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.
Your comments and criticisms are appreciated. All emails will be answered. macoutmann@yahoo.com.
BEFORE "DON'T ASK, DON'T TELL"
by Macout Mann
Chapter 14
Morgan had no idea what "Underway Training" had been like before. He was told that it had been a fairly laid-back process, where the crew was trained in how to use the new stuff that had been added at the yard, and also to refresh the crew, especially new men, in shipboard procedures. How to fire the guns, for instance.
The Stough, however, was among the first ships to undergo Underway Training of a new type. Ships were now to accomplish the same tasks by running the annual Exercises for Credit, but not for credit. Still the exercise scores would supposedly indicate how well the training was going.
This process immediately set various factions at odds. The captain and the officers conducting the training were interested in making the best possible scores. The gunnery officer, for example, was more interested in getting his new gun crews not to dive for cover when main battery boomed.
The problem became apparent to Morgan early on. The exercise was not going well. The ship was at general quarters. The exec was with Morgan in combat. A training officer, a lieutenant commander, was also there. Everyone was on edge.
"You do not have the status board manned," the training officer said.
"No sir," Morgan responded. "The minimum number of positions specified in CIC at GQ is fourteen. I have only thirteen men. The least important position at this time is at the status board, so I have chosen not to man it."
"But you have got to man the status board!" the lieutenant commander proclaimed.
Morgan whispered to the exec, "Get this son-of-a-bitch out of here before I deck him."
Laughingly the exec turned to the training officer. "Let me show you something. Would you come with me."
Morgan assumed that LCDR Warren had given the training officer a basic math lesson. At any rate the situation did reoccur.
That, however, was the least of the problems that were to arise.
There was an antisubmarine exercise involving two destroyers hunting one submarine. It involved close coordination and constant communication between the two ships, because it was the only occasion in which naval protocol permitted two ships to maneuver within each others' turning circle, often bow to bow. It was also the only time that the conn, that is control of the ship's movements, passed from the bridge to CIC.
There was, of course, provision for the bridge to retake control, if it felt the ship was "in extremis," that is in imminent danger of collision, by calling "break off," thus terminating the run.
In combat, over the DRT one man plotted the movement of the Stough, another plotted the movement of the second destroyer, a third plotted the submarine's movements as reported from sonar. Everyone directly involved was thoroughly experienced in conducting the exercise. The second destroyer had done practically nothing else for several weeks.
The exercise began with the Stough ready to attack. When sonar contact was obtained, the conn passed to Morgan. "Right standard rudder. Turns for 15," he called to the helmsman on the bridge. "I am coming right," he radioed the second ship, which was circling about five hundred yards ahead. As he maneuvered toward the position of the submarine, he noted the position of the other destroyer on the DRT plot and saw that he should come left after the depth charges were dropped. "I will come left after firing." He told the second ship.
"I will come right," the second destroyer replied.
These exchanges were clearly heard on the bridge, but what Captain Eddins saw was a destroyer beginning to turn directly toward his precious vessel at an alarmingly close range.
Sonar was almost ready to drop depth charges and Morgan was ready to order "Left standard rudder," when the captain called "break off" over Pritac, causing the other ship to turn away.
"I have the conn," the officer of the deck on the bridge said, "Left standard rudder."
Fifteen minutes of maneuvering and the ships were ready to resume the exercise. Had the captain not broken off the run, the Stough would have come left and the other destroyer would have passed to the Stough's stern and made her run on the submarine, while the Stough positioned itself for a second run.
When the time allotted for the exercise expired, the second ship had made maybe three successful runs, the Stough none. In fact the Stough had managed to drop depth charges only twice, and then only because the other destroyer had deliberately stayed back to avoid Captain Eddins breaking off the run.
Cdr. Eddins was a flyboy, unfamiliar with destroyers, so Morgan kept the DRT tracings and later took them up to the Captain's sea cabin. He showed his boss the plots and traced what would have happened if each run had been allowed to continue. He was sure the captain was unconvinced.
There were other disasters. The ship did not score well at shore bombardment, because the noise of the main battery frightened the unseasoned gunnery crews so much they couldn't function. The most spectacular mishap, however, occurred when the ship was firing at a target being towed by a plane.
The protocol called for the airplane to fly around the ship in a rectangular pattern. A "firing bearing" had been established, such that the ship could not fire before the plane crossed the bearing, as it approached the ship, or after it crossed the bearing, after it passed the ship. This precaution was to insure that the plane would not be hit by stray fire. For the same reason, the plane had to be on a course parallel to the ship's, before it passed the bearing and had to report to the air controller, in this case Morgan, when he was on course. Only then Morgan could tell the bridge that firing could commence.
