This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental. This story also contains explicit sexual activity between males. If such is offensive to you, or if you are below the age where reading such material is legal, please read no further. Please address comments to macoutmann@yahoo.com. Your feedback is most helpful.
BEFORE "DON'T ASK, DON'T TELL"
by Macout Mann
Chapter 6
The pier was long. Near the gate in the middle of it were some army installations, which gave way to the Navy enlisted men's club and a two story administration building, where Kim brought the jeep to a stop. Toward the end of the pier was what Morgan was to learn was the Navy Officers' Club. Moored on one side of the pier were a group of USNS cargo ships, in port to be unloaded. On the other side were ships of the Korean Navy, and at the end on the same side, the USS Pierce, APA 50, which Morgan understood was to be his home for the next year.
As the jeep rolled to a stop, a Lieutenant approached, introduced himself as Roy Abrams, the Communications Officer. He was to be Morgan's immediate superior, but for the present he was there only to relieve Morgan of his sidearm and the Officer Messenger Mail. He seemed pleasant enough, but said he'd wait until Morgan had reported and gotten squared away before he talked about any duties.
Kim said he'd take care of getting "Missa Bwing's" gear stowed away, and pointed him to the admin office, a small room with a small desk and one side chair. There he found another Ensign, Mr. Keller, and went through the ritual of reporting. "Ensign Morgan Bowen reporting for duty, sir."
"Welcome, aboard, Mr. Bowen," came the response. "And call me `Brent.' We're informal as hell around here."
"Morgan, then," was the reply, and the two men shook hands warmly.
"I'll get all your paperwork taken care of, Morgan," Brent said, "but right now come with me. Captain Clemons awaits."
Morgan was led through the admin area, where three yeomen were typing away, to the other end of the building, where the offices were larger but no less sparsely furnished. At the end of the hall was RAdm. Rogers Stockley, ComSeaCoor. Next door, Capt. James Clemons, Chief of Staff, and along the hall the offices of the Chief Naval Advisor to the Republic of Korea, Commander Fleet Activities, and Commanding Officer, Military Sea Transportation Service.
Keller rapped on Capt. Clemons door and entered. "Ensign Bowen, sir." He retreated, leaving Morgan in the lion's den.
"Come in, Mr. Bowen," the captain said. He extended his hand and motioned Morgan to the single side chair. "We're delighted to have you. Not unusual for us to be short-handed here. Mr. Abrams has had to stand watches for over a month now. And him a short-timer too."
Capt. Clemons was the epitome of the well-bred host. He and Morgan chatted about everything from Morgan's experiences at Yale to his crossing from San Francisco. Morgan mentioned that his experiences on the Shelby had been very pleasant, especially since there were some good Bridge players on board.
"Oh? You play Bridge?" the captain asked. "The admiral and I are avid, but we have trouble finding a fourth, sometimes even a third. "Make you all the more welcome," he laughed.
He called his yeoman and asked that Mr. Abrams come to his office, if he was available. Morgan thought that was a nice touch, but he later learned that in civilian life Capt. Clemons was vice president of a Fortune 500 company and was used to being obeyed without being officious. His wife was with a major New York ad agency, and had created one of network radio's most popular programs.
Morgan told the captain that he had already met Mr. Abrams briefly, so when the comm. officer arrived, Morgan was turned over to him and was taken immediately to the Pierce.
They went first to Morgan's stateroom, where Kim had already deposited all the Ensign's gear. He was to share it with Lt(jg). Larry Cunningham, the senior Communications Watch Officer. Then to the wardroom, where Morgan met several off duty officers. Finally to the Communications Shack, which had been constructed, as had a number of other facilities, from what had been troop compartments, when the ship was a functioning Transport.
The Pierce was an oddity. Although it was a Commissioned U. S. Naval Vessel, it had no Captain. That is the Captain's berth was vacant. One would be assigned, if the ship were to get underway and join the fleet. But for now it had an Officer in Charge, a senior Lieutenant named Graham, who was in fact an engineer, and whose primary duty was to see that electricity stayed on, the plumbing worked, heat and a/c functioned, and the engines were turned over routinely. He was assisted in this task by a number of engineering ratings. The only other officer specifically assigned to the Pierce was the First Lieutenant, Mr. Potts, who reported to the OINC and whose duty was to see that the ship was spic and span like a U.S. Naval Vessel ought to be. To this end, he supervised a number of enlisted personnel and Korean civilians. Both Graham and Potts, were "mustangs," World War II enlisted personnel elevated to commissioned status during the war who remained in service afterward. Morgan was to learn that both men, particularly Potts, harbored a deep resentment to this crop of reserve officers fresh out of OCS.
