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 offends you, or if you are below the age where reading such material is legal, please read no further. Please offer your reactions at macoutmann@yahoo.com.
BEFORE "DON'T ASK, DON'T TELL
by Macout Mann
Chapter 13
Morgan found that about half the ship's company would be transferred, while the ship was in the yard. After all, there was no need for more than a skeleton crew, since it would be in drydock. Also, there would be a change of command. The new skipper, Cdr. Eddins, was to be a flyboy, with mostly carrier experience. Cdr. Richardson was to become commanding officer of a nearby CIC School.
Morgan lost only three of his men. Most didn't have enough time remaining on their enlistments to justify their being reassigned. Cockrill's twenty-first birthday came, and he was discharged, but not before Morgan arranged a last night of fun at a Vallejo motel. Cockrill was from Cleveland, and Morgan promised to look him up after he was released from active duty.
Socially, he and Roger Hamilton continued to spend time together. Sandy Westinghouse, the operations officer, was from San Francisco; so he could commute. He and his wife had an apartment on Telegraph Hill with a spectacular view of the Bay. They invited Morgan to dinner several times. And he rekindled his relationship with Jerry. That was difficult, because of Jerry's schedule. They could only get together on Jerry's nights off, which didn't always coincide with nights that Morgan had liberty.
Morgan found it interesting that Jerry had taken a real interest in Beau, arranged for him to become a busboy at one of the better restaurants on Fisherman's Warf, and let Beau live with him until he'd saved enough for a place of his own.
Professionally, he was totally bored. Other than standing OOD watches, he only had to sign off on updates in CIC and repairs to O Division spaces. He had some minor responsibilities in planning the change of command, which went smoothly. He was assigned the job of staging a ship's party. It was to be a barbeque. He spent over a week before finding a business in Northern California that would rent its facilities to an integrated group. There were fewer than fifteen blacks in the crew, and although he knew none of them were likely to attend, he wouldn't assure park operators that it would be an all-white gathering.
He had to go to the Naval Station on Treasure Island to pick up some operations materials and decided to take Bonner, his senior radarman, along. They made quick work of the chore, and Morgan decided to treat Bonner to lunch at Jack London's, Morgan's favorite seafood joint in San Francisco. After all, Cockrill had said that Bonner was bi.
Bonner seemed ill-at-ease at first, but relaxed as the meal progressed. They talked mostly about ship-related stuff. Morgan got criticized for "sweating the dust too much," when he inspected O Division quarters.
"We goanna get some new guys?" Bonner asked.
"We should get replacements for the ones we've lost," Morgan answered. "I sure hope so. We were a couple of men below manning level before."
"You really liked Cockrill, didn't you?" Bonner continued.
"I don't dislike anybody in the division," Morgan said, "but I did find Cockrill's personality appealing. He had quite a sense of humor."
"Some of the guys thought he was queer,"
"Oh? Didn't seem that way to me. Why did they say that?"
"It was just that when we went on liberty, he never tried to get laid."
"Could be a lot of reasons for that, I guess."
While they were at Mare Island, Morgan's parents came to visit. He was delighted to see them, and showed them all San Francisco had to offer. Well, not quite everything. He did summon the courage to take them to the Beige Room, since it qualified as a genuine tourist attraction.
Before the show started, he did say, "Now you should know that all the entertainers here are men."
"You mean that girl playing the piano is a man?" his father asked.
"Everybody on stage," Morgan replied.
Like he had been, when Dot and Jane had first brought him there, his parents were thoroughly entertained. The issue of the performers' sexual orientation never came up. The naivete of the fifties!
They also dined at Jack London's, despite the fact that Morgan's mother thought all seafood was likely to poison you. The restaurant had bowls of cracked crab legs on each table as a complementary hors d'oeuvre, and the waiter had to replenish them three times before the entrees arrived, Mrs. Bowen loved them so much. Of course, she would go to her grave swearing that she had never eaten crab in her life.
Sandy Westinghouse and his wife had them to dinner. And Morgan gave a reception for them, before they continued on their journey to California's tourist traps. It was at the Mare Island Officers' Club, and it turned out to be a tribute to Morgan's popularity or the respect in which he was held. Both Capt. Richardson and Capt. Eddins attended. All the other officers of the Stough, who were not on duty, were there. Even a lieutenant commander that Morgan had served with in Pusan and his wife came. He was now stationed in Long Beach. Morgan had kept in touch, but had sent the invitation as a lark. It was quite a tribute that they made the trip. Morgan's dad really hit it off with all the guests, especially the senior officers.
