equipment, you will check with both the R390 and the R1051."

      "But Senior Chief, the 390 is now mine and the 1051 his. So, it only stands to reason that he check the 1051 out!"

      "It doesn't work that way, Petty Officer ----. You are the operator and I want you proficient at using both pieces of equipment. He is the backup operator and can benefit from watching you operate the gear."

      She was unhappy by this and he smirked. Bad mistake that, smirking in front of Senior Chief Scott when he was in a "Chief mode".

      "On the other hand, since you (to pointed to PO Wagner) are the alternative operator, I will expect you to be proficient at using all the gear."

      "Yes, Senior Chief", the RM3 and ET2 spoke nearly simultaneously in similar resigned voices.

      The ET looked for a good Navy freq (frequency) and laboriously clicked his way to it. Both HMCS and RM3 winched in sympathy.

      RM3 Hanson powered up the modems, found a strong Navy teletype signal and went to patch the receiver into the modem. There were no patch cords. She stared for a minute, somewhat confused. She needed to have everything in it's proper place and everything had to be done in the proper way. Something missing bothered her. On the other hand, Senior Chief Scott was far more used to chaos and things being out of place. He immediately started looking for the missing patch cords.

      "Where are the patch cords? They're not where they are supposed to be."

      At Hanson's rather plaintive tone of voice, Wagner swallowed the snide remark he'd been about to make and simply joined the Senior Chief in looking. They found some of the cables in an empty disk cupboard, some in a heap of cables on the deck and one draped over some antenna cables.

      With this minor disaster cleared up, Hanson was able to patch the teletype signal into the demodulator and the lights suggested everything was good. They wouldn't know until the teletype equipment was installed.

      Testing the transmitters was easy. They didn't have permission to test the main transmitter, which was meant for teletype, the secondary transmitter, which was meant for manual morse, the radar transmitter or the bridge radios. The bridge radios consisted of a Navy frequency transceiver, a standard ship-to-ship transceiver and a CB transceiver. They were supposed to be getting a special transmitter capable of "working" the standard AM radio bands. This would come in handy when trying to send medical advise to radios on the various islands they'd be visiting.

      In late morning, their legal man walked in and watched Erica "copying with a stick" or writing down the morse code she heard. He shook his head.

      "Have you got a Ham license?"

      "No, don't need one."

      "Why not? Don't you need to keep your code speed up?"

      "I can do that copying Navy channels."

      "I was under the impression that Navy machine morse broadcasts are going away and that you'll be doing a lot of manual operations. Manual operations are messy, with operators sending at different speeds and different…

      "I know all about manual morse, David. I can get plenty of practice."

      "I don't think so. You really need that Ham license and need to practice with a wide variety of operators. To do anything less would be dereliction of duty."

      "I don't agree…"

      "I think you do. Perhaps I can arrange a test for you?"

      "Well, OK, you do that and I'll take your precious test!"

      "Good! The test will be a 3 PM so study!"

      RM3 Hanson found her copy of the ARRL (American Radio Relay League) handbook and sat down for some concentrated study.

      ET2 Maxson glanced at LN1 Sillings and turned his head toward the door. They quietly left the deck house.

      "What was that crap about Erica needing to take that test?"

      "It wasn't crap, Jeff, it was my legal opinion. The fact that the senior officers say she can do all the ditty chasing you wants, with other Navy operator is irrelevant. That is simply their legal opinion; mine is that Erica needs the license."

      "Hummm, we'll see…"

      Erica read the ARRL manual through lunch, then read some Navy publications and was unpleasantly surprised when a Navy Lieutenant junior grade showed up at quarter to three.

      "So, Petty Officer Sillings, this is the candidate for testing?"

      "Yes, sir."

      "Well, well, introduce us."

      "Erica, this is LT(jg) Michael Milton. LT Milton, this is Radioman third class Erica Lynn Hanson. She is the first woman to serve on a boat this size and needs to be a Ham operator in order to keep her code speed up."

      "OK. Now, if you'll excuse us?"

      The LT(jg) opened his brief case and a booklet.

      "Do you have any legal paper?"

      He was handed a pad of legal paper and told RM3 Hanson "you have an hour to take this test. Don't let it bother you, I'm sure you'll ace it!"

      He then took a paperback from his brief case and began reading. After she finished the test, he put his book back, pulled out the test grading sheet and quickly graded her test.

      "Well, well, you aced that puppy! Well done Petty Officer Hanson. We just need that lawyer Sillings to sign this sheet as a witness. Now, I can't issue a Ham license but I'm one of the Hams who can serve as an FCC Inspector and do the test. This will go to Hono, an Inspector will rubber stamp the request and you'll be issued a ticket. Nicely done!"

      He then pulled out a speed key and a Heath kit code generator.

      "Let's start with five letter number groups, then text."

      She got a pen and legal paper. From some sheets, he sent five letter groups in manual morse for five minutes and they graded her results. She got the entire transmission. Then, the LT(jg) pulled the paperback from his brief case, opened it and began sending the first two pages of "The Puppet Masters" by Robert A. Heinlein. He had a sense of humour.

      Next, he had her send another set of five letter groups for five minutes; she was slightly shocked that he had easily copied them. The RM3 fished around in a clutter of books she had brought in and sent the text of "Frankenstein" for several minutes. He wondered who she thought the monster and monster maker were?

      This entire time, LN1 Sillings had been sporadically interfering with questions about the progress.

      The LT_jg said "let's take turns sending to each other. This'll be like casual operating. Sound good to you?"

      "Hi, wx mike (weather Mike) here. INT this shit about you needing a Ham license."

      "Hi, ear ache here. Legal boy said I need a Ham license to get enough operating practice."

      "You could talk with Navy Hams on squid freqs (Navy frequencies) including me and my Master Chief and a few of my sailors. You can even ditty chase with some great locals."

      "Wx Mike, are you saying I did not need to take that test. INT." (The INT was short for interrogative or question.)

      "Truth is ear ache that you really did not need it. But IMI but do not let that legal boy know this and do not IMI not get pissed at him. He did it for yur own good."

      "R R R Mikey, I will not hold it against them. He can not help it… he is a lawyer. They fucking lie. But please do not tell him that." After a brief pause. "He really does not lie. He is rather sweet and like a big brother. Sometimes, big brothers get too big for their pants and have to be gently slapped down. Sigh. A little sisters work is never done."

      "INT A little sisters work is never done."

      "I saw 'Flesh Gordon' last week and it had the line 'a monsters work is never done'. Just a joke."

      "I like it. I like it. I like it. Now, lets grin at law boy and see iff'n we can fuck up his day."

      Both grinned or perhaps smirked at Sillings. Senior Chief Scott, who had snuck in and was listening like good Senior Chiefs tend to do, shook his head. Such remarks and such a nasty thing grinning at Sillings. Actually, he rather liked it…

      The LT(jg) and RM3 arranged "to meet" on some Navy freqs (frequencies) and the LT(jg) said he would tell her his sked (schedule). The Senior Chief walked the LT(jg) to the pier.

      "Lieutenant, we would appreciate it if you would not tell anyone about a woman being on this boat."

      "Sure, Senior Chief, I've no problems with that. I don't talk about my morse hobby at work anyway. It seems me sailors think I'm trying to talk them into being hams and my Chief asks me 'not to proselytize at work'. Being a Ham is not a religion!" He sighed. "A bunch CB slop-er-ators, the whole lot of them!"

      "Well, 'weather Mike', sailors are natural 'Hams' anyway."

      "Weather Mike," Weather Mike asked?

      "I'm a Navy morse operator, Lieutenant. I'm not as quick at sending at Erica but I might be better at receiving than 'Ear Ache; I'm also a Ham…Amateur Extra."

      "So why didn't you administer the test, Senior Chief?"

      "Erica needs her own area of expertise and I don't intend to let her think I'm interfering."

      "Humm, just a question Senior Chief. You call yourself 'Lee Scott' and sometimes call yourself 'lead bottom'. What is that, 'lead bottom'?"

      "You do remember the War in 'Nam, young man?"

     "Well, yes, I do. My first ship was in harbour when Saigon fell; I was in a Reserve Aerographers Mate 2^nd class then and working for the National Weather Service. I wasn't there long enough to get the 'Nam ribbons but was there long enough to help haul those poor bastards onto our ship. I'll never forget how fucked over they looked…"

      LT(jg) Milton's eyes went out of focus and he clearly was somewhere else; Senior Chief Scott didn't need to ask where, he had been there enough times himself.

      "Well, 'weather Mike', I hope to see you again."

      "Thank you, Senior Chief. Why 'lead bottom'? I hope you weren't shot in the ass?"

      "No, sir, I wasn't. I just like to wear sit on a chicken plate when I could."

      They parted company.

      Earlier that day, right after lunch in fact, the Senior Chief had gone to the Navy Hospital and returned with a number of sterilized quart jars. He had taken the water line from a shore hand, ran water through it and then carefully removed the lids of three sterile jars and filled them. Then, he had shut the water off, taken the caps off the fresh water intakes (to the storage tanks), wiped the threads off and attached the water hose. It took an hour or so before Maxson, who was watching the water gages, told Scott the tanks were full. Scott then detached the water connection and put the lids on.

      He would fill three more sterile jars the next day. One would be with water from the port tank, the second with water from the starboard tank and the third the water with both tanks "on-line". The Navy Hospital would then check the water but Senior Chief Scott expected the tanks to be clean. They were.

      After lunch, the Boatswain Master Chief who commanded one of the sea going tugs showed up to supervise the work on the "LEE's" engines. There was no animosity towards him from the Lee's people; the old Master Chief had commanded a tug for ten years and had worked with his engineers on diesel engines for ten years. The Master Chief was pleased, the visiting engineer from the Repair Yard was pleased, even the LEE's CO, Engineman and part time engineer (SSTG Markham) were pleased.

      LT Anderson-Pierre cleared his throat.

      "Gentlemen, I'd appreciate your not talking about my having a female sailor on board."

      The Master Chief actually looked puzzled and said "I've had women sailors for years. They're some of the best I've worked with." To himself, he thought "and some of the worst".

      The yard dog, who had served in WW II and had gotten used to women working in his shipyards decades before was puzzled by the request.

      Shortly before three, the last tests were made on the engines, the last fluid levels checked and the engines were started.

      They fired up quickly, ran smoothly and quietly. With no load on the generators, the meters showed steady voltage and wattage. The engines were ran for an hour before they were shut down for the night.

      They would take the "ELBERT C. LEE" out for "sea" tests in the inner harbour the next morning. Shortly before they were to live, LT Anderson-Pierre was given permission to use his transmitters, even the radar. One of the forms from the Communications Station gave the ship's official call sign that they were to use with manual morse, semaphore and flashing light. It would be several days before their teletype "name" would be available and that would not be able to test the teletype until then anyway.

      He told the Radioman and Electronics Technician they could fire up transmitters.

      Erica turned on the R390 and tuned to the frequency she had been authorized to use for manual morse. She then put the output to the speakers instead of the headset, turned on the "ZBO" (Zero Beat Oscillator), the device for calibrating the receiver. She turned the knob and a high pitched whistle dropped in frequency, then went silent. As she continued turning the knob, the frequency went back up. This meant she had calibrated the receiver and was uncalibrating it. She reversed the direction of the knob turning and when they heard "nothing", she locked down the gears and the receiver was tuned, calibrated and ready to go^[20].

      The ET, who was in front of the transmitter control panel, set the frequency and power level and turned it on. He told Erica to standby. They were going to send on the same frequency they were listening to and that could have damaged the R390.

      Erica took the speed key and sent a series of Vs. This was the traditional "warm up" for a transmitter.

"V V V V V ."

     She took her R390 out of standby and paused for some ten seconds.

"V V V V V .".

     She paused again and listened to her R390.

"CQ CQ CQ DE KLEE KLEE KLEE K"

 

"CQ" meant "anyone listening. "K" meant "over".

"

KLEE KLEE KLEE DE GUM GUM GUM K"

 

"KLEE" was the LEE's callsign and "GUM" the Navy

Radio Facility Guam.

 

"GUM DE KLEE INT QSA K

 

"INT QSA" question follows, what is my signal strength

"KLEE DE GUM QSA5 IMI QSA5 INT QSA K"

 

"QSA5" meant "highest signal strength"

 

"GUM DE KLEE U R QSA5...TKS FOR RPT…THIS IS

OUR FIRST TRANSMISSION…RATHER NICE K"

"KLEE DE GUM R U STAYING IN PORT OR FIXING TO

GET UNDERWAY K"

"GUM DE KLEE THEY HAVE STARTED THE DIESELS

AND HAVE SHINGLED UP THE MAIN LINES AND SECURED THE

SPRING LINES. I DON'T RECALL SEEING ANY

SPRINGS AND WHAT DO SHINGLES HAVE TO DO

WITH A SHIP. SHOULD I SEE THE DOC K"

"KLEE DE GUM I THINK THEY MEANT SINGLE UP

AND NOT SHINGLE. SINGLE UP HAS TO DO WITH

REDUCING THE NUMBER OF LINES FROM BOAT TO

SHORE. SPRING IS THE NAME OF TWO OF THE

LINES. PERHAPS YOUR FIRST LT CAN HELP K"

"GUM DE KLEE WE HAVE A LT IN COMMAND BUT

NO 1 LT. WE HAVE A STAFF SERGEANT THOUGH. K"

"KLEE DE GUM CAN YOU TEST THE VOICE

CIRCUITS K"

"GUM DE KLEE NO NEED…THE LT OR QM1 ARE

BLATHERING ON VOICE K"

      LT Anderson-Pierre was less than thrillede by Erica's

remarks when he read the transcript.

"KLEE DE GUM ROGER TO THAT…WHEN WILL YOU B

TESTING YOUR TELETYPE K"

"GUM DE KLEE STILL HAVE TO GET PERMISSION K"

"KLEE DE GUM LET ME KNOW BEFORE YOU DO…

I HAVE DAYS THE REST OF THIS WEEK. MB HERE

K"

"GUM DE KLEE ROGER THAT…EH HERE K"

      On the flying bridge, LT Anderson-Pierre looked over the starboard (right) side at the line handling party that was working on the pier and the "visitors" who were on the side of this ship. The land handlers detached all the lines and they were hauled in by the shore party. Then, Anderson-Pierre spoke on the Navy radio:

 

"TUG 1, THIS IS LEE. WE'RE READY TO PULL OUT. OVER"

 

"LEE, THIS IS TUG 1, MASTER CHIEF HERE. GET UNDER WEIGH AT YOUR DISCRESSION, SIR. OVER"

 

"ROGER OVER"

      QM1 Tanner was at the helm.

      "Bill, ring ahead slow and left 5 degrees."

      "Sir, ahead slow. Left 5, sir"

      It took several minutes but LEE cleared the pier and entered the inner harbour.

      "Helm, ahead one third."

      "Sir, ahead one third."

      "Helm, center your rudder."

      "Sir, centering rudder."

       This was to end the turn.

      "Helm, do you see that tower in front of the bow."

      "Yes, sir, I do."

      "Good! Steer for it."

      "Yes, sir, steering for the tower."

      Anderson-Pierre wanted to check the boats performance and read the engine repeaters on the bridge. He also wanted to be able to concentrate on any critical remarks from the escorting tugs. He didn't need to be distracted by having to come up with helm commands. He trusted QM1 Tanner to do the job right…

      There were no comments from the tugs.

      The LEE went through the inner harbour and through the outer harbour. Before leaving the outer harbour, Anderson-Pierre decided to do something fun. He would do a "racetrack turn".

      "Escort, LEE here over."

      "LEE, Master Chief here over."

      "Master Chief, I'm going to do a "racetrack turn". Over"

      "Sounds fun, sir. Over"

      "Helm left full rudder. Steady on zero eight zero degrees." Then he muttered. "Humm, I do believe that is the reciprocal course."

      "Yes, sir, it is."

      "Thank you Petty Officer Tanner."

      "I've got good hearing, sir."

      "Let's try some speed changes." Then he picked up the Navy voice radio.

 

"MASTER CHIEF, LT ANDERSON HERE. I'M GOING TO TRY SOME SPEED CHANGES, OVER"

 

"ROGER"

      Lt Anderson-Pierre then gave a series of engine speed changes. This meant that QM1 Tanner was going to have to operate the "engine order telegraph" as the device which sent engine speed orders to the engine room and steer at the same time. LT Anderson-Pierre operated the "engine order telegraph" himself.

      At the entrance to the inner harbour, Anderson-Pierre slowed the LEE to ahead dead slow and told the escorts they were going to cruise down the length of the Glass Breakwater in order to test the fathometer or depth gauge.

      This was an operation too delicate to trust to formal deck commands. Anderson-Pierre went to the bridge window and started shouting commands such as "turn left, Bill. More left. Back a little to the right. Looks good."

      He kept his mic open and every so often the Master Chief would interject commands.

      One series went:

      LT: "turn left, Bill."

      MC: "more left, Bill, MORE LEFT".

      MC: "you can turn a little right if you want."

      LT: "turn a little, Bill. Looks good."

      MC: "Bill, you and the LT got a good course there."

      The boat was moving away from the breakwater and Anderson-Pierre was about to have Tanner move a bit to the right when everything quit. Oh, technically, the diesels sputtered for several seconds but the lights dimmed out and quit; the radios went dead silent and the USS ELBERT C. LEE drifted ahead on momentum. This was not a good thing. Anderson-Pierre picked up the sound powered phone to the engine room and heard EN2 Nichols chanting: "bridge, engines here, talk to us." Nichols paused briefly before repeating his manta. "bridge, engines here, talk to us."

      In one of the breaks, Anderson-Pierre pushed the push-to-talk button and said "engines, what the fuck happened to my engines?"

      "Bridge, er, L T, the engines stopped…everything looked good until everything quit and we're looking for a flashlight so we can start checking."

      "I'll send a flashlight down…we're going to be busy here but we'll try to listen so let me know what happened to our engines."

      He handed the sound powered phone to his Radioman, who had come to the flying bridge. LT Anderson-Pierre glanced at his Electronics Technician and said "take the flashlight to the engine room and see if you can give them a hand. Bill, do you think we're drifting towards the breakwater?"

      "No, sir, I don't. We'll clear it."

      "I agree. See if you can semaphore the tugs."

      "Yes, sir."

      Then QM1 Tanner walked into view of the tugs and made the "attention" signal.

      A sailor on the Master Chief's tug, a woman as it turned out, returned his signal.

      Anderson-Pierre had Tanner send "we're d i w" (dead in the water). "request tow to repair facility".

      The Master Chief responded "R"

      The Master Chief's tug pulled ahead of the LEE and gently backed down. The Master Chief's deck hands threw a light line to the LEE and the visiting deck hands pulled the heavy line over and attached them to the a bow bollard. The Master Chief pulled the LEE ahead and his other tug come up on the LEE's starboard side and began pushing the LEE into a port (or left) turn. They got the LEE pointed in the direction of the repair facility. The Master Chief's signal woman was sending a long message. Tanner began to laugh, much to Anderson-Pierre's irritation.

      "Captain, do you see that sailboat?"

      Several hundred yards away was a Cal 22 gliding along under full sail (a main and a jib sail). Without thinking, Tanner briefly put his arm around Anderson-Pierre's shoulder and patted it. Then, Tanner walked off several feet and pointed at the sailboat again.

      "They have a twenty five horse power outboard, sir. Rather a bit big for a boat like that but it does the job. Their crew talked to the Master Chief on channel 14 of the commercial radio band. You see, sir, they offered to take us under tow and haul us to the Repair Yard."

      Tanner smiled and spread his arms.

      "Can you imagine it, sir? One of the finest of His Magnesty Jimmy the First's war ships being towed into harbour behind a sail boat under full sail! Glorious!"

      LT Anderson-Pierre grumbled under his breath and muttered to the Senior Chief:

    io "I'm fucking going to kill him. Killing a smart ass can't be a crime, can it?"

      The Senior Chief had been on the bridge quietly watching the proceedings. RM3 Hanson was horrified at her Skipper's anger. The Senior Chief had been amused by Tanner but had to be "nice"; he told LT Anderson-Pierre "I'll speak with him, Sir."

      The Master Chief's tug brought the good ship USS ELBERT C. LEE to the Repair Yard's first available pier and along side. The other tug passed a tow line across to the LEE's stern and very gently slowed her. Since the LEE had no brakes and couldn't use the engines to break, they needed the tug!

      The LEE finally got tied up and the Electronics Technician came up on the bridge.

      "Sir, the mechanics think it was a problem with the fuel system. They say the diesels were working fine and they both sputtered, died, at about the same time. They're checking the fuel from a couple of stop cocks" ("Stop cocks"? Erica thought) "and the fuel looks good. They say the fuel lines are basically empty…otherwise…sir."

      The Master Chief, on his tug, had used one of his radios to call the Repair Yard. Several pickup trucks came howling up to the LEE. Then, the big power line was passed over. Before it was plugged in, Anderson-Pierre had Hanson use the sound powered phone to tell the engine room "pop the circuit breakers".

      Then, Anderson-Pierre, Scott, the ET and the RM started going around the boat turning off the electronics. When this was done, Anderson-Pierre nodded to the yard dogs, who put the plug in.

      Then, the ET was sent to the engine room, where the circuit breakers were reset. In the harsh light of the bare lights, they tried turning the shaft of the fuel pump and it wouldn't move. There was fluid leaking from the pump casing.

      The yard personnel came aboard and agreed.

      Repairs were scheduled for the next day as the replacement pump had to be flown in from the states. A complete examination of the engines found a couple of minor problems, which were scheduled for repairs.

      The "we're under weigh and capable of cruising independently" celebration feast originally planned for that night was canceled…

      The repairs were actually made two days later and a series of tests showed the LEE was fully ready for "independent cruising".

      During the "day off", QM1 Tanner planned training in taking Surface Weather Observations. His students were Legalman first Sillings, Staff Sergeant Markham, Electronics Tech Second Maxson and Radioman third Hanson.

      "There are two critical tasks everyone will have to learn to perform: taking weather observations and interpreting bathythermograph or BT soundings. The weather observations tell folks what kind of weather we are experiencing. They are sent four times a day, at 00Z, 06Z, 12Z and 18Z. We can send supplementary obs at 03Z, 09Z, 15Z and 21Z. Then, there are the BT soundings which tell folks what is below us in the water column. Is everyone ready to learn?"

       His students nodded and Tanner began.

      "What are the various weather elements?"

      "Temperatures and winds?"

      "Yes, what else?"

      "Humidity and clouds and thunderstorms, etc."

      "Yes, what else?"

      "Why don't you just tell us?"

      "Well, OK, let's start with the clouds. There are three levels of clouds…"

      "What do you mean, three levels of clouds?"

      "Perhaps, Erica, I misspoke slightly. We say there are three levels of clouds: low, middle and high. Clouds are described partially based on the heights of the cloud bases. There are bands of cloud base heights and that criteria is used to help determine the cloud types…"

      Tanner lectured for a few more minutes before realized that he had lost his audience. So, he started pointing out various clouds and asking what kind of cloud they were? Then, he went over the names and descriptions of the various clouds and by this time, it was almost 10 am and his students wanted to hit the roach coach on the pier. His students were back about 10:30 am and Erica even brought him some kind of pastry with apple supposedly in it.

      "Thank you."

      "Well, it was as close to an apple as I could get!"

      The reminder of the lessons seemed to go well. He scheduled a practice observation for noon, with the intention of discussing the obs at lunch. However, given the roach coach hogging out his students had done and the fact the other crew members expected lunch around 1 PM because they wanted to get the fuel pump fixed now, Bill Tanner decided to grade the obs (observations) around a quarter past noon.

      He had high hopes. He had taught from the "National Weather Service, Observing Handbook No. 1". He gave each student a copy of the standard booklet used for coding surface weather observations.

      Then, he waited until everyone was done.

      The students had gotten the first parts right. However, the "past weather" section is what floored him. It had rained briefly during the 11 am to noon hour and he thought this might cause problems.

      His four students gave four different answers, all wrong.

      "I don't want to embarrass anyone so I'm going to simply mention the errors. The most important weather element in the past hour was that little rain shower. Each of you answered in a different manner."

      There was a pause.

      "This reply was '02' or 'state of the sky on the whole unchanged'. This doesn't mention the showers."

      "Well," said Petty Officer Maxson, "those were puny showers and the clouds seemed more important."

      "An interesting argument but the rain shower is important. The next answer is '60' or slight rain. 'Slight rain' comes from strata-form clouds not cumeo-form clouds. Stratiform clouds are the smooth bottomed clouds and the cumeo-form clouds are lumpy. OK? The next answer was '83' or "Showers of rain'. I know that the person who coded this read 'showers of rain'. Unfortunately, the rest of the description, which is 'and snow mixed, slight' is the killer. The full description is 'showers of rain and snow mixed, slight'. Too hot for 'snow' but a nice try. The next answer was '80' or 'slight rain shower'. This is the best answer of the lot but wrong because it is past weather. The proper category is 'Phenomena in Past Hour But Not At Time of Obs' and 25 'Showers of Rain'."

      "Any questions?"

      There were none.

      "Everyone please read the booklet again."

      Lunch was box lunches from the messhall.

      After lunch, his students did two more observations and Tanner was fairly satisfied. Then, the students left for their separate duties or obsessions as the case was and he attended to his obsession: studying one of the techniques for star sight reductions.

      At quitting time, the fuel pump had been pronounced "fit for service" and the "LEE" was scheduled to go out for a test run the next day. This test was completely uneventful.

      But, that was the future. After work, his girl friend picked him up at the pier and they went out for Chinese. Her two children were not invited.

      After the engine trials the next day, Tanner decided to teach the remaining students. LT Anderson-Pierre could have taught the material, HMCS Scott vaguely remember observations from about 14 years before and Engineman 2nd Nichols had never even heard of ship obs before. They had heard how 'Tanner tricked us' and were waiting for Tanner to say 'let's pretend that rain showers fell from those lumpy clouds'. Please encode your observations."

      The results were fine. However, he took Engineman 2nd Nichols aside to find out why Nichols had encode an ICE group.

      An ICE group in the tropics!

      "Bill, it was in the examples. I had to use it."

      "Well, you got me there. But, sometimes you have to leave out the stuff you can't use. There isn't a category for 'missing' so let's look at your answers. Your answer was zero slash zero slash slash. The zero is correct, the slash is correct, the zero is correct but the next two slashes were wrong."

      "Wrong?"

      "The first slash is "unable to report, because of darkness, lack of visibility or because only ice of land origin is visible'. If someone had dumped a soft drink in the harbour then that could be correct. But not here…"

      "The second slash is 'unable to report because of darkness, lack of visibility'. This is better but still not true. It is damn near noon here."

      Nichols nodded, not looking very happy.

      "Look, Bill, the rest of your observation was fine. You simply didn't need to include the ICE group. But, if we get sent to an area with ice, we'll have you do the coding. So, cheer up!"

      Later that afternoon, LT Anderson-Pierre addressed Tanner: "Bill, you did a great job of teaching us to take obs. However, we've got to be certified and I'm told that means a weather person. It can be a Senior Aerographer Mate or junior officer of the 1800 persuasion (he meant 1800 designator or officer job title). Can we get your girl friend to do the certifying?"

      "Maybe she can? What's the schedule for next week?"

      "We're going out on Tuesday to test the BT launcher and recording system. I want to be in place before 6 am and then take BT obs from 6 am to 6 PM. Perhaps she can join us then?"

      They were in the deck house and Tanner used the shore phone. "She says she's working a day shift and doesn't know if she can get the day off."

      "Tell her Senior Chief is going to barbeque steak. Real steak. Steak, tender steak the Japanese Diplomatic Section sold me at a very cheap price!" LT Anderson-Pierre spoke.

       "Talk to her Department Head, LCDR William Little, sir,  please."

      "Well, if you insist…

       Anderson-Pierre called LCDR Little.

      "Hey, Bill, this is Mike Anderson! Remember me from the boat school?"

      "Yeah, that was me, I made that batch of nitro in chem lab that the Marine track students detonated in the river. I thought I'd gotten away with that…"

      "You watched me do it?" There there was a pause. "You didn't turn me in?"

      "Oh, so you were the one who snuck in the Jack Daniels that night. You used my little explosion as a distraction?"

      "Well, Bill, if you let Petty Officer &&&&& come here and certify me and mine at taking shipboard observations, then you can come along for the ride. I'm providing the lunch. We're also going to be doing BT observations from 6 am to 6 PM and I remember you did a lot of BT and sonar work."

      "So, you can make it! Be here at 5:15 am and bring sunscreen. You might want to bring your choice of drinks and any snacks you fancy. But, you won't need to worry about lunch…"

      "Talk with you next week, my friend."

      Anderson-Pierre put down the phone and smiled at Tanner. The Senior Chief, who knew what was coming, also smiled at Tanner. This was not reassuring.

      "Bill, the Senior Chief did some ship driving this morning and did just fine. Now, we're going to have to get him used to coming along side piers and making unreps (under weigh replenishment). That should be no problem. You my friend, are going to do some ship driving tomorrow morning. Then, next week, you'll be taking turns with Senior Chief Scott at coming alongside piers. Later this month, Sillings and Markham are going to start learning ship driving. So, enjoy…"

      "Have fun, young man, have fun! But don't wreck the fucking boat!" Senior Chief's bearing didn't make Tanner feel any better…

      "Now, what have you got planned for the rest of the afternoon?"

      "Sir, I was thinking of teaching BT observations. After all, if we going to be doing practice obs next week, we need to get in practice first."

      "Good point. Call the Oceanographic Services Officer at the Weather Center and get some practice slides."

      "I did that when I talked with their Port Visitation Officer, sir. He got me xerox copies of a number of soundings and their instruction sheets."

      Tanner didn't think it necessary to mention that this LT(jg) and an Aerographers Mate Chief had spent over an hour teaching him how to interpret the soundings. He thought he knew but the difference in "book learning" and "real applications" was subtle but there. It was harder to interpret the little wiggles on the BT slides than he'd thought.

      With the boat on shore power and the engines shut down, Anderson-Pierre called the entire crew together. They sat around the "big table" in the deck house; those who wanted some had gotten Navy coffee from an urn. Unsurprisingly, Radiowoman Erica Hanson not only took a cup, she took a very large cup of coffee.

      "Petty Officer Tanner is going to teach us how to read bathythermograph slides. All of us will need to know this if we're going to make good use of them. The BT network is actually quite sparse. There are fairly set shipping lanes where the data density is reasonable and places where there is little if any data. We're going through waters where the last BT sounding might have been in World War II and some places where soundings have never been taken!"

      "So," Erica wanted to know, "isn't this an officer job?"

      "No, it isn't. Normally, this is a job for Aerographers Mates, Quartermasters, smart Boatswains Mates and anyone else the CO can get trained. That includes Radiomen and E Ts and even Enginemen, when necessary." Anderson-Pierre was pulling this out of his ass but the Senior Chief didn't object and Tanner looked faintly amused. Senior Chief Scott believed in cross training and Tanner was relieved that he wasn't going to have to interpret BT soundings every three hours whilst under weigh…

      "Does this mean everyone?" Nichols wanted to know.

      "Yes, it does," the Senior Chief interjected. "You and Sergeant Markham can spend time together with your engines but we all know these diesels don't need to be babysat constantly. Besides, they stink!"

      Markham disagreed with his friend Lee Scott on that one. When things were really shitty in junior high, he'd look forward to going home on one of the diesel powered school buses. He had learned to associate the smell of the diesel exhaust with freedom from fear; his fiancé Jasmine felt the same way. When he was in the engine room, there was always a bit of diesel stench leaking out of even their well constructed engines. It was the smell of freedom to him, freedom from fear to him…

      "It's not that bad, actually."

      "Right! Just the thing I'd expect to hear from an infantry man."

      "Now, David, you know I'm a cop and not PBI - 'Poor Bloody Infantry' - so I'm a lot smarter than the usual Army cannon fodder."

      "Yes, of course you are," Sillings agreed in a tone of voice that clearly indicated he didn't agree.

      "Merde tet!"

      Markham smiled when he called Sillings the French for "shit head". Anderson-Pierre, who had learned French from his father hid a smile and Senior Chief Scott, who had served with French Foreign Legionnaires (or members of "la Legion E'trangere") had heard SEALs called that by gruff old farts who had once been German or Greek or South African or Iranian soldiers.

      "What?"

      "Just a friendly comment," the CO said. "Think of it as 'buddy'".

      Tanner, who had heard Anderson-Pierre mutter "merde" more than once during the ship handling practice decided it was time to change the subject.

      "We're going to use the Sippican Expendable bathyspheremograph (XBT) system. We're going to use the hand launcher and not a fixed launcher. Any guesses why?"

      "Expenses," the lawyer said.

      "So people can decide to launch from the bridge or on deck or whatever." Erica had come up with a practical answer.

      "Good answer, that last one. A fixed launch spot means the person launching might have to go on deck into heavy rain and spray or might be on the low side of the boat if we were taking a constant heel. That would be bad…"

      It would be very bad if the ship were heeling over to one side due to waves and the person launching was too close to the water. Even safety harnesses could only keep someone attached to the boat; they couldn't really protect them.

      "Before we get started with the coding, we have to get through the adminis-trative parts of the message. Those parts consist of…"

      There was a series of instructions on how to encode the ship's location, time of observation, etc. The actual data encoding was almost trivial compared to this!

      After the training session had ended, Erica called the Navy Weather office and politely asked to speak with Lieutenant Milton.

      "Mr. Milton, Erica Hanson here. Have you gotten the results of my test back?"

      "Not yet. However, the FCC field inspector issued you a temporary license. Do you have a pencil to copy it?"

      "Yes, sir."

      "OK, your temporary license if November alfa victor one three niner. That is N A V 1 3 9. Did you get that?

      "Yes."

      "Good. That will work for you on Ham freqs until your real ticket comes in. I told the Honolulu FCC field inspector that you passed the code test for Amateur Extra and he says there's just a couple of test blocks you need to take before you can get the big ticket. So, when do you want to take it?"

      "Er, sir, it'll be a little while yet. I've got the second class exam to study for first."

      He laughed. "Don't worry about it. You need a year or so of operating experience before they feel comfortable about letting you take the test anyway."

      She could have felt angry at being held off for "a year or so" but actually felt relief; it was one less source of pressure on her…

      "Ah, thank you, Lieutenant. Actually, I really need to speak with your alter ego, 'weather Mike', please."

      "What for?"

      "We're going out tomorrow and our know-it-all Quartermaster is going to learn how to drive the boat. It should be interesting to see."

      "I agree! Perhaps we can meet on a ham freq and you can describe the whole farce, er, magnificent event."

      Erica cracked up.

      "I will! Where will you be?"