Morgan's talker, King, was at his left. Bonner, at plot, was at his right. At his right was the gunnery liason officer, Roger Hamilton. Things were not going well. Time after time the anti-aircraft batteries failed to fire. When they did, they fired late and never hit the target. Tempers were running high. Even the pilot was frustrated. So frustrated that he started to make shorter turns in order to speed up the process.
That's how the pilot managed to cross the firing bearing almost forty-five degrees off course.
"Commence firing," King intoned.
"Who said that?" Morgan asked.
"The captain," King replied.
"Check fire," Morgan commanded.
"Check fire," King repeated.
"Check fire! Check fire!" Hamilton shouted to the gunnery crews.
The 21MC over Morgan's head lit up and the captain's voice roared, "Bowen! What are you trying to do to me?!"
Now with Captain Richardson safety was paramount. If the lowliest seaman apprentice thought something was wrong, he was encouraged to shout out. For Morgan, Captain Eddins query was the tipping point.
He reached up and pressed down every button on the 21MC. His voice could be heard in every compartment on the ship, as he solemnly said, "Captain, I'm trying to keep you from shooting down the fucking aeroplane."
At long last, underway training was over. Running all the exercises at least proved that all the hardware added in the yard functioned; which, after all, was the true reason for the whole undertaking. The ship was ready to sail to the Far East. Deficiencies in performance could be ironed out enroute.
Sandy Westinghouse was relieved by a newly promoted lieutenant, an Annapolis grad named Carl Petress, fresh from the staff of the Naval Attache in Paris. Seemed like a good sort. While the Stough had been at Mare Island, the Division Commander had also been replaced.
The new commodore was Capt. Ezra Levinson, also recently promoted. He was to prove to be very personable. Morgan was introduced to him at the Pacific Fleet Officers' Club, while the division was at Pearl Harbor. Entering the bar, he and Roger Hamilton encountered the captain, the exec, the captains of two of the other ships in the division, and the commodore. The exec called them over, introduced them, and the commodore invited the two junior officers to join the group.
It may be because of his experience with senior officers in Korea, but Morgan had no problem engaging the commodore in conversation, and Capt. Levinson responded warmly. When Roger and Morgan left the group, the commodore said that he looked forward to seeing him again.
As the division was enroute from Pearl to Yokosuka, there were more exercises. Morgan told his men that if they excelled, they could have an O Division party at Hong Kong. That promise proved to be the key to outstanding performances all around.
They were a week in Yokosuka. One night several of his peers were going to "Mama-sans," where Morgan has lost his female cherry, but he opted not to join them. Hamilton had the duty, so Morgan wandered alone over to the officers club. He was surprised to see Capt. Levinson alone at a table near the bar.
"Good evening, Commodore," he said. "Surprised to see you without an entourage."
"Hello," the division commander answered, "I like to get away from it all sometimes."
"I won't intrude then," Morgan said, and turned to the bar.
"No. Please join me," Capt Levinson enjoined. "I remember we met at Pearl, Mr...?"
"Bowen, Morgan Bowen."
"Yes. You were the first junior officer I'd seen, since assuming command, that didn't seem afraid of me," he laughed.
Morgan laughed too. "Well, I've always been an "uppity" type, I guess. But I also served on Adm. Stockley's staff in Pusan and found that senior officers are human too."
"Rogers is," the commodore responded. "I worked for him once, before we got our scrambled eggs." ("Scrambled eggs" refers to the decorations on the bill of senior officers' hats.)
They spent a very pleasant hour together. The commodore wanted to know all about Morgan's background and said that he was the sort of guy that should stay in the navy. Morgan thought that was interesting. His father had said that more than one of the senior officers at the party at Mare Island had told him the same thing.
As he was leaving the club he was overtaken by an Ensign, who said, "Excuse me, sir. But I heard that captain call you `Mr. Bowen.' Would you be Pas Willingham's friend, Morgan Bowen?"
"One and the same," Morgan smiled.
"I'm Meredith Strickland," the other man said. "I got to know Pas before he was transferred back stateside. He told me a lot about you. Can I buy you a drink?"
They returned to the bar. It turned out that Meredith was a Yalee too, a year behind Morgan and Pas and at a different college, so they'd never met at school. After one drink, Meredith said that he had better Scotch in his room at the BOQ and suggested they try it. Morgan agreed.
Once in his room Meredith wasted no time before feeling Morgan up. "Pas never said you were into what we were," he breathed, "but I figured if you two were such good buddies, you had to be."
"You can count on that," Morgan responded.
The good Scotch was forgotten. They were naked in bed in no time, and Meredith demonstrated that he was at least as good as Pas was at giving head. Morgan hadn't been with anyone since he left San Francisco. He gave as good as he got.
Copyright 2011 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.
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