This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental. This story also contains explicit sexual activity between males. If such is objectionable to you, or if you are below the age where reading such material is legal, please read no further. Feedback is welcome. makeoutmann@yahoo.com.
BEFORE "DON'T ASK, DON'T TELL"
by Macout Mann
Chapter 11
Finally, somebody way up the chain of command decided that Communist China was not going to start World War III, at least not right now, and the Task Force was disbanded. The call at Cebu was not rescheduled, much to Morgan's relief, and the routine of exercises recommenced.
The highlight of any WestPac tour was liberty at Hong Kong. Liberty in Yokosuka always meant buying sets of china and strings of pearls. Hong Kong liberty meant buying tailored suits for next to nothing and carved ivory chess sets, which may or may not have been real ivory.
Morgan had received a letter from the wife of a shipmate in Pusan, enclosing an ad from Lord and Taylor in New York. The ad showed very fashionable silk robes "from Hong Kong" at an equally fashionable price. The letter begged Morgan, while he was in Hong Kong, to see if he could buy a size 5 in pink for the writer. She was sure he could get it for much less than Lord and Taylor's price.
For those unfamiliar with the former Crown Colony, Hong Kong was made up of the island of Hong Kong, which was largely uninhabited and contained a huge fresh water reservoir that allowed the colony to be habitable; and on the mainland, Kowloon, where all the action was, and beyond that, the New Territories. West of those was Communist China.
The Church of England maintained a mission on the Kowloon waterfront to provide aid to tourists, mainly American sailors. Morgan found a friendly Anglican Priest and showed him the ad. "I can't say for sure that the robes were made here," the priest opined, "but you certainly cant buy them in any of the stores in Kowloon. If they were made here, however, they were made by a factory called Shinn Fang. I'll get their address if you wish."
Morgan did wish, and shortly found himself in a taxi headed into the mainland. Soon all signs of Western European habitation had disappeared. Morgan, of course, had no idea of the size of colony, so in time he had visions of the cab arriving at the border and of him being handed over and becoming a prisoner of the Chicoms. The longer the trip took the more nervous he became.
Finally, the taxi stopped in the middle of a block crowded with non-descript buildings and without a soul in sight. He was relieved of several Hong Kong dollars and directed into one of the buildings. Inside he was no less nervous. He found himself in a windowless room without a stick of furniture to be seen. After what seemed an eternity but which was probably no more than thirty seconds, a very attractive Chinese girl appeared.
He showed her the ad, and praying that she spoke English, said "I am wondering if your company made these garments."
"Please wait," she replied, and disappeared with the ad through the small door on the other side of the room.
Another eternity.
Suddenly, the entire wall near where Morgan stood opened, and there was a mammoth showroom. On a table nearby was a book about the size of an unabridged dictionary containing ads from fashion houses all over the world. A nattily dressed, middle-aged Chinese man motioned Morgan to the book and proudly pointed to a second copy of the Lord and Taylor ad on one of its pages. "So," he said in impeccable English, "we did make them."
"Will you sell me just one?" Morgan asked.
"Of course."
He discovered that the price would be only ten Hong Kong dollars, so he decided to buy one for his mother as well. His purchases were wrapped, the Chinese girl volunteered to get him a taxi, and in short order he was headed East, back to the waterfront.
Morgan was aching for sex, and there was no shortage of hot Chinese boys roaming the narrow streets around the waterfront. All four of the division's ships were in port, however, and Morgan couldn't risk some sailor seeing him in a risky encounter. Macao, however, was a different matter.
One of his professors at Yale had said that the nearby Portuguese Colony was the world's most sinful city. The navy had put it off-limits, but commissioned officers could get special permission to visit Macao. Morgan approached the exec to see if he could go.
"You don't really want to go to Macao," he was told. "Besides, getting permission involves too much red tape." So much for that.
So Morgan visited Tiger Balm Gardens, probably Hong Kong's best known tourist attraction. He spent many hours with Roger at Hong Kong bars and bought a couple of very good cheap suits. The only mildly interesting thing that happened was Shore Patrol.
Shore Patrol in Hong Kong consisted primarily of being available to accept any sailors apprehended by the Hong Kong police and return them to their ships. The issue was almost always drunk and disorderly. Each ship furnished an officer and two enlisted men each night for Shore Patrol. They might break up a fight or two, if they saw them. But mostly it was just sit and wait.
Morgan drew the duty one night along with Chief Curtis, a Boatswain who was the ship's senior Chief Petty Officer, and a Gunnersmate Second Class Morgan didn't know. They passed the time mostly listening to Chief Curtis' sea stories from almost twenty years of service. Somehow the conversation got around to queers in the navy, and the chief mentioned that he had served on the Kearsarge.
The USS Kearsarge was a carrier known throughout the fleet as "the Queerbarge." Any gay sailor who could would request the Kearsarge as a duty station. And its captain was known for his tolerance for men with "homosexual tendencies." In fact, according to Curtis, officers might see two men having sex and put them "on report," only to have the captain say "they were only having a little fun."
The chief described in detail how the goings on were discovered by ONI and how the queers were dealt with. The story so closely matched what Morgan knew happened in Pusan with the Advisory Group supply guys, that Morgan felt sure that Chief Curtis was one of the ONI operatives who broke the case. Another reason to be very careful.