      "There is a Ham station at the Nimitz Hill headquarters. I'll be there tomorrow morning. What time are you figuring to leave?"

      "It won't be until maybe 9 am. Everybody has to have breakfast at the mess hall, get here, the tugs have to be available and trundle over and the L T and the Senior Chief will both have to give Bill instructions. It could be interesting…"

      "Indeed, it could. You can call me at 475-0546."

Back Seat Driving Is Easy Compared To Driving or the Sailor Gets to Be Deck Officer for a Day…

      It went ever slower than Hanson had projected.

      At 9 am, Hanson and Milton tuned to the CW frequency he had given her. Hanson had the L T's permission to practice morse.

"NAV139 NAV139 NAV139 DE K6MM K6MM K6MM K"

      One of the advantages of being an "Amateur Advanced" was being able to pick one's own callsign.

 

"K6MM DE NAV139 THE L T IS STILL GIVING QM HIS INSTRUCTIONS ON WHAT TO DO. OH…IT LOOKS LIKE THEY'RE READY. K"

 

      "Bill, you're ready to take us out. I'll take the helm; Senior Chief, you oversee."

      Anderson-Pierre crouched over the ship's steering wheel and got a death grip on the wheel spokes. He looked very earnest. Both the Senior Chief and QM1 were amused and appalled.

      "Helm," the Senior Chief spoke, "you look like a monkey fucking a football!^[21]"

      "And when did you see that?"

 

"MIKEY DE EAR ACHE…THE L T JUST CROUCHED OVER THE STEERING WHEEL AND THE S C SAID QUOTE YOU LOOK LIKE A MONKEY FORKING A FOOTBALL UNQUOTE K"

 

"EAR ACHE DE MIKEY…INT FORKING K"

 

"WELL…I CAN SAY THE REAL WORD…THE WORD THAT RHYMES WITH DUCK…K"

 

"NO…YOU CAN NOT. NOT LEGALLY AND IFFN YOU DO YOU DON'T WANT TO BE CAUGHT K"

 

      "Helm and lee helm", Anderson-Pierre murmured.

 

"THE FOOTBALL FORKER…THE L T…JUST REMINDED THE OOD UI (Officer of the Deck Under Instruction) THAT HE'LL NEED A LEE HELM K"

"GOOD IDEA"

      "Working both the helm and engine order telegraph would be a hard job for even the best helm monkey, you know."

      Tanner proved he had gotten the idea.

      "Hey, Dave, drag yur butt in here. I need a lee helm. Oh, please."

      Sillings walked onto the flying bridge; he had expected this call several minutes ago.

      "Sir," he said to the 'helm', "I have the lee helm."

      "Good!"

      "Helm," Senior Chief Scott stated, "why don't you get a cup of good Navy coffee?"

      "I think I will."

      Anderson-Pierre got himself a mug of the vile black coffee the mess hall had sent up; this was the first cup sampled. He stood comfortably at the helm, holding the spokes easily in his right hand while sipping coffee from the cup in his left hand.

      "You've stood helm before, sir?"

      "After I made OOD on my first ship, I used to stand helm while my trainees stood OOD under instruction. I had my helm's men work on other matters. I've got a lot of hours on helm, including a couple in a hurricane."

 

"LAWYER BOY JUST TOOK LEE HELM. BILL THE BOAT DRIVER IS LOOKING A TAD BIT LOST. GUESS DRIVING IS DIFFERENT FROM SEEING A BOAT BEING DRIVEN KKK"

 

"THAT IT IS KKK"

      Tanner was looking a bit lost and Anderson-Pierre dropped a hint soto voce.

      "Have the brow removed, then have the bow line cast over and then the spring lines."

      "Yes, sir." And from the starboard window to the waiting line handlers. "Take the brow across."

 

"HELM MONKEY HAS JUST TOLD THE OOD UI WHAT TO DO. RATHER A REVERSE OF NORMAL. K"

 

"YES. HOWEVER, THE FIRST TIME ONE DRIVES THE BOAT IS ALWAYS STRESSFUL. BE NICE TO YOUR BILL TANNER. K"

"I WILL…WHEN I TALK TO HIM LATER. I WANT HIM TO SUCCEED. K"

 

"SO DO I…K"

 

      The brow finally having been taken across, Tanner leaned out the window again.

      "Cast off the bow line." This was done.

      "Cast off the stern spring line." This was done.

      "Cast off the bow string line." This was done.

      "Deck officer, what is the engine status?" Senior Chief Scott could be very formal.

      "Oh shit. They're turned off."

      "Tell the lee helm to call the engine room and have them light off the diesels. They're waiting for the order."

      "Dave, er, lee helm please call the engine room."

      "Yes, sir, Bill."

      Sillings put the sound powered phone on and spoke "fire them up, boys!"

      Seconds later, the cough of the diesels starting reverberated through the ship but it would be a couple of minutes before they were warm enough for getting under weigh.

 

"MIKE…THEY FORGOT TO START THE ENGINES. SO, WEVE GOT THE LINES OFF AND ARE BEING HELD BY THE STERN LINE. SENIOR CHIEF ASKED THE OOD UI ABOUT THE ENGINE STATUS AND BILL THE BOAT DRIVER GOT THE IDEA TO START THE ENGINES. K"

      LT(jg) Milton was philosophical about such matters; he had once been the OOD UI and remember it quite well. Of course, he was now a seasoned OOD underweigh and above such things.

 

"FECES HAPPENS TO F N G^[22]S. THIS IS A MISTAKE HE'LL NOT MAKE AGAIN… K"

"INT FECES HAPPENS K"

"USING THE USUAL WORD COULD CONSTITUTE QUOTE VULGAR LANGUAGE UNQUOTE AND THE F C C WOULD SLAP ME UPSIDE THE HEAD K"

 

      "OOD," the Lee Helm reported, "the engineers report the diesels are ready to go."

      "Thank you." Then to the window and Tanner spoke again:

      "Hey, guys, toss over the stern line." This was done.

      "Lee helm, ahead slow." This order was rung up on the Engine Order Telegraph.

      "Helm, left five degrees rudder." Without comment, this order was obeyed.

      "Hey, line handlers, you can knock off for now. Get some coffee, take it easy!"

      The lead boatswain mate nodded and he lead his work party to the aft end of the "LEE" where they stretched out on the deck to take naps. Screw the coffee; they had their priorities straight…

      Tanner began pacing around the bridge house anxiously checking to see how close the "LEE" was to either end of the inlet to the inner harbour.

      "Think of it as driving a car, Bill. Just steer for the center of the road and don't worry so damn much about hitting the curb." The Senior Chief was comforting.

      "Well," the L T helmsman muttered, "it ain't your car."

      "What was that, helm?"

      "Ah, nothing Senior Chief."

      "I didn't think so, helm."

 

"WELL…BILL GOT US GOING AND S C GAVE HIM SOME ADVISE THEN BITCHED OUT THE L T…SEEMS THE L T HELMSMAN WAS TALKING OUT OF TURN…FANCY THAT K"

 

"THAT TOO HAPPENS. ITS ONE THING TO TELL SOMEONE ELSE THEY CAN DRIVE YOUR BOAT…ITS ANOTHER THING TO WATCH IT HAPPEN. I HOPE YOUR MIKE ANDERSON DOESN'T GET ULCERS. K"

 

      Tanner made the left turn into the inner harbour with grace and economy. He seemed to be getting over his nervousness. Then, there came a series of runs up and down the length of the inner harbour, with the ET and the Cop acting as lookouts and taking bearing on various objects in the inner harbour. At one point, the Senior Chief commanded:

      "Jeff, fire up the radar and let's see what's out there."

      This was done and the bridge folks got a good view of the inner harbour on the radar. It was second nature to the L T and Senior Chief but Tanner spent just a tad bit too much time staring at it. A throat clearing from Anderson-Pierre brought his attention back to the upcoming turn.

      "Helm, left standard rudder. Center on two six zero."

      "Sir, left standard rudder…coming up on zero eight zero."

      As they approached the entrance to the inner harbour, Anderson-Pierre looked at Senior Chief Scott and QM1 Tanner.

      "I think I've fucked the football long enough. Bill, relieve me. Senior Chief, it's your turn."

      "What's that, sir?" Senior Chief Scott was startled.

      "It's just what you think, Lee. You're getting to drive the boat."

      Senior Chief Scott was taken aback.

      "Now, now, Lee. You have the deck. I've just been shot by a raiding party of…whatever…whoever…or I've got food poisoning and need to fertilize the ocean."

      There was a brief pause.

      "Now, Senior Chief, if you please! We're fast approaching the inner harbour entrance."

      "Yes, sir. Lee helm, ahead slow. Helm, right standard rudder. Steady on course zero eight zero."

      "Sir, ahead slow," the lee helm replied.

      "Sir, right standard rudder…coming to zero eight zero." Tanner obviously was more comfortable at the helm.

      "You, sir," the Senior Chief asked in a rather astringent voice, "where are you going?"

      "Chief, I wasn't shitting you about food poisoning. I've got the Her She squirts a-coming up. Is there any good reading material in the head?"

      It was some time before the L T left the head and he didn't look too well.

 

"MIKE…THE L T HAD SENIOR SCOTT RELIEVE BILL AND BILL TOOK OVER AS HELMSMAN. THEN…THE L T RAN FOR THE HEAD. HE DOESN'T LOOK GOOD K"

 

"THAT'S TOO BAD."

"HOLD ONE PLEASE K"

      Erica Hanson loved her coffee and got herself a mug. It was nasty thick and all Navy. It went down hard.

      Senior Chief Scott drove his ship up to the end of the inner harbor and then turned her and stopped in the middle of the inner harbour. He then did a series of turns, some forward, some with the ship going backwards.

      The L T came back.

      "What's up, Chief?"

      "Just practicing my driving, sir, just practicing. Do you remember a little thing called 'twisting the ship'?"

      "Yes, enjoy."

      "Lee helm, all stop."

      "All stop. Engines answering all stop".

      Senior Chief Scott put on the sound powered phone.

      "Bill, we're going to practice twisting the ship."

      "Lee helm, left back one third, right ahead one third. Helm, left standard rudder."

      "Left back one third, right ahead one third." Dave Sillings, the Lee Helm rang in the engine order telegraph orders.

      "Left standard rudder."

      Then the LEE twisted into a left hand turn. At the proper time, Senior Chief said: "Lee helm, left stop. Left ahead one third."

      "Left stop. Left ahead one third. Engines reading left stop and left ahead one third."

      "Helm, do you see that pole ahead of the boat?"

      "Yes, Senior Chief." There was only one pole for Tanner to see.

      "Steer for it."

      The series of maneuvers went on for another hour or so and Anderson-Pierre began to look better. Then, he quietly left the bridge to feed the fish.

 

"MIKEY…THE L T JUST BARFED OVER THE SIDE. IM BEGINNING TO GET WORRIED ABOUT HIM. I HATE TO SEE HIM SICK. K"

 

     Senior Chief heard that and appreciated the sentiment.

      Then Erica abruptly send "I'VE GOT TO GO. BYE"

      Senior Chief Scott looked at his C O and said, "can you take the conn, sir?"

      "Yes."

      "Erica just ran for the head. I'll be right back."

      With the experience gained from many patients including his three daughters, LeRoy Scott could easily tell, from outside the head door, that Erica Hanson was vomiting and probably having diarrhea.

      He went back to the bridge.

      "Erica is sick. Has anyone else gotten sick?"

      No one answered.

      "Someone ask Bill Nichols."

      The cop did and reported "Bill says he's fine."

      "What did they have that no one else had?"

      "What did you have for breakfast? Sir?"

      "I had soft boiled eggs, and buttered hard rolls dunked in hot dark chocolate." Senior Chief Mr. LeRoy Scott, the ship's doctor, decided he'd talk to his patient Michael Anderson-Pierre about cholesterol later.

      "I had breakfast with Erica," Tanner spoke, "and she had SOS over fried potatoes, scrambled eggs and nearly burnt bacon. She got a side order of grits, which she mixed with the eggs. She sure liked catsup on food though. I had scrambled eggs and very crisp bacon. I mixed the bacon with thick oatmeal but I didn't put any milk on it. My MD says oatmeal will keep me regular and skipping the milk will reduce my coal-lest-er-al."

      Senior Chief Scott decided he would test everyone's cholesterol.

      "There was nothing in common, then."

      "Could it have been something they ate or drank here?" the Cop asked.

      "Good question," the medical detective said. "Has there been anything to eat or drink today?"

      "Just that fucking coffee, that I won't touch."

      "Did anyone drink the coffee?" Senior Chief was very intense.

      A quick survey showed that no one had. While this was going on, Senior Chief wasn't driving the ship and the C O was distracted by vomiting. QM1 Tanner made a command decision and turned the boat before it ran aground and then rang "ahead slow" on the engine order telegraph. He was going to bring the "LEE" to a safe halt and let his boss' worry about driving afterwards.

      Senior Chief picked up the Navy ship to shore radio and said: "Harbour Control this is the USS LEE. We've had some food poisoning here and I'm wondering if there were any reports on base?"

      "Hold one," Harbour Control said and after a couple of minutes continued "sick bay says that a number of sailors have come in with vomiting and the trots. They're wondering what those sailor boys and girls had in common. Over"

      "Have them check the coffee. The coffee we got possibly got my C O and my radioman sick. Over."

      "Will do, 'LEE'. Harbour control out."

      RM3 Hanson was out of the head and sitting next to LT Anderson-Pierre and both were looking pale and unhealthy. Doc Scott started taking their vitals.

      "Bill," he called to Tanner, "take the deck and conn. I'm going to be busy here. Think you can take her in?"

      "Yes, sir, I can. Dave, take the helm. Can someone find the sound powered phone for me?" The ET handed it to QM1 Tanner. "This is Quartermaster first Bill Tanner, I have the deck and conn."

      This was the traditional form of announcing one had taken command of the bridge. Bill Tanner might have been "only" a QM1 but he was a bridge officer - an OOD - through and through…

      "Dave, steer for the entrance of the inner harbour."

      "Got it."

      Tanner took the ship to shore microphone and spoke: "Harbour control, LEE here. Over." Then to Scott: "Doc, do you want to declare a medical emergency and have an ambulance waiting?"

      "Yes, do it."

      There was a hash of static and "Lee, this is harbour control. Go ahead, over."

      "Harbour control, Petty Officer Tanner here. My CO and radioman are both sick and the Corpsman Senior Chief is treating them. Senior Chief wants an ambulance at the end of pier one. Over."

      "Lee, Harbour Master here. You'll get your ambulance. Will you be taking LEE in Mr. Tanner? Over."

      "Harbour control, Tanner here. Yes, Sir, I will. This is my first shot at docking so I'm going to hove two a couple of feet from the pier. I'll need a crew to warp me in. Over."

      "You'll get it." Then clearly to someone in his shop, "Jimmy, send the duty crew over to pier one. We've got a boat coming in hot. Send that hot shot second class." Then, back to Tanner and the LEE, "Well, you're going to be busy, son, so I'll shut up. Over."

      The radio had occasionally been spouting morse for several minutes.

      Senior Chief clearly heard "ear ache, talk to me" and "ear ache, respond" and "Erica, talk to me".

      Senior Chief Scott took the speed key and sent "wx mike, doc here, both Erica and the L T look to have bad food poisoning. It may have come from the coffee. I'm going to have to go now."

      "doc de wx mike, call me at work when you get news. K"

      "Wilco Mr. Milton. LEE out."

      Back on the bridge, asked Jeff Maxson to "please go get those boatswain mates".

      The boatswain mates came up to the bridge and Tanner didn't mince words.

      "Boys, we've got problems here. My CO and radio operator are sick and the Doc is treating both of them. I'm going to dock at pier 1 on my port side. I'm planning on coming to a halt a couple of feet from the dock and will need you and the dock party to warp us in. Any questions?"

      "No, none. We'll bring the fenders round to port and get them installed. I'll put one of my guys on port bow lookout and one on stern. Sound good to you?"

      "Sounds great."

      The boatswains mates, under the command of an outstanding young 3rd class, left to deal with their chores.

      Tanner hit the send button on the sound powered phone to speak with Engineman 2nd class Bill Nichols in his engine room.

      "Bill, we've got a problem. The L T and Erica are sick. The Doc is treating them and has ordered me to take the LEE into port. I'll be giving you engine orders via phone not the telegraph."

      "No problem, Bill. Just drive safely."

      By this time, the LEE was through the inlet and coming up on the pier. Tanner hit the speak button and said "ahead dead slow".

      "Ahead dead slow, aye."

      "Dave, come a bit left."

     "Got it."

      From the bow came "turn right, turn right".

     Dave the helmsman said "turning right…straightening out."

      "Boats," Tanner bellowed, "how close are we to the pier?"

      "About 10 feet, mate."

      "Can you warp us in?"

      "No, too damn far."

      "Dave, come left a few feet…come right."

      The bow man yelled: "Get the pointy end to the right, the fucking right!"

      "Turning bow to the fucking right," Dave stated.

      "Boats, are we parallel to the pier?"

      "Yes, sir, we are!"

      Then, via sound powered phone: "Bill, all back full."

      "All back full."

      "We're damn near stopped," the boatswain 3rd shouted.

      "Bill, all stop!"

      "Bridge, engines read 'all stop' and I've popped the clutches."

      The base deck line handlers had roared up in a couple of Navy mini-vans and a crew of ten or twelve sailors boiled out of them. The quickly ran over to the pier and waited orders from the second class. This worthy spoke to the BM3 on the LEE:

      "Boats, toss the stern line over at your discretion!"

      "Yes, sir." There was a pause, then: "Boys, heave that stern line. You, on the shore stub me line around that bollard (he pointed at one on the pier) and arrest us (he meant arrest or stop the ship's movement)."

      This was done and the LEE was being taken in towards the pier. The line crew had put the fenders out and these would protect the LEE from contact with the pier.

      "Put the bow line over." This was done and the shore sailors stubbed in.

      "Put the stern spring line over."

      "Put the bow spring` line over."

      "Put the 'midships line over."

      All of this was done.

      The ambulance was waiting and the brow wasn't there.

      Tanner punched the send button on the ship to shore radio and stated: "Harbour control, LEE here. We're safely at pier. Ambulance is here. We need the brow. Over."

      "LEE, Harbour Master here. I've got a pickup bringing the brow to you. Over."

      "Harbour Master, Lee here. Thanks for your help, sir. Over."

      The Harbour Master, who was an old Master Chief, had long since stopped noticing when he was "sired". He glanced at his Operations Chief, who was on a radiophone to their pickup truck and said "well"?

      "They were held up in traffic, Master Chief but they're about two blocks away now."

      In brief moments, the brow was over and an MD accompanied by Medical Corpsman went aboard. The MD, who knew Senior Chief Scott very well, spoke:

      "Brief me, doctor."

      "My patients are LT Michael Henry Anderson-Pierre and Radioman third class Erica Lynn Hanson. Both have severe food poisoning, with copious vomiting and diarrhea. The only thing that have in common is the coffee they drank."

      "We've had a number of food poisoning cases today and were figuring it might be the coffee or some pastries. Chief," the medical officer said to his Chief, "please take samples from their coffee urn."

      "Yes, sir." The Corpsman Chief took some samples and then said: "I think we probably should take the urn with it. From looking at it, I'd never believe it had been properly sanitized."

      "Take the fucking thing," LT Anderson-Pierre muttered.

      "The L T says you may take it," Senior Chief Scott said.

      The shore MD quickly and briefly checked both his patients and said "we'll take them to the Navy Hospital, Dr. Scott."

      "Yes, sir and thank you."

      "Can you come with us?"

      "Yes, sir, I can. Bill, you still have the deck and conn. Secure the boat and I want everyone here to write up statements of this morning's activities. Write down the ship's movements first. I'll call back. I don't know about lunch though."

      "Don't worry, Senior Chief, we have emergency rations and we can always go to the McDonalds off base. We will avoid the mess halls."

      Tanner patted his L T on the shoulder and patted the RM3 on the cheek. It didn't occur to him that sexual preferences guided how he patted each.

      The two patients were walked down the brow, put on stretchers and loaded into the ambulance, which roared off.

      Tanner, Sillings and the Cop thanked the line handlers for their great work and the handlers left. The boatswain mates thought John Markham was a Marine.

      One boatswain mate glanced at Markham.

      "Who's he?"

      "Staff Sergeant. A bridge watch stander and a great radar man. We're a 'joint service command'."

      "Cool."

      The LEE then got the reputation of being a jinxed ship, because it's CO and crew had gotten sick and which had a Marine, who dressed like "one of Castro's Boys".

      The rest of that day, a Friday, was spent writing reports. Then, Sillings had to consolidate the reports and reconcile the differences. It took all afternoon and he finally had a smooth copy.

      Sillings took the various papers over to the COMNAVMAR (Commander Naval Forces Marianas) headquarters to report to the Admiral's Chief of Staff. He admitted that he'd come over without permission since both LT Anderson-Pierre and Senior Chief Scott were at the hospital. The Chief of Staff thanked Sillings for displaying initiative and took him in to brief Rear Admiral Tony Negron, who was quite interested in anything that affected the well being of his personnel.

      The Rear Admiral stated that he was pleased with Petty Officer Tanner's performance and with Senior Chief Scott's decision to put Tanner in command. The RADM ordered his Flag Writer, a Yeoman Senior Chief, to write highly favorable concurrent [performance] evaluations on both the Senior Chief and the Quartermaster. He also agreed that the crew (except the LT and RM3) and the line handlers deserved letters of appreciation if not Navy Achievement Medals.

      Sillings didn't expect the NAMs to come through but he knew there was a 100 percent chance of not getting the medal not requested…

      Late on Friday, the hospital personnel let the LEE's crew visit their sick. Both claimed to be feeling better but both "looked like shit" to quote Jeffrey Jacques Maxson.

      They came back on Saturday but didn't stay long as both patients were drowsy and on pain killers as well as antibodies. A young man, carrying a small bundle of flowers, was allowed to deliver them to Erica Hanson.

      He was in civilian clothing as the Navy frowned on male officers giving flowers to junior female enlisted. There would never be anything romantic in this but it was friendship and both were the better for it.

      The patients were pronounced much better on Sunday and were ready to leave the hospital. They were "freed" on Monday. Both were ordered to get plenty of rest and didn't "come in to work" until Tuesday.

      "Oh, shit," Anderson-Pierre groaned, "we were going to take visitors out today!"

      "Not to worry, sir, I talked to LCDR Little and we agreed to try again on Thursday. Besides, we haven't gotten the BTs yet and will need some practice at carrying the launcher around and in running the charts."

      On Wednesday, the crew did practice weather observations and practice BT observations. They continued eating civilian food and finally accepted that the Navy and civilian food inspectors had blessed the mess halls and their food was safe to eat.

      Late on Wednesday, a lawyer from the island JAG (Judge Advocate General) officer called and wanted to interview the crew. When asked when the interviewer would appear, LN1 Sillings was told "sometime early next week". Sillings told this to this CO. The CO was disgusted but resigned.

      "Next week, David?"

      "Yes, Skipper."

      "Fine, we go out as planned tomorrow morning. We're going to be leaving about 5:15 am so I think everyone should sleep over tonight."

      "Good idea, L T. I'll pass the word. Now, how many people are going to be needed awake for this evolution?"

      "Lets see, me to drive the boat and Dave or John in the engine room. I'll steer and use the sound powered phone and will need Bill Tanner with me to get the position right in time to do the 6 am BT release."

      "I'll ask Dave and John to see who wants to volunteer. I'll tell Bill he'll need to be on the bridge about 5:30 am. Oh, you'll need someone to toss the lines over so I'll do the line handling."

      "Sounds good, Dave and thanks."

      "Your welcome, sir."

     Anderson-Pierre thought back to the call he'd made to the COMNAVMAR Legal Officer. That Officer had told him David Nigel Sillings had passed the Guam Bar Exam and would be admitted to practice Law on Guam, the Northern Marianas Islands and the Federation States of Micronesia. Of course, he would have to attend and graduate from the Military Department's Law School and to do that, he would have to first get his BA or BS. Mr. lawyer Silllings had a fair amount of college awaiting him…

      Anderson-Pierre smiled…

      Across the base, the Naval Operating Base Legal office commander was reading the various reports and frowning.

      "This is totally unsatisfactory. That Petty Officer should never have been given command of a ship and told to bring it into port. Who was that Corpsman to order a mere first class petty officer to usurp command. I want a complete JAG manual investigation to figure out what happened. Make the calls and schedule appointments."

      "Well, sir, we won't be at the interviewing stage until tomorrow. Should we coordinate this with the lawyer on the hill?" (He meant the Admiral's lawyer.)

      "No."

      The paperwork was started and investigators assigned. They agreed to descend upon the pier at 9 am and begin grilling the suspects. They had already decided that a crime or two must have occurred and their objectivity was seriously comprom-ised.

      In the late afternoon, Anderson-Pierre called his old classmate, LCDR Bill Little and reminded him of the cookout the next morning and to bring AG2 **** as her boyfriend was expecting her. Little wasn't sure he could spring ***** from duty but when Anderson-Pierre reminded Little "you're the department head, for God's sake!"

      The phone call ended with a promise that Little and ***** would be there at 5:15 am.

      Anderson-Pierre asked his doc if the refer and freezers were cold enough. His doc swore the refer were nearly cold enough to freeze and the freezer was below minus 20 degrees. Then, Anderson-Pierre and the Senior Chief went to the Japanese officials who had agreed to sell them Kobe beef at a ridiculous low price. It seemed the Senior Chief had saved the lives of several fishermen; the fishermen were members of families that had been retainers of a noble family for many centuries; the officials were members of this noble family and saving the lives of some of their retainers was a debt they needed to partially offset.

      The beef looked very good and the free passes to the Guam Golf Range were greatly appreciated by the Japanese. The Japanese loved to golf but very few could afford to play golf in Japan; Markham had served with several Guam natives in 'Nam, who owed him great debts (their lives, actually) and they were very happy to help Markham. Markham had helped their families and helping the Japanese would help Markham's family and that was all that mattered.

      There was a sincere exchange of thanks and respects and all left happy.

      The Senior Chief was an old hand at barbeque and picked out a good grill. Anderson-Pierre was able to put this on his "ship fitting out" account.

      They put the barby near the stern of the LEE, the steaks in the refer and made sure the refer door was dogged shut. (This was no civilian refrigerator door held shut with a magnet; no children would ever come near it.)

      Everyone showered ashore the night before departure and thus came aboard clean. The air conditioning was running full blast and everyone turned in early. That is not to say everyone fell asleep quickly; this group sleep-in was too new for them.

      Anderson-Pierre woke before his alarm would have gone off at 5 am and nudged John Markham awake on his way out. Both went to the bridge and then John Markham went to the engine room. Bill Little and Petty Officer XXXXX arrived at 5:15 and Bill asked "what can I do"?

      "Would you mind throwing the lines over"?

      "No problem."

      And so, a Lieutenant Commander was a line handler and this kept a Petty Officer first from having to get out of bed early and when they pulled out,  LT Anderson-Pierre steered the boat from the helm and gave engine orders via the sound powered phone. Their destination was about 4 nautical miles from the entrance to the outer harbour. QM1 Tanner came on the bridge about 5:40 am and using radar and sight fixes, navigated the boat to where they needed to be.

      LCDR Little "fired up" the BT recorder and made the first sounding at exactly 6 am. Then, LCDR Little and QM1 Tanner worked on decoding the BT trace and encoding the first message. LT Anderson-Pierre "took" the first weather observation.

      Seven am there time was 2100 Zulu or 3 PM in Greenwich England, time for one of the day's four standard "in between" weather observations. Since neither Radioman Hanson or alternative Radioman Scott had appeared yet, Anderson-Pierre used the ship to shore radio to read the weather observation to Harbour Control; Harbour Control phoned the report to the Fleet Weather Centre, on top of Nimitz Hill and those good folks drafted the official Navy message containing the observations and sent it out.

      It was between 7 am and 8 am when the sleepers stirred, the inevitable fighting to use the single head started and breakfast was dished out. There were three BT observations to be send when RM3 Hanson "fired up" the radio shortly after 8 am.

      It was a good day and all were looking forward to the bar-be-que. It was proving easy to maintain their position near where the first BT observations were taken and hopes were high they were "going to do some original science here today".

      It was shortly before 9 am when the legal investigators arrived to grill the LEE's officer and crew and couldn't find the LEE. It took them almost fifteen minutes to convince themselves the LEE wasn't tied up at an alternative pier and they went off to the Harbour Master's Office. That was the first they knew the LEE had gone out to sea; no one had told the LEE's Captain to expect the JAG Corps investigators and so they'd had the gall to conduct operations.

      The Movement Report had been sent in days before and so their boss should have found out about it. It was sent to all shore commands and he could have read it. He hadn't bothered. Now, the investigators had the problem of telling the often irritable boss that the LEE had left port…

      They were not happy campers (well JAG Corp Whores…).

      The Harbour Master refused to order the LEE back to port; he kept saying "they're conducting operations". The investigators tried to get a squadron to free up a helo to  fly them out to the LEE. When the investigators explained they needed to investigate the events of the LEE's unconventional return to port, the squadron duty officer had not only laughed at their request but praised the decision as "being in the highest traditions of the Naval Service".

      Maybe a shipmate of the duty officer had been shafted by JAG Corps?

      The investigators were able to get one of the Harbour Master's pilot boats to take them out to the LEE.

      The engineman had taken the 10 am BT observation, the lawyer had taken the 10 am Guam time weather observation. Ten am Guam time was midnight Z time and one of the four required daily weather observations. Erica was sending the observations via Official Navy Channels when the pilot boat arrived off the port side of the LEE.

      "Hello!"

      There was no response.

      "Hello on the boat!"

      There was still no response.

      "Hey! Is anyone home?"

      QM1 Tanner glanced out the bridge window and was surprised to see the pilot boat.

      "Boss, did you know the pilot boat was coming out here?"

      "No, I didn't."

      Anderson-Pierre walked down the inside ladder, went out the door and across the deck to where he could talk with the pilot.

      "Mr. McCoy, to what do we own the honor?"

      "I've got visitors, Captain Anderson."

      A rather self-important person, in summer whites, pushed his way to the side and stated: "Take your boat back to the pier at once!"

      "What?"

      "I said 'take your boat back to the pier at once'!"

      "Why?"

      "I need to speak with your Commanding Officer, Lieutenant. At once."

      "Well, I suppose my Commanding Officer is Rear Admiral Negron. He is at the COMNAVMAR Headquarters. I'm sure he'll talk with you."

      "I mean with the Commanding Officer of this…boat."

      "I am the Commanding Officer of this…boat."

      "I am LCDR Henderdale and I wish to come aboard your…boat. At once, sir!"

      "Why? Why do you wish to come aboard my boat, LCDR Henderdale and why do you keep pausing before you say 'boat'?"

      "Matters concerning an ongoing JAG Manual Investigation."

      "Hold one."

      Then, Anderson-Pierre went back inside the deck house.

      "Senior Chief, did you hear that?"

      "Yes, sir."

      "Dave, what's this about a 'JAG Manual Investigation'?"

      "I haven't heard a thing, sir but I suspect it may have to do with Bill Tanner bringing the LEE back to pier last week."

      "Really? The Admiral was quite pleased with that."

      "Just my best guess, sir. It would probably be best to let them come on-board and see what they want. We should also hid everyone, simply to deny them witnesses."

      "Deny them witnesses?"

      "Yes, sir. Also, they annoy me and I think we should make them work a little."

      LCDR Bill Little spoke up: "It's sound advice, Mike. I'll be here in case you need me."

      LT Anderson-Pierre nodded and went back to the main deck. QM1 Tanner remained on watch in the bridge and everyone else either went to crew berthing or up to the topside bridge. Erica went to her "room" and presumably took a nap.

      "Mr. McCoy, if you don't mind putting fenders over, you can come alongside and we'll drop a rope ladder."

      "Done, Captain Anderson-Pierre."

      The pilot boat was brought alongside the LEE, a rope ladder lowered and two pilot boat sailors steadied it. The rope ladder was attached to a steel bar only inches above the LEE's deck. A person could climb partway up the rope ladder and then would have to take the hands of persons on the LEE to finish the climb.

      It was not for the faint hearted.

      Unfortunately, LCDR Henderdale and two aides proved to be stout hearted enough to make the climb. LCDR Henderdale stood on deck and immediately stated: "Take this boat back to harbour at once, Lieutenant. We have an investigation to conduct."

      "Lieutenant Commander,  aren't you forgetting something?"

      LCDR Henderdale stood mute.

      "Lieutenant Commander Henderdale, there is a proper etiquette for coming aboard a Navy ship. Please follow it, sir."

      One of the aides stepped forward and asked LCDR Henderdale: "With your permission, sir?"

      Henderdale nodded.

      The aide faced the LEE's stern, where the U.S. flag hung limp in the still air and saluted it. Then, he turned, faced LT Anderson-Pierre and braced to attention:

      "Sir. Request permission to come aboard, sir."

      "Permission granted" and Anderson-Pierre returned the salute. "You may enter the deck house."

      LCDR Henderdale tried to follow but Anderson-Pierre blocked his passage.

      "Everyone must go through this procedure, Lieutenant Commander, even you. If this is too disagreeable to you, you may return to Mr. McCoy's pilot boat. We will be leaving station after the 7 PM observation. I and my people will be able to speak with you first thing tomorrow morning."

      "I will speak with you when you return to port tonight."

      "That could be quite late then. It takes some time to secure the boat after a day out…sir."

      LCDR Henderdale went through the entire procedure and it clearly galled him to stand at attention in front of a mere line LT, salute him and "sir" him. If LT Anderson-Pierre took his time granting permission and returning Henderdale's salute, well he couldn't possibly have done that deliberately…

      They ended up at the table, which was the centerpiece of the deckhouse. A sailor in dungarees brought the three visitors cups of coffee; the visitors didn't seem to see the irony of drinking coffee "fresh from the mess hall, sirs".

      The LEE crew did.

      The sailor, a first class, sat down next to Anderson-Pierre and began taking shorthand notes on a stenographer's pad.

      "LT Anderson-Pierre, I demand that you return this boat to pier AT ONCE and that you accompany me to the Base Legal Office!"

      "Why? Why do you want us to return with you to the Base Legal Office?"

      "Are you questioning me?"

      "Yes…sir."

      "You will return at once!"

      "No…sir…I won't. We are conducting operations here, operations the Admiral approved…"

      "I'm not interested in what you think the Admiral wants."

      "…approved. Operations, sir, whose results Admiral Negron is personally interested in."

      "Who is that sailor?"

      "This is my lawyer, legal man first Sillings."