As the yard period drew to a close, Morgan had a final meeting with Jerry. Arriving at Jerry's apartment, he was surprised to find Beau there as well. The three of them had highballs and dinner and more highballs. And a three-way, beginning with a circle suck. Then Morgan was "Lucky Pierre," Then Beau was spit-roasted. Then...well Morgan's dick would be pleasantly sore for days.
"I'm goanna miss that seafood," Jerry said.
"Looks like you've got plenty of Southern Fried Chicken," Morgan retorted.
The day before they sailed, Morgan put his car in storage, and took a bus back to the shipyard. The Stough would return to San Diego for underway training, and then immediately return to the Far East.
Everything should have been "shipshape." The trip down the Napa River would be the first time the new captain would command the ship underway. So everyone was a bit nervous, hoping that everything would go smoothly.
A half hour before they were to get underway, Morgan arrived in combat and ordered that the Napa River Chart be put on the Dead Reckoning Tracer, a device on which the movement of the ship could be exactly traced with a light. The scale could be set to the exact scale of a chart, so the position of the Stough in the river could be closely approximated. Alas, he learned that the correct chart had not been ordered.
"Why the hell don't we have the right chart?" Morgan yelled at Bonner.
"The one we used coming in had been supplanted," Bonner said. "I destroyed it, like I was supposed to. I thought I ordered the new one. I guess it got left out."
Morgan was near panic. Then he remembered. "Go down to my cabin," he ordered Bonner. "Look in the top right drawer. There'll be a Northern California road map in there. Bring it up here."
Morgan spread the road map on top of the DRT. He positioned the dot of light beneath the glass at the spot on the map where their dock should be, and set the DRT scale to match the scale of the map, and then he prayed.
His men were all at their stations, as the speaker on the 21MC over Morgan's head blared "Shift colors." They were underway. At least the engines worked.
One of his new men was a seaman named King. He had come aboard as a designated striker for radarman, so he had to be assigned to combat. Morgan had made him his "talker." The talker's job was to wear the headphones and microphone connected to a telephone line linking the bridge to combat, the engine room, and the other operational areas of the ship. He was to repeat out loud anything he heard directed to CIC, and to repeat anything the CIC Officer or Watch Officer told him to relay to others on the line. King had the ideal temperament for the job. Nothing excited him.
Since the shore was too close for the radars to be of any value, the other men were just watching Morgan as he bent over the DRT. He was relieved to see that the dot of light was moving down the channel of the river just as it should have.
"Tell the bridge," Morgan said, "`Combat recommends coming right to 275."
"Combat recommends coming right to 275," King repeated in perfect monotone.
A pause. Morgan held his breath.
"Coming right to 275," King said. Everybody in CIC broke into laughter. The goddam road map worked.
"Bridge says `Are you guys giving recommendations by looking out the door?" King repeated.
"Tell the bridge," Morgan said, "No. You can look down from the bridge and see the door is closed. We just have superior navigational skills."
Combat continued to make recommendations, most of which were followed. The recommended courses might be changed a degree or two, but the points at which course corrections were recommended were spot on.
At one point, however, King repeated "Bridge says, `What's that structure off the starboard bow?"
On a navy chart, significant structures on the shore would be indicated, so bearings could be taken. The road map was of no help. "Tell the bridge," Morgan said, "'Sorry, we are unable to provide that information."
After what seemed an eternity the ship slipped from the Napa River into San Francisco Bay, the road map was replaced with a proper chart, the radars began to function properly, and CIC routine returned to normal. Once they had passed through the Golden Gate into the Pacific and turned south, normal watches were set. Morgan was in the wardroom, when Sandy Westinghouse encountered him.
"Say, Morgan," he asked, "what was the problem with the lighthouse?"
"The lighthouse?"
"Yes. The captain asked what was on the starboard bow and you said you didn't have that info."
"I shouldn't admit it," Morgan replied, "but we didn't have the proper chart, so I was using my automobile road map to sail by."
"Goddam," Westinghouse laughed, "That was amazing then.
"The captain asked why you didn't know there was a lighthouse there, and I told him you were probably tied up with getting new men squared away."
"Oh well."
Copyright 2011 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.