Hong Kong liberty over, the division returned to the routine for several weeks before heading for a layover in Pearl Harbor and then to its home port, San Diego.
While in Hawaii, Morgan and some of the Stough's other officers toured Oahu and bought fresh pineapple at stands in the pineapple fields. A real treat. But he and Roger spent most of their free time drinking tropical beverages under the huge banyan tree at the Surfrider Hotel, the bar at the Royal Hawaiian next door, or at the Pacific Fleet Officers' Club.
Once in San Diego, the Stough spent most of her time in independent ship exercises, terminating in the annual series of Exercises for Credit, by which the ship's overall readiness was judged. These involved shore bombardment, torpedo firings, anti-aircraft fire, and mock submarine attacks, among others.
As soon as he could, Morgan flew to San Francisco to retrieve his car. He was surprised to find that he was one of the few unmarried officers to own one.
Generally when both Morgan and Roger drew liberty on the same night, they would go out together, usually dining at the Mexican Village, an excellent Mexican restaurant on Coronado Island, or the grill at the Grant Hotel, which had the best steaks in the area. Once they went to Tiajuana for Caesar Salad at Caesar's, where the salad was invented. Occasionally they would drive to Los Angeles. There was the world-famous San Diego Zoo, the Old Globe Theatre, which was a replica of the original Globe in London, for Shakespeare, and, of course, the movies for entertainment.
When Roger had the duty, Morgan would sometimes join other officers on liberty, but generally he would set out on his own, sometimes exploring the less savory parts of the city.
One night he hit a bar not too far from the waterfront. Not a gay bar for sure, but a place where sexual tension abounded. Morgan spotted Cockrill, his radarman, at the bar.
"Well hello, Cockrill," Morgan said.
"Slumming, Mr. Bowen?" Cockrill replied.
"I wouldn't say that," Morgan answered. "I like to hit all sorts of places. You never know what you'll run into. Like you. Buy you a drink?"
"If you don't mind fraternizing."
"Hell, man, we did a lot of fraternizing in my previous command. Even had a New Year's party in Japan with some guys that'd worked with me in Korea and a buddy of mine that they were working with at ComNavFe.
"What you doing out by yourself?"
"Oh, I like to get away from the other guys sometimes, Cockrill said. "I got different interests. Maybe like you."
Morgan chuckled. "Know what you mean," he said.
They had a couple of drinks and chatted amiably about nothing in particular. Morgan knew Cockrill was from Cleveland and that he was on a "kiddie cruise," that is he enlisted with parental consent when he was seventeen and would be discharged on his twenty-first birthday. He also noticed that ever so often Cockrill's hand came to rest on his crotch.
"If I keep drinking, I'm not goanna be able to drive," Morgan said. "You want to go for a ride, then it'll be time to head back to the ship. I've got the morning watch tomorrow."
"Why not?" Cockrill responded. "I've about had enough too."
Morgan drove aimlessly around downtown, finally turning down El Prado and heading into Balboa Park. He finally stopped at a deserted parking lot near the theatre. As they drove, Cockrill still kept his hand resting casually on his groin. "I don't know why I go to that bar," he volunteered. "Almost every time I get hit on by some faggot."
Morgan laughed. "Maybe you ought to take that as a complement," he said.
"Maybe I'm a magnet," the radarman answered. "There was this kid back in high school that was always bugging me to let him suck my dick."
Laughing again, Morgan asked, "So did you?"
"You trying to get me discharged? What do they call it? `For the convenience of the navy?'" Cockrill also laughed.
"Nah," Morgan replied. "I take things as they come. I'm pretty liberal about most things."
"I sorta figured you were," Cockrill said. By now they were parked, and Cockrill's left hand found its way to Morgan's crotch. "You like that?"
"Not complaining," said Morgan, as his dick stiffened under the younger man's touch. "You turned me on the first time I laid eyes on you."
"I aint ever made out with an officer before." He expertly opened Morgan's fly and played with his now-rigid and fully exposed tool.
"First time for everything," Morgan panted. In the semi-darkness he savored the boy's regular features, his blond crew-cut, the t-shape of his torso straining against the polo shirt that covered it, and the tight, faded levis that clung to his lower body.
As Cockrill's lips encircled his manhood, he murmered, "Oh fuck, it's been so long." He relished the feeling as Cockrill slid up and down his neglected pole. It seemed like only seconds before he blew a rich load down the radarman's willing throat.
Then Morgan reached for the buttons on the denim that held the bulge at Cockrill's crotch in place, undid them, and revealed the young sailor's impressive jewels. He took Cockrill in one gulp and gave as good as he had been given. He was swallowing the salty remnants of Cockrill's seed, when he was told, "Watch it. There's a car coming!"
The car passed, and the two of them quickly made themselves presentable. "We've got to get together where we can get naked and have some real fun," Morgan said.
"Any time, Mr. Bowen. Second time'll be better than the first, I'll bet."
Morgan drove to the Navy Y, which was on Broadway not far from the pier where the Stough was moored. Cockrill would have to change into his uniform before returning to the ship. Officers were allowed to keep civilian clothes on board. Morgan dropped Cockrill around the corner, for fear they might be recognized. Then he drove to the garage where he stored his car. As it happened they arrived at the ship at the same time, saluted the Ensign and the Officer of the Deck, and reported their return aboard.
Copyright 2011 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.