      The all knowing Legal Eagle, LCDR Henderdale dismissed Sillings with a snort; it would never occur to him that he received legal papers slower than the other attorneys, that his papers seemed to have a much higher error rate and thus required more proof reading and that his junior lawyers seemed to transfer out to other offices much quicker than other senior lawyers. It never occurred to him that his juniors - officer and enlisted - frequently discussed him and the officers nodded approvingly when the senior enlisted referred to "that asshole Henderdale". It was bad form but LCDR Henderdale was "a divide-a-fier and not a u-night-a-fier".

      "We're here to investigate the rather preposterous events of last Friday. We will need to speak with everyone concerned."

      "Which events are you talking about?"

      "The ones in which a medic took command of this ship and ordered an untrained sailor to bring this boat back into port. Those events."

      "Ah, I thought you might mean the general ship handling training that Senior Chief Scott and I were performing. I guess you mean when I was steering the porcelain bus."

      "Is that some kind of Navy talk?"

      "Yes, sir, it is", murmured one of Henderdale's unintroduced aides.

      "Petty Officer Tanner, please invite the Senior Chief to join us." While Tanner did this, LCDR Little sat down at a chair against the bulkhead (wall). LCDR Henderdale didn't notice him.

      "Mr. Henderdale, I have the honour of introducing you to Hospital Corpsman Senior Chief LeRoy Scott. Senior Chief, this is LCDR Hendedale…a lawyer."

      "Sir."

      LCDR Henderdale had the piss poor manners to ignore Senior Chief Scott, who sat next to Anderson-Pierre on his other side.

      "According to your statement, Lieutenant, you were sick and unable to perform your duties. You XO, a Corpsman of all things, took command and then ordered your Quartermaster to return your boat to the pier. Is this correct?"

      "Yes, it is…sir."

      "What would make this Corpsman think he could act in this manner?"

      "Because he has years of command experience, many months of commanding small boats and he knows just how good Quartermaster first Tanner really is. Sir. My corpsman is sitting next to me. Why not ask him?"

      "Well?"

      "Sir. Both my Commanding Officer and my Radioman were gravely ill. It was very necessary for them to receive hospital level medical care. I was needed, sir, to attend to them on the boat. I trust Petty Officer Tanner implicitly as does Captain Anderson-Pierre. I gave Petty Officer Tanner command and directed him to return us to port. He did so in an outstanding manner. Sir."

      "He did, did he?"

      "Yes. Sir. He did. The young man is a natural deck officer. Sir."

      "Then it was you considered medical opinion that these people needed to get ashore very quickly? Are you qualified to render such opinions?"

      LCDR Little thus spoke for the first time. "Yes, he is and if you would read his breast devices, you would see this clearly, LCDR Henderdale."

      "What exactly am I looking for?

      LCDR Little had little patience with this pompous asshole and spoke:

      "He is a Senior Chief and that alone should tell you everything."

      Henderdale interrupted with "who are you?"

      LCDR Little rose and sat next to Senior Chief Scott.

      "I am LCDR Little. Who are you?"

      "I am LCDR Henderdale, of the Naval Base Legal Office. Why are you out here"

      "I'm out here because I was invited here. Why are you out here?

      "Don't take that tone of voice with me!"

      "Why not," LCDR Little retorted. "We're both Lieutenant Commanders but I'm line and you're…staff corp. By Navy tradition, I outrank you. What is your date of rank, anyway?

      "Two months ago". LCDR Henderdale neck was turning red from rage and Doctor Mister Senior Chief Corpsman Scott was figuring the odds of Henderdale dropping dead of a heart attack before he was 50. The odds were high; Scott liked the odds…

      "Mine is nearly six months ago. When LT Anderson-Pierre makes LCDR in a month, he'll will automatically rank you then as well."

      "Bullshit!" That exclamation would later result in a less than favorable reaction from RADM Donaldson.

      "Truth! Line over staff corps…person."

      Henderdale turned to Anderson-Pierre and stated: "I demand you return to port as once!"

      "No….sir. We're conducting operations here. Unless you have an extremely good reason to compel me to return home, I am within my rights to refuse your request. Sir."

      "That was not a request. That was an order!"

      "Mr. Henderdale, Captain Anderson-Pierre is in command…"

      "He is a Lieutenant not a Captain."

      "…command of this vessel and therefore is entitled to the title of 'Captain'. A Captain is Master of his vessel; officers senior to him may make suggestions but they can not tell a Captain how to operate his ship. That is U.S. Navy law, regulation and tradition as well as International. If you want Captain Anderson-Pierre to break off pre-arranged operations, you'll have to either convince him or get his immediate superior to order his back to harbour."

      "Who is his 'immediate superior'?"

      "Rear Admiral Negron, the same Rear Admiral who is interested in the research being done here." LCDR Little was more than a little pissed off.

      "LCDR Henderdale, who do you wish to speak with and why?"

      "We need to go over the statements of HMCS Scott, QM1 Tanner, LN1 Sillings and anyone else we wish to."

      "You may speak with Senior Chief Scott, Petty Officer Tanner and Petty Officer Sillings. Start asking your questions."

      "Well," LCDR Henderdale muttered, "bring them on."

      One of his aids rolled his eyes and the other glanced away and shook his head in resignation. This was very unmilitary but the LEE's personnel were beginning to think it was warranted. Of course, they said nothing…

      "Petty Officer Sillings is to my left and my Senior Chief is to my right. I can have Petty Officer Tanner come in here; he is standing bridge watch."

      "Very well, Senior Chief Scott, what are your qualifications to take command of this…boat?"

      "Sir. I commanded a SEAL delivery boat during the 'Nam War and earned the 'Craft Master' pin, the 'Small Craft Commander (enlisted)' pin, my 'Budweiser' (he meant his SEAL insignia) and they tell me that I'll be awarded the 'Surface Warfare (enlisted)' pin. Sir. This means the Navy thinks I'm a fine ship handler, sir."

      "That's interesting." LCDR Henderdale sounded bored.

      "There is more," LT Anderson-Pierre stated, "then Chief Scott was personally decorated with the Navy Achievement Medal, for his ship handling, by Elmo Russell Zumwalt, Jr, his self. The Admiral was a Rear Admiral then and Senior Naval Officer in 'Nam. The Admiral complemented then Chief Scott with 'if I were still commanding a ship and you were on my staff, I'd make you one of my Officers of the Deck under weigh.' That, sir, is one major complement!"

      "I don't know enough about the ship Navy to appreciate the significance of that or to appreciate who this Admiral Zoom was."

      This time, the room was filled with sighs and eye rolling. Henderdale was exasperated.

      "That is Admiral Zumwalt not 'Zoom' and he was CNO in the early 1970s. You have heard of the CNO…sir?" Petty Officer Sillings was very proper and his irony not overstated.

      "Very well, Senior Chief Scott, you are quite the 'War Hero' then. Do you have anything to add to your report?

      "No, sir, I don't."

      "What are your medical qualifications?"

      "Sir. Two years of pre-med, attended and graduated from the Registered Nurse program at Harvard, attended and graduated from the Corpsman Class "A" school, attended and graduated from the Corpsman Class "C" school, attended and graduated from the Army Green Beret Field Medic School, attended and graduated from the British Surgeon Academy at Oxford. Under the British system, I am a licensed Surgeon and can practice surgery in the United Kingdom. I am authorized to serve as a 'Physician's Assistant' at Naval Hospitals. Sir."

      "Can you justify your actions of last Friday?"

      "Yes, sir, I can. I reported my actions to the Naval Hospital Commander on Friday. He and his senior staff all stated I had acted in the proper medical fashion. His superiors in Hono agreed. We received a message from the Chief of Naval Medicine complimenting me on my medical actions and I am going to be issued a 'letter of commendation'. Sir."

      "About your giving command to this Quartermaster?"

      "The Admiral thought I did the correct thing, his boss, the fleet commander in Hono agreed and sent me a 'Bravo Zulu'. Sir."

      Even LCDR Henderdale knew that a "Bravo Zulu" was a major complement.

      "So, you decided you have this Tanner bring this boat to harbour? Why not call for a helicopter? Why not have another boat come out and take you in? Why did you think it so important to bring them in quickly?"

      "May I answer those questions in the order asked. Sir?

      "Yes."

      "First, PO Tanner is a skilled boat handler and could handle the job. Second, it is very expensive to bring out a helicopter. It would be somewhat dangerous to try taking personnel off of a small boat; the risk was unwarranted, sir. Third, it would be difficult to move my patients from the LEE to a small boat; it would be safer and easier to take the LEE to the pier. Sir. Finally, it was my considered medical opinion that a quick return and trip to hospital was needed. Sir."

      "Well, not in my opinion."

      "What is the basis of your medical opinion? Sir?"

      "Don't get snide with me, Scott and mind your manners!"

      The situation turned glacial and might have stayed that way when Engineman Nichols walked in with a small disk.

      "Here's that 'Secchi disk' your and Mr. Little were talking about, Skipper!"

      The object was 8 inches in diameter, looked the top of a coffee maker and was divided into four quadrants. On the top of disk, two opposite triangular slices were painted black and the other two white. There was a hole in the center.

      "We made it from the top of an old coffee maker someone left behind one of the diesels. We used fast drying paint the previous owners…or maybe the yard dogs…left on our boat, sir. The paint is dry and we can use some nylon line through here."

      The lawyers were bemused when LCDR Little, LT Anderson-Pierre and QM1 Tanner gathered around the object. They were left out of the discussion and puzzled by the praise this sailor and someone named "John" got.

      "Back to the subject, gentlemen!" LCDR Henderdale wanted control of the situation.

      "Try it out before and after the 11 am BT, Bill. Mr. Little and I will help you with your analysis and we might be able to get the results published. Might."

      The beaming sailor walked off.

      "What was that silly disk?"

      "A 'Secchi disk'. Sir. It is used to determine the distance light penetrates water. Sir. We're using it with our B T research."

      "I take it that 'penetration, however slight, is enough to'…complete the observation?" One of the aides had a sense of humor.

      "Yes, it is."

      LCDR Henderdale knew the full quote was from the UCMJ codes for "rape" and "sodomy" and read "penetration, however slight, is enough to compete the offense". He didn't get the joke that had cracked up the others at the table.

      This was most exasperating.

      "I wish to speak with Sillings."

      "Here, sir," Sillings spoke from his CO's left.

      "Do you have anything to add to your statement?"

      "No, sir, not a word."

      It was hard for Sillings to speak as he was recording everything including his statements.

      "I wish to speak with this Tanner."

      "Ah, we all wish for many things," LCDR Little murmured.

      There was nothing that LCDR Henderdale could do about this disrespect.

      LCDR Little stood and spoke: "With your permission, Captain Anderson-Pierre, I will relieve PO Tanner from his bridge duty."

      The 11 am BT observation had been taken and Tanner was working up the analysis. LCDR Little checked the boat's position, decided that Tanner had kept the LEE reasonably centered and took over finishing up the BT message creation.

      QM1 Tanner walked up to the table, faced his C O and not Henderdale, stood at attention and stated: "Sir! Petty Officer Tanner, sir, reporting as ordered, sir!"

      "Thank you, this officer has questions for you."

      "Petty Officer, ah, Tanner, I have read your report. Do you wish to add anything to it?"

      "No, sir."

      "Are you sure? The penalties for perjury are quite severe."

      "What was that, sir?"

      "Perjury," LN1 Sillings stated, "means 'lying', Petty Officer Tanner."

      "No, sir, nothing to add, sir, I did not lie, sir or perjury, sir."

      LCDR Henderdale did not recognize the disrespect inherent in an excessive usage of the word "sir". He didn't realize that Tanner had replaced commas and periods with a spoken "sir". No respect was intended…

      "So, you think you're qualified to command this…boat?"

      "No, sir, I don't, sir but I am qualified, sir, to drive the boat, sir, while under supervision, sir and that is exactly what I did, sir."

      "Technically true but the reality is that Senior Chief wasn't really supervising and PO Tanner truly was in command of the LEE. Sir." Thus Spake Anderson-Pierre. (Yes, a takeoff on the title of "Thus Spake Zarathustra" by Friedrich Nietzsche.)

      "Do you have any more questions for P O Tanner?"

      "No, not at this time."

      "Perhaps you could help LCDR Little?"

      "I believe I can give him a little help, Sir."

      Several minutes later, LCDR Little returned to the table and they could hear Tanner speaking, presumably reading the BT observation message to Harbour Control for relay to the Fleet Weather Center.

      "It's nearly lunch time, gentlemen," Anderson-Pierre said in a tone of phony hearty good fellowship. "We don't set a very fine table but we'll definitely share what we have!"

      Sillings had to hide a snort. The breakfast that morning had featured a sour cream coffee cake Mrs. Little had made, well burned bacon courtesy of the "gourmet" Bill Tanner and scrambled eggs the L T had made. They also had canned apples, instant coffee and would have had Bisquick pancakes save for the mealy worms in the dry mix. That world traveler, the Senior Chief, had made "bangers". This lead to a series of crude jokes but turned out to be mixed mashed potatoes and sour kraut and was poached in the very hot bacon fat. It was a fine meal.

      "That we do, Skipper," the Senior Chief chimed in with, "and better than what we had in 'Nam. We'll bring out the good stuff. Sir. Just for y'all, sirs. Petty Officer Maxson, break out the "C" rats and my SEAL food!"

      "Must we, Senor Chief?"

      "We must! We must!"

      "So, Mr. Henderdale, is there anyone else you wish to speak with?"

      "I need to talk with your radioman, RM3 Hanson. Where is he?"

      Literally, everyone else, including the two junior legal officers, were surprised to learn the Henderdale didn't know Hanson was a "she" and not a "he". (Perhaps Henderdale hadn't read Hanson's full name?) Her figure might be slight but there was nothing "boyish" about it…

      "Why do you wish to speak with my radioman?"

      "Your radioman supposed was communicating with a shore command via morse. I want to know what he was saying."

      "P O Hanson was practicing morse code. Sir. Morse code operations is a specialty that requires practice. Sir. Hanson was not discussing anything relevant prior to becoming sick. Sir. The events with regard to Petty Officer Tanner occurred after Hanson stopped operating…sir."

      "Where is Hanson?"

      "Hanson is busy."

      "Bring Hanson here."

      "That would disrupt my ship's operations. Sir. There is nothing that Hanson can add to your JAG man investigation. Sir."

      Both Henderdale and Anderson-Pierre entered into a staring contest. It was broken when Electronics tech Jeffrey Maxson came in with a cardboard case. He put it upside down on the table in front of his C O.

      "Shall I mix them up, Sir?"

      "There's no need, Jeff. LCDR Henderdale, my I assume you are a stranger to "C" rats." There was a pause while Henderdale nodded. "Then, in that case, we don't need to confuse them. When I was in 'Nam, we learned the layout of the boxes and had to shuffle them around. Otherwise, the first people to grab boxes would get the good shit!"

      Scott, Anderson-Pierre, Little and one of the aides all laughed. The boss lawyer glared at his aide.

      "Sir, I was an Army grunt then and we did the same." By this admission, the young lawyer screwed his career; his career was saved when LN1 Sillings spoke with the Admirals' Staff Lawyer, who had the young lawyer transferred to the Admiral's staff. The Admiral's lawyer had to convince Henderdale's boss not to lower the young lawyer's "impartial fitrep" (Fitness Report) based on Henderdale's "impartial input".

      They opened the top side of the "C" ration case, pulled out boxes of "C" rats and began describing the contents.

      "This one has preserved scrambled eggs. I once ate two cans of them and thought the Chief watching me was going to vomit. It was like he was watching a raptor eat a rabbit's guts. Tis a fond memory of mine!" After speaking, Anderson-Pierre laughed.

      "Well, let's get the real food! Jeff, break out my SEAL rations!" Senior Chief Scott was positively delighted at the prospect.

      "What are SEAL rations?" Henderdale might have had no concept of getting along with people and at times was as dense as a neutron star but he wasn't stupid. He simply thought everyone else was stupid…

      "They were invented in 'Nam. We couldn't have western food cause the VC could smell it and could smell our shit as being different. So, what we have here is rice, "kim chee" and "nuoc mam" sauce. The kim chee is fermented vegetables with lots of fermented garlic and the "nuco mam". It's the good stuff. Want to try it? Sir?"

      "There is only one little problem. It smells. We normally don't let Senior Chief cook his SEAL rats indoors but for you we'll make the exception. After all, as they say 'once you get it past your nose, you've got it licked'!"

      "Petty Officer Maxson, add the proper amount of water and mix up five batches of the Chief's rats. With any kind of luck, Senior Chief, our three guests may leave enough for you to eat."

      Senior Chief Scott intjected:

      "I doubt that L T. They'll probably fall in love with it the way we SEALs did and will want it all themselves. Well, I'll just have to do with "C" rats and will have to get more that VietNamese cooking supply store."

      "VietNamese cook supply store?"

      "Yes. Sir. LCDR Henderdale. The best comes from either Phu Quoc and Phan Thiet. They're villages in 'Nam. The sauce is exported to Hong Kong and imported from there, with a different name. But, we experts recognize the taste. Special Forces deal directly with the villagers who make it; we just have to bribe the local communist authorities. But, you're not supposed to talk about that. OK? Sir?"

      "I happen to love the stuff," LCDR Little stated, "hand be a bag."

      ET2 Maxson handed LCDR Little a lumpy ugly looking bag. Little slit it open and quickly put the bag under LCDR Henderdale's nose. Even freeze dried, the material has a strong odor.

      "Smells great, doesn't it! You can really appreciate the aroma until it's fully re-hydrated!"

      "No, no, no, we're done here. LT Anderson-Pierre, call our pilot boat back and we'll leave now…I know my way out."

      The one time grunt Lawyer was last to leave and said "May I have that bag, please? I've missed the 'nuoc mam'."

      He was handed the bag and put it into his brief case.

      "Thank you and enjoy your bar-be-que."

      "What bar-be-que?"

      "I watched a sailor put charcoal into that barby on the stern -er- 'ass end' of your ship. He looks like he's fixing to pee his self waiting to 'fire it up'. Don't worry, if 'Hen' didn't notice it, I'm not going to mention it."

      "You're not?"

      "He thinks he's more intelligent and more on the ball that the rest of us combined and takes any suggestions as personal insults. Good day, Gentlemen!"

      LCDR Henderdale exited the LEE directly down the ladder. This two aides knew enough to salute Anderson-Pierre, request permission to go ashore, salute the flag and then depart. Henderdale seemed highly annoyed by the delay.

      When the pilot boat has puttered far enough away, Senior Chief told Nichols that he could "fire up the grill".

      LT Anderson-Pierre looked rather pissed off.

      "Dave, I want you to transcribe your notes. LCDR Little, would mind writing down your impressions of what happened? I'm going to call the Admiral's Staff and ask what happened. In the meanwhile, we'd better let Erica and **** out before they piss themselves!"

      The two women were released from crew berthing. They didn't need to have **** go to crew berthing but they didn't want Henderdale to get the idea there were other women on the LEE.

      Anderson-Pierre contacted Rear Admiral Negron on a Navy ship to shore channel that none of the ships in port were using. The Communications Station patched the ship to shore radio into the phone system.

      "Sir, a lawyer named 'Henderdale' came out to the LEE today. This Lieutenant Commander first demanded that we return to port so that he could interrogate us about the events of last Friday. When I told him we were conducting operations that you had approved, he backed off on that demand. Then, he wanted to interrogate my people about their reports. I think he thought they were lying. I found it very annoying, sir. Over."

      "Did he say why he was out there? Over."

      "I should have mentioned. He said he was doing a JAG man investigation. Didn't say who ordered it, sir or why."

      "I'll look into this. I would have expected my legal officer to brief me. He knows my interest in you, your ship and your crew. Did he interview everyone?"

      "No, sir, I let him interview Senior Chief, Tanner and Sillings. I didn't let him interview Hanson, sir; I told him that Hanson was practicing morse code. I didn't mention Erica's sex to him. Somehow, I thought it would lead to trouble, sir."

      "It probably would, Michael. I'll have my lawyer look into the matter. Did you tell him about Dave Sillings now being a lawyer?"

      "No, sir, I haven't even told him myself."

      "We'll have to arrange something nice, then. I'll get back with you, Michael. Out."

      "Thank you, sir. Out."

      Anderson-Pierre figured the Admiral had probably already hung up but he knew it was wise to act otherwise.

      The steaks and etc. were ready shortly after 1 PM. There was a brief delay while half the crew turned out to take the 1 PM (or 3 am Z time) weather observation and B T observation. It was hard to stay awake after their feast but some managed. The left over steaks were given to Little for his family.

      They arrived home about quarter to eight, docked without incident, secured the boat and most of the crew got rides to the barracks. Three decided to sleep on the boat. There was something peaceful about being on the boat. There was not the noise and hassle of barracks life; it simply was more peaceful and private.

      The next day, Friday, was devoted to arranging for some folk's extra training. LT Anderson-Pierre was supposed to be the backup medic but he needed more training. The hospital commander informed him that he'd be getting intensive medical training afternoons. Since he'd be helping Senior Chief Mr. Scott, LT Anderson-Pierre would be getting intensive first aid, corpsman level medical field training, some familiarization with surgery and would be assisting with child delivery. For that, he would train with the ob-gyn staff at the Navy Hospital, the Guam civilian hospital and several mid-wives. It was a very busy month and Anderson-Pierre was counting the days till their mission could get started.

      He had a surprise for Senior Scott, QM1 Tanner, LN1 Sillings and Staff Sergeant Markham. At his request, the Harbour Master was going to set up a floating dock in the inner harbour. This would be a 'safe place' for his people to practice coming alongside piers etc. It would be more tricky that most because water was free to flow under the floating dock and would make matters much worst than usual.

      He was looking forward to this!

      Tanner, who had enjoyed his time with the AMERICA's Chaplain, was spending parts of his afternoon learning to be a Chaplain's Assistant. He was approved to administer baptism, last rites and even preach sermons. However, the son of a Catholic Priest was to be the real preacher. After all, he'd been immersed in a religious environment until he'd gone to the Naval Academy…

      Also, on that same Friday, Rear Admiral Negron asked his legal officer: "What do you think of this LCDR Henderdale?"

      "Stuffy, hard to work with, oblivious to subtle interpersonal relationships, kicks ass of everyone lower ranked than him - that includes the Chiefs - and kisses ass of everyone above him. Kisses ass, sir, apparently when he remembers to do so. He has the reputation of thinking he is the 'only adult in the nursery' and 'the only intelligent person in a room full of idiots'. Yes, sir, he actually said that and said that in front of a number of his subordinates. Those subordinates included officers junior to him and enlisted. One of his Lieutenants transferred to the Marines. He  had to go through Marine OCS and "The Basic School' and start over as a 2LT but he wrote me that he quote 'was in with a better bunch of bastards and got a lot more respect from everyone including the senior officers'. Hell of a note, if you ask me, sir! I got a phone call this morning from a Lieutenant who was informed that 'former Army grunts' don't have a place in Naval Law'. This was not from Henderdale, it came from his boss, Commander A. Samuel Brownback. I got the ex-grunt transferred to my office. The only saving grace is this officer received his annual fitrep this morning before Brownback learned this officer was a 'former grunt' and I asked the Flag Captain to order Brownback to send an endorsement declaring the annual fitrep to also be his transfer fitrep."

      "And you did this because?"

      "I don't trust Brownback to be impartial, sir."

      "Now, Commander, everyone knows fitreps are always impartial!"

      "Of course they are, sir, of course they are!"

      Both laughed heartily.

      "Now, tell me more about this Commander Brownback. He is from a mid west state, sir, Oklahoma or maybe Kansas. He doesn't think women have any place in the Armed Forces, certainly not in the Officer Corps, has said that a woman's place is in the home and that Biblically, the only place for a woman to work is 'in the home'. He gets along adequately with female employees or junior enlisted as 'long as they remember their place'. This comments were made in private; in public, he talks and acts like a staunch supports of Women's Rights."

      "A real Janis, then?"

      "Janis had two faces, sir and Brownback has at least three faces. They all depend on who he's dealing with."

      Then, RADM Negron read the summary of Brownback's career.

      "He's made it up the ranks quickly."

      "Yes, because he…well never mind, sir."

      "You wouldn't have been thinking of the quote: 'It's not who you know, it's who you blow'?"

      "Good question, sir. On the record, I don't know anything about that quote; off the record, I wonder who told you. Sir."

      "On the record, I don't know what you're talking about; off the record, both my son and my oldest daughter. Kids!"

      His legal officer, who had pre-school children agreed with a sigh.

      RADM Negron called the Naval Base Legal Office and asked to speak with CDR Brownback. In only 8 or 10 minutes, Brownback came on the phone.

      "Yes?"

      "Commander Brownback, this is Admiral Negron. I understand you're doing a JAG Manual investigation regarding events on the USS LEE last week?"

      "We really can't discuss ongoing legal events?"

      "I'll take that as a 'yes'. Who initiated the JAG Manual investigation?"

      "I really can't answer that either, sir."

      "Exactly now, why can't you answer my questions?"

      "I believe they are a privacy act matter, sir."

      RADM Negron covered the phone's mic and told his Legal Officer: "You heard? He won't answer because it is a 'privacy act matter'."

      "Commander Brownback, is there a JAG Manual investigation on-going concerning one of my ships, the USS ELBERT C. LEE SR?"

      "I really can not say, sir."

      "According to the JAG Manual, Part B, 'an officer in command is responsible for initiating preliminary inquiries into incidents occurring within, or involving personnel of the command.' The LEE is directly under my command; only I can initiate a preliminary JAG Man investigation. Bring everything concerning your JAG Manual Investigation to my office, 10 am, this coming Monday. That's three days from now! Have your 'findings of fact', if any."

      "Sir, I don't believe those are legal orders."

      "Commander, I am the 'officer exercising general court-martial convening authority over the command involved'. Be here, ten hundred, Monday. Good day, Commander."

      RADM Negron simply hung up.

      "Do you think he'll show up, sir?" His staff lawyer asked.

      "I hope not; I really want to bust his chops!"

      Negron sighed and continued: "Send him an AUTODIN^[23] message."

      The weekend was made easier by the pier where the LEE resided being behind barbed wire and guards. Of course, the gates were open, so many locals had base access that they seemed to have free run of the place and folks could easily cruise their boats from the ocean through the outer harbour and the inner harbour that the LEE wasn't really safe but this didn't seem to matter.

      There was the feeling of the LEE being safe.

      The crew of the LEE kept busy on the weekend, even if keeping busy was basically doing nothing. They had each other, they were making friends at the barracks, they liked hanging out at places like Barney's Beach House or little places along the coast. Anderson-Pierre and Tanner both had religious events on base to interest them.

      The senior chief had the "old guys" at the Chief's quarters to visit with and the Staff Sergeant was seen as being almost one of the Chiefs and he hung out with the "old guys" at the Chief's quarters. (An old retired Chief drove by with his wife and saw Markham bringing a case of beers to a group of uniformed Chiefs. He commented to his wife about Markham: "The Chiefs are looking younger every year". His wife replied: "He has good manners...")

      Sillings and Nichols had the LEE to themselves and acted as weekend security…most of the time. They were covert security, convert in the sense of a guard dog stretched out behind the sofa is there but doesn't appear to be there to outsiders. Folks going by the LEE often thought it was empty. Of course, the most interesting parts of a honeymoon only last fractions of an hour each time and then it's "what do we do now"?

      Then, too, given the upcoming training, it was a good idea for the future boat drivers to study various manuals. This interfered with beach walking and drinking and risking one's health at various native roach coaches but such is life…

      At 10 am, to RADM Negron's slight surprise, CDR Brownback presented himself. With him came another lawyer and a stenographer. Negron was a bit annoyed with this entourage but figured "lawyers". On the other hand, Negron's Chief of Staff and his Staff Lawyer and his stenographer were present as well.

      Negron sat behind his desk and read the results of the JAG Man investigation.

      "I have some questions regarding your 'Findings Of Facts'. The first, that the ill individuals were not that ill. What is your basis for this?"

      "We asked several corpsman and applied simple commonsense. We were not able to obtain detailed medical information from the hospital."

      "Ah, lawyers practicing medicine without a license! Aren't you supposed to chase the ambulance after the patient has died?"

      Brownback said nothing for the simple reason this Rear Admiral could inform him that he'd just "had his Captain's Mast" for 'disrespect', been found guilty and was sentenced to…

      "You thought that Tanner was unqualified to take the LEE up to the pier?"

      "Yes, sir, the 'LEE' (Negron could hear quote marks around the boat's name) is a Naval Vessel and therefore Tanner is unqualified to handle it."

      "Did you know that QM1 Tanner is an experienced coxswain and that many YP size vessels have been driven by enlisted? Did you take into consideration that Senior Chief Scott, himself a former Small Craft Commander was there and monitoring PO Tanner's actions?"

      "Yes and yes, sir."

      "And?"

      "He had not practiced this docking before. He should have had prior experience and not have to learn this task on his own, sir."

      "Good point. However, he did quite well, don't you think?"

      "Yes, sir, quite well in the sense that his docking turned out well. It also helped that he had experienced deck hands available."

      "Experienced dockside deck hands were there because Tanner had the good sense to call for them."

      There was a brief silence.

      "About the helicopter recovery. Your 'Finding Of Fact' states this would have been a most efficient way of moving the sick to hospital. Did you consider the dangers of taking personnel off a vessel? Dangers at such times as bringing the sick into the helicopter? Then there is the expense. I want you to revise this 'Finding Of Fact' to emphasize that 'Vertical Extraction' was neither cost effective nor the best available remedy."

      "Yes, sir."

      "Have that ready for my review by 1500. That's 3 PM to you K-staters."

      "Yes, sir."

      "About the 'extraction by small craft'. Your 'Finding Of Fact' does not deal with the issues of getting the sick off the 'LEE', taking them ashore from a small craft, the need for constant medical care, which would necessitate Corpsman Senior Chief Scott going with the boat and the stranding of the 'LEE' in the outer harbour. Make these changes."

      "Sir, may I point out that Petty Officer Tanner could have called for a tug pilot to haul his craft in as when their engines broke? Tanner could have requested the aid of a harbour pilot. Tanner could simply have hove to, anchored out or tied up to that floating anchorage in the outer harbour. He had options other than 'taking the boat in', sir."

      "True. You may put that in your revised 'Finding Of Facts'. However, be sure to point out that Tanner was acting under orders when he took the 'LEE' in. I find your overall conclusions disturbing. You suggest that LT Anderson-Pierre was somehow at fault for becoming sick. You also state that LT Anderson-Pierre was a fault for not having another officer aboard. This conclusion is not supported by any 'Findings Of Fact' and is negated by the presence of an experienced Small Craft Commander (enlisted), Senior Chief Scott. Finally, your comment that the 'LEE' should not have been 'out there' simply isn't supported by any 'Finding Of Fact'. The 'LEE' was there to prepare Captain and crew for blue water operations. Make these changes in your conclusions."

      "Yes, sir, I will."

      "Of course you will," Negron purred, "you're a good officer. (no irony there, actually) Don't you agree that problems should be resolved in a safe environment?"

      RADM Negron stood, nodded at CDR Brownback and entourage and said "I'll see you at 3 PM then."

      "Now, what was that about the reservoir being too full and having to drain off water?"

      Having heard that, Brownback decided that Negron simply had too little to do with his time…

      He didn't consider the vast water demands on the reservoir and where the runoff would go.

      Early on Monday, the LEE was "gassed up" (well, "dieseled up"), the water tanks topped off and off they went to see Anderson-Pierre's surprise.

      The crew was well fed and if the mess hall personnel were holding grudges about the food poisoning in the coffee urns, there were no apparent repercussions. It would seem that mess cooks and cooks drink their own coffee and if some exotic tropical "bug" made for bad coffee, they were happy that one of the supervising cooks had been punished and sent off to a ship. (The fact this cook had nothing to do with the bad coffee lead to reversal of his Captain's Mast for the contaminated coffee and the restoration of a fairly decent career.)

      The LEE had been docked facing in and now Anderson-Pierre was faced with three choices:

A) back out from the pier and backwards into the inner harbour before turning

     around or

B) using the correct combination of rudder and one engine ahead and one engine

     back, walk the bow away from pier or

C) using the correct combination of rudder and one engine ahead and one engine

     back, walk the stern away from the pier.

 

      He choose option C. He could have asked for a tug but it was embarrassing to ask from help from a craft nearly the size of his and what would he do at a "native" pier where the nearest tugs were dozens of miles away?

      Captain Anderson-Pierre had the stern and stern spring lines taken off. The waiting deck crew pulled them in (this prevents the lines from being tangled around the screws). Then, he had the engines started and warmed up. The brow (gangway) was removed, the mid-ships and bow spring lines given over to the shore line handlers. He knew the screws rotated in different directions. He backed out with left full rudder and left back one third. The bow line held the ship to the pier and the rudder-screw combination pushed the stern away from the pier. When the stern was far enough back, he gave the order "left stop" (which stopped the screws movement but did not turn off the engines) and ordered the bow line cast off. This being done, he backed the ship and then did nearly a complete right turn and headed out the inlet into the inner harbour.

      They didn't have far to go.

      Anderson-Pierre stopped the LEE and had everyone look at the floating dock. It wasn't very impressive.

      "We're going to spend the next week practicing docking with this thing. That means coming in at different speeds and directions. If, no, when we hit it, it won't do any harm to the LEE and we won't have to report it as a collision at sea. That is always good as a collision at sea means a JAG Manual Investigation. We surely don't want that!"

      Anderson-Pierre then made the first approach and it was a very smooth one, ending with the LEE stopped 2 feet from the floating dock. Some cynics on the LEE figured this was a lucky fluke and they were right. The Senior Chief was next to try and miscalculated the current pushing him towards the floating dock. He proved that thumping the floating dock would not harm either.

      After that, it was a matter of going back to the basics; figuring the direction and speed of currents, direction and speed of the LEE and the resultant vector. From that, the deck officer had to figure which courses and speeds to take.

      Finally, Anderson-Pierre admitted what they all knew: sometimes you have to play it by ear!

      The rest of the morning and the early afternoon was spent practicing docking.

      It was an unfair exercise in one sense: the harbour could flow under the floating dock. However, the floating dock was located in fairly shallow water near the shore and there simply was not much current.

      The LEE returned to the "home pier" and this time, Anderson-Pierre brought the LEE in a tight turn and nested the LEE's starboard side against the pier. It was almost anti-climatic to toss the lines over and receive the pier. It being past 1 PM, Anderson-Pierre took the crew to lunch at a popular hamburger and milk shake place.

      While they "dined", the lawyers busily drafted, revived and finally prepared what they hoped would be their final copy of the "LEE" JAG Manual investigation. CDR Brownback, never one to take the blame when there was somebody who could take it, was not thrilled at having to go to "his" Admiral…

      The 3 PM visit was short, if not sweet.

      Commander Brownback entered the Admiral's office, handed his report to the Rear Admiral, was invited to sit and wait several minutes until RADM Negron finished.

      "Well, the findings of fact have been revised to my satisfaction. I did note who initiated the investigation…"

      "Sir?"

      "Says here 'A. Samuel Brownback'. So, what does the 'A' stand for?"

      "Anton, sir."

      "I would have figured 'Andrew'. You do realize that lawyers aren't supposed to start JAG Manual Investigations."

      "Sir. It can be strongly argued that my actions were fitting and proper. Sir."

      "Well, I can't argue with that. I will take this from here; you have done your job Commander and my staff and I will pursue this matter fully. Thank you for bringing this to my attention."

      Negron stood so Brownback stood; Negron walked Brownback to the outer office and nodded at him. Negron still had the final report loosely grasped in his hand. When Brownback left, Negron went back to his office, behind his desk and threw the report across the room.

      "Kill that investigation! It had no basis for existing and that Asshole Samuel Brownback had no authority to conduct an independent JAG Man!"

      Negron's Staff Lawyer said dryly: "Does this mean I'm to draft a memo stating 'no further action' required?"

      "Yes, it does."

      Then, they turned to a far more pressing item: which baseball team looked like it might have a shot at the World Series in only seven months…

      They say that Admirals or Generals must be politicians to get Flag Rank and Rear Admiral Antony Negron proved his worthiness as a politician. But, there was the little matter of him being too honest and ethical though…

      His most recent visitor had looked a natural…

      When the LEE's crew returned "home", both Anderson-Pierre realized they weren't going to make it to their classes; Anderson-Pierre in medicine and Tanner in religion. So, when Tanner offered to lecture on emergency navigation, Anderson-Pierre agreed.

      They decided to start class sitting on the boat's deck.

      "Do you know the difference between a Fairy Tale and a Sea Story," Tanner began? "Fairy Tales begin with 'once upon a time' and Sea Stories begin with 'this ain't no shit'!"

      His audience appreciated the laughter.

      "I went to a boat show in San Francisco about six months ago. There was this guy trying to sell twelve foot sailboats. We had a conversation that went like this:          He asked me 'did you hear about that kid who sailed from San Diego to Honolulu Hawaii without using Navigation Equipment?"

      "No", I said, "did he have a compass?"

      "No, he had no navigation equipment at all."

      "Not even a compass?"

      "Nope, not even a compass."

      "Did he have an AM radio and sail towards the null point?"

      "No radio."

      "Did he steer by the sun?"

      "Didn't know how."

      "Did he steer by the North Star at night?"

      "No. Unfortunately, he didn't know how to find Polaris."

      "Well, then he couldn't have safely navigated outside of sight of land at all."

      "He followed contrails!"

      "What???"

      "Yes! He figured that most planes would be flying to and from Hawaii so he got outside the San Diego harbour and simply followed the contrails. At night, he let his sail flap and slept. Then, come morning twilight, he'd look for his contrails and followed them. Eventually, he came upon an island, worked his way around it and entered the first port he found. Now, they say, he's working at a beach bar, lives on the beach and says he never wants to see his sailboat again…

      "Well, what do you think?"

      "Sounds like bullshit to me," Erica the direct chimed in.

      "Sounds like a sea story", Jeffrey stated.

      "Ah," murmured the Senior Chief, "he didn't say 'Once upon a this ain't no shit time…or whatever it was."

      The crew, even Tanner laughed.

      "My point is there are many ways to navigate and some are just plain luck. I called the Coast Guard and they had taken a report from this kid.  He even made it on the local TV news.  There is another way to navigate. Have any of you turned an AM radio until the signal goes away? Show of hands, please."

      Most of Tanner's audience dutifully raised a hand.

      "AM radios use wire wrapped ferrite rods. Turn the radio until you get dead air and the broad side of the radio is facing your transmitter. Another confirmed story has to do with a Japanese sailor who used electronic navigation equipment, including an electronic compass. His boat got hit by lightning in mid ocean and all he had left was the AM radio. He found an AM radio station that identified itself as being on Guam. Then, he used a combination of sun direction and AM radio to navigate to Guam. Once he got to Guam, he sold the boat and took a flight back home. Said he never wanted to sail by himself again. Not bad, some redundant navigation equipment like a magnetic compass and a Davis sextant could have kept him safe."

      No one said anything.

      "Well, you've probably wondering what this is leading up to? You're all going to learn Navigation by the Stars. That will also include navigating by the sun and the moon. I could teach position finding from the planets but that is for a different time. So, has anyone heard of the celestial sphere?"

      Tanner's lecture continued outside for a while and then was moved "inside". It would take several weeks practice but everyone would become proficient…

      After another week of boat driving practice, Anderson-Pierre made good on his promise to let Tanner have command. At 8 am on a Monday morning, Tanner faced Anderson-Pierre. Both were in Dress Whites.

      "Petty Officer Tanner, are you prepared to become 'Petty Officer in Charge' of the LEE for the next week?"

      "Yes, sir!"

      "Begin," Rear Admiral Negron intoned.

      "Sir, I stand ready to relieve you."

      "Sir, I stand ready to be relieved."

      "Sir, I relieve you."

      "Sir, I stand relieved."

      Then, no longer in command, LT Anderson-Pierre shook Tanner's hand and said "one week my friend".

      They had a nice cake, gourmet coffee the Admiral's Staff had provided, a nice little party and that shot the morning. POIC Tanner decided the afternoon would be best spent in training and everyone turned out to have training to do. LT Anderson-Pierre spent the afternoon working on a draft copy of the findings of their day spent collecting BT observations. It was quite interesting, from a technical viewpoint. Not much came from the Sechi disk work but LCDR Little's Aerographer's Mates made some nice graphs and did really nice jobs of labeling them...

      The next morning, POIC Tanner took the LEE to the outer harbour for a series of training maneuvers including "man overboard", "coming alongside other boats" and "evasive maneuvers". They also practiced using the flag hoists to send messages and had semaphore training. The fact that Anderson-Pierre wasn't in command didn't stop him from training Tanner nor did it stop Scott either. Tanner learned quickly and when his week was up, was almost sad to give the LEE back to Anderson-Pierre.

      It was on Monday of their fourth week of training when the Mountain came to Mohammad, or rather, the Naval Security Group came to the USS LEE.

      The LEE's engines were warming up and the line handlers standing by when a Navy sedan drove up and a Warrant Officer and a couple of Chiefs got out and approached the LEE.

      "Request permission to come aboard," the Warrant roared in the voice that his boot camps recruits had come to know and loath.

      "We're about ready to leave for the morning. Can this wait?" Anderson-Pierre wasn't happy to have his plans shot.

      "I'm afraid not, Captain Anderson. We're with SECGRU (Security Group)."

      "Come on up, then. Bill, have John and Bill shut down the diesels; there's no sense in wasting fuel."

      The Warrant and his two Chiefs went up the brow, performed the usual rituals for entering this Naval ship and were escorted to the table in the deck house.

      "Captain Anderson, I am Chief Warrant Officer Gerald Gaven and these are Communications Technician Maintenance Chief Jerrod Frederking and Chief Communications Technician Operator Michael Peters. We're here to install your Orestes KW7 gear, instruct you in it's usage and scare the crap out of y'all with the usual threats. It'll be all morning Captain Anderson and I purely do regret the inconvience; our CO, Commander Thomas Stone decided on Friday that it was time for y'all to get the sevens and told us at 6:30 this morning. We'd have been here sooner but we had to get the paperwork done up." He sighed. "You know the sign they have over the toilets?"

      No one reacted.

      "'The jobs not done till the paperwork's done.' Our Communications Technician Administrative petty officers, fancy titled Yeoman is all they are, surely did shit out a lot of paper this morning!"

      That last disgruntled statement got the laugh.

      Anderson-Pierre went down the brow to the waiting boatswain mates. "Sorry, fellows, to have gotten you out here this morning. My plans have just been changed  and y'all can go 'back to the barn' now."

      The sailors saluted Anderson-Pierre, who returned the salute and went back aboard his ship. They thought he was a decent officer and were amazed by the apology; those few who thought of it, thought Anderson-Pierre had graduated from some nice state college and would never have believed that he'd graduated from "a small, formerly-for-boys-only, private college on the East Severn River". That is, the "boat school" as the Naval Academy was known…

      Returning to the work table found the visitors now equipped with coffee mugs and rolls. Introductions were made and the lecture began.

      "Now, Captain Anderson, we're going to lecture everyone on security of the key material, security of the equipment and operating the equipment. Petty Officer Maxson, have you ever worked on the Orestes cribs?"

      "No, sir. In fact, I don't even know what they are."

      "They're an abomination designed to make live easier on the crypto types and that has turned out to be more hated than most any piece of equipment I've ever seen. You'll learn to love them since they usually break down nearly every day."

      Warrant Gaven wasn't one to use hyponated names and "Anderson-Pierre" was "Anderson" as far as he was concerned. His saving grace was his bone deep belief that the officer commanding a Navy vessel was always a Captain, in title if not actual rank and By God would get the respect he granted Naval Captains. Unfortunately, that wasn't all that much…

      "Please read this paperwork. It may not look like much but the test writers were able to pluck a lot of questions out of it."

      After reading the text, the Warrant and Maintenance Chief asked everyone many questions. Then, the "students" took the test. All passed quite well and it was obvious the "teachers" had "taught the test". That was fine with Communications Technician Operator Michael Peters who thought that knowing how to use the equipment was the important thing…

      The Operator Chief began to lecture:

      "Here is our little bugger folks. This is the Orestes crib. Let me explain how this works. There are 30 wires and 31 holes for them to go into. That means that one hole is left empty. The daily code sheets give which wires go into which holes. The purpose of this crib is to let the operators set up spare cribs ahead of time. Lets say you're at a major communication facility and have circuits to 15 ships. This means you have to set up 15 pairs of cribs. You put this 'crib' into it's receiver and clamp it into place with the locking arm. Don't you think it would be easier if they were set up ahead of time, tested and set aside? That's the theory anyway."

      "Ah, Chief, ah, don't those damned pins come out easily when you put them in the 'receiver' and close the locking arm?"

      "They sure do, young lady! I've seen times when closing the security latch will cause half of those damned wires to come out… You'll find out soon enough!"

      Only the LEE's engineers and lawyer seemed unbothered by this…

      The maintenance chief had gone to the equipment rack set up for the Orestes gear.

      "It's ready."

      "Sir, request permission to bring the gear aboard."

      "Certainly, Mr. Gavin. Can we help you?

      "No, sir, we've got dollies and a couple of Marines. We can manage."

      The Warrant went to the brow and ordered his Marines to bring the equipment aboard. Two Marines and a couple of sailors brought the gear aboard. This was the KY7 transmitter, KY7 receiver, a teletype printer and a "glass TTY" (pronounced "glass titty"). The "glass titty" had a tape punch mechanism attached to it.

      "Sailor," the operator chief said to RM3 Hanson, "you're going to love this! Unlike the TTY, you don't have to cut tape and hope you've gotten it right! You can type several pages of text on this screen and move your cursor or typing point up and down. When you like it, you can print it to the tape punch and store it on this cassette tape. We've gotten you a lot of cassette tapes. You can even write over music tapes you never want to listen to again."

      The crew watched as the maintenance personnel installed the crypto gear, installed the printer and "glass titty" and tested everything back-to-back via the patch panel. As each piece of equipment had been removed from it's travel housing, Anderson-Pierre and Gavin had found and written down the serial numbers: the serial number of each KW7, the power supply for each KY7, the printer, the "glass titty" and the tape punch on the side of the "glass titty". It took a while and LN1 Sillings wrote down the numbers and names of each piece of equipment and the Yeoman^[24] Gavin had brought along did the same.

      While this was happening, everyone got to practice removing the pins from the two "cribs" and installing different combination of pins in to the cribs. Only one wire was broken in the training and ET2 Maxson had the "pleasure" of learning how to repair it.

      Erica and her alternative, Jeff, spent much of an hour practicing inserting and removing the two cribs and in reprogramming them when the wires popped out. To insert the crib into it's socket was easy. The hard part was moving the retainer bar over. This action pushed the cribs hard into their sockets and that action often caused pins to be pushed out. It was very aggravating…

      "Sir," Erica spoke to the Warrant Officer, "aren't there card readers which replace this damned 'cribs'?"

      "Yes, there are. We're not authorized to use them. I guess high command thinks suffering is good for the soul and using these damned cribs must be very good for the soul!"

      "Ah, sir, Warrant Gavin, weren't these cribs designed to make life easier?"

      "Yes."

      "Wasn't the 'old way' to use big old telephone exchange cables? Did they ever pull out?"

      "No, they don't."

      "Can we shit can these 'cribs' and go back to the telephone cables?"

      "Captain Anderson, what say you, sir?"

      "Would it make life easier?"

      "Yes, sir, it would."

      "Then, if at all possible, please install them."

      "It'll take at least a half hour and you'll have to sign these forms."

      The Warrant Officer took several forms from his brief case.

      "This form returns the crib from the send device, this form returns the crib from the receive device, this form confirms that you voluntarily returned the cribs. Please read them and sign them."

      LN1 Sillings picked up the forms and carefully read them fully and then reread them.

      "I recommend you sign these, sir."

      "Ah, a careful man, having your lawyer read before you sign, Captain", Mr. Gavin exclaimed.

      "I'm not a lawyer, sir."

      LT Anderson-Pierre signed the forms, CWO4 Gavin signed as Witness and a Marine Sergeant signed as Witness.

      "Really? Not a lawyer? Well, you surely act like one. Well, Captain Anderson, shall we inventory the '7's and get their numbers?"

      They then compared the serial numbers recorded by LN1 Sillings and Gavin's yeoman with each other and the inventory forms. They matched.

      Since the KW7s had not been installed, the electronics repair people removed the "cribs" and reattached the telephone cables. They then put the cables into a standard configuration and tested the KW7s back-to-back. They work fine.

      The electronics people then showed everyone how to use the "security safe" that was now on the outside of the crypto gear. The "security safe" came with four sets of keys; there were two locks on the "security safe" and that made for eight keys.

      LT Anderson-Pierre and HMCS Scott signed for the keylist for the rest of that month and the next month. They carefully studied the "destruction" sheet on the inside front cover and verified that all keys from the day before and earlier had been logged as destroyed. They were relieved to see this.

      They were given two copies of a "how to" book. There were boilerplate messages inside for such events as:

* Reporting a day's key sheet destroyed,

   who destroyed it

   and who witnessed said destruction.

* Reporting that the destruction of a day's key sheet had been delayed and why,

* Advising that a day's key list had not been used and why

* Reporting that crypto lists had been compromised

* Reporting that crypto lists had disappeared were only some of the messages listed.

      They were given two set of the PLA Book or "Plain Language Address" Book. These books were set up so one could look up a Command's Name and find that command's Routing Indicator in one section and look up a Command's Routing Indicator in the other section and find the Command's Name.

      Penned into the first section was "RGUMAO USS ELBERT C. LEE SR RGUMAO" and in the second section "RGUMAO USS ELBERT C. LEE SR ".

       For everyone's benefit, RM3 Hanson broke the coding down:

      "The 'R' is the start of the Routing Indicator. The 'GUM' means the Guam Master Communications Station serves this ship. The 'AO' is slightly different. The 'A' is used to indicate a class of ships; I've never been able to find out which ships. The 'O' means we're the 15th ship in the 'A' category. So, when we gin up messages, we have to use 'RGUMAO' as our routing indicator. But, since folks have trouble remembering that, we call ourselves by our Plain Language Address of "USS ELBERT C. LEE SR".

      The Operator Chief began to speak:

      "You will be required to contact the Master Station daily. When you shut down for the night, you will have to get permission to do so. Send a message to the Guam Master Communications Station using the code 'ZAL'. This mean 'I am closing down'. An example would be you decide to shut down and go ashore. You plan on resuming radio communications tomorrow at 10 am. That would be coded as 'ZAL 130000Z SECURING OPERATIONS'. The 13 00 00 Z means midnight Zulu, that being 10 am here. "SECURRING OPERATIONS" means you're packing it in for the day and don't want to need to keep the communications circuit open. You could of course send "ZAL 13 00 00 Z GETTING DRUNK" but high command frowns on such honesty -er- candor."

      "'High command'?", the Warrant asked.

      "Humm, that didn't come quite right."

      The concept of "high" command lead to "higher" command and "stoned" command and cause much merriment among the entire complement of the good ship "LEE" later on…

      "So, we're down to the last gifts. Here are sheets for recording incoming messages, the sheets for logging in outgoing messages, the cards for listing the serial numbers of incoming messages and the cards for recording the serial numbers of outgoing messages. I imagine that since you've just gotten your callsigns, you haven't had a lot of incoming messages?"

      "You would image correctly, Chief Peters. The Senior Chief and I have been reading general distribution messages at the communications center and we haven't actually gotten any for us directly."

      "Well, sir, consider yourselves lucky! You have been blessed with anonymity and that will end as soon as various commands realize they can add you to their AIGs - Address Indicator Groups - and you'll be getting all sort of official messages. Messages that'll make you wonder why anyone sent them to you. You'll also find you've missed messages you think you should have gotten."

      "Have fun!" spoke one of Gavin's assistants.

      "Well," Warrant Officer Gavin said with enthusiasm, "lets get you folks started. With your permission, Captain Anderson, we'll get started."

      LT Anderson-Pierre's nod was good enough.

      "First, let's put today's code in. Verify that all the phone lines are out of their jacks and are hanging free."

      They checked and the plugs were.

      "I like to fill the jacks left to right starting from the bottom. First plug is number 24. Second plug is number 19..." This went on until all 30 cords were in their allotted jacks. RM3 Hanson "plugged" the lower (receive) KW7 and ET2 Maxson plugged the higher (send) KW7.

      "Close the lids, make sure they have tight seals. Close them gently, we wouldn't want radio frequency leakage around them to be available for interception."

      That was done.

      "My ETs have labeled your equipment patch boards. Please patch the output of the send '7' to the input of the receive '7'." This was done to Mr. Gavin's satisfaction.

      "Now, Petty Officer Hanson, please test the gear."

      "Yes, sir."

      Erica pushed in the SEND button on the top KW7 and started typing on the "glass titty". It was common for operators to hold down the "blank" and "repeat" keys on a teletype. This simply caused the print head of the receiving teletype to make a banging noise. It also gave the Soviets a known "crib" or something to expect when trying to break an Orestes transmission. It typically took a number of seconds before a receiver "locked in" on a transmitter signal. Erica didn't send blanks; she sent, quoting from "Devil's Food" by Alice Cooper:

         

                "Get ready for the lady, she's gonna be a treat,              

               Simmer slightly 'till ready, make her soft too,

               Make her soft too, make her sweet,

               I kiss the tears off from your chest.."

      The receive light on the KW7 receiver finally lit and "from your chest" printed out.

      "And what, pray tell, was that young lady?"

      "That, sir, was from 'Devil's Food' by Alice Cooper. We don't want to give the bad guys a crib, do we, sir?"

      "No, we don't." Warrant Gavin sighed and looked at ET2 Maxson. "What will you be using?"

"       I was thinking of 'the Wreck of the Hesparius' or perhaps 'the Second Coming' by Yeats or maybe some by Sir Richard, Sir."

      "I'm thinking of Robinson Jeffers, sir," the Cop spoke up.

      Warrant Gavin just sighed, he hoped for someone telling limericks…

      "You have the list of operating freqs here. Set your 1051 to this freq and let's see how it sounds."

       Erica tuned the R390 to that freq, listened, then tuned the R1051 to that freq.

      "You did that because?"

      "Sir, it's easier to check for static using the 390 than break my wrists on the wonderful, wonderful, 10 51, sir."

      "Well, I don't like those damn things either but higher command likes them. Obviously, they've never had to use them…"

      "Now," the Warrant continued, "use the 390 to check our send freq."

      She did and that freq sounded clean as well.

      "I suggest you call the number written here on the freq list and ask for the radio communications section chief. Ask for permission to come up on the send freq your ET just dialed into the tranny (transmitter) and the receive freq you just dialed into your receiver."

      The phone call was made and permission granted. Mr. Gavin and LT Anderson-Pierre were pleased that RM3 Hanson had taken out the patch cords which had forced their send KW7 to talk only to their receive KY7. He also warned them that sometimes the equipment malfunctioned: the signal sent "back to back" sometimes when out anyway and they should avoid embarrassing themselves…

      They verified the had a strong signal going out; the R390 was used for this. They verified they were getting a strong signal from the Guam radio transmitter; the R1051 verified this. Then, the receive light on the KW7 receiver lit and a message typed out:

 

"KLEE KLEE KLEE DE TC TC TC CIP CIP CIP CIP K"

      KLEE" was their callsign, "TC" meant "Technical Control" or the crypto operators and "CIP" meant "Come In Please"

 

"TC TC TC DE KLEE KLEE KLEE INT QRK K"

"INT QRK" meant "what is the readability of my signals?"

 

"KLEE DE TC QRK 5 HOW ME K

      QRK 5 meant best signal

"TC DE KLEE U R QRK 5 K INT QTC K"

      QTC meant "how many messages do you have to send

"KLEE DE TC WILL CHECK INT QTC K

 

"KLEE DE TC OPS FLOOR SAYS NONE AND WANT TO KNOW IFF'N YOU HAVE ANY TO SEND K" ("TC" meant technical control or the people in the crypto room and "OPS FLOOR" meant the folks actually sending and receiving messages.)

      "Tell them I'll have to get back to them on that," LT Anderson-Pierre said. He had finally gotten to "the big time" and he couldn't think of anything he really needed to send anyone.

 

"TC DE KLEE MY CO SAYS HE'LL GET BACK TO YOU K"

 

      "Well," the Maintenance Chief said, rubbing his hand together, "the Wives' Club was planning on helping celebrate something or another today. So, if you're not going to lunch, we can get some Chamorro (or native Guam) food here. Anyone interested?"

      Everyone was, the food was sent for and a rather pleasant meal was had around the big table in the center of the deck house. And the whole time, the message creating "glass titty" sat waiting, waiting for someone to create and send the first message from the LEE…

      Long after the meal and when everyone was about to pack it in for the day and go "home" to their various barracks, Anderson-Pierre finally thought of a message to send. It was:

R 130423Z FEB 79

FM USS ELBERT C. LEE SR

TO USS AMERICA

BT

UNCLAS

SUBJ: PERSONAL FOR CAPT PULLER

HAVE GOTTEN MY BOAT IN COMMISSION AND ARE PLANNING ON STARTING OPERATIONS IN TWO WEEKS. I'VE QUALIFIED TWO DECK OFFICERS (QM1 TANNER, HMCS SCOTT) AND AM IN PROCESS OF QUALIFING TWO MORE (LN1 SILLINGS AND SSGT MARKHAM). THEY'RE GOOD PEOPLE BUT IT KEEPS ME AWAKE AT NIGHT WORRYING ABOUT WHAT COULD GO WRONG WHEN THEY'RE ON WATCH WITHOUT ME.

 

SIR, I APPRECIATE ALL YOUR HELP INCLUDING GETTING ME QM1 TANNER AND GIVING ME LN1 SILLINGS. THEY'RE GOOD PEOPLE.

 

AS AN ASIDE, BETWEEN THE TWO OF US, LN1 SILLINGS PASSED THE GUAM BAR EXAM AND WILL BE SWORN IN LATER THIS WEEK.

RESPECTFULLY, MICHAEL HENRY ANDERSON-PIERRE

#0001

NNNN

      Although Anderson-Pierre had typed the message on the "glass titty", Erica Hanson had to read it before sending it. But first, she had to contact Tech Control and have them "switch them" to the operations floor. The operators there said the LEE could transmit and she had done so.

      "Your secret is safe with me, too, 'Henry'", she murmured.

      "Thank you."

      "It's communicators access, sir, we see stuff we can't talk about and don't talk about. 'Not to worry'!" There was a pause.  "Oh, Captain, by the way, we don't have a printer for the send. The old fashioned teletypes automatically created hard copy. Maybe we can get an extra printer?"

      Next, Erica sent ZAL 140000Z SECURING OPERATIONS'

      The NAVCAMS (Naval Communications Area Master Station) send back "WHAT"?

      Erica replied "WE'RE SHUTTING DOWN OPERATIONS FOR THE NIGHT AND WILL CONTACT Y'ALL TOMORROW MORNING."

 

 "WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY THAT?"

 

"WE WERE TOLD TO USE THE ZAL MESSAGE."

 

"GOOD NIGHT AND GOD BLESS Y'ALL AND DO NOT USE THAT ZAL STUFF. JUST TELL US YOUR INTENTIONS."

 

"MY CAPTAIN SAY 'WILCO', THANK YOU & C U TOMORROW"

 

    "Can you save this to that cassette?" Anderson-Pierre was curious.

      "That was done automatically, sir."

      "Senior Chief, we'll need to get a teletype printer for out fancy teletype send unit. I wonder what else we'll need?"

      "We will need to lock the crypto gear for the night, sir and I think we should remove the coding from the '7's."

      "Good idea, Erica. Senior Chief, please re-verify that our codes are ready to be locked in the safe. Erica, unlock these boxes and we'll start stripping them down."

      Anderson-Pierre took the send unit and being a foot shorter than the LT, Erica took the bottom unit. They gently pulled the phone cords out, laid them out along the bottom of the units and shut the doors. The LT, HMCS, ET2 and RM3 all verified the future KW7 code lists and all the keys were in the safe's inner lock box. The inner lock box was shut and locked, the safe's door was shut and locked.

      They were finally ready to leave for the night.

      The next morning started with minor cleanup of quarters, breakfast and then returned to the LEE. An Electronics Technician spent some fifteen minutes putting in a printer and attaching the wiring. He also left several boxes of TTY paper.

      After the ET left,  the day's crypto key was removed from the safe, Hanson and Maxson plugged up the Orestes gear. Then, they made very certain the patch boards were set back-to-back as they tested their key input. Since they had set the keys in about 11 PM Greenwich time, they were legally an hour short of the required earliest time. But, the radios were turned off and they would have been no one to detect this minor regulation breaking…

      Shortly before 10 am, they contacted the fleet radio center on the telephone. As it turned out, they were to use the same freqs as the day before; this was somewhat to be expected although the freqs could have been different.

      They tuned up the R1051 receiver and left the transmitter in standby. Then, they started waiting for the Naval Communications Area Master Station (NAVCAMS) Guam, to use the fancy new title for "Communications Center Guam". When they received the signal from NAVCAMS Guam, they put their transmitter in "send", pushed the push-to-send button and responded.

"KLEE KLEE KLEE DE GUM GUM GUM CIP CIP CIP K:"

       "GUM" had to wait for them to respond.

"GUM GUM GUM DE KLEE KLEE KLEE READ U 5 BY 5 K"

 

"GLAD TO HEAR THAT. HOW BOUT I SWITCH Y'ALL UP TO THE TRAFFIC FLOOR; THE OPS CHIEF SAYS HE HAS MSG TFC (message traffic) FOR YOU. PERSONALLY, I THINK THE CHIEF IS JUST TRYING TO GET YOU SOME PRACTICE AT RECEIVING MESSAGES. K"

 

"SWITCH AWAY, SHIPMATE, SWITCH AWAY! K"

      A few seconds later, a message come over from the Quality Control operator.

"PREPARE TO RECEIVE YOUR FIRST OFFICIAL NAVAL MESSAGE! THRILLING, ISN'T IT???"

 

"YUP. ZAG IT…"

 

"ZAGGING…"

 

Then, they received:

R 131914Z FEB 79

FM COMNAVMAR

TO USS ELBERT C. LEE SR

BT

UNCLAS

SUBJ LN1 DAVID THOMAS SILLINGS

 

TO QUOTE THE ATTORNEY GENERAL GOVERNMENT OF GUAM, "MR. DAVID THOMAS SILLINGS HAS PASSED THE BAR EXAM AS ADMINISTERED BY THE GOVERNMENT OF GUAM. MR. SILLINGS IS HEREBY GRANTED THE RIGHT TO PRACTICE LAW ON GUAM, THE NORTHERN MARIANAS ISLANDS AND WITHIN THE FEDERATION OF MICRONESIA."

 

I WILL PERMIT LN1 SILLINGS TO BE SWORN IN TO SERVE AS A MEMBER OF THE BAR. I DO REQUIRE THAT:

1) HE FINISH HIS BA OR BS ASAP,

2) WHEN PROMOTED TO LEGALMAN CHIEF PETTY OFFICER, HE SHALL

    APPLY TO THE ARMED FORCES LEGAL COLLEGE FOR ENTRANCE AS

    A STUDENT.

3) GIVEN YOUR PLANS TO VISIT SAIPAN TOMORROW, I WOULD LIKE

   THE LEE'S COMPLEMENT TO COME WITH ME TO THE GOVERNOR'S

   OFFICE ON FRIDAY TO ATTEND LN1 SILLINGS' SWEARING IN.THERE

   IS AN ULTERIOR MOTIVE FOR REQUESTING THIS SERVICE ON FRIDAY.

   CDR BROWNBACK'S DISLIKING FOR THE LEE AND HER CREW MUST

   BE ASSUMED TO BE UNDIMINISHED. I ARRANGED FOR HIM TO

   ATTEND A TWO WEEK CONFERENCE IN HONOLULU. I HAVE ALREADY

   EXPLAINED TO HIS XO THAT I EXPECT  LN1 SILLINGS TO RECEIVE

   MEMBERSHIP IN BAR. I EXPLAINED THAT I DO NOT WANT  CDR

   BROWNBACK TO BE MADE AWARE OF THIS. BROWNBACK'S XO WAS

   ENTHUSIASTIC IN HIS AGREEMENT..

 

I EXPECT TO HEAR BACK FROM YOU THIS AFTERNOON.

NEGRON SENDS.

#2429

NNNN

      This was rather a lot of digest the little group of RM3 Hanson, ET2 Maxson and LT Anderson-Pierre wondered how they were going to tell Sillings…

      Hanson carefully tore the message off the printer and annotated the usual "when we got this" codes that Radiomen are so fond of.

      A second message began printing:

R 130752Z FEB 79

FM USS AMERICA

TO USS ELBERT C. LEE SR

BT

UNCLAS PERSONAL FOR CO

A) USS ELBERT C. LEE SR 130423Z FEB 1979

 

IRT THE REF, CONGRATS ON GETTING PLUGGED INTO THE NAVAL COMMUNICATIONS SYSTEM. NOW, YOU NEED TO BE AFRAID OF WHAT YOUR COMMUNICATIONS PEOPLE MIGHT SAY WHEN "SPEAKING IN THE C.O.'S NAME"!

 

ASIDE FROM THAT, AM GLAD ALL APPEARS TO BE PROGRESSING AS HOPED FOR. LET ME KNOW WHAT HAPPENED.

CAPT PULLER SENDS.

#1891

NNNN

 

      Then, there was an operator-to-operator communication from the NAVCAMS "Send Operator".

 

"WHEN IT IS APPROPRIATE, PLEASE TELL MR. SILLINGS THAT I'LL BUY HIM A BEER TO CELEBRATE. HUMMMM I CAN'T THINK OF ANY REASON TO NEED FREE (OR AT LEAST CHEAP) LAWYERING BUT I'LL THINK ON IT. TELL HIM I'M PROUD OF HIM. ORLANDO HAWKE SENDS."

 

"THANK YOU AND WILL PASS THE MESSAGE. BEER SOUNDS GOOD. IS THERE ANY MORE TRAFFIC?"

 

"NOT A BIT…DO YOU WANT US TO PHONE YOU BEFORE SENDING ANYTHING?"

 

"YES, PLEASE DO."

      LT Anderson-Pierre had trouble reconciling this well manner exchange of messages with the Erica Hanson they all "knew and loved". Oddly enough, Aderson-Pierre realized he could think "loved" without the quotation marks…

      "Mr. Sillings! Mr. Sillings! Please come to the communications section of the operations area. Paging Mr. Sillings!" Erica's voice carried. "Mr." Sillings trundled up and grumbled "what's this 'Mister Sillings' business?"

      "Just read this message, David", LT Anderson-Pierre remarked. "Oh, sit down before you do read it…"

      That was good advise as "Mr." Sillings was shocked by the Admiral's message.

      "But you told me it was a practice test!"

      "True. At the time, I thought it was as I didn't know if the Governor of Guam would sign off on letting you be "barred". Therefore, if he had 'barred' you from being 'barred', it would have been a practice session. But it is not and I need to know if you'll agree to the terms outlined?"

      "Yes, sir, I do!"

      By this time, the entire crew of the LEE had gathered around to read the message and to both congratulate Sillings and give him some good natured shit over it.

      "I hate to burst any bubbles but we're all going to have to make sure our dress whites are ready. Senior Chief, I'm thinking that choker whites might be appropriate."

      "Yes, sir, they are."

      "OK, everyone, get your dress whites done up. They'll need to be done by Friday. Sergeant, I don't know what colour your summer dress uniform is and would appreciate your getting it ready."

      "No problem, sir. I had it dry cleaned the first week we were here."

      "Good. This means we'll end up having to celebrate with a drink or two." Anderson-Pierre wasn't one to force his "subordinates" to drink with him but he wasn't one to pass up the opportunity to celebrate something. Must have been something to do with being raised by a Catholic Priest…

      "We can have a couple of drinks at Barney's Beach Hut Friday evening. The drinks will be on me…not literally on me, however."

      "I have to draft a message then," Anderson-Pierre stated.

 

R 140027Z FEB 79

FM USS ELBERT C. LEE SR

TO COMNAVMAR

BT

UNCLAS

SUBJ: PERSONAL FOR RADM NEGRON WRT LN1 SILLINGS

A) COMNAVMAR 131914Z FEB 79

IRT THE REF, "MR." SILLINGS WILL ACCEPT BEING "BARRED" AND ENTIRE COMPLEMENT OF LEE WILL ATTEND. WE ARE PLANNING ON WEARING DRESS UNIFORMS; WHEN AND WHERE IS THIS TO TAKE PLACE?

 

LT AP SENDS

#0003

NNNN

      "This message was sent and a receipt granted by COMNAVMAR.

      "Well, that certainly changed the week!"

      There was a pause.

      " However, we need to be about our training schedule. So, we're going to head to Saipan for a visit tomorrow. We'll need to top off fuel and water tanks today. We can have the base mess halls send food over or we can have them give us raw food and cook it ourselves. Any ideas?"

      HMCS Scott suggested that lunch and supper be send over cold and then warmed up at the appropriate times. There were no objections and Senior Chief Scott would make the arrangements later.

      "The next item. Unless there are any great objections, I think it's time we started doing our jobs. I would like to leave on a two week cruise of the islands starting next Monday. So, I want everyone to make a list of things you're going to need when we're gone. Think of what you use on a daily basis and make sure you have it! We're going to have plenty of water to drink, the mess hall will supply us with canned bug juice, we'll have fresh milk for a couple of days and plenty of 'good Navy food'. But, we won't have your favourite snacks or favourite soft drinks or things like popcorn. So bring it. Think of tomorrow as being a 'cruise in a day' and be sure you listen to yourself think when you wish you had something you'd left on shore. It was convoluted English but everyone got his meaning..."

      He sighed…

      "I hate to bring it up given that Secretary of the Navy Daniels has been dead for a long time but we can't have any booze on the boat. We can have communion wine but only for communion; we can have 'medicinal brandy' but it will have to be for emergencies and 'feeling like having a drink' won't count as an 'emergency'. I'll also have to account for any Brandy usage in my daily log as will Dr. Scott. Although, I think I might feel the need for a drink after a couple of days at sea…"

      This got some laughter.

      It was about this time that a work crew from the Communications Station arrived to install a printer, that was hooked up to the TTY send position. EN2 Nichols began to worry about how much current the various pieces of gear were going to draw from his generators…

      After taking lunch at the appropriate mess halls, the crew gathered to discuss the items they would be needing. For uniforms, the summer whites and working uniforms were on the list; civilian attire was there also. Everyone discussed and agreed on "essentials", with the exception of Erica who simply mentioned "feminine stuff".

      EN2 Nichols, who would always be a bit naive about women said "you mean makeup"?

      She replied "I don't wear makeup. I mean 'feminine stuff'!"

"      Ah," he replied, "hair stuff and stuff to wear at night."

      Nichols sat, oblivious to the eye rolling going on around him and waited until Erica Hanson said "that's it exactly". Nichols would be in for a real surprise when he found out what she had been talking about…

      There were no more messages to be received, the refueling took place when a pierside tanker truck pulled up along side the LEE, water was topped off with a long hose taken off a water tanker and various food items were brought aboard. Captain Anderson-Pierre and his entire crew verified the end of the water hose was clean and that the first ten feet of hose had come wrapped in a sterile plastic wrapper...

      LT Anderson-Pierre and QM1 Tanner spent a few minutes working up their first movement report and Erica type and send it. This being a shake down cruise, LT Anderson-Pierre decided they would try to send weather observations but they would hold off on the BTs.

      The Orestes settings were torn down and the safes locked over the Orestes gear. The key list was safe locked in the inner safe and they prepared to leave for the night. Their main concern was "what have we forgotten"? It would never have occurred to them that the communications secrecy about the Orestes gear was wasted since one "Johnny Walker Red" had sold the secrets to the Soviets already...

      The crew arrived before 8 am, carrying personal supplies and some spare clothing. They had the sneaky feeling they might need two days worth of stuff…

      EN2 Nichols and the Staff Sergeant carefully went over the engines again; nothing had broken since the day before. QM1 Tanner got out the charts for the Saipan area and along with LT Anderson-Pierre and Senior Chief Scott, plotted a course to and around Saipan. They would pass the tiny island of Aguigan on their port (left) side and go between Tinian and Saipan. Then, they would cruise up the southwest corner of Saipan and view the port of San Antonio. They had not gotten permission to pull in there. Then, it would be turn south-southwest and cruise back to Guam. If they arrived late, LT Anderson-Pierre was prepared to accept the embarrassment of asking for a pilot. He had once heard of a carrier which had gone out to sea and done marvelous Naval Aviation stuff. Unfortunately, the command staff had gotten arrogant and had refused the Honolulu pilot's help; they knew they could make it to the pier by themselves!

      They knew the greatest crew on the greatest ship in the greatest Navy history had ever known. The family, friends, press, etc. were awaiting them.

      They were really shocked when they ran around on a sand bar "that couldn't possibly have been there". The career of the carrier's Captain also ran aground and the Captain who had already been selected for promotion to Read Admiral (lower half) was quietly taken off the promotion list and retired a very bitter man…

      "You may love the Navy but the Navy does not love you." Naval Wisdom!

      LT Anderson-Pierre didn't expect to make Rear Admiral but he knew he was on the short list for Lieutenant Commander and he damn sure was not going to screw himself by refusing a pilot…

      The radio(wo)man and ET were pissed off since they would have to set the crypto key for the pervious day and then change it to the current day at 10 am their time. Suddenly, the idea of having the key lists set in a "removable crib" sounded good…

      But, "all good things must come to an end" and that includes getting ready to put out to sea. Erica made a last phone call, to NAVCAMS and they brought up the teletypes and Orestes crypto gear. They exchanged "hello there" type messages and that was that. There was no traffic awaiting them; the LT had picked it up that morning.

      The real fun for Erica was bringing up the CW (manual morse) and exchanging a few pithy comments with the Fleet CW Operator.

        "Senior Chief, have you taken muster?"

      "Yes, sir, all present and accounted for." LT Anderson-Pierre had counted heads a couple of times all ready.

      "Status of the boat"?

      "Engines operating as expected, communications nominal, navigation prepared. We're ready to get under weigh, sir."

      "Very good. Shift colors."

      The flag was taken from a hoist leading to the LEE's mast and moved to the stern by LN1 Sillings and ET2 Maxson.

      "All ashore that's going ashore." There were no outsiders on the LEE.

      "Shift power to ship's power."

      LN1 Sillings, who was wearing the sound powered phone and now acting as the Captain's Talker, passed this order to engineering. There was a brief flicker of lights as shore power was shut off and ship's internal power took the load. The LEE had a relatively "new tangled gadget" in engineering; an uninterruptible power supply that actually worked. The communications equipment never knew they were getting electrons from a different source.

      "Take the brow over."

      The deck apes casually removed the brow. Staff Sergeant Markham had left engineering and was standing by the lines.

      "Let go the spring lines." This was done.

      "Let go the bow line." This was done.

      "Let go the mid-ships line." This was done.

      "Let go the stern line." This was done.

      There was no danger of any of the mooring lines getting wrapped around either of the LEE's two screws as the engines were running but were not "in gear".

      Senior Chief Scott joined SSGT Markham and made a pushing gesture with both arms. Two groups of deck apes grabbed long poles and make a valiant effort at pushing the LEE from the pier. They got lucky and actually moved the boat about a foot (or so they thought).

      "Are we clear, Senior Chief?" The LT thought they were but wanted to be damn sure…

      "Yes, sir, we are."

      "Than you, Senior Chief." He faced his lee helmsman, ET2 Maxson and said: "Ahead dead slow".

      "Ahead dead slow, sir".

      After letting the LEE get a little momentum and basically clear the end of the pier, the CO said: "helm, left 10 degrees. Take us through the inlet to the inner harbour."

       "Sir, left 10 degrees and through the inlet."

      LT Anderson-Pierre took the ship-to-shore radio's microphone and announced "harbour control, this is the LEE. Over."

      Harbour Control replied with "LEE, harbour control, over."

      "Harbour control, LEE, departing for Saipan per our movement report. over"

      "LEE, harbour control, understood. Request advise when you depart the outer harbour. Over."

      "Harbour control, LEE, wilco. Over."

      They passed through first the inner harbour and then the outer harbour and passed places that suddenly seemed very interesting. Then, they were passing through the outer harbour and into that part of the Pacific Ocean called "The East Philippine Sea."

      "Harbour Control, LEE, we have left the outer harbour and are in the Pacific."

      "LEE, harbour control. Good luck and safe sailing. Out."

      "Harbour Control, LEE, thanks and out."

      LT Anderson-Pierre put the microphone back on it's holder and looked at the plot they had made the day before.

      "Jeff," he said looking at the lee helmsman, "take over the helm. Bill," he said looking at the Quartermaster first, "let's start checking landmarks to see when we can change course."

      They had picked out a series of land marks the day before to watch for. When they were the correct number of degrees off the ship's bow, they would be able to change course.

      In due course, the landmarks were spotted and the LEE turned north towards Aguijan. They could see the beach off to their starboard side and wondered if some of the previous night's "booze hounds" had gone home and come back in time for the 6 am bar opening time or if they had simply slept on the beach and been awoken when Barney's Beach Hut opened at 6 am?

      The trip was uneventful and they were never really out of touch with land. After all, they had their radar and that meant that as Guam was sinking "into the sea", Aguijan and Tinian was "rising from the sea". QM1 Tanner generated the 00Z weather observation and Erica sent if via teletype about 10:15 am. Also at 00Z (or 10 am) Hanson and Maxson torn down the crypto settings for the 13th and set in the new settings for the 14th. They had coordinated the change over via TTY and learned the shore crew had gotten done far sooner than they had.

      Maybe there was something to be said for the cribs…

      They cruised past Aguijan around lunch time and half the crew took pictures. Erica contacted some Navy Ham operators and regaled them with fanciful descriptions of Aguijan, beautiful, mysterious Aguijan.

      Lunch was some kind of casserole with vegetables that were stewed into losing their apparent identity. The engines were working well and Anderson-Pierre allowed the engine room to be unmanned. After LN1 Sillings ate lunch, he relieved ET2 Maxson on the helm.

      It was in the early afternoon that the LEE, cruising up the southwest coast of Saipan, came into sight of the town of San Antonio. Any thought they'd had of stopping, in spite of not having gotten permission, vanished when their fears were realized: San Antonio looked just like Guam but not quite as fancy.

       They took pictures.

      They turned southward and headed for home.

      Their evening meal more than made up for the "interesting" (disastrous actually) lunch. It was roast beef, mashed potatoes, two vegetables and apple pie for desert. They had even been given fresh milk for the desert. The meal was a high light of their tenure on Lee…

      It was well past sunset when the good ship ELBERT C. LEE SR arrived at the outer harbour. SSTG Markham was on watch in engineering. QM1 Tanner was on the helm, EN2 Nichols had the lee helm, Senior Chief Scott was watching the radar and LT Anderson-Pierre had the deck and conn. He picked up the ship-to-shore microphone.

      "Harbour Control this is the LEE. Over."

      "Lee, this is Harbour Control. Welcome back. Over."

      "Harbour Control, Lee. Thanks for the greeting and we're awaiting the pilot. Over."

      "Lee, pilot boat here. Will come alongside your starboard. Can you drop a ladder. Over."

      "Pilot, Lee, wilco. Over."

      The pilot took LEE back to it's normal pier; Anderson-Pierre, Scott or Tanner could have handled the trip themselves easily…

      No one, not even Anderson-Pierre, was interested in A-P's offer of "camping out overnight". It had been a harder day than anyone had expected…

      On Thursday, it took most of the morning for Anderson-Pierre and Scott to come up with a rotating watch schedule that would allow the boat to operate at sea for several days at a time. They had been told to meet at the Government House at 3 PM on Friday.

      This was also their day for planning and planning they did. By noon, visiting "pork chops" or supply people had negotiated what they would give the LEE. They would show up early Friday with work crews.

      Senior Chief Scott, LT Anderson-Pierre and their crew discussed the planned supplies, discussed how they had modified their personal "wish lists" and decided they were ready. Scott and Anderson-Pierre reminded everyone that once they were a "day out to sea, it's too damn late to wish you'd brought a six pack of '7 Up' or the latest book by Jack Chalker or Poul Anderson. So, picture yourselves being at sea and think of what you'd like to have! Got it?

      "Oh, shit," Erica exclaimed. "I forgot to get puzzles!"

      "Puzzles?"

      "I like to do puzzles and have a system for doing them. So, I'd appreciate it if no one fucked with my puzzles, please."

      "We won't fuck with your puzzles, Erica," the Senior Chief said, "but you're going to have to make sure they're not in the way on the table. Can you do that?"

      Erica didn't look happy about this but she nodded in agreement.

      "If no one else has any questions, then I guess we've got about three and a half days to worry about what we've forgotten. So, I think we need a break. Anyone want to go to that new restaurant?"

      Anderson-Pierre was referring to the Dennys that had just opened. The Governor of Guam had shown up in full Guam Dress Uniform: A very colorful Hawaiian shirt, chinos, sandals and (fashion faux pax!) socks!

      They ate at Dennys and enjoyed themselves.

      They would never have thought this back in "the world"…

      They had not brought up any of the radio gear that day and so after lunch, the crew split up and scattered like cockroaches when the lights get turned on…

      (A very bad analogy and one they didn't deserve…)

      Friday started with medical supplies arriving and being stowed in much of the storage space and a number of items filled about 40 percent of the refer. Then, consumables like milk, cheese and a number of "culinary necessities" filled the rest of the refer. The door was shut and dogged shut; this was not one of those wimpy civilian refrigerators held shut with magnets and designed so that "children trapped inside can escape". (Why children would be trapped inside was an imponder- able…)

      The "pork chops^[25]" piled supplies down the sides of the deck house and on the aft deck. Those supplies on the aft deck were covered with tarps and roped up tightly.

      The amount of supplies meant the LEE would need security during the weekend and that meant Anderson-Pierre had to go to the Naval Base Head of Security to get together some guards. Fortunately, this worthy officer had good friends among the Marines guarding the Naval Magazine and arranged for some of them to guard the LEE. The Marines liked it!

      They liked it a lot!

      Working at the magazine could get them in trouble if they violated any of a number of "nit-picking chicken shit rules" (to quote the Marine privates, Corporals and a couple of junior non-coms). Guarding the LEE simply meant keeping outsiders away from the boat. The Marines were very vigilant at first and began pulling out paper back books to read at night and generally relaxed their guard.

      They didn't relax their guard very far however; they were like a Pride of Lions which appears to be busy grooming and wrestling but it really quite alert.

      Everything was set in place by 1 PM. They then went to the base exchange cafeteria, had lunch and returned to the barracks to dress in their summer finery.

      The LT and HMCS were in choker whites, the Staff Sergeant in Army summer dress uniform and the "other ranks" in the traditional "Sailor Dress Whites". That is, the formal white jumper. RM3 Hanson was in dress white shirt, dress white skirt, white hose and spit shined black shoes.

      No one knew she could even shine shoes let along spit shine them!

      While waiting the ceremony, Anderson-Pierre turned to Staff Sergeant Markham: "John, I've been told that Army evals are coming up soon. As your reporting senior, I have to fill our your eval. I don't know how to do this."

      "Well, they're not too complicated. Er, sir, not too complicated if you're used to them. Have you even seen the forms? Sir?"

      "No, I haven't and I want to make sure you get a top of the line eval. Probably I should just have you give me a 'rough draft' of the eval you'd like to have. I could then change a comma or two and submit. But, John, you make damn sure you like the eval."

      "Don't worry, sir, I've drafted an Army eval or two myself. He'll get a good one." HMCS Scott knew what he was talking about; if he was helping a friend, well so be it…

      The service and it was a religious service was quite nice. The Governor introduced the guests, a Catholic Priest and an Episcopalian Priest who spoke and gave benedictions and the Chief Judge of the Federal Court sitting on Guam spoke of the duties and responsibilities of being a Member of the Bar. There was none of that "separation of Church and State" crap here..."

      It was quite a big deal.

      Each person, all thirty of them, were brought up individually, each spoke briefly and each was sworn in.

      The Special Guest of Honour, RADM Anthony Negron, then went on stage and gave a stirring speech to the new Members of the Bar. It was preaching to the choir but sometimes a preacher has to preach to the choir…

      Afterwards, three unusual guests worked their way over to where RADM Negron, Lawyer Sillings and the members of the LEE's crew were congregated. They were LCDR Henderdale and two of his lesser lawyers.

      "Congratulations, 'Mr. Lawyer' Sillings! You did a very nice job! When I read your name on the programme, I called the Dean of the University of San Diego State and he told me that 'if Mr. Sillings had finished his BA before attending My School, he would have graduated on the Dean's List'. Very nicely done!" There was a brief pause. "I am now going to give you an order that is probably out of line. Petty Officer Sillings, finish that B.A. as quickly as you can!"

      "Commander," Sillings replied, "I really appreciate your remarks but I wondering…you know, wondering, sir…" His voice trailed off.

      "You're wondering how can I possibly be serious given the part I played in the recent debacle -er- JAG Manual Investigation? I was acting under orders. Normally, in my private life, I think that I'm a fairly decent human being. Unfortunately, at work, I'm basically an asshole." He sighed. "I am what i am...".

       RADM Negron had walked over.

      "Commander Henderdale, for the sake of peace and quiet, I would rather that Commander Brownback not be appraised of Petty Officer Sillings becoming a Member of the Bar. Understand?"

      "Yes, sir, I do. Truth be known, none of us want Brownback to learn of this. Now, don't get me wrong! Petty Officer Sillings is an outstanding sailor and from his grades, I expect him to be an outstanding lawyer. It's just that, ah, Commander Brownback has some, er, old fashioned notions and one of them is that only officers can be lawyers. I don't happen to agree with him but I want to survive my tour of duty in his office. Besides, if he finds out, he could cause trouble…"

      "Yes, he could. So, let's not let him find out."

      "Absolutely, Admiral, absolutely." The was a pause and LCDR Henderdale glanced around to see one of his aides bringing a waiter over with a tray of champaign. LCDR Henderdale handed glasses of champaign out to the Admiral, the Admiral's aides, the freshly minted Lawyer Sillings and shipmates but neither he nor his two associates took any champaign.

      "Commander Henderdale, would you and yours like some champaign?"

      "Yes, we would Mr. Sillings."

        Then LCDR Henderdale and this two associates took a glass of champaign each.

      "Why didn't you take glasses? Why did you wait to be invited, sir?"

      "I don't crash parties, Mr. Sillings."

      The official party eventually broke up and the LEE's staff went off to Barney's Beach Hut for the real shindig…

      Saturday was spent recovering from Friday's party and everyone carefully separated their winter clothing from their summer clothing. The winter clothing was stored in room lockers and the summer uniforms and summer civilian clothing was stored in sea bags for taking to the LEE.

      Their normal Saturday behaviour had been shifted to Sunday. For the crew of the "LEE", Saturdays were a different proposition. The difference was "field day".

      LT Anderson-Pierre, living in the Orate Point BOQ meant he had a maid. This lady cleaned his room, his bathroom and only charged about 1 dollar a day. He thought it was worth it.

      Senior Chief Scott and Staff Sergeant Harkham had individual rooms at the Chief's BEQ. (Technically, Markham should have been treated like a First Class Petty Officer and been given a room to share with "another" First Class Petty Officer.) He got very lucky. The BEQ Master Chief had arranged for base sailors to do the room cleaning for "his Chiefs". In return for a small amount of money and several bottles of booze each, the Chiefs (and honorary Chiefs) got great room cleaning, always passed their room inspections and got to sleep in if they wanted on Saturdays. They generally wanted to...

      Not that Markham would have minded; he had done his share of burning barrels of human waste in 'Nam and done his share of living in "open bay squad barracks" and most assuredly had done his share of cleaning up. Still, to have someone else was a luxury he wasn't willing to give up...

      First Class Petty Officers Shillings and Tanner had been on ships for years before their brief immersion in the "civilian good life". As such, they lived with up to 100 other sailors in huge room filled with bunks ("racks") stacked 3 high. But, they were First Class Petty Officers and so it was beneath their dignity to suffer "field day". Sailors who were not Petty Officers were called "non-rates" because they didn't wear a Petty Officer's Crow, along with their rating patch. A rating patch was the icon representing the job they did. Those non-petty officers were called "non-rates" and simply didn't "rate" anything but shit details. (Those sailors who were called "designated strikers" but were still "non-rated men" and didn't rate for squat!)

      Now, Shillings and Tanner were back in the position of having to dust, sweep, swab, strip the wax off floors, mop the stripped floor twice to get it immaculately clean and wait till it was bone dry before waxing.

      Technically, sailors were supposed to use a liquid wax the Navy provided. This had the drawback of leaving bubbles and didn't do a really nice job. The liquid wax was free, worth slightly more than it cost sailors and resulted in fair to good scores on room inspection.

      Shillings and Tanner were going for the gold: they were going for the "excellent" on room inspections. Their method was simple, direct and violated the fire code. They took a can of "Turtle Wax" car wax, removed the lid, lit the wax with a Bic and when they judged the wax had burnt enough, put the lid back on. Then, one of them dripped the liquid wax on the "deck" ("floor" is so civilian...) and spread it out with the buffer's wax spreading pad. When it dried and was buffed with soft pieces of Navy blanket, it resulted in very nice floors indeed!

      This was, of course, a secret.

      A secret known to everyone else in the barracks or so it seemed. Those sailors who didn't use Bics or matches, left the lid on and melted the wax with a clothing iron.

      An officer had told Tanner of this method when he was at "A" school barracks. It seemed the Navy Academy students in their first year had been told "to never melt wax". Then, their seniors would shut the door to each two person room, light the wax, demonstrate how to wax up a floor that way and waited until their "students" demonstrated proficiency. Then, the senior went on to "warn other plebes"...

      Sillings and Tanner did truly great jobs on their rooms. They had moved the room's two beds out from the wall and had made them up very tightly; Command Inspection tight.

      Then, they had done truly wonderful jobs on the dusting, floors and that potential "kiss of death": making sure their garbage can was not only empty but probably clean enough to eat out of…

      They had made an arrangement with the Barracks Master at Arms Chief and this Chief had arranged for them to have sleep in a different room that night.

      EN2 Nichols had a regular roommate, a "quiet boy" who liked to get rowdy on the weekends. This roommate did an outstanding job of taking care of their room. He also came up with the answer to the eternal question: What do you do with the clothing you were wearing  when you were packing to go on vacation?

      This young sailor's solution was simple. He collected the work clothing that Nichols, Sillings and Tanner had worn, laundered them and stored them in his locker awaiting the return of the proper owners.

      It wasn't altruism, he was going to be able to read the books Nichols, Sillings and Tanner were leaving in their rooms and listen to the cassette tapes they would be leaving. To make it easy on himself, this young sailor took all the books and cassette tapes he wanted from Sillings and Tanner's room to his room the day the LEE put out to sea; he would later return them. It was a classic win-win situation…

      The next morning, the Barracks Master At Arms Chief showed up and took his shoes off. He gave Sillings' and Tanner's room a highly detailed inspection, informed them that the room would pass an Admiral's Inspection and carefully closed and locked the door.

      RM3 Hanson had a very patient roommate, a very cheerful and outgoing young woman in her mid 20s, who was not offended by Erica leaving her zig saw puzzles around most of the open space in the room. She thought Erica was charming and it didn't hurt that her boy friend, a Marine, thought Erica was a lot like his younger sisters. Unlike his younger sisters, Erica had the good graces to "take a hint" and leave for a couple of hours when that would be appropriate…

      Everyone ate breakfast at their separate mess halls and left for the LEE.

      LT Anderson-Pierre had stated he wanted to be under weigh at 9 am, knowing that they'd be lucky to be doing so by 10 am. Still, he was hopeful.

      When everyone was aboard and he had conducted an informal muster and the Senior Chief had conducted a formal muster, he reminded everyone to make sure their sea bags and suitcases were properly stowed, make sure their comfort foods were on-board, make sure their favorite non-alcoholic drinks were stowed and make sure they had their favourite snacks. That got a couple of crewmen thinking and hands went up and "Lieutenant, I just remembered and L T, I need a couple of minutes to get…"

      This was exactly what he had expected.

      "OK, make a list and get it filled in a hurry. If you need a car, I've got the government clunker parked near the entrance of the pier. Hustle!"

      A couple of crewmen left; Anderson-Pierre turned to Senior Chief Scott and asked: "Is it this way with the SEAL teams?"

      "Officially, sir, 'no sir'. Unofficially, it certainly is! The main blessing is that we're going to Yap and that is the 'big town'. We should be able to get whatever has been forgotten."

      "We'll need to get into the safe, Senior Chief. I was issued about five thousand dollars this morning for any expenses 'on the road'. We'll need to account for this rigorously."

      "Don't worry, sir, I think we know a good lawyer to 'handle all the details'."

      They each counted the money and then put it into the safe.

      While waiting for their errant crew members to return, Scott and Anderson-Pierre double checked the fuel level, the water level, the amount of emergency drinks, the storage of food, the storage of medical equipment and the survival equipment. While they didn't expect any rough seas, they wanted to make sure anyone working on deck had on life preservers and safety harnesses in rough weather.

      Staff Sergeant Markham had told his CO and Command Senior Chief of the weapons that had been sent to storage, in the LEE's name, at the Naval Magazine. While no one expected to need Stoner 63s and thousands of rounds of ammo on this trip, they did plan to be ready. Hence, when the Marines from the storage magazine showed up with the LEE's M-16s, a thousand rounds of "ball ammo" for them and a dozen hand grenades, preparations had been made for stowing said weapons on deck.

      The weapons drop-off, including the paperwork, was over before their errant crew members came back on-board and stowed "the essentials" they had forgotten.

      While Erica and Jeff quickly set up the Orestes crypto gear, QM1 Tanner updated the movement report that was waiting on the wonderful "glass titty^[26]". He thought there was something magical about moving the little blip of light around the screen, making changes and seeing the text polymorph around the screen.

      It was something he would never be blasé even in the future days of "The Internet!"

      They had started the diesels before 9 am and intensely monitored them for 20 minutes. The engines and generators were fine.

      At about 9:25 am, everything was ready. They were in communications with the NAVCAMS on secure teletype and unsecure manual morse, the amended movement report had been sent and acknowledged, the deck line handlers were standing by and Captain Anderson-Pierre announced they were ready to get underweigh. The telephone was disconnected from the shore side, the boat went to internal power and the power cable to the shore was disconnected and brought aboard. Then, they went through the standard routine of taking the brow ashore, removing the lines and the deck hands gave their best shot at pushing the LEE further from the dock. It was probably futile but it made them feel good…

      Captain Anderson-Pierre moved the LEE slowly out into the outer harbour, where they were met by the fleet tug commanded by their friend, the Master Chief. At 9:50 am, they were still inside the outer harbour when the L T told LN1 Sillings (who was on the Lee Helm) to take over the helm so that QM1 Tanner could take the first weather observation.

      It was a clear day, with light northeast winds and a two foot swell. By the time Tanner had coded up the weather observation and went to type it on the "glass titty", the LEE was outside the harbour and thus, legally, in international waters. They could now send the weather observation, without anyone quibbling about their being in harbour…

      Anderson-Pierre gave the nod, Tanner reread his typing, Hanson quietly read his typing and then Erica Hanson sent this message.

      Shortly after this message went out, the NAVCAMS teletype operator got their attention.

"KLEE KLEE KLEE DE GUM GUM GUM CIP CIP CIP K"

 

"GUM DE KLEE GA K" (Go Ahead Over)

 

"KLEE DE GUM WE'RE SWITCHING YOU TO FACCON (Facilities Control) SINCE IT IS NOW THAT TIME OF THE DAY AGAIN!"

 

"GUM DE KLEE INT TIME K"

 

"KLEE DE GUM I'M SURE Y'ALL WERE A BIT BUSY AND WE DIDN'T WANT TO BOTHER YOU. BUT, THE WATCH CHIEF SAYS QUOTE ENUF WITH THE NICENESS, GET THEM CHANGED UNQUOTE. K"

 

"OK, YEAH, TIME TO CHANGE THE CRYPTO SETTING…"

 

"YES, IT IS. NEXT STOP WILL BE…THE FACCON ZONE!!!"

 

"KLEE KLEE KLEE DE GUM TC GUM TC GUM TC K"

 

"TC DE KLEE AND WE'RE READY TO BREAK DOWN THE GEAR. K"

 

"KLEE DE GUM TC WILL SWITCH CRIBS NOW. K"

 

"GUM TC DE KLEE WE DON'T USE CRIBS…WE WILL HAVE TO MOVE THE PLUG CABLES AROUND. K"

 

"ROGER THAT, WILL WAIT FOR YOU. C U ON THE OTHER SIDE K"

      The team of Radio(wo)man Hanson and ET Maxson was getting much faster and they had the crypto gear changed in only eight minutes. They checked back to back and as soon as the "normalled up" the comms, the receiver showed a "phasing signal" and the printer burst into print:

 

"KLEE KLEE KLEE DE GUM TC GUM TC GUM TC CIP K"

      Then after about 5 seconds, this was repeated. They sent their own "phasing signal" and they had a brief "hi, can you hear us? Yes, can you hear us?" type of conversation.

      LT Anderson-Pierre had made a message traffic run that morning and so there were no messages for them to read.

      LT Anderson-Pierre was taking his boat to Yap, in the Federated States of Micronesia. If there were no currents to contend with and they could make a sustained 15 knots, they were looking for an arrival at Yap about 32 hours later. This would have been about 1800 local and fairly near sunset. Given that Yap's harbour was a strange one for them, Anderson-Pierre was thinking of sitting outside the port mouth and coming in Wednesday morning.

      If the crew didn't like it, they should have joined the Air Farce!

      But, in the real world, the charts showed a favorable current that would take on a couple of knots to their speed and they just might make it to Yap early enough for pulling in.

      About 20 miles southwest of Guam, the Master Chief called on Navy ship-to-ship (same radios as Navy ship-to-shore actually).

      "Captain Anderson, you're looking good! The boys and I are going back to port now and were thinking of doing a little fishing. So, we wish you luck."

      "Master Chief, who are your best fishermen?"

      "Well, Sir, Debbie, Tow-mas and Suzzie are the best fishermen among me boys and we're hoping they'll come up with something worthy of a fish fry!"

      "That sounds like fun, Master Chief and we'll call you when we're back in the area. LEE out."

      Erica was snickering from where she stood, just inside the "bridge" attached to the deck house but close enough to monitor her radios.

      "What's the joke, Erica?"

      "Well, sir, you know how the Master Chief has a mixed crew yet he calls them 'his boys'. Even the girls he calls 'his boys'?"

      "Well, yes…"

      "The women on his tug got T-shirts made up that read One Of Master Chiefs Boys!"

      "That's interesting."

      "These are custom T-shirt, L T. A little Chinese lady downtown took careful measurements to make sure each of the women's T-shirts were done right. You see, sir, on each T-shirt, the woman's right nipple sticks thru the 'O' of 'One' and the left nipple thru the 'O' of 'Of'. It really gets the boy boys excited and the Master Chief was simply delighted. Mrs. Master Chief had a T shirt made up reading 'Master Chief's Woman". Guess how it was configured?"

      "Let me guess," Tanner broke in, "the 'o' in 'Woman' was over her right nipple and the 'a' over her left?"

      "Yes."

      LT Anderson-Pierre decided this was enough and wandered back into the deck house to work up his deck log entries. He also checked the "watch schedule" or as civilians were fond of saying "shift schedule".

 

 

      He draft copy was:

              OOD    Lookout  Engines

00 - 08  Tanner Sillings   Nichols

08 - 16  A-P      Hanson   ----------

16 - 24  Scott    Maxson  Markham

 

      Of course, there would be overlaps. Hanson and Maxson would both do the Orestes change over at 10 am local (11 am local as they approached Yap), Tanner would do his beloved "ring of stars" shortly after sunset and shortly before dawn. This would mean that Anderson-Pierre, Hanson and Sillings would help out with taking those sextant observations and doing the sight reductions.

      They would be doing surface weather and BT observations every three hours and sending them by TTY as long as they could and by morse when they "lost" the TTY signals. That meant that Scott would quietly send in the "real time" observations after Hanson had "crashed" for the night. The observations taken overnight would simply have to wait the morning when either Hanson or Scott would be available to send them.

      Since they were getting weather forecasts tailored for them from the Guam Naval Weather office, they knew someone was watching out for them.

      They knew that Tanner's girl friend was watching out for them and worrying…

      Their first lunch was cold cuts, chips and cans of soda. There were no "dishes to do" and they were far enough from Guam to simply throw the wrappings overboard. This was probably "bad form" but the LEE didn't have a lot of garbage storage space. It was nothing compared to the fact the LEE had a toilet storage tank about the size of one in a motor home; normally, at sea, they planned to "thru put" the crap into the sea…

      The afternoon was spent watching the endless sea, realizing they were on a small boat in the middle of a very big body of water and realizing their radio was the only link they had to anyone else. It made for a rather quiet afternoon.

      Still, Lawyer Sillings made a start on the "Professional Reading Material" the local Bar had given him and Markham "the Cop" read up on the legal systems and police problems on Yap.

      Anderson-Pierre was apprehensive and worried about what could go wrong. His XO, Senior Chief Scott, had been through this himself and was sympathetic but knew there was nothing he could say to help. So, "Dr." Scott reviewed material he already knew and worked on his Continuing Education Material.

      The first excitement was after the evening meal.

      The evening meal was Navy meat loaf (full of strange colored chunks of vegetable material), warmed up baked potatoes, decent gravy, indecent greens and pieces of a yellow cake for desert. The problem came when the dishes were being done: they didn't have any cloths for drying the dishes and the LEE was rocking a little too much for air drying to be safe. The first usage of shower towels came with the drying of the dishes and said towels were hung on the down wind ("lee") side of the boat. They were hung from the flag hoist lines which ran from the deck to the top of the mast. In the "lee", they didn't "leave" the LEE but they did get a bit salty…

      There was one problem with Tanner's "circle of stars": he had forgotten how hard it could be to take a sextant reading from a rolling deck; he was used to cruisers or carriers, where the deck was fairly stable. Still, he got two good readings and that fairly well confirmed the positions from the "deduced reckoning" charts the OODs were running.

      With time, QM1 Tanner got quite good at doing the morning and evening "ring of stars". Of course, it also helped that an old retiree on Yap traded his "Aviator's Sextant, with built in artificial horizon" for a case of C-rats, two bottles of "Medicinal Brandy" and medical treatment for two of his cats and his biggest dog.

      It was a fair trade: Both parties protested about the price they were paying, both complained bitterly about what little they were getting for their invaluable items and both left convinced they'd completely screwed the other party.

      The late evening got a bit more interesting when Erica asked Senior Chief Scott if she could look at one of his SEAL t-shirts. Senior Chief Scott was a big man, 6 foot 8 inches and had barely made it into the Navy; he was massively muscled and fat free.

      Erica liked the t-shirt and said "may I borrow this, Senior Chief?"

      He said "yes" and thought no more of it as he had to get back onto the bridge. The exchange had taken place in the "berthing area", just under the main deck and was accessible by ladder from the deckhouse bridge. Several minutes later, he heard a gasp from Maxson as Erica Hanson walked "upstairs" into the deckhouse area wearing the Senior Chief's T-shirt as a night shirt and had on zorries. Apparently nothing else...

      "I need to check if NAVCAMS has any messages waiting for us."

      This exercise, done by teletype took only a couple of minutes.

      "Erica," the Senior Chief spoke, "don't you think you're not dressed for being in public?"

      "I'm not in the public, Senior Chief, I'm in my house and about to go to bed!"

      "So you are, sleep well."

      Senior Chief had a wife and three daughters and had learned not to argue when "his ladies" decided to wear his T-shirts and dress casually in the house. He figured he'd gotten himself another daughter and knew it pointless to argue.

      No one else minded, although it took some of the crew a bit longer than others to get used to the sight…

      Tanner was tired after his first mid shift at sea and made a number of errors on his "ring of stars" sight reductions. Fortunately, he had three other "night owls" helping and the errors got found out. Still, it was a tired crew shortly after sunrise, when Tanner and Markham headed off for their racks.

      This was where the pre-planning had paid off. Even though it was a power hog, the LEE's air conditioner was a good one. The de-humidifier also helped. The crew was comfortable sleeping in their underwear. That was no problem around Erica who simply refused to look at any of "her boys" in their underwear…

      They arrived at Yap shortly around 5:30 PM on Tuesday. Tanner had checked out the harbour charts for Yap and the "Command Navigating Team" of Anderson-Pierre, Scott and Tanner had little problem entering port.

      Anderson-Pierre turned on the commercial ship-to-ship radio, selected channel 14 and spoke: "Yap harbour control, this is the USS LEE. Over"

      After two tries, an accented voice came back: "Yankee boat LEE, this is the Yap harbour master. What can I do for you?"

      "We are here on an arranged tour of some of the islands. Can you advise us if we can tie up for the night and if so, where? Over."

      "Well, where are you?"

      "I think we're between Rue Mung and Ruin el."

      "Ah, I think I know where you are. Just be patient and I will come out to you."

      "About 20 minutes later, a small motor boat appeared and a man waved at them and bellowed "follow me". In an act of faith, Anderson-Pierre gave the nod to Tanner and he followed the motor boat.

      Then over the radio came: "Do you see that beach front pier to your right?"

      "Yes."

      "You can tie up at the end. If you want, you can turn around in the lagoon and still tie up safely. We dredged out the lagoon but don't get too close. OK?"

      Tanner spoke, "the harbour charts say it should be safe."

      Anderson-Pierre replied via radio: "Thank you for that advice. We look forward to meeting you in person."

      Anderson-Pierre then took the helm and brought the LEE into the tightest circle he could and still end up alongside the pier. He was quite lucky and after this success, vowed he would have Tanner do this job in the future…

      A couple of the crew dropped the fenders over the port side and he came within a couple of feet of the pier. The harbour master met them and personally tied up the lines he'd tossed over to the LEE. That was when Anderson-Pierre realized he'd made a mistake: he should have had mooring lines on the LEE. Well, this was the first usage for that US$ 5,000 he'd been gifted with…

      A quick message send via teletype was phoned to the Supply Commanding Officer who confirmed that buying "hemp mooring lines" was an very acceptable item.

      The harbour master and a couple of assistants brought a brow (or gangplank) over and plopped it onto the LEE's deck at the usual spot. Then, the Harbour Master came aboard.

      "Hello. I am Stanley Retogral. Will you be staying long?"

      "I'm Michael Anderson-Pierre. We're here to help out, if you want. I brought a medical doctor, a lawyer, a police officer and specialized Navy personnel."

      "Would you like to meet the Peace Corp people?"

      "Yes, we would. Perhaps we can help them?"

      "We could use medical help. Our Doctor is off visiting the outer islands. Do you have any preachers?"

      "I'm not a preacher but I was raised by one and went to a Jesuit High School. One of my people, Mr. Tanner, is a bit of a preacher."

      "Will you join my family for dinner?"

      "We'd like to, Mr. Retogral but we have to be worried about the boat's security."

      "No, Mr. Anderson-Pierre, you really do not. None of my people will rob you."

      "Then, we will be delighted to join you. Perhaps we can secure everything and meet you for dinner."

      "I will return in twenty minutes."

      Anderson-Pierre quickly modified his movement report to indicate his boat has arrived at Yap. Then, a second message was sent which stated the LEE was securing it's Orestes link and would advise NAVCAMS Guam via morse when they were ready to resume TTY communications. Tanner sent an "operator to operator" message and asked the various radiomen to tell his girlfriend he was safe on Yap. The radiomen said they would…

      Then, the coding was removed from the Orestes gear, the covers of the KW-7s shut and locked and the safes put over the Orestes gear and locked. The inner lockbox in the big safe was locked and the big safe itself was then locked. The hand grenades had been locked in the safe, thick cable was run through the trigger guards of the M16s and the ammo covered with a tarp. It wasn't much as disguise goes but it was something…

      Their meal consisted of Sashimi, tapioca, and boiled banana. When asked if any of them was Jewish or Muslim and having been told "no", their host brought out a dish of boiled pork and a vegetable. He explained that Muslims were trying to get a foothold on their island and they were cautious of what they served.

      Mr. Retrogral beamed at Erica and then said:

      "I trust that I don't offend you but in our country, men and women generally eat at separate tables. I am happy to share my table and food with you. You have been a most amusing guest and I am sure my wife and the Peace Corps Lady will be delighted to meet you. As for the rest of you, there will be patients in need of you, Doctor. Do you have an assistant? Perhaps a preacher? Our preacher would like to visit with a colleague. Do any one you know how to set up and run a commercial radio. Do you call it MA?"

      "Thank you, sir," Erica replied, being on her best behaviour, "Jeff and I can help set up your A M radio station. Senior Chief Scott is a Medical Doctor and the Lieutenant is his medical assistant."

      The crew just wished that Erica was as well behaved with her "family" as she was with this "outsider"…

      The Senior Chief interjected: "Mr. Anderson-Pierre is a fine assistant and he was a student at a Jesuit Seminary. Mr. Tanner has studied religion and is a Deacon in his Church. We will be happy to help any way we can. Also, I might add, the young lady is a highly skilled radio operator and young Maxson is one of the best electrical engineers I've ever seen. I think we can help you a lot."

      "Good! Good! Perhaps we should meet for breakfast and discuss how we can help each other. But, I'm sure you must all be tired; the fishermen say it is very exhausting to be at sea and I'm sure you need your rest." Mr. Retrogral looked out the window. "Ah, our electricians have arrived. Shall we?"

      They went to the LEE and connected the power line to the boat. They were lucky: Yap ran on 60 cycle, 120 vote, 3 phase power the same as the U. S. did. It only took a moment for EN2 Nichols to start the air conditioning.

      "It will be morning before we can bring fresh water to your boat, Captain Anderson-Pierre. Since we can not connect our sewers to your boat, it would be appreciated that you use our bathroom commodes at the harbour house. You could use night buckets if you want?"

      No one wanted to use "night buckets", even through their great-great grandparents had routinely done so. There are limits you know…

      The crew was up and dressed in working uniforms before 8 am (7 am Guam time), when there was a "hello" bellowed up to the boat from the pier. A middle aged woman, fashionably dressed^[27] in a skirt that went from her waist to her knees and nothing else, waved at them. She was a Lady and would never dream of showing her thighs to anyone save her husband!

      "May I come aboard?"

"      Yes, ma'am," the surprised Petty Officer Tanner spoke.

      "Oh, dear, you must not know about our customs!" The woman laughed merrily. "Women often go topless; why should the men be the only comfortable ones."

      "Most men are fascinated by boobs," Erica replied.

      "Well, of course you foreigners are; American and Japanese men love breasts. I am Mrs. Retrogral and my husband asked me to invite you to breakfast." She looked at Erica and whispered very loudly. "Your men seem to like my breasts!"

      "Er, ah, yes but we're not supposed to talk about such things, really…"

       Sillings was not exclusively gay and harbored a healthy, if reduced, interest in "female bodies"…

      "Please, come ashore. I would like this young lady to meet our Peace Corps lady."

      The ship, having not been "unsecured" from the previous night, was simply left.

      Anderson-Pierre made a brief entry in his deck log, noting where they were and that their morning activities would start with "a formal breakfast". It would be formal but different…

      Mrs. Retrogral took Erica Hanson over to a slightly nervous looking young white woman, Diane Durbin, who wore the same style of skirt but also a bikini top that covered most of her torso, and introduced the two. Then, she said: "Diane^[28] is a well manner girl but she still insists on covering her breasts. I suspect she has nice breasts. It is a pity."

      After breakfast, the day's plan was reached. Erica would contact NAVCAMS via manual morse and leave a message for the Admiral. The note simply said: "We've been talking with the local commissioner and are going to set up a clinic. We will also try to bring their local radio station back on the air. We can obtain food, diesel fuel and water; we will pay for this with the discretionarily money we were given. We'd like an official opinion on if said discretionary money can be used for diesel fuel and food, however. LT Anderson-Pierre sends. Over."

      NAVCAMS responded with: "We don't know when you'll get a reply. You should probably plan on bringing up your teletype link tomorrow. Over."

      "Agreed. Out."

      The crew spent a few minutes getting the boat cleaned up as there were a number of personal items which had "migrated" from their lockers and various navigation charts that had to be filed in temporary storage. (Put in a large folder and slid between two cabinets.)

      RM3 Hanson, ET2 Maxson and EN2 Nichols left for the island radio center.

      SSGT John Markham left to visit with the local chief of police and his three (3) officers.

      Then, Senior Chief Dr. Scott and his assistant, Emergency Medical Technician LT Anderson-Pierre sat waiting for their patients to arrive. The first were several men who gave their histories and agreed to tetanus shots. After they were assured this was a legitimate medical enterprise, they waved and their wives and children began coming aboard.

      Suddenly, Dr. Scott, his Emergency Medical Technician Anderson-Pierre and their "yeomen", Sillings and Tanner were quite busy. At first, they were simply writing down names and trying to take histories. Then, when they realized that most of their patients didn't speak English, they had to get translators. It seemed that the younger folks spoke English as a second language, the older folks, who had been children when the Japanese occupied Yap, spoke Japanese as a second language. Soon, the mess was getting squared away as the translators dealt with Japanese to American English and others dealt with Yap English to American English.

      They went through most of their supply of baby vaccinations shortly after noon. Dr. Scott, the old SEAL morse operator, used the CW radio to contact NAVCAMS and forwarded a request to the Naval Hospital asking for a large amount of vaccinations. Senior Chief Scott carried on a conversation with the morse operator whilst the Radio Section Supervisor called in the request to the hospital. It only took a few minutes for the Hospital Chief of Staff to send back confirmation of Scott's request and that the medicines would be coming as quickly as possible. As it turned out, Yap was part of the U.S. Postal System and an SA-16 flying boat, of all things, a relic of the 1950s, flew in two days later with the drugs…

      The "fun" really started when the first of two pregnant women showed up Friday. She came wearing only her skirt and sandals and was quite concerned and brought her own midwife (a second cousin). Before letting either Dr. Scott or his assistant examine her, she interrogated both men about their medical qualifications. Finally, she was satisfied.

      "You, Dr. Scott, will be my main midwife. You, Michael Henry Anderson-Pierre, your name is too long. I will call your Dr. Mike. Now, I am going to have my fourth ba-be and I want him born alive. Can you do this?"

      "We'll try."

      The medical exam was a bit strained. Both Americans were a little nervous, this was the first birthing event either had been involved in without experienced  supervision from somewhat blasé MD and nurses. It quickly became apparent that "my second cousin" was going to be the medic in charge.

      Dr. Scott came to his conclusions.

      "My dear, you are going to have your baby in the next day or two."

      "I have to agree," the second cousin agreed, "you will have a healthy baby by Monday. Dr. Mike?"

      "Who am I to argue with the Masters," Dr. Mike replied, "it will be a busy weekend."

      When Erica heard this, she began referring to Senior Chief Scott as "Mos-ter Lee" (said in a definite Navy "Oriental" accent) and when Senior Chief Scott became Master Chief Scott, those who knew the legend of how Anderson-Pierre had named him one of the "Masters" called Scott (in classic Navy pseudo-Oriental accent) "Mos-ter Chief". This confused the hell out of foreign visitors...

      The patient went ashore and the two Navy "medics" and several visiting locals enjoyed a lunch of pan fried baloney sandwiches and local vegetables. It was different but a nice diplomatic matter.

      While this was happening, RM3 Hanson, ET2 Maxson and EN2 Nichols were at the island's radio center.

      The radio building was a one story structure, with a transmitter in the back, a studio, two rooms of records (33 1/3 and 45 rpm), an office, a toilet and most important of all, the staff lounge.

      The rooms were well lighted, the equipment recently dusted and the electronics turned off. Moving around the rooms, they turned on the record players and the cassette player. They worked nicely. They went into the transmitter room and the proper lights glowed when the transmitter was turned on and the dials showed reasonable values. Actually, someone had used grease pencil to mark where the needles should be when the transmitter was working. They checked the primary transmitter and secondary.

      One of their escorts, Margaret, used an antique looking phone to call a friend across the island. Margaret asked her friend to turn on her AM radio.

      Being the Radioman, Erica picked up the microphone and spoke the Boatswain Mate's Chant: "Testing one two three, three two one. Test Complete. Test Complete."

      Margaret, who was still on the phone to her friend repeated that the friend had heard something about "testing". Erica rolled her eyes, handed the microphone to Margaret and said: "Talk to your friend."

      Over the radio Margaret said: "Emma, can you hear me?"

      Over the telephone, Margaret heard: "Yes, I can hear you on the radio, Margaret."

      Over the radio Margaret replied: "I can hear you on the phone. What would you like to hear?"

      Over the phone, Margaret heard a list of songs and wrote them down. Then, Margaret spoke into the microphone: "We are going to play songs that my friend Emma and her Mother want to hear."

      Erica was shaking her head in dismay. They did not have permission from the Yap government to begin broadcasting, the station had lost it's license due to inactivity or someone forgetting to send the proper paperwork in and this was simply supposed to be a "proof the station still works". Still, she could claim it wasn't her fault…

      Then, a spark of genus hit her. She called the Harbour Master, who was also the local commissioner and told him:

      "This is Petty Officer Erica Hanson. We tried testing your AM transmitter and it works. The problem is that we've got requests for music to be played but we…er… you don't have a station license to broadcast. So, I don't think we can legally broadcast. Sir."

      "I will be there in a couple of minutes, Erica."

      In under ten minutes, Stanley Retogral arrived at the radio station. He greeted everyone by name and put a piece of paper into a manual typewriter. He slammed the keys with at least three fingers and finally pulled out a sheet of paper, which he signed and gave to Margaret.

      "Please read this on the radio."

      "By order of the Commissioner, The Honourable Stanley Retogral, this radio station is back in operation. A proper radio callsign will be obtained and published later. This station will be operated by Margaret Retogral. Our friends, from the USS LEE, Erica Hanson, Jeffrey Maxson and William Nichols will serve as technical advisors, radio operators when they can. We will need additional disk jockeys. If you are interested, please apply for this job at my office."

      "You are 'legal' my friends. Perhaps you could start broadcasting? Perhaps you could play that Hendrix 'Star Spangled Banner'?"
      "Yes, sir, we can."

      The first song that went out was Hendrix's "Star Spangled Banner" followed by Dylan's "All Along The Watch Tower". They then asked for comments from the audience.

      There were no replies; this was to be expected as no one had expected the radio station to be operating.

      The Yapanese began calling their friends and families and work places and told people to try to listen to the radio station. There were few radio receivers on the island but the ones there were used that night. While Erica introduced a few songs, Emma and her friends were the real hits as they knew which Japanese songs the "old people" liked to hear, which English songs the "young people" wanted to hear and guessed at what those between "old" and "young" would listen to.

      The problem was the lack of radios. A solution came from an odd direction: the "Peace Corps girls"…

      Some months before, a State Department functionary had sent 500 Heathkit AM/FM radio receivers to Yap. This had been done at the request of a staffer from a Michigan Senator - Carl Levin^[29]. Levin's predecessor had arranged for Heathkit to supply the radios and this "worthy gentleman" had arranged for Heathkit to get some significant tax breaks and also to supply some radios to the military.

      ET2 Maxson and RM3 Hanson checked the instructions, realized just how well they were written and asked the "Peach Corps girls" if they knew of anyone who could help the construction. They could.

      Ten teenagers assembled in a large open air room to begin the work. First, everyone was issued soldering irons, given safety lessons on how to use them and the instructors, ET2 Maxson and RM3 Hanson, walked around the room cutting open the boxes of radio parts. Maxson, being the more extroverted of the two squids, took over then. He instructed the "student assemblers" on how to open the boxes and talked them through removing the parts and started them on the inventories. While it was unlikely the kits would be missing any parts, a vital first part of the assembly process was to take inventory. They were part way through inventory when the kids had to leave for home, homework and chores. It would be another three days before the inventory process was completed and by that time, only two of the teens were left. They had been replaced by their mothers, aunts, grandmothers and in one case, a grandfather. The group, combined with some of the Peace Corps Girls, meant they had at least two assemblers for each of the first ten radios. By the second week, the locals had the assembly process well in hand which was good; the LEE's crew were elsewhere by then.

      Saturday, the day after the Navy "medics" examined the first pregnant woman…

      The day started with QM1 Tanner solemnly presenting LT Anderson-Pierre with the "8 o'clock position report" which show zero distance made good and that the good ship was still tied up at pier and riding comfortably. LT Anderson-Pierre updated his logs, held muster and "published" his plan of the day. (Technically, his XO, Senior Chief Scott should have "published" the plan of the day but given this was simply a hand written note, there was no need to stand on ceremony.)

      Muster was done by listening to Hanson snoring in her "room" and by counting the bodies in the bunks and those drinking coffee at the main table. As expected, no one had "gone missing".

      They had a "Navy Breakfast" and that almost counted as a treat given what they'd been eating ashore with their hosts.

      The morning went to shit when the second pregnant woman showed up and was clearly well into delivery. The scene quickly turned into a farce with Hanson telling the woman: "Don't push! Don't push! Wait!" Lt Anderson-Pierre wiped down the table with disinfectant, the pregnant woman's sister took the crew's dishes ashore for her daughters to wash, the woman's husband grabbed the men not involved in the "woman's problems" and took them ashore to keep him company while awaiting the results of the delivery (this meant that all but Scott and Anderson-Pierre ended up drinking mind numbing amounts of local whiskey with this man and seemingly every other man on the island) and the woman who was expected to give birth that day showed up with her second cousin. The second cousin took charge and smoothly directed "her midwives" (Dr. Scott and Dr. "Mike") through a relatively easy delivery.

      It was a boy.

      The boy was named after each of the LEE's crew. She had to be persuaded to change "Erica" to "Eric" though…

      The boy was cleaned up and Dr. Scott looked at Dr. "Mike" and asked the question they'd both pondered.

      "Are we expected to do a circumcision?"

      "What?" The "second cousin" asked in shock. "Who would do that to a newly born baby?"

      "Well, it is traditional in our country."

      "Really? I've never seen the results. May I look at both of you?"

      Both men demurred.

      The new Mother injected "are you boys too shy to let my midwife look at you?"

      Both Scott and Anderson-Pierre had the grace to look embarrassed as both the "second cousin" and the new Mother "checked them out".

      Erica Hanson had quietly snuck back aboard and got an eyeful and later reported this event to the Senior Chief's wife and Jasmine (the Staff Sergeant's girl friend). It would amuse them for decades to come…

      It was late afternoon before the ship was cleaned up again and Anderson-Pierre surprised Tanner with something.

      "Bill, I understand you've been studying religion?"

      "Yes, sir?"

      "So, did that include sermons and baptismisms?"

      "Well, yes, sir, it did. I'd like to know my church's traditions."

      "Good, you can attend church with the rest of us tomorrow. Our new Mother wants her son baptized tomorrow and since he's named after all of us, she wants us there."

      Bill Tanner had gotten fairly drunk while waiting with the new Father and he didn't think through what his CO was thinking. He certainly didn't notice the amused looks on the faces of Senior Chief Scott, RM3 Hanson or the various ladies. It seemed that Scott and "Dr. Mike" had talked about their crew during the delivery…

      The church was large, with a low ceiling. It was dimly lit, with open screened windows. The minister made his opening remarks, said a prayer and stated that next their visitors would be introduced. The two doctors were introduced and demurely took the praise for their good work with the delivery; Bill Tanner was introduced as a Divinity Student who had joined the Navy and become a "sailor, and a Man of God but not a preacher".

      The minister motioned Tanner forward and ordered him to conduct the baptism. Bill had studied this extensively and had no problem talking his way through. The baby gurgled and peed into the Baptism Font but that wasn't Bill's problem; he didn't have to clean it!

      He then smiled, glanced at the minister and made to leave the center of attention. The minister smiled back at Tanner and said "you may continue with the service".

      Tanner froze, terrified and wondered what to do.

      He was not prepared for this!

      Tanner was lucky; his Commanding Officer not only believed in looking out for his troops but had gotten a good religious education from his Father.

      The minister told the congregation in the native language "some Monks who leave the Monastery and join the military do so because they are afraid of people listening to them preach. Some monks have reason to be afraid." Then the Minister smiled...`

      LT Anderson-Pierre lead off with a joke, got the congregation to sing two songs, composed a prayer on the spot and gave what he remembered of the minister's sermon. (The minister had discussed this with him the night before.) Then, the minister took over, corrected parts of "Dr. Mike's" sermon and finished the sermon. The two Men of God, the minister and "Dr. Mike" finished the service together and they adjourned for the after-service, afternoon, meal. Although custom required the men and women to eat at separate tables, they held an outdoor meal and both sexes ended up serving themselves off both tables. The congregation walked around carrying their plates and glasses.

      Senior Chief Scott had finished a large glass of ale and Anderson-Pierre was manfully working his way through a small glass of very poor whiskey he had been given by the father of the new born.

      Both were rescued.

      The other pregnant woman went into labour and both American "doctors", the lead mid-wife and several assistants all trooped to the LEE and sometime the next morning, a little girl was born.

      The medical folks slept in and attended a mid morning celebration. It was their second fiesta in two days and they kind of liked them. They created an official message detailing both births and sent this to their Admiral and the Guam Medical commander. Both Scott and Anderson-Piere received Navy Achievement Medals.

      The remainder of their time was quite peaceful and when they left after 22 days away from Guam, the LEE and her crew had a very nice send off. They had to chase off two children who had stowed away,  return a goat and a pig and didn't find a banty chicken for several hours. By then, they were nearly 60 miles from Yap and no one wanted to go back. The chicken was later given to the LEE's "sister village" and ended up having a nice, long, life time. The chicken's new "owners" didn't even stew it up upon death…

      Shortly after departure, Tanner took his first weather observation and Maxson took the first BT observation. They made a couple of errors in coding both and sent them in a little later than they wanted to but that was no problem. They didn't bother setting up the Orestes crypto system until the next day and they used manual morse for the several weather and BT observations they sent.

      When they set up their crypto and announced to Guam that they were ready to receive messages, they had a ridiculous number to receive. They also were hitting areas of bad reception and so they had to request a number of messages to be resent. Several times, Erica had to specify which lines of which messages needed to be repeated. It took some time but they eventually got their message traffic in something like the originator would have wanted. The problem was that of the fifty-two messages, only three really mattered to "Ship, Captain and Crew".

      Anderson-Pierre made a new ship's rule: in the future, we check our mail daily!

      They arrived back to Apra Harbour after two full days at sea; Anderson-Pierre tied up at the big buoy in the outer harbour and called the harbour controller. The harbour controller told him to tie up at the usual place and call customs from the dockside.

      Markham had started feeling ill before they left Yap and had a high fever the first night out. Markham had babbled some stuff about secret agencies and Anderson-Pierre had sworn everyone to secrecy. The fever broke by mid day on the 2^nd day at sea and Scott ordered Markham to bed.

      They sent in their final movement report (an arrival report), secured the crypto gear and all bedded down for the night. Even those used to working nights found it easy to sleep.

      The next morning, they tied up and their old friend, the shit hot boatswain mate was there to greet them. He came on-board and noticed the chicken.

      "Captain", he said to LT Anderson-Pierre, "I know y'all didn't bring that pet vulture back from overseas. I also know y'all will have a hassle with customs proving your got it on Guam so maybe I should bring a dog cage for you to store it in?"
      "Yes, please do. Oh, it's a chicken, by the way".

      "Really?" The young sailor squinted at the chicken. He was clearly a "city boy" and thought chickens were chopped up chunks of meat in stores.

      After the sailors had left, this boatswain mate brought a dog cage from his house and the chicken was put in it.

      "So, do you and your wife have kids?"

      "Yes, Senior Chief, my daughter is about three and my son is almost four months old."

      "So, do you have any pictures?"

      The young sailor did, exactly as Senior Chief Scott expected. They all admired the kids and Senior Chief Scott remarked "do you think your daughter would like to see our chicken?"

      "Yes, sir, they would. Oh, please don't tell anyone that I'm borrowing your bird; the kid's pediatrician would shit green if she knew I'd showed a 'wild bird' to the kids."

      "Your secret is safe with us," Anderson-Pierre assured him.

      Having gotten the bird off the boat and carried off by someone who would not "rat them out", Anderson-Pierre left the boat, went to dock office and called customs. Sometime late that afternoon, a dusty government call arrived. A rumpled middle-aged man in chinos, a bright "Hawaiian" shirt and sandals walked up to the LEE. This man was no fashion pate and had worn dark socks with the sandels.

      After the custom's man got seated at the table, he counted the number of people around the table.

      "Is this your entire crew, Captain? Did you pick up anyone off island or leave anyone behind?"

      "Yes, no and no."

      "Do you have anything to declare on your boat?"

      "We were given some whiskey and beer by friends on Yap."

      "Do you have anything else to declare?"

      "No, sir."

      "Then, I see no reason to inspect your boat. It is your home and I'd just as soon not rummage through your socks."

      The customs man had not opened his rather large brief case. He did so now and it was clear that about a third of the case was taken up by a large, square, bottle. The customs man carefully lifted the bottle out.

      "If you'll get glasses, I'd like to offer all of you a toast to your safe return."

      They drank several toasts before the customs man, a Mr. Jesus Commacho, left the boat.

      LT Anderson-Pierre went back to his BOQ room. He was mildly dismayed to find a note stating that his room had been "carefully cleaned" each day he was gone and that he'd been charged extra "for his general messiness". The spider webs in the corner didn't attest to the "carefully cleaned" part. He asked the "Mess Manager First Class" (Cook first class) up to his room to inspect it. The Cook immediately noted the spider webs and the brown ring in the toilet and the rumpled pillow case. He shrugged.

      "Well, sir, if we complain too much about the maids not doing their jobs then they'll quit and we'll not be able to get any help at all. So, sir, all I can recommend is that the club's slush fund pay part of your bill without the maids finding out. Just don't discuss this with them, sir, please."

      "OK, I'll be nice to the maids".

      "Thank you, sir".

      "OK, we're done with that. Now, please tell me what's been going on since we went out to sea."

      "Humm, not a lot of big things, sir. No real problems with the locals. The Jarheads have been behaving themselves. They busted the Dallas for prostitution but the 'johns' somehow escaped without being identified and the 'girls' were sent off island; word is, a new set of 'girls' were coming here anyway and kind of a standard 'hooker transfer' Triad^[30] style. There was a problem with room inspection at the enlisted BEQ. The bar tender at the "Trench Club^[31]" was caught watering down drinks again. Then…"

      "Excuse me but did you say there was a problem with 'room inspections at the BEQ'?"

      "Yes, sir, I did. What I heard was…"

      We leave these two including LT Anderson-Pierre offering the Cook a bottle of Olympia beer^[32] and the Cook inviting Anderson-Pierre to join a small and select group of officer guests at a dinner given by some of the senior enlisted. It was a very fine meal and proof that junior officers and senior enlisted can socialize without anyone crossing the line.

      Petty Officers Tanner and Sillings entered "their" BEQ and immediately felt out of place. They didn't realize how much being on the LEE had been like "family living" to them and how much they felt at ease there. They walked into their room and before they'd dropped duffel bags on their racks, saw there were small chunks of mud on their highly polished floor. There were also smugged areas and places where it looked like the floor wax had been chipped out. The final blow was the nasty note on the table which read:

                             "ROOM INSPECTION"

                              Passed          Failed     X     

                              Reason:

                        Mud on deck and deck scuffed. Shitcan empty. Room

                        otherwise satisfactory                                                 .                                                                                                                                                       

This inspection had occurred sometime during their second week at sea. There was a second note hidden under the first.

 

 

 

                             "ROOM INSPECTION"

                              Passed          Failed    X        

                              Reason:

                        Mud still on deck. Deck wax scuffed, chipped and unattended in spite                        of my last inspection note. Gear adrift (gum wrapper in the shitcan)   .                  

                        Recommend these sailors be written up.                                  .                                           

      The inspection report bore the scribbled name of a Chief Petty Officer that neither Sillings nor Tanner had ever heard of. They went to the barracks Master At Arms office.

      The Master At Arms tried to keep a straight face when they walked in but couldn't help laughing.

      "Master Chief, do you remember inspecting our room before we went to sea?"

      "Yes, I do, sailor, it was very clean."

      "We were shocked to find mud on our floor and a gum wrapper in our shitcan. We know the floor was clean and neither of us chew gum, Master Chief.

      "Don't worry about it, Son. You're in no trouble."

      "But the note said something about 'writing us up'"!

      "Yes, it did. However, the inspector is a Chief and I'm a Master Chief and I don't take orders from a Chief! Besides, after I saw the carbon copy of the inspection report, I looked at your room and put your room down as "exemplary". The Chief who inspected your room didn't realize he'd gotten mud on his shoes and was tracking mud all over the building. He's a smoker and had to go outside every few rooms to smoke another fucking cancer stick. He also chews gum and was the one who dropped the gum wrapper into your room's shitcan."

      Tanner continued to speak for both Sillings and himself:

      "You mean he didn't realize he was tracking mud and didn't remember dropping his gum wrapper into the shitcan?"

      "I'm sure he didn't. The man has been getting more forgetful lately. So, what do you do with someone who can't handle being a Barracks Master at Arms? We sent him to the Base Appearance Office. There, he'll be in charge of sailors who can't seem to make Seaman^[33] and Marines who've lost their 'precious shooter's cards^[34] and aren't allowed to pull a trigger. The losers, in other words."

      "What will they do?"

      "Paint white bands around the bottom two feet of palm trees, Petty Officer Sillings, paint big rocks, grade the rocks and gravel around Navy buildings and make sure they look good and generally do field day around the base."

      "What does this Chief think?"

      "We convinced him it was a 'Leadership Challenge'. He doesn't seem to realize he's been chitcaned to this division just as much as his Sailors and Marines and for basically the same reasons."

      There was nothing Sillings or Tanner could say.

      "I'll have a couple of his boys go clean your deck. I left it dirty to let you know the dangers of leaving for a while without a backup plan in place."

      "How do we get a backup plan?"

      "Isn't Jeff Maxson one of your crew?"

      "Yes, sir."

      "Good. I've already arranged for his roommate to keep your room clean when you're away. That sailor likes Science Fiction books and anything exotic. So, if you can find him some interesting books, that's his price."

      It worked out for all concerned.

      Petty Officer Tanner contacted his girl friend and they went out for a fine evening. Petty Officers Sillings and Nichols decided they needed an evening apart and didn't see each other that night or the next day. (Anderson-Pierre had given the crew special liberty for the day after returning to port.)

      Since the LEE wasn't expected to leave port for a while, they returned all of the crypto material to the Naval Communications Station. Of all their duties, this was the one that Anderson-Pierre, Scott and Hanson feared the most. They believed the legend that there were volley ball leagues at Leavenworth Prison with teams consisting of "Pork Chops" (Navy supply officers) who'd been caught embezzling or crypto people who had fucked up the paperwork. They were relieved when all went well and only somewhat relieved when the Warrant Officer running the show told them "You folks won't go to Leavenworth…today".

      He snickered and double checked to make sure his list of things to look for was properly filled out, his checklist of lists to fill out was properly filled out, his checklist of checklists to be filled out was filled out and the "overall inspector's checklist" was filled out. Then, this Warrant Officer and crew of sadists -er- inspectors trooped off the LEE. A couple of the inspectors apparently had missed the boot camp lectures on daily showers and had a bit of an arouma.

      When Hanson sprayed perfume around the deckhouse, neither her officer or Senior Chief felt need to comment…

      The next month, they went to Yap again and visited several other islands; they brought back beer and local delicies from Yap for their friend, Jesus.  Their old friend, CAPT Puller brought the USS AMERICA into the vicinity of where the USS LEE was operating. The LEE carried several of the AMERICA's medical and dental personnel to some of the more remote islands; that is, helicopters dropped off these medical personnel and the LEE ferried them ashore. It might have been easier to simply send the helicopters to the islands but the islanders expressed the desire to have the LEE visit...

      CAPT Puller spent a couple of days on the LEE and became good friends with her personnel. The sight of Erica wondering around the deck house in the evening wearing the Senior Chief's T-shirt and half the big table taken up with her puzzles simply brought the response from CAPT Puller of "I too have a wife and daughter".

      The following month, April, another trip to Yap had been penciled in but was scrapped when Typhoon Cecil blew up south of Yap. While there was little damage to Yap, a Navy cargo ship was sent to the islands with emergency supplies.

      They began thinking of a really nice trip. Tanner started talking about the various islands in the western Pacific and speculated on how people must have island hopped the region. Scott's wife and kids were talking about how nice it would be to see Hawaii. Markham's girl friend was writing and asking if it would be possible to "John to get time off and go to Hawaii"? Anderson-Pierre's parents wrote asking him about a military hotel on the Big Island. Sillings and Nichols had apparently heard that parts of Hawaii's Big Island were "nice places to visit" (i.e. "gay friendly" in the mistaken belief that their shipmates didn't know what they really meant) and all started talking about how it would be nice for the families and married folks to visit Hawaii.

      When Anderson-Pierre and Scott brouched the idea of them taking the LEE to Hawaii for a "combined scientific and military mission to create a climatology of the water masses and test the fesibility of taking a YP class boat on such a long trip" even they thought they were convincing. The Admiral nodded in agreement. The Admiral's Chief Of Staff (crusty old fart of a Naval Captain that he was) was less impressed.

      "This sounds excellent, gentlemen. Now, what is the real reason?"

      "That was the reason, sir," Senior Chief Scott said in a firm voice.

       "Of course it is, of course it is, Senior Chief."