Although RAdm. Stockley flew his flag from the Pierce and was said to be "Senior Officer Present Afloat," he hardly ever set foot on the ship, except to see an occasional movie. He, his Chief of Staff, and almost all the other senior officers, that is those above the rank of Lieutenant Commander, lived at Hialeah Compound, an Army preserve for "field grade" officers and above. It was located between Pusan and K3. The Pierce housed it's smaller than normal ship's company, and all the other officers and enlisted men attached to the navy commands in Pusan.
The Communications Shack was a sixty foot long steel rectangle, divided into a radio room and a cryptographic center. It was always unbearably hot, even in winter, and the enlisted men were usually allowed to work shirtless, much to the annoyance of Mr. Potts. On the mid-watch, even the watch officer often shed his shirt.
No one without crypto clearance was allowed in the crypto center, and navy regs. specified that only officers could have crypto clearance. But this being Korea and officers being in short supply, a waiver had been granted so that telemen and radiomen, 3rd class and above, could be cleared. This meant that a typical watch had one officer and six enlisted men on duty. Two in crypto, one manning the harbor common radio channel, one handling incoming teletype traffic, one handling outgoing teletype traffic, and one runner, delivering the messages to the people who were supposed to see them. At times everyone was very busy. At others there was utter boredom.
When Morgan and Mr. Abrams arrived at the Comm. Center, Morgan's bunkmate was the watch officer, so they met for the first time. Morgan was introduced to the watch and shown the layout. He was to stand his first watch with Mr. Abrams the next morning and hopefully would be on his own in two or three days.
And so began the routine.
Morgan proved very adept at cryptography, and was soon named the command's Top Secret Control Officer, not that there were all that many top secret messages. The duties of watch officer were basically to learn to whom to direct such and such messages, see that the men on his watch didn't goof off excessively, and in Morgan's case making sure the men didn't notice the frequent hardons he got watching the guys on watch with him. There was one Hot 3rd Class that had tats fore and aft just at his beltline. Over his ass it read "Other side, honey" and above his dick was an arrow with the words "Down here, honey."
Off duty, the main activity of all the officers on board was to frequent the Officer's Club. A number of very attractive Korean girls served as waitresses and bartenders, and one made a very outstanding cheeseburger. The club also employed a hot young army corporal as pianist. He was an outstanding musician, who could play about anything in the Great American Songbook from memory.
Once or twice a week, Morgan and the Naval Advisory Group's Intelligence Advisor, a Lieutenant Commander named Scott Percy, were invited to join the Admiral and his Chief of Staff for Bridge. Percy was a real character, and he and Morgan became very good friends. Percy was an Annapolis graduate. His father, now retired, had been a Captain, and Percy himself had a biting sense of humor and feared no one.
It was said that there had been a high level inter-service meeting at a house of dubious repute in a rural area near Pusan attended by Percy, his boss, Capt. Oliver Simms, and Admiral Stockley. Percy was waiting with the staff car for Capt. Simms and the admiral, when a jeep containing two Army MPs showed up. The MPs, especially in the support areas, were known to be particularly obnoxious, and these were even moreso.
"It's after curfew," one said.
"It's after curfew, Sir," Percy replied.
"It's after curfew......Sir," the MP snarled.
"Who says it's after curfew?" Percy demanded, as he watched the rest of the party leave the building behind the MPs.
"General Ridgeway!" came the response.
"Perhaps you should find out for yourself," Percy said. "General Ridgeway's standing right behind you."
The assembled inter-service Brass had a good laugh as the jeeps taillights retreated at high speed.
Scott Percy liked Morgan in part, because he too was comfortable around senior officers, and the four men made a very compatible Bridge group.
Of course, there were movies on board the Pierce every night, in an improvised theater also constructed on the unused troop deck. Most everyone had seen all of the movies at least twice, but watching was a way to pass the time. The enlisted men sat toward the front of the theater, officers in the rear. Sort of Southern Segregation in reverse.
On one occasion, Morgan was Staff Duty Officer, when he was informed that Admiral Pak, CNO of the Korean Navy, wanted to see HIGH NOON, which was scheduled that evening. So it fell to Morgan to arrange the event. He dutifully met Admirals Pak and Stockley and their entourages on the quarterdeck and escorted them to the theater, where the Master at Arms was waiting to shout, "Attention on deck!" When all were seated the movie began.