      "Then too, my wife and daughters would like to go there to meet us on their way to Guam, my Sergeant's girl friend and her parents and his parents would like to go there and finally get the two married off, the L T's parents are looking for a time to meet old friends at Hawaii and my boys are getting antsy and want to go to sea. Captain Anderson has been seeing a young lady evenings lately and it seems her parents know his parents and the parents want to go to Hawaii and meet "the kids".  We've got Tanner doing ship visits with his girl friend, Sillings is TAD^[35] to GovGuam (Government of Guam) and is doing legal work, Nichols has overhauled the LEE's disels and helped rewire the engine rooms of three Navy ships and has been 'farmed out' by the Repair Facility to help some Japanese fishermen to fix up a couple of tuna boats. Hansen is working at the base communications station and driving everyone there nuts. Oh, and Maxson has been getting OJT on crypto gear and is lobbying to 'have those damn Zoomies give us Squids modern cryptographic gear'. Everyone's ready to go to sea."

      "That's not quite the official reason you gave, is it, Senior Chief?"

      "No, sir. Also, word is the Lieutenant has been dating a young lady who is about to be transferred to Hawaii. She is an Air Force officer, a SAC Major select^[36], flying cargo planes. Seems they have a lot in common, similar families."

      "Lieutenant, are you telling me that you'd like to take the LEE to Hawaii for liberty?"

      "Ah, yes sir, I would. Of course we would do the other tasks on the way Admiral."

      Admiral Negron smilled and nodded. "Make your plans for mid May then. Say around the 15^th. I'd like to see what you're going to take, a complete sail plan, etc."

      "Yes, sir, you'll get it."

      Admiral Negron allowed them to leave his office.

      "You had to tell him I was dating?"

      "It's fairly obvious, sir," Senior Chief Scott said kindly. "When you glance around the deck house rather vaguely, missing a candy wrapper on the table and a coffee spill on the deck and say 'inspection is over, well done', even Maxson notices. When you've got that dreamy look on your face and occasionally respond to questions with 'yes, dear', we know you've got it bad. Erica does a wicked ass imitation on of you and so does Maxson. So, tell me about this 'girl of yours'."

      "Well, her Father is a retired Army Chaplin who just retired with 30 years. Her Mother is an Army Nurse Practionare who just retired with 31 years. We've got a lot in common and even seem to have the same sense of humour."

      Senior Chief Scott was highly surprised when his wife and their daughters arrived at the airport. The good Senior Chief was missing from the LEE for a couple of days; he had left without bothering with leave requests or any of that crap and Anderson-Pierre had simply carried him as "on Special Liberty" on the daily muster sheets. The girls and Erica fell in love with each other and they arranged for Erica to "host" the Senior Chief's daughters on the LEE. The daughters truly enjoyed their time on the boat and listened to the radio way too loud but there was no one around to object.  The next time Senior Chief and his wife were seen, they were looking rather tired and it was hard to tell which one was walking a bit more ackwardly. No matter; it gave the crew some delicious gossip.

      The Scotts invited Anderson-Pierre and his girlfriend over for dinner at the Hilton and were quite favorably impressed with her. They thought it funny that she thought LeeRoy Scott was an Enlisted Medical Doctor (which he was) as well as "the equivelant of a Chief Master Sergeant (E9) when he was really the eqivalent of a "First Sergeant (E8)".

      The young lady and the Scotts made good impressions on each other. Even Scott's kids seemed to like her…

      When looked at from the outside, the planning for their trip to Hawaii initially looked simple. Then, Anderson-Pierre had everybody write down what they expected to do on the trip and what they would need. Suddenly, it wasn't quite as simple.

      Tanner and Anderson-Pierre wanted to take BT observations every three hours and that meant laying in a lot of the expendable BT probes (at 8 per day and a worst case estimated 10 days each way for the trip meant 80 probes to find storage space for). They would also be doing weather observations every three hours and that meant sending in weather observations as well as BT observations. To send them encrypted meant a full set of crypto key lists for the Western Pacific and Central Pacific for the months of May and June. They also had to get the emergency voice codes for those months.

      Scott had to get a full set of fresh emergency medical consumables and to update their shots and medical records. (A very much outdated medical requirement mandated each crew member be treated as someone going to a "foreign land" when going to Hawaii. It was inexplicable…)

      The engines needed to be load tested and received some serious dry dock time.

      The emergency equipment was taken and examined. Life rafts were inflated. Ship abandonment drills needed to be conducted and life boat emergency packs updated (this was mainly to update the already current sight reduction tables).

      Then, there was the movement report to make. This had to have a fairly rigid departure time, assigned way points and criteria for amending the sail plan.

      They were told the ship handlers had to get some refresher at sea time.

      The argument that Anderson-Pierre and Scott could provide adequate refresher training at sea fell on deaf ears. It seems the regulations required ship handling within the harbour and that would be when Anderson-Pierre and Scott would be doing the driving. Their other "ship drivers" would be "driving" on the empty, open sea. This would be safer than practicing driving in a big, empty, parking lot.

      However, the regs didn't say the practice had to be on the LEE and their friend, the Master Chief who commanded the Harbour Tug, laughed and said "The L T's people can drive me tug and they will qualify. My girl Yeoman has already filled out the paperwork." The LEE's enlisted ship handlers drove the Master Chief's tug quite well and re-qualified as expected.

      They even did mental walk throughs of the upcoming trip and then read their trip diaries of things they wished they'd brought on the earlier trips and things they wished they left on short. All was going well and the various families were informed that the LEE would leave harbour on 12 May 1979 and would be getting into Honolulu between the 18^th and the 22^th. Reservations were made at the military hotel and friends in Hono ("Honolulu") were asked to buy Don Ho tickets.

      Markham called his girl friend and after a few minutes, finally got around to the point of the conversation.

      "Do you want to get married fairly soon?"              |_____June_1979

      "Well, yes, dear, why do you ask?"                          Su_Mo_Tu_We_Th_Fr_Sa

      "We're going to Honolulu late this month. I was      |________________1__2

thinking that Sunday 3 June would be a good date.        |_3__4__5__6__7__8__9

The boat will be leaving for Hono on the 12th."             |10_11_12_13_14_15_16

      "Can we put it off till the 10th? I need to send          |17_18_19_20_21_22_23

invitations out. Where would we get married anyway?   |24_25_26_27_28_29_30

       "I'm told the main base chapel is very nice. We

could have a combined Catholic and Lutheran service.

We'd have to make arrangements of course and I'd have to give you a listing of folks I'd like to invite. This isn't too soon, is it?"

       "No, dear, it isn't too soon at all!"

 

      Markham had called from the Admiral's Headquarters and went to Admiral Negron's office where Anderson-Pierre had been discussing something with the Admiral's Chief of Staff.

      "Sir, will we be in Hono on the 10th? June 10, that is?"

      "We could be. Why?"

      "Well, Jasmine and I have decided to get married on 10 June. We need to make arrangements. Sir."

      "You'll be in Hono for your wedding and a week's honeymoon."

       Rear Admiral Negron's Chief of Staff had spoken and that settled the matter.

 

      Everything went to shit on 10 May 1979.

      A weather system - later to be called Tropical Storm Dot - spun up and the 7th Fleet Commander forbad ships to leave Guam and several other locations. This was well justified as the Joint Typhoon Warning Centre "weather guesses" weren't sure just where "Dot" would go and the Naval Oceanography Command Center Guam "weather guessers" put Guam within an area of 10 to 14 foot seas and the Ship Routing folks at Naval Oceanography Command Center Hawaii flatly forbad the LEE to leave harbour!

      They exceeded their authority but no matter.

      The departure date was reset for the 20^th. Hotel reservations had to be remade ("needs of the Navy", you know), Scott's kids had already finished the school year but gotten easy final assignments and were secretly happy and the LEE's officer and crew were happy actually. They had discovered last minute problems with the provisions and did a lot of quick swapping.

      Anderson-Pierre did a lot more courting of his girlfriend. His parents seemed amused by his choice of young woman to date when he told them about her. But, he figured, there was no telling what parents could find amusing…

      Senior Chief Scott was finally approved for base housing and had less than a week to approve his government house and arrange for Navy furnature to be moved in. He gave power of attorney to friends who supervised the actual "moving in" of the Navy furnature. They got  Mrs. Scott onto a MAC flight back to San Diego and she had three fun filled days to move out of their house in San Diego. (She wasn't expecting this for at least a month.) It helped that friends in San Diego gave major help to her during this clusterfucked move. They were reminded of a young Air Force wife^[37] who'd not expected the movers to be quite as fast as they were. These movers had arrived several hours early and had packed up everything before the young wife could clean out the refrigerator. The odour of rotting food in the refrigerator had damn near fuminigated their new house before they got it cleaned out.

      Tanner had been spending as much time as possible off ship visiting his girl friend; she had been given work time to spend doing "ship visits" to the LEE and other ships. This was ostensibly to provide refresher training for the LEE's crew but the truth really was her division officer was giving her time with "the boy friend".

      Since Markham had agreed to marry his fiancé, he had sent invitations to a number of people in the special warefare community and she had invited a number of her friends. There were some rather strange folks invited...

 

      Tanner and Sillings did another major cleaning job on their room and the Master Chief approved it. Nichol's roommate agreed to "keep things clean" and they had to be content with that. After the LEE left, the BEQ Master At Arms sealed Tanner and Silling's room with tape and it wasn't inspected.

      The departure time was set for 9 am on 20 May 1979. They were actually a few minutes late and that was due to them unexpectidly being invited to breakfast with Admiral Negron.

      The first "final walk through" revealed no problems.

      The second "final walk through" revealed three problems: two with dry goods that had to be replaced and an apparently leaking bottle of insulin in the "chilled" medical cabinet; it was replaced even though none of the LEE"s crew were diabetics and they weren't on a medical mission.

      The third "final walk through" revealed no problems.

      Anderson‑Pierre was a bit nervous leaving harbour but made it out quite safely; his girl friend was watching. They were escorted out by their friend the Master Chief and his tug boat. A Los Angeles class attack submarine followed them out. When they were two miles out from the entrance to Apra Harbour, the sub accelerated and went past the LEE fast enough to make it seem the LEE was wallowing along (they were). The LEE was doing a manly 10 knots and the sub somewhere between 35 and 40 knots.

      Tanner used the semaphore flags to ask: "just how fast are you going".

       The reply was "37 knots".

      Then, another communication from the sub: "we're going to do a speed run after

submerging...we'll signal you how fast...we will tell you how many quote cans of coke unquote the crew drank the first hour."

      Tanner related this to Anderson‑Pierre (who could read semaphore as well as Tanner) and said "tell them 'good luck and God speed...we look forward to learning how many cans of coke you folks drink."

      The sub signaled back "thank you". Then, the men crammed into the tiny island cockpit (on top of the sub's conning tower) went below deck and moments later the sub sank. A parascope appeared and a flashing light signal sent "LEE...good luck to

you and God speed".

      The first weather and BT observations were made shortly after LEE cleared the outer harbour and were sent by encrypted teletype. They knew there would be a rather large spot between Guam and Hawiaa where they wouldn't be able to use the teletype and Anderson‑Pierre was determined to receive as many messages as he could before then.

      About an hour after the sub's parascope disappeared, the LEE received a message:

 

R 210000Z MAY 79

FM USS BUFFALO

TO USS ELBERT C LEE

BT

UNCLAS //N00000//

SUBJ: PERSONAL FOR CAPTAIN ANDERSON‑PIERRE

A. SIGNALS EXCHANGE WHEN LEAVING APRA HARBOR

IRT THE REF^[38], 42 COKES WERE CONSUMED FIRST

HOUR OUT. HOW ABOUT YOU?

#009

NNNN

 

      Anderson‑Pierre bellowed "increase speed to max".

      Tanner responded with "all ahead full, speed now 14 knots".

 

 

 

R 210010Z MAY 79

FM USS ELBERT C LEE

TO USS BUFFALO

BT

UNCLAS //N00000//

SUBJ: LOGISTICS...

A. USS BUFFALO 210000Z MAY 79

IRT THE REFERENCE...14 IMI 14 CANS CONSUMED FIRST HOUR. I WILL

ADMIT WE GUZZLED SIX OF THEM SHORTLY BEFORE RESPONDING TO

YOUR MESSAGE. WE'VE A SMALLER CREW THAN YOU BUT STILL, YOUR

RATE IS MOST IMPRESSIVE!

 

GOD SPEED AND STAY SAFE!

 

ANDERSON‑PIERRE SENDS.

#0001

NNNN

 

 

      This exchange of messages caused much speculation within the Communic-ations Centre and lead to some rather bizare myths about the LEE given the XO was a SEAL, they had an Army Special Warfare type and a rather eclictic mix of crew members. Oddly, no one who knew Erica could conceive of her having "relationships" with her crewmates...

      Several hours after leaving port and just after lunch, the evening crew left to take naps and the night shift helped get everything settled in. They were cruising just north of east and making a "manly ten knots". The LEE got an information copy of an official Naval Message that stated Tanner's girl friend was being sent on temporary exchange duty to the Naval Oceanography Command Center Honolulu Hawaii (NOCC HONO). She would be arriving shortly after the LEE did. The LEE then got a "PERSONAL FOR" from the Commanding Officer of NOCC HONO that Tanner's girl friend was really there for very light duty and to spend time with Tanner as part of "shipboard weather observation training". It would be up to LT Anderson‑Pierre to set her hours. The good Captain of the USS ELBERT C. LEE stated that "as long as you two stay out of trouble, you can take maximum liberty".

The shipboard routine was quickly established. The only problems came when Erica insisted on doing multiple zigsaw puzzles on the ship's table. Anderson‑ Pierre solved this by requiring her to do only one puzzle at a time and to limit herself to working on one end of the table. This also required Senior Chief Scott to put his "father of teen aged girls" hat on and have a series of serious talks with Erica. Neither of them seemed to see what was obvious to the others: Erica was getting a Father's attention and was highly motivated to keep irritating Scott. Finally, Scott figured other things to discuss with Erica and the puzzle problems and a few other emergent problems cleared up.

      Tanner had no idea how many people were quite interested in the BT observations the LEE was sending in. It seemed that three master's thesis were spawned from them and several computer programmes at Fleet Numerical Prediction Center and the Submarine headquarters were tweeked based on the fresh data. They would all have been surprised to learn that Fleet Headquarter Moscow (in the USSR) found this information of considerable interest.)   

 

      They had been at sea four days and it was late morintg when Erica lost it.

      Again.

      She stalked over to the entrance to the crew "quarters" and shouted "Get a room, boys!"

      There was a moment of complete silence. Then, Nichols climbed the ladder and said "what the hell?"

      Sillings followed, shaking his head.

      "What did you say?"

      She glared back at Sillings and said "you heard me".

      There was more silence.

      Then, Markham walked over and said "are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

      "Yes!"

      Markham looked hard at Sillings and Nichols and then, oddly enough, at the entrance to the boat's head, which was wedged open. It was obvious that Erica Hanson had been sitting "on the throne" and listening intently...

      "Bill, what were you doing?"

      "I was looking for a book to read and he was doing pushups."

      "Dave, what were you doing?"

      "I was doing pushups and Bill was bitching about never being able to find his latest Jack Chalker book. Or was it that Barker 'Ninja' stuff?"

      "I believe both of them for these reasons," Army MP Markham stated. "Bill spilled his oatmeal on his shirt front, his belt and his pants this morning. He was leaning back in his chair and the boat took a sudden heel. The stain is continuous from shirt to belt to pants; obviously, Bill has not adjusted his clothing and that would preclude what you were hinting at there, Erica."

      Markham waited patiently while his logic was mentally chewed on.

      "Dave has the sweat patterns you see on people of, ah, relaxed fitness, from doing too many pushups. I've seen it before and it really is quite obvious. Any questions?"

      There were no questions and Erica left feeling a little foolish but somehow reassured her suspicions were wrong. David Sillings and Bill Nichols walked out to the deck and John Markham was right behind them. He spoke in a very soft voice that both of his listeners heard quite well.

      "Damn it, boys, be more subtle next time! If you're going to 'entertain each other' in the middle of the morning, at least cover your knees! We're not blind!"

      His listeners were quite shocked.

      "No one is bothered by your love affair but don't rub it into people's faces. As someone once told me: 'The only thing I've got against homosexuals is that they're going to get some tonight and I'm not. If there were any women on board, I might have a chance.' I doubt that 'old Navy philosopher^[39] would get lucky but I digress."

      There was a brief pause.

      "No, I don't think of you two as 'homosexual' or 'fags' or 'gays'; I think of you as friends and members of my platoon. Another quote, my friends, this time by Kipling from 'A Code of Morals': 'howsoever Love be blind, the world at large hath eyes.' Keep that in mind, my friends, keep that in mind."

      "Thank you, John."

      "Your welcome. It's what a friend and a platoon sergeant does."

      After Markham went into the cabin, one of the two spoke:

      "I didn't know I was in his platoon."

      "I guess we know now…"

      It took the LEE 11 days to reach Honolulu. Fortunately, they had laid in more than enough supplies for that period. Also, members of the crew had brought in "personal supplies" and that had replaced or augmented some official navy meals.

      Perhaps the funiest moment was when Erica flew two of her bras off the flag hoist. Several ships passing commented on this via ship-to-ship voice and both Anderson-Pierre and Scott were embarrassed. Comments about "the Love Boat" rankled them quite a bit…

      Two days out of Honolulu, Dr. Scott gathered up everyone on the boat and gave them "warm body physicals" at the table in the deck house. That is, he checked eyes, ears, nose, throat; listened to breathing and hearts; had the each man "turn your head and cough". He also took blood and urine samples, double wrapped them, labeled tubes and wrapping carefully and put them in the freezer. For the sake of privacy, personnel were restricted to either the flying bridge, engineering or crew's quarters. (No one noticed that Tanner and Nichols were alone in engineering or put this information together with the major field day they held on the fifth day; the engineering deck was the cleanest place on the LEE.)

      His last patient was Erica.

      He had her strip to the waist and did the usual checks. To his surprise, Erica wasn't bashful about showing her breasts.

      After this check, Dr. Scott turned away to wash his hands. Erica decided it was time to get the bad stuff over, laid on the table and started to remove her trousers. Scott did a double take and said "who told you to take your pants off?"

      "Well, Senior Chief, I just wanted to get that exam thing over with."

       In a gruff voice, Senior Chief Scott replied: "I told my wife that I won't do ob gyn exams on her or my daughters and I'm not starting with you."

      Erica rolled to her feet, grabbed Scott by the ears and loudly kissed him on the forehead. "Thank you!"

      "For what?"

      Erica simply giggled, got dressed and refused to answer Scott.

A brief digression:

      Several days after the LEE arrived in Honolulu, Erica told Mrs. Scott about this encounter. She asked her husband about it and was quite amused to realize he didn't understand.

      "Ok, quite laughing. What's so damn funny?"

      "I believe you said 'I told my wife that I won't do ob gyn exams on my daughters and I'm not starting with you'?"

      "Ah, yes," Senior Chief Scott was beginning to get the feeling what the answer was.

      "You told Erica that she's one of your daughters." Mrs. Scott laughed herself almost to hysteria. "Now you know why our kids are calling Erica sister."

      Scott sighed. Just what he needed, another pesty daughter to raise…

And so ends the digression…

      On the 11^th day of the LEE's trip to Honolulu:

      Some twelve miles out of Honolulu Harbour, the LEE was informed that a destroyer conducting exercies would lead them into harbour. It would have been conforting to think this was a coincidence except the destroyer signaled via semaphore "what kept you…we expected you this morning…"

      Their arrival in port did not go unnoticed.

      After conning the boat to the designated pier, Anderson-Pierre read the movement report Tanner had prepared announcing their arrival. That both knew this report had been sitting on the message creation system for almost two hours was ignored and the fact that Anderson-Pierre had read over Tanner's shoulder as the message was drafted was also ignored. The important thing was this printed draft had the correct arrival time and Anderson-Pierre was able to sign this draft and allow the message to be sent.

      They had finished the longest YP trip on record and they were greeted with a brass band, senior officers and a picket by the Wive's Club.

      After tying up, Erica and Jeffrey sent in the "ZKO" message; this simply told everyone that the LEE wasn't going to be sending or receiving Naval messages and that the Naval Communications Center Hono would handle the LEE's messages. Then, Erica and Jeffrey removed the Orestes "programming" and this was locked into the safe. After that, it was "show time".

      The entire crew of the LEE turned out in whites (Markham was in heavily starched greens). They looked good for their group photo.

      The local Admiral was there and congratulated each crew member. After that, they had to face the local news media. The initial questioning didn't go too badly.

      They were polite when LT Anderson-Pierre spoke:

      "This voyage was a proof of concept. Could a Yard Patrol craft be equipped to serve as a medical support craft and to be used for gathering metorological and bathymetric information. I think we've proved that it can be. Earlier, we supplied medical support to the people of Yap. This past two weeks, we have taken weather observations in data sparse areas; the National Weather Service and various militaries appreciate this. Of more importance are the Bathythermalgraph observation we've taken of the ocean to depths of 300 meters. These reports were taken in very data sparse areas. Military and civilian scientists and Naval officers have already taken a great deal of interest in our work and I'm told that many computer models have been updated."

      Anderson-Pierre responded to a raised hand.

      "Did you know the Soviets have reported working with your data and that some think you faked it?"

      "Why would they say that?" Anderson-Pierre was puzzled.

      "Because your data contradicted what they thought was true."

      Anderson-Pierre looked very upset; the idea that he had helped improve the Soviet Navy wasn't why he'd pushed through his trip. Later Anderson-Pierre was reassured that if the Soviets used accurate models, then the US Navy could better predict what the Soviets would do. Anderson-Pierre got a letter of commendation from this and that helped him win early promotion to full Commander.

      "That is very interesting and I'd love to learn more."

      "Captain Anderson-Pierre," this same reporter continued, "I've heard your trip has raised so much enthusiasm about taking weather obervations that merchant shippers and even sport sailors are learning to take weather observations. The tuna fishermen have formed a collective to receive them and will forward them to the National Weather Service. Everyone wins, don't you agree?"

            Then, with an instinct worthy of any cut throat, the news media turned to the "real story".

      "So, Miss Hanson, how does it feel to have seven boy friends?"

      Erica had not been paying attention and got a slightly puzzled look on her face.

      "Excuse me, young lady but that question was directed to you," continued another faceless voice in the crowd.

      "Oh, sorry, I wasn't listening. I thought you were supposed to talk to my Lieutenant and the Senior Chief. Why would you want to ask me questions?"

      Erica could be quite niave at times.

      "We were wondering what it's like to have seven boy friends?"

      "I don't have any boy friends."

      "Well, then, what's it like to have seven lovers?"

      "I don't have any lovers!" She was indignant. "I'm saving myself for my future husband!"

      Another reporter, this time a woman spoke: "Do you expect us to believe that you're on this boat because you're a hard worker?"

      "Yes."

      "Aren't you there for 'the crew's relief'?"

      "I'm the radio operator. Senior Chief Scott relieves me on the CW radio at times and Petty Officer Maxson helps me with the teletype work. I also relieve the look out watch…" She sputtered to a halt as the audience broke into laughter.

      "Do you understand the question?"

      Senior Chief Scott answered before RM3 Hanson could formulate an answer.

      "She is a very innocent person and doesn't understand your question. I'm not innocent and I understand your question. Your question is a base canard and a slander. She is a sailor here to do a hard job and definitely does not provide relief to the crew. Next question!"

      There were several more sex related questions, which Scott ignored.

      Finally, one reporter spoke up to Erica and said "they're asking if you're here to fuck the men".

      Erica freaked in classic style.

      "Are you asking if I'm fucking my officers or the boys? If you are, you're digusting assholes and should fucking be ashamed of yourselves. Where you raised in God Damned barns? You make me feel sick!"

      Erica stormed off in the face of the stunned reporters. Finally, one of the intrepid scribblers asked "who are her officers"?

      "Technically, I am her only officer," Anderson-Pierre replied. "However, in her mind, Petty Officer Hanson sees Senior Chief Scott and Staff Sergeant Markham as being officers. The rest are 'the boys'. That is from the notion of the officer as a Father or Uncle and the non-officers as brothers or if you will, 'the boys'".

      "That doesn't sound very military."

      "It isn't but this is really more of a family and her attitude is a healthy one."

      "So, she is simply a little sister to the crew."

      "Yes." Anderson-Pierre was terse as he was getting very pissed off at his press conference being high jacked by the scandel merchants.

      The local Admiral announced the end to the press conference and offered everyone a chance to tour one of the new destroyers at a nearby pier. The scribblers swarmed in masse to this other ship. The local Admiral entered the deck house after telling Anderson-Pierre:

     "I have some serious words for that sailor of yours!"

      RM3 Erica Hanson had heard this was standing, waiting, sweating and sure she'd been found guilty at a Court Marshall she'd not known was being held.

      "Hanson," the Admiral began, "are you having affairs with the men on this ship?"

      "No, sir."

      "I didn't think so, young lady. I liked your response to those obnoxious remarks. I'd be equally pissed if anyone had accused my daughters of fucking around. You're in no trouble." He patted her on the arm.

      "Captain Anderson-Pierre, the officer's and chief petty officer's messes have decided to throw you, your officers and 'your boys' a welcoming party tomorrow night. I've been told you have family to visit."

      "Yes, sir. Please let me know when the party will be."

      "If your entire crew wishes to leave your ship, I'll have a guard placed around her."

      "Thank you, sir."

      The Wives' Club^[40] never did see the LEE's crew leave and they gradually broke up and went home.

      They all went to the Hale Koa Hotel, the exclusive "Military Only" hotel on the Hawaii beach. After checking into their rooms, the LEE's crew met in the main corridor. Erica immediately went to visit with Scott's wife and their three daughters.

      One of the daughters, a rather naive 14 year old said to Erica "my parents have a room for us three and their own room. Their room is down the hall from us." The girl looked puzzled.

      "Well, your parents know you and your sisters are likely to be noisy at night and they like peace and quiet."

      "Why is that?" The 14 year olds' older sisters were rolling their eyes.

      "They're old farts and need their sleep." Erica said this in a stage whisper that carried as well as a shout.

      The Scotts were quite amused as they saw their parents as being old farts.  Still, it was an answer that reduced the need for a discussion they weren't ready to have.

      Anderson-Pierre's parents entered the lobby and greeted him.

      Anderson-Pierre's girl friend entered with her parents (he'd seen their pictures) and stopped, looking at Anderson-Pierre's parents. Then, to the surprise of Anderson-Pierre and his girlfriend, the two sets of parents embraced each other and it was clear they'd known each other for a long time.

      Everything became clear when he realized his girl friend, Rachael, was the daughter of the Father Francis Mulcanny and Margaret Houlihan. He had learned of these two many years before but simply hadn't made the connection.

      It made for interesting conversations later that night and Michael Anderson-Pierre hardly noticed when Rachael lead him to his room; he knew she lived in a BOQ and it was a measure of his distraction that he didn't notice her clothing in his closet…at first.

      The next day, Erica talked discussed the clothing worn by women on Yap. They liked the idea and went shopping for the waist wrap. Mrs. Scott walked into "the girls room" and stopped in shock.

      "What the hell are you girls doing?"

      "Erica was telling us about Yap and how proper young ladies dress. So," the youngest daughter continued in a smug tone of voice, "we're going to be proper."

      "Please don't go outside dressed like that!"

      Her three official and her "unofficial" daughter (Erica) were proudly walking around wearing the female Yapese waist wrap and were otherwise unclothed.

      "You girls simply can't dress like that!"

      "But Mom, why not?"

      "It's not modest!"

      "We're not ashamed of our appearance. Are you ashamed of us, Mother?"

       This was Scott's oldest daughter.

      "No, of course not."

      "Then why be shocked?"

      "There is a nudist beach near her. Don't wear that off the beach!"

      "Are you going there with us?"

      "We'll see…"

      Everyone knew this was an evasion.

      There was a knock at the door and Tanner's girl friend, Jasmine, shouted "knock knock, can I come in?" She entered without waiting for an answer; she and Scott's daughters got along very well.

      "Well, this is a rather strange surprise."

      "We're going to get a wrap for Mother," the middle daughter stated. "She is going to the nudist beach with us. We've like you to come with us Jasmine."

      "Sure. Are you really going to a nudist beach, Irene?" Jasmine asked Mrs. Scott.

      "I suppose I am."

      There was a brief pause whilst the four younger women got street presentable (they put on t shirts and sandals) before they went to the store. Several young louts looked like they might want to bother the younger women but there was something scary about the attitudes of Jasmine and Irene. The louts decided to go drink some beers on the beach.

      Scott didn't know he had gone to a nudist beach until he saw his wife, his officer's fiance, his daughters and one of his sailors parading around wearing Yap waist wraps and sun tan lotion. He didn't know if he was supposed to be more appaled by the sight of his girls, the sight of his wife or the sight of Jasmine. Dr. Scott had seen and examined many women in the course of his training and practices but that wasn't the same as seeing family or near family…

      During the visit, Tanner and his girl friend spent a lot of time together and somehow no one noticed that little refresher training was going on. The results of the medical exams came back. One of the uninalysis exam results raised Scott's eyebrows.

      Scott called the testing lab and asked to speak to the Master Chief Medical Corpsman, who was in command.

      "Master Chief, this is Senior Chief Scott. I sent you some blood and urine samples. I've got a question about one of the tests. I don't want to anger you but I need to know: did you mix up any of the samples?"

      "No Senior Chief, I did not. Why do you ask?"

      Senior Chief Scott explained his reason and the lab tech verified his team had not mixed up samples. Later that day, Senior Chief Scott had Markham "pee in the bottle" and told him "this is a Navy thing". To hide his true intentions, the good doctor had all the men on the LEE give pee samples. (When Erica Hanson asked why she hadn't been asked to "pee in the bottle", Scott said "this is a guy thing". Oddly enough, this answer worked quite well.) Scott personally delivered the pee samples and watched the Master Chief Corpsman test them. The results were positive beyond a doubt.

      That having been done, when the group was getting ready for diner that night, Jasmine arrived early and was sitting by herself in a little outside patio. Scott sat down across from her.

      "May I ask you a personal question, my dear? I ask only as your fiance's doctor."

      "Well, certainly, Lee."

      "Are you on some form of birth control?"

      "Well, yes, the pill. My family doctor said it would help regulate my periods."

      "Good! Good! Keep using that birth control" and then he told her why.

      When John Markham arrived, he found his fiance crying.

      "What's the matter?"

      "I'm just so happy!"

      "You're crying."

      "I know. Do you know?"

      "He doesn't, my dear," Scott interjected.

      The remainder of the LEE's crew had gathered together and were puzzled when Jasmine stumbled away in tears.

      "I suppose you want to know what I told that young lady?"

      John Markham nodded mutely.

      "Someone get John a chair. John, sit down!"

      Senior Chief Scott sighed.

      "As you know, I've read everyone medical records. I've found out who had surgery, which illness, etc. I've even found out about you deep cover covert Soldiers." Scott paused. "The pee tests I had done and then re-done. They show that each one of you has been sexually active since we arrived on Hawaii, even you Maxson." He paused. "You didn't think we'd miss seeing you leaving with that desk clerk college girl, did you, Jeff? Anyway, the pee tests show the presence of healthy sperm."

      Markham had a bitter, resigned, look on his face.

      "I said everyone John, everyone! When 'section' had your hernia fixed, they had one of the best urologists in Europe 'fix your man parts' as the female urologist said. Your six gun hasn't shot blanks for years now. For some reason, they didn't tell you..."

      Markham was in shock, mouth open. He never heard Scott say "you could become a father very easily, my friend. I suppose I should be the one to tell you now: you're a father; you fathered a boy they named 'Burkholf'. Some of your comrades in 'section' have been informed".

      Scott showed pictures of Burkholf to Markham the next day and John then had the problem of "should he tell Jasmine that I'm a father"? He never did tell her...

      A month after the hernia was corrected, a young woman in 'section' had seduced him. So, when Master Sergeant Markham visited Section One headquarters years later, there was good reason for senior section personnel  to comment about a boy named Burkholf looking like John Markham.

      Marhkam's parents and Jasmine's parents were delighted and the party partied heartily.

       The next day, Jasmine King made a phone call and caused a series of computer codes to be input in an IRS computer. Jasmine had been hired by the IRS and put into a special investigations unit. She was required to go after organized crime but was allowed (encouraged actually!) to go after anyone she had a personal vendetta against. She had spent the past five weeks shafting one Steven Grant. As was later related to her by someone who had been monitoring a certain interview room:

      Grant and "the Missus" had shown up at an IRS Special Investigators office with even more paper. The past several weeks had been a blur of investigations and strange accusations that fell apart or which required spending much money to refute and just plain were having their lives fucked.

      The Special Investigator looked at them and said: "Why are you two here? What was the point of your asking for an appointment?"

      "What do you mean? We got this legal order?" Grant was stunned; his briefcase was partially filled with the items the legal order had demanded.

      The Special Investigator looked at the order and checked his computer screen.

      "I  don't show any trace of this order. In fact, I've just called up your record and it reads clean." The Special Investigator turned the screen towards his "guests".

      Flags were disappearing and finally a banner appeared that listed first Grant's name said "THIS PERSON'S RECORD IS PERMANENTLY SEALED." Mrs. Grant's name was listed and the same banner appeared.

      "Then what has been happening to us?"

      "If I had to guess, I'd say that someone was getting revenge…"

      There was a brief pause.

      "That someone has probably had an attack of conscience. There is a pay voucher sufficient to reimburse you for your legal fees; this is coded as being a non-taxable income and off the books." There was a pause as the IRS agent read a code. "So, that's who did this..."

      "Who did this?"

      "Mr. Grant, you have perhaps heard the expression 'speak not the name of the Devil for fear of attracting his attention'? There is a cadre of IRS who are above the law; legally, they don't exist but they do. They serve another group, which legally doesn't exist but does and it is my misfortune to know this. Just leave and never, never talk of either group. You can't touch them. I can't touch them. But they can touch you very easily. Just consider this: the untouchable group inside IRS that just fucked with you is terrified of the untouchable group they obey and this fear is justified."

       Several members of the more dangerous group were angry at you and ordered vengence...

      A check to cover their expenses was given to the Grants; they lived the rest of their lives with the fear their mysterious enemy might remember them.

      Grant left looking shell shocked; there were just so many people from his public school years and Army years and even a few from his business years that might want vengence that he couldn't remember them all…

      The next day, Scott's daughters came back to the hotel with a kitten. The girls played with it in Erica's room and the kitten quickly bonded with Erica. The girls also bonded with the kitten.

      When the Scotts found out about the kitten, they wondered what to do. Their youngest daughter had an answer.

      "Mom, Dad, let's take 'Hono' to Guam with us! We can take her in carry-on luggage."

      "You did know that Guam requires all animals from off island to go through a three month quarenteen. What do you think that'll do to her?"

      "Isn't Hawaii a 'no rabies zone'? Doesn't that mean we can simply take her there?"

      "Both Hawaii and Guam are 'no rabies zones' but neither accepts animals coming from the other.  It's a legal pissing contest started when Guam didn't send in there annual Rabies Free Certification one year."

      "What are we going to do?" wailed the next to youngest daughter.

      "We'll have to think on that, dear."

      Senior Chief Scott gathered together the Men of the LEE in one of the hotel's meeting rooms and stated:

      "I'm got a personal problem. My daughters and our Erica want to take Erica's kitten to Guam. The problem is getting the kitten onto Guam. They have this quarenteen thing."

      "Why not just ship the cat via air plane?" ET2 Maxson could be counted on for the naïve question.

      "She would have to go through quarenteen for three months and that would really screw up the kitten."

      "Can we send the kitten on a boat of some sort?"

      "Civilian or military, there is that problem of getting the 'Hono' through quarenteen. Honoring it would put the kitten through quarenteen. No one likes that idea and no one wants to see the kitten left behind. Erica and the girls are too attached…"

      LT Anderson-Pierre had been musing and spoke up.

      "We can take the kitten to Guam but we all have to work together on this. All of us have to be in agreement and we'll have to keep the kitten hidden when we go through Guam customs. Now, I know we're going from a US state to a US protectorate. Logically, we should not have to clear customs. Realistically, we will have to…"

      "Then how can we do this?"

      No one had seen Erica Hanson follow one of the crew and no one had seen her listening to the meeting.

      "We can keep the cat in Erica's room when we arrive on Guam. If we're good, we can arrive after working hours and smuggle the kitten ashore. But, we have to make sure the kitten doesn't caught. We could give her free movement in the deck house but I'm not going to risk letting her go into engineering or outside the deck house. It would be very, very bad and ironic if she were to fall overboard just outside of Apra Harbour."

      There was a pause.

       "We'll have a vote. Everyone who agrees with this scheme, put a penny into a coffee cup. Everyone who disagrees, put a different coin in."

      Anderson-Pierre fished out a hand full of coins from his pocket and had a penny and another coin passed to each person. Erica brought over a Navy. Then, the cup was handed to the man left of Anderson-Pierre.

      "Each of you do this: everybody not holding the cup close your eyes; the person with the cup puts the coin of their choice in, put the other coin in a pocket. Then, pass the cup to the next person and tell him to open his eyes. Repeat the process until after I vote."

      The process went well.

      Anderson-Pierre looked at Erica Hanson and said "would you like to vote?"

       "No, sir, what would be the point? I want to take my kitten to Guam!"

      Anderson-Pierre turned the cup out onto the table and it was obvious that only pennies were present. They had decided: the USS ELBERT C. LEE, SR had gotten a new temporary "crew member".

      The meeting was ajourned and it was only somewhat later that Anderson-Pierre realized his people hadn't bothered returning his coins…         

 

All good things must come to an end…for "Bachelor Boy" John Markham...

 

      After church at the end of the first week, John Markham found himself in the Pastor's office.

 

 

 

 

      All good things must come to an end...

      The LEE had been taken out of the water, her water, oil and fuel tanks emptied and the contents examined. Then, the oil tank was refilled and the engines and transmission turned over to get the parts coated with new oil. The LEE was put back into the water and fully refueled. A couple of extra fifty galloon fuel tanks were placed on either side of the boat amidships, balanced to reduce any turning movement.

      A local had just finished filling the forward water tank with enough water for six days when he saw Erica. He decided to engage in small talk and was hoping to score with Erica. He failed. He decided he would get a tour of the LEE and hoped to get "lucky" while below deck.

      "So, why not give me a tour of the boat?"

      "I can't do that."

      "Sure you can!"

      "No, I can't. I really can't."

      "Yes, you can and you can show me everything below deck."

      Erica had already taken the kitten to her room and was trying to see if the fur ball could handle being on the boat. There was no way she'd take this shithead into her home.

      "Can't do it. Won't do it with you. Can't see what woman would. Are you done, yet?"

      The local was pissed off and grunted in annoyance.

      "Well?"

      "I will fill the aft water tank in a couple of minutes."

      This local stomped off the boat and picked up a bottle of cleaner he carried "just in case one of military bastards fucked with him". He put the water nozzle into the tank and began filling. Erica got bored and wandered off. The pissed off sand crab stopped watering, pulled the nozzle out and put the full container of cleaner into the water tank. Then, he carefully finished filling the aft tank.

      He regretted not being able to poison the forward water tank but the cap had already been put on and a deer hunting tag^[41] had been put through convenient loops.

      They had resupplied fully and had brought a little extra. Staff Sergeant Markham brought a large case of Hawaan beer on board; Anderson-Pierre simply rolled the eyes. Several of the crew brought cases of soft drinks. Erica brought a rather nice cat food dish and water dish. Three others on the crew did the same and "Hono" was well set up. They even had three or four litter boxes ready to be deployed on the boat after leaving harbor.

      Mrs. Scott and her kids left for Guam the morning of the LEE's departure. Tanner's girl friend and her two kids went back on the military flight. The flight was even smoother and more confortable than the civilian flight but didn't have booze.

      The LEE's crew had lunch at a rather nice restraunt and returned to the LEE. The cryptographic coding had been received that morning and put in the safe. After lunch, the crypto was set up, tested back-to-back and both the teletype and morse radios checked.

      Their first message was a movement report; it was a nice touch since Anderson-Pierre had sent paper copies of the movement report to various offices that morning.

      The LEE's departure went well and the crew went into their shift rotation. They began taking weather and bathythermograph observations at three hour intervals.

      They drank the water in the forward tank and that ran out six days into the trip. The first person drinking from the aft tank gaged and threw up.

      Senior Chief Scott sniffed a glass of water and stated "there is something wrong with this water; don't drink it".

      Staff Sergeant Markham stuck his tongue into the glass of water and promptly spit. He took a sip of coffee made from the forward tank, rinced his mouth out and spit again.

      "Take samples. I'll try a couple of tests."

      Markham put several glasses of water on the deckhouse table and began removing vials from a little suitcase he'd brought. The kitten sniffed the water, made an angry sound and ran off with tail fluffed. Clearly, the kitten could tell poisoned water even if the silly "two legged Mothers" could not.

      Markham sighed and stated "there is poison in the water and I can even tell you which kind. It's a common cleaner. I wonder who put it in?"

      Erica was pissed.

      "It must have been that son of a bitch who tried a pass at me the day before we left."

      "Did you watch him the entire time."

      "Yes. No. I looked away for a few minutes when he was working on the second tank. I never thought he'd do something like this, L T."

      "Neither did I, Erica, neither did I."

      "Well, we'll have to report this and appeal for help. We're five days out of Guam and have maybe 3 days of soft drinks and that case of cheap ass beer our Law Enforcement Specialist smuggled aboard."

      Markham had the grace to look embarrassed.

 

OO 101423Z JUN 79

FM USS ELBERT C. LEE

TO CINPACFLT

COMNAVMAR GUAM

BT

UNCLAS  E F T O^[42]

SUBJ: MEDICAL EMERGENCY

1. SHIP'S WATER SUPPLY HAS BEEN POISIONED.

2. AT 101313Z JUN 79, WE SWITCHED OUR WATER SUPPLY FROM THE FORWARD TANK TO THE AFT TANK. A CREW MEMBER NOTICED THE WATER TASTED WRONG. SSGT MARKHAM SNIFFED THE WATER, THEN PERFORMED A NUMBER OF TESTS. SSGT MARKHAM BELIEVES THE WATER WAS POISONED AND HE DETERMINED THE NATURE OF THE POISION USED (A COMMON CLEANER). HMCS SCOTT CONCURRS.

3. WE HAVE THREE (3) DAYS OF SOFT DRINKS AND ONE (1) CASE OF OTHER POTABLES.

4. WE URGENTLY REQUEST A RESUPPLY OF DRINKABLE LIQUIDS.

#0051

NNNN

 

      This message was received by the Naval Communications Center Honolulu Hawaii. A bored sailor tore the message off his teletype, read it, re-read it and called for the Chief of the Watch. The Chief of the Watch Xeroxed this message and sent this message to his watch officer. The watch officer sent the message via runner to the Pacific Fleet Commander's office. There, a bemused 3 star Admiral read the message and asked his chief of staff: "How can we get water to those folks?"

      "I'll look into it, sir and will have an answer for you shortly. I recommend we send a message to the LEE that we're working on the problem. I wonder what the 'case of other potables' is?"

      "Beer?"

      "Surely, sir, no one would smuggle beer onto a Naval Vessel!"

      Both men laughed.

     "Draft the message and send it."

 

OP 101435Z JUN 79

FM CINPACFLT

INFO COMNAVMAR GUAM

TO USS ELBERT C. LEE SR

INFO COMNAVMAR GUAM

BTUNCLAS  E F T O

SUBJ: MEDICAL EMERGENCY

A) USS ELBERT C. LEE SR OO 101423Z JUN 79

IRT^[43] THE REF ARE ATTEMPTING TO ARRANGE RESUPPLY OF WATER.

#1097

NNNN

 

      At the same time the United States Navy received the LEE's message, a Soviet "fishing trawler" intercepted the message. In an action that would have profoundly shocked the Americans, the intercepted message was ran through an Orestes crypto device, a device that had that day's current code. After reading the text, the Soviet "fishing trawler skipper" (actually a Soviet Military Intelligence Colonel) had the LEE's message encrypted in a Soviet crypto code and sent to "Moscow Center" (the command and control centre). This message was sent to a Soviet Admiral less than an hour after the American Admiral received it.

      The Soviet Admiral asked which of his ships were near the LEE. He was told that one of his attack subs was within 20 miles of the LEE. The Soviet Admiral picked up a secure phone and contacted the Soviet Politboro member in charge of Naval Affairs. This politician contacted other Senior Politboro members and quickly built a consensus for helping the LEE's crew.

      The politician called the Admiral and instructed him to have the submarine resupply the American boat.

      The Soviet submarine was due to rise to ELF^[44] depth, the depth at which he could receive messages and so a three letter message was sent out several times.

      On the Soviet submarine, an alarm went off. It was hard to tell who was more surprised, the ship's Captain or the radio operator.

      "What is the translation?" The Captain meant "what does this three letter code mean"?

      "Comrade Captain, we are to raise to the surface and copy an action message on fleet broadcast A0030."

      The Captain turned to his Officer of the Deck.

      "All ahead slow. Bring us to parascope depth and prepare to deploy the antenna."

      "Yes, sir."

      The Soviet Submarine punched an antenna through the surface of the ocean and the radio operators copied several messages in both machine morse code and teletype. Then, the Captain ordered his submarine down to 300 meters and stated that he would await the decryptions at the Wardroom table.

      As the Soviet submarine dove gently into the ocean, the American submarine tailing it sank beneath the Soviet and went to a depth of 350 meters. The Soviets did not know the American submarine was there and would have been horrified to learn that US submarines could operate so deep in the ocean…

      About two hours later, the Soviet submarine rose to a depth of 50 meters and used passive sonar to locate and track the LEE. (They already had a good idea of the LEE's location as they had been eager readers of the LEE's BT messages.)

      On the LEE, Erica and the Senior Chief were standing on the top of the deck house and noticed a dark object getting bigger in the water. They were quite surprised when a submarine sail appeared and matched their course and speed. Several men appeared in the top of the submarine's sail. One was in a dark uniform jacket and the others three in striped shirts. These were clearly the "sailor shirts" of the USSR.

      A flashing light message said "met me on commercial channel 1".

      LT Anderson-Pierre picked up the commercial radio and stated "unknown Soviet submarine, this is the U S S LEE. How can we help you?"

      "We have been curious about the fanatical takers of the ocean's temperatures and thought to meet you. Think of it as 'ships passing in the night' to quote your poet."

      "Well, Captain, it certainly is a pleasure to met you in this matter. Hold one, please."

      Anderson-Pierre turned to Scott and said "contact Hono via teletype and have them patch our circuit through to the Admiral's communications room. Tell them I'd like to get water from the Soviet Submarine."

      Scott was able to do this in under five minutes. The message was quite explicit: "Take whatever presents the Soviets offer and don't worry about the proof."

      On the Soviet Submarine, the Officer of the Deck asked his Captain "why doesn't he just ask for water?"

      "He has to get permission from his Fleet Admiral."

      The permission came through and Anderson-Pierre contacted the Soviet via commercial radio channel 1:

      "One of our two water supply tanks may have been poisoned before we left Honolulu. We are out of water and would greatly appreciate any help you can supply."

      "Very well, Captain, how much water do you need per day and how many days are you out from your destination?"

      "There are eight of us and we're perhaps four days from Guam. I'm thinking we need approximately 40 gallons of water."

      "Stand by to receive supplies."

      The submarine fully surfaced. Men left a hatch forward of the sail and began to inflate a black rubber boat. When this was done, several cases of something were put onto the boat. A man in dark shirt and two men in stripped shirts sat down in the boat. At the stern was a raised outboard motor.

      The LEE's crew speculated how "those stupid Soviets" were going to launch? They did it the easy way: the submarine submerged out from under the launch.

      The launch's motor was started and it putt-putted over to the LEE. There, Senior Chief Scott tied the launch's line to the LEE and helped the dark shirted man onto the LEE. Both turned and received the cases from the rubber launch and helped the two sailors onboard as well.

      They carried the cases into the deck house. Introductions were in order and the Soviet began:

      "I am Naval Captain 1^st Rank  Mikhail Sergeyevich Malenkov. With me are my First Lieutanant, Lieutenant Commander Vasilii Ivanovich Gubina and my Leading Boatswain Mate Naval Warrant Officer Stanislovas Augustas Poniatovskis. Ah, what is your tradition?"

      Captain Malenkov faced the LEE"s stern and saluted the US flag. Then, he turned towards Captain Anderson-Pierre and saluted (both ships Captains "were in that relaxed posture the Navy is pleased to call "attention" to quote a line from a Jerry Pournelle novel). Holding the salute he said "Request permission to come aboard, sir".

      "Permission granted Captain. Welcome to the USS LEE."

      The other two officers repeated this ritual and were greeted onto the LEE.

      "We have 50 Imperial gallons of water, two cases of a Soviet soft drink and two cases of a Soviet beer."

      The drinks were taken into the deck house. Once inside, the Warrant officer murmured to Markham "would you show me to your water closet"; the Warrant spoke Russian and Markham replied automatically in Russian. The two men walked off.

      Warrant Poniatovskis murmured to Markham in Italian "it is good to see you again, my brother. Your son is well".

      In the distance (all of 30 feet) the two ships Captains listened with amusement.

      "Captain Anderson-Pierre, do you know who your Sergeant truly serves?"

      "Yes, sir, I do."

      "Something called 'section' I believe. My Warrant also serves them as well as he serves me."

      Anderson-Pierre sighed. "They try so hard to be great spies but don't seem to remember we're capable of understanding who they are when they screw up. My Admiral briefed me about them. There seems to be some kind of strong fraternity brother attitude in 'section'."

      "Well," the Soviet replied, "in many ways we Soviets and you Yankees work together against common enemies. The civilians don't seem to realize our government is very large and often works at cross purposes. My Fleet Admiral also briefed me."

      The remainder of the LEE's crew and the Soviet 1^st Lieutenant looked at the two Commanding Officers who were speaking very softly. Except for Senior Chief Scott, they thought it was the inexplicable ability of Senior Officers to get along.

      Then, introductions were made all around.

      Captain Malenkov smiled broadly when introduced to Hanson.

      "So, you are the morse code operator?"

      "Yes, sir."

      "Good, good, it is good to see that your United States Navy is finally wise enough to have women operate your radios. Women make the best radio operators."

      "Thank you, sir."

      "I have some presents for you. Do you like cats or dogs?"

      The Warrant officer took the inflatable boat back to the Soviet submarine, which had surfaced after several minutes. Several minutes later, bundles were placed onto the inflatable and it returned to the LEE.

      The gifts consisted of the stripped shirts: one for each person on the LEE and close to each one's size albeit a little big in Hanson's case. The final gift was several cans of something.

      "Here are three cans of tuna and one can of Black Sea caviar."

      "We appreciate these gifts, sir," Senior Chief Scott spoke in very precise Russian, "but why the fish?"

      "For your little one, Senior Warrant Officer Scott. You do have a ship's cat? Yes?" The Soviet spoke in English.

      "Yes, sir, we do. How did you know?"

      "The smell of a litter box is distinctive and the food and water dishs under the table are either punishment for sailors or to feed a cat or ferret. I do not believe any of you are bad sailors so it must be a cat or ferret."

      Anderson-Pierre nodded to Erica Hanson, who went below deck and brought her kitten up. The Soviet Captain appeared quite taken with "Hono".

      Being perhaps the most naïve of the LEE's people, Erica spoke:

      "Captain, why are you being so nice to us?"

      "Because it is the right thing to do. Also, during the Great Patriotic War, the brave sailors who rode their ships through the Northern Ocean to bring us supplies kept my family from starving. This cold war is a horrible idea but I am a Soviet warrior and will do my duty if the damned politicians lead us into battle. You will do the same." The Soviet Captain 1^st Rank sighed.

      "Don't you think this will get you in trouble, sir?" LN1 Sillings was genuinely concerned.

      "My Political Officer and I have come to an understanding. My Executive officer, my Political Officer Warrant Poniatovskis and I will arrange reports of this meeting that will satisfy our political masters."

      The Soviet Captain paused.

      "Do you exchange pins?"

      "Yes, we do," Captain Anderson-Pierre replied. "We joined a Lions Club in Hawaii and the staff of this boat became a club off of the Hawain club."

      "Who can join this 'Lions Club'?"

      "Any adult males of good character."

      "What of women?"

      "Women can join the Lioness Clubs but still can't join a men's Lion club. Would you like to join?"

      The Soviet Captain glanced at his political officer who shrugged his shoulders. It took a few minutes but the Soviet officers all filled out the paperwork to join the Lions Club.  It was a truly bizarre moment and when they returned to their home port, Lions Clubs were allowed to form among the Naval officers and Warrant officers. They became members of a very select and elite club.

      Some nine years later, Admiral Mikhail Sergeyevich Malenkov lead the Soviet delegation to an International Lions Convention and helped push through membership for women. It was an most unexpected side effect of the LEE's resupply.

      The Soviets returned to their vessel with half a case of the Hawaiin beer and submerged.

      Legalman 1^st Sillings passed legal pads out to each crew member and instructed them to write down everything that had happened. Then, he read the statements and suggested improvements. These improvements were added to each crewman's statements. This was necessary. The crew thought Sillings was being a legalistic asshole but later realized he was nothing compared to the Naval Investigative Service and FBI agents. Somehow, all mention of the cat was left out.

      Nothing was said by Anderson-Pierre about Markham and "his brother", the Soviet spy.

      They sent in a formal report on the "contact" that included each person's statements and formal evaluation. There was an interesting sidebar:

 

Revelations

 

      At the Pacific Intelligence Center, Honolulu, Hawaii, the Duty Naval Captain was reading through routine reports. It was a sleepy Saturday and his Senior Watch Officer, a Lieutenant Ronald Miller decided to make some small talk.

      "Sir, did you hear about that boat the Soviets resupplied?"

      "No."

        She Captain had been off duty the day the LEE had called for help and other emergencies had kept him from reading those reports.

      "The USS LEE had some bad water and sent in a message asking for help. A couple of hours later, a Soviet submarine surfaced near the LEE and offered water. It was quite a story."

     "I wonder how the Soviets knew to do that?"

     "Well, Sir, the LEE did send the message UNCLASSIFIED and I guess that's how they knew."

      "UNCLAS or UNCLAS EFTO?"

      "UNCLAS EFTO, sir."

      A shock of fear slammed through the Naval Captain.

      "Lieutenant, did you say the message was sent 'UNCLAS EFTO'?"

      "Yes, Sir, they sent a teletype message UNCLAS EFTO."

      "Ronald, does the LEE use encrypted teletype?"

      "Yes, Sir, all their teletype is encrypted with the ORESTES system."

      "Ron, do you remember what 'EFTO' stands for?"

      There was a pause, then: "'Encrypted For Transmission Only', Sir." There was another pause. "You don't suppose?"

      The look of horror on LT Miller's face told the Captain this young man had come to the same conclusion he had.

      "Captain, given the fast response time, if the Soviets 'broke back' the LEE's message it had to have been in damn near real time. Let me check the intercept logs."

      While Lieutenant Miller left to check the logs of intersected Soviet communications, the Naval Captain had the Communications Command determine exactly who got the messages from the LEE. The United States State Department wasn't one of the receipiants. The Captain then called the Duty Rear Admiral at the NSA using a secure phone. The crypto keying material for this phone was created by an isolated computer and each copy was hand delivered to the users by teams of couriers. There was simply no way anyone outside this small group could have access to the keying material. The Naval Captain asked the Rear Admiral to see if the State Department or the Naval Department had asked the Soviets for help. No one had. The Naval Captain said he would get back shortly...

      LT Miller returned and laid out a grim story:

      A Soviet "trawler" had sent in a very high priority message less than 20 minutes after the LEE's plea for help went out. This message was acknowledged by Moscow Central. Then, less than an hour later, a command went out over the Soviet Submarine radio, a command that was associated with "submarines going to parascope depth to receive messages". A burst transmission was sent by "an emitter" located near the LEE. A long message was sent by Moscow Center. This action was confirmed by the USS hunter/killer submarine that had been trailing the Soviet. (The US submarine had dropped off a buoy, which had surfaced, sent off a burst message and been picked up by a US helocopter "on patrol".

      LT Miller was talking into a speaker phone, something he hated. He briefed the "important folks listening in" and successfully defended his data and conclusions. One of the "important folks" had a southern accent, maybe a Georgia accent...

      For his coolness in briefing the US President and the Joint Chiefs LT Miller would receive a glowing "concurrent fitref" from the President that later helped get him a Rear Admiral's stars...

      This report clearly terrified his chain of command and a quiet witch hunt was started to find who was selling out crypto codes to the Soviets. They had little success until a pissed off ex-Navy wife "dropped a dime" on her asshole husband^[45]...

Homecoming...

 

      The reminder of the trip was completely uneventful. The bottled "Soviet" water tasted a bit unusual but that added to the drinking of it.  Unfortunately, their timing was off and they would return to Apra Harbour before noon; they would not be able to sneak the cat off the boat.

      They were greeted outside the harbour by their old friend, the Master Chief and his ocean going tugboat. The return to their usual pier was completely uneventful and LT Anderson-Pierre had an uneventful docking. The emergency meeting was far more stressful.

      "How are we going to hide the cat?

      "Just keep her in Erica's room. He hasn't gone there before."

      They had been back a mere twenty minutes when their old friend, Mr. Jesus Commacho, arrived. The crew met around the table and he asked if they had brought anything back with them. Then, Mr. Commacho apologized and said he was required to inspect the boat.

      LT Anderson-Pierre walked Mr. Commacho to every post in the deck cabin, then took him down to the living quarters. Mr. Commacho glanced into both Erica and Michael's "rooms". He barely cracked the doors and glanced in. Neither noticed that the door to Erica's "room" was not fully closed.

      They then checked engineering and glanced through the opening to the "tank room". Finally, they went to the flying bridge and returned to the table.

      "Your boat is in fine shape, Captain and what is that?""

       They all did double takes towards the end of the table.

     "That" was Erica's kitten, which had apparently gotten out through the partially open door to her "room".

      "May I see the kitten?"

      Mr. Commacho held the kitten momentarily and then gently placed it on the table. The little cat fled to the safety of "Mother Erica". It was clear this was Erica's kitten…

      They knew that importing a "domestic animal" without "declaring said domestic animal" could get Anderson-Pierre in deep trouble. It would also lead to the kitten being put in three months of anti-rabies quarenteen.

      They were fucked and figured this custom's man knew it as well.

      "Aren't kittens wonderful? I've never been able to figure out how a kitten can go from the pier over a slack rope to a ship. Don't you folks use those rat guard disks?"

      "Not on this size boat, sir," QM1 Tanner replied, "rat guards just aren't that good and besides, we can put out mouse and rat traps."

      "Well, your little visitor here must be looking for a home. A kitten this young and so calm looking must have escaped from someone in base housing. She probably has had her shots but it wouldn't hurt to check. I'd ask around on base to see if anyone if missing a cat, if I were you."

      "Thank you, sir, we will. Have you found cats on other vessels?"

       Erica was as curious as her cat.

      "Yes, several times. The strangest was a destroyer whose Captain said they'd rescued a cat from a floating box in the outer harbour. The cat seemed very much at home on the ship and several crewmen acted like they were the cat's pet humans."

       Mr. Commancho's voice was very, very dry. "I consider that a rather nice rescue."

           "So do I," LT Anderson-Pierre noted, "ships need practice at man overboard and that would have been a good one."

      The customs man nodded, poured another round of his whiskey for the crew, accepted a bottle or two of the Hawian beer he was given, turned his nose up at the Soviet "soft drink" and nodded approvingly at the taste of the Russian beer (actually, a fine "Georgian" lager.)

      Then, Mr. Commancho weaved his way ashore and the LEE's crew sighed in relief. They had dodged a very big and very deadly bullet only because the shooter had safed his weapon and refused to even aim let alone fire.

       Erica took her cat to the Senior Chief's house and left it there. Then, she said goodbye and was about to leave when the Senior Chief's daughters asked her to hang out with them. Senior Chief gave Erica his car keys and his sailor and daughters left in a gust of giggles.

       Mrs. Senior Chief was pleased as she and her husband had some "getting reacquainted time".

      During the LEE's return trip, Mrs. Scott had arrived on Guam, taken possession of their Navy house and loaded it up with "loaner" furnature. She picked well and that was well as it would be a couple of months before their actual house hold goods arrived.

      HMCS Scott was "allowed" to spend two "fun filled weeks" re-qualiftying for his SEAL quals. This was a mini-bootcamp that had the "poor old fart" (as the 28 year old instructors called him) working his butt off. Scott had tried keeping up with the fitness requirements on board the LEE but somehow it wasn't adequate.

      Scott did get his revengue in that once he was back in shape; he returned to the "running machine" he'd been for so many years and ran those "fucking little bastards" into the ground...

      His family was most amused by it.

 

     In late September 1978, the LEE was coming back to Guam from a trip to Saipan. This had been a nice little three day trip, with two days spent sight seeing. Officially, they had gone there to inspect the harbour...

     RM3 Hanson had just finished the morning message traffic "run" and had read through the various messages. LT Anderson-Pierre was seated at the deck house table reading through a long list of items that would be "inspected" on an upcoming "admin[istrative] inspection" in November 1979. One of the items was "The Small Arms Inventory" and this had him puzzled. While most of the words in the "items to be inventoried" were clearly English, their meaning eluded him.

     Hanson sat down across from him and was sorting through the various messages. Anderson-Pierre was patient; he know she would eventually show him the messages she thought were important and that Senior Chief Scott would do the same later.

      "Sir, I just took the 2^nd Class exam and the boys took the Chief exam. When do officers take their rating exams?"

      Normally, 1^st class Petty Officers took the CPO rating exam in February. This was called "the Annual Meeting of the First Class Petty Officer's Association". This year, the "First Class Petty Officer's Association" had also met in September. It was a gift the President had sent them in early summer. It had lead to Tanner and Sillings spending a lot of time studying...

      "Officers don't have the luxuary of a Rating Exam. We get promoted based solely on our Fitness Reports and recommendations. It also helps to have combat medals and wings. A selection board decides who gets promoted."

     "That sounds very unfair, L T. It sounds so subjective." She made "subjective" sound like a cuss word.

      "It is all of that, Erica but it is the system we're stuck with..."

      There was a pause and Erica read from a message:

       "This message mentions 'Anderson-Pierre, Michael Henry' and has your Social Security Number. Would you like to read this, sir?"

      Anderson-Pierre thought he'd wait and wasn't paying attention when Erica Hanson left the table and quietly assembled the entire crew behind Anderson-Pierre. She showed the message with Anderson-Pierre's name on it to the Senior Chief and that worthy looked impressed. She handed the message back to Lieutenant Michael Henry Anderson-Pierre and said:

      "What's the subject of this message, sir?"

       Anderson-Pierre looked the list of names and had a suspecion. Then, he carefully read up the body of the message to where he found the words "OFFICERS SELECTED FOR PROMOTION TO LIEUTENANT COMMANDER, UNRESTRICTED LINE". Then, he read back down the the message to where his name was.

      "My name is on the 'deep select' portion of the promotion list?"

      "Yes, sir, it is!"

      A hearty round of back slapping and congratulations followed and Anderson-Pierre agreed to put on "one hell of a promotion party" for his crew and other friends". It was unfair to levy this upon him as he'd not expected to get promoted for a couple of more years and was in a state of shock.

      LN1 Sillings quietly went to the flying bridge and contacted Guam via one of the Navy radio channels. He had the Communications Centre patch him through to the Admiral's lawyer. He told the Lawyer of Anderson-Pierre's promotion and asked when would be the earliest that LT Anderson-Pierre could be promoted to Lieutenant Commander.

      This lawyer promised to speak with Admiral Negron and that they would get back to them.

      The LEE arrived in Apra Harbour around 6 PM and motored to their usual berth.

 

 

      On 5 October 1978, LT Michael Henry Anderson-Piere was promoted to Lieutenant Commander. It was a nice promotion ceremony, well attended and his crew made sure to send LCDR Johnson the newspaper reports. That gave Johnson cause to worry about future encounters with Anderson-Pierre...

     It was a Meritorious promotion because a cetrain Gentleman from Goergia (the American Georgia) had commented "that officer deserved to be promoted". It also helped that Anderson-Pierre's Admiral (RADM Negron), the 3 star in Hawaii and the CNO had all sent offiicial letters up the chain supporting this positon and the Gentleman from Georgia (a one time Nuclear Submarine officer) had approved. There was a special board and several officers wee meritorious advancecd.

 

---

^[1]  Philippine Islands

^[2] LN1 is Legalman Petty Officer First Class.

^[3] RM = Radioman

^[4]   I served with two "gay guys" in Suitland Maryland from December 1973 to December 1974. While one, David Sillings, was very straight , his "partner" (whose name I've forgotten) was not. It's a shame they were kicked out in 1975 as they were hurting no one. Also, I remembered the "gay guys" in F.M Busby's "Risa and Tregare" series, who were among the heroes.

^[5]  COD or "Carrier Onboard Delivery" is a small twin turbo prop fright plane operating off carriers.

^[6]  SWO or Surface Warfare Officer "pin" is the surface line officer's version of a pilot's wings and is hard to earn.

^[7]  Can you guess where this subtitle came from? See the endnote.

^[8]  In my universe, the Knights Templar were resurrected as a covert action team of "Father" Church. In this "universe", the Knights were celibate; in "mine", they aren't!

^[9] "PG" is the Navy Post Graduate School in Monterey California.

^[10] CM/C or Command Master Chief (I like making footnotes entirely too much...)

^[11] Fitrep is an Officer's Fitness Report.

^[12] Not true but this is my story.

^[13] BUPERs - Navy Bureau of Personnel.

^[14]  Yes, "wigger" means "white nigger".

^{[15] 2} This website http://jproc.ca/crypto/kw7.html talks about this once highly classified subject.

^[16] There was a Navy Legend in the 1970s that Senior Nurses were all dykes who lived in "Dkyeland - a BOQ just for them. There may have been some truth to this...

^[17] Author's aside: I lived in the Orede Point BOQ in early 1983 and my description is far too nice; the Orede Point BOQ sucked!

^[18] Officer's club on the Naval Air Station.

^[19] I heard this legend when I was enlisted...

^[20] This is how I calibrated the R390s I used. I loved the R390s and hated the R1051s. We all did!

^[21] That was the comment I was given the first time I was the helmsman of a YP...

^[22] FNGs - Fucking New Guys, of course.

^[23] AUTODIN was the Navy's official "email" during the 1970s.

^[24] A CTA or Communications Technician Administrative...

^[25] technically, a "Pork Chop" is a commissioned supply officer.

^[26]  I thought it was absolutely wonderful when I was "upgraded" from Model 28 teletype to "glass titty" in November 1973.

^[27] Two different INTERNET sources can't be wrong on this style of dress...

^[28]  The real Diane Durbin was someone I served with from 1986 to 1988 (in the Navy). Diane talked about sunbathing "topless" and had been granted leave orders so that she could go to Bali, where she said she was going to "sunbath topless". In a typical case of Navy bullshit, her leave orders were cancelled for "an emergency" and she lost a couple of thousand dollars of plane tickets and hotel reservations. The command could have easily arranged for her shifts to be covered but it was simply easier to shaft an officer; they didn't have to pay overtime after all! The amusing thing about Diane sunbathing topless  is that (according to excellent 2nd hand gossip), when Diane went in for her physical, she covered her breasts with her hands and the Nurse practically had to pull Diane's hands off herself. She acted like the MD was fixing to molest her! This was what the male MD told one of our female chief petty officers when said chief was getting her own physical...

^[29] I made this up of course but it does seem like something a Senator would do...

^[30]  Organized Oriental crime gangs.

^[31] "The Trench Club" was the Naval Air Station Officer's Club on Guam.

^[32] At this time, Olympia beer was the favourite on Guam.

^[33] It takes an exceptionally incompetent person to fail to win promotion to Seaman.

^[34] A Marine whose lost his "shooter's card" cannot fire a weapon. Since all Marines are  "Riflemen" first, a Marine who is not permitted to pull a trigger is the lowest of the low.     

^[35] TAD or Temporary Addition Duty; also known as "TDY"

^[36] An Air Force Major select is a Captain who is on the Promotion list for Major.

^[37]  This actually happened to Mom and Dad when they moved from his first duty station; I don't recall where but it was probably his "undergraduate pilot training" in Louisiana.

^[38] "IRT THE REF" is In Reply To THE REFerence.

^[39] This "Old Navy Philosopher" was someone I worked for in 1971 on the USS FORRESTAL. He was an "old salt" who must have been in his late 20s! "An old fart…"

^[40]  In 1973,  a small number of women were assigned aboard a Destroyer Tender. The enlisted Wives' Club were so convinced the women were banging their husbands they protested and picketed outside the Norfolk Naval Operating Base (NOB).

^[41]  When I was in boot camp, the Florida State Government gave the Navy deer tags. These were attached to the seabags of sailors in the brig; they didn't keep theft from happening but it made it easy to tell if it had.

^[42]  UNCLAS  E F T O means "UNCLASSIFIED" but "Encrypted For Transmission Only.

^[43]  IRT = In Reply To

^[44] "ELF" or Extremely Low Frequency - 3 Hz to 30 Hz

^[45] Yup, that's how they "caught" CWO4 John Walker...

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^[i] Endnotes:

 

. This title was taken from "Stranger In A Strange Land" by Robert A. Heinlein.