As the movie progressed, Morgan began to have the feeling that certain things should have happened before the scene he was watching, so he quietly made his way to the projection room to find a totally panicked seaman. He had reversed the second and third reels. Morgan told him there was nothing to be done, to just pretend everything was as it should be. He returned to the troop deck just as "The End" appeared on the screen, "Attention on deck!" was repeated, and the Admirals' parties were escorted from the ship.
Fortunately, Admiral Pak did not speak English, Admiral Stockley had never seen the film before, but having seen it, didn't much understand it, and Capt. Clemons was willing to keep his mouth shut.
The only other extra-curricular activity that Morgan and the other officers had to engage in was photography. The ship's store carried Canon and Zeiss cameras at amazing prices, so almost everyone spent afternoons off duty strolling around the Korean countryside taking color slides.
When it came to sex, the enlisted men had a much better deal than the officers. There were a number of whore houses they could frequent when on liberty, although the number of men restricted to the ship due to VD (now called STD) was legendary. Officers had no similar facilities. Capt. Clemons did have a "housekeeper" at his Hialeah Compound quarters, a Chinese girl called Suzie, who obviously provided more than cleaning and cooking services.
Morgan survived only by using the services of Ma Thumb and her four daughters. He took lots of showers.
Fortunately, after four months he was eligible for R&R, a week of rest and recreation in Japan. It was fairly easy to make personal telephone calls to Japan. You had to give the toll operator a sequence number, but if an officer called Fleet Activities Operations and asked for one, he was never refused. So Morgan had talked to Pas a couple of times. Nothing intimate, since he had to use the phone on the watch officer's desk in the comm. Center, but Pas did know he was coming. Larry Cunningham had suggested he stay at the Nikkatsu Hotel in Tokyo, and that's where he'd decided to go. Lieutenant Franklin, a mustang attached to Fleet Activities, was taking R&R at the same time, and he suggested that they travel together. He wanted to take the "Redball," an MSTS ship that traveled between Pusan and Sasebo, Japan every other day, and then take a train from Sasebo to Tokyo. Sasebo was the other U.S. Navy port in Japan. That plan sounded great to Morgan, since it would add four days travel time to the trip, which wouldn't count toward the week's R&R. and would give them an opportunity to glimpse most of Honshu enroute.
In Sasebo, he also ran across another friend from Yale. Straight, unfortunately.
Morgan and Mr. Franklin parted when the train arrived at Tokyo, but Morgan was pleased that the older man told him, not in so many words, that he'd always thought Morgan was a prick, but that being with him on the trip had made him realize he was someone he'd like to be friends with.
Morgan took a cab to the Nikkatsu. It was like no hotel he'd ever seen. It was an office building with an office building lobby. The only sign on the outside said "Nikkatsu International Building." There was a small sign in English in the lobby, "Hotel. 7th Floor."
On the seventh floor, was an enormous lobby with a circular staircase leading to a mezzanine, which was really the eighth floor, a cocktail lounge to the right and a dining room to the left, which Morgan was to learn was probably the best French Restaurant east of Paris. The guest rooms were in the floors above. He checked in. His room was to cost the equivalent of $15 American. Once there, he changed into civilian clothes for the first time since he had left San Francisco. He had brought one suit, which had been at the bottom of his chest all the while he had been in Pusan. He decided that he needed to have booze for Pas, when he came, so he sent for room service. A hot young Japanese bellboy arrived shortly and started spouting French.
"I'm sorry," Pas interrupted, "my French isn't as good as yours."
"Oh!," the bellboy responded in English, "I'm very sorry. Front desk mussa sought you were Frenchmang who speak Engrish."
So Morgan realized he wasn't in Kansas anymore. Or New York or Boston for that matter.
By the time Pas arrived, Morgan had a bottle of good Scotch, two glasses, ice, and a bellboy who was willing to do anything for the guest in Room 904. Well, not anything.
But Pas was.
He walked into the room, hugged Morgan, and then reached for Morgan's jewels. "I can't wait," he murmured.
Immediately they were both naked and on the bed, devouring each others' nose, ear, tongue, you name it. "I haven't fucked anything for over four months," Morgan whispered.
"Yeah, but you don't have a four months' supply of cum for me, do you? How many times a day you been jacking off?"
"Enough," Morgan replied.
"I've been with one or two guys, but not nearly often enough," Pas volunteered. He kissed his way down Morgan's chest and abs and finally tongued his rigid knob.
"Oh god, yes......," Morgan cried. His dick disappeared into Pas' hot mouth. All Morgan could say was "Yes...yes...yes."
Then Pas rolled off of Morgan and said, "Spit on my hole. I want your dick up my ass right now."
Morgan moistened Pas ass and put more spit on his dick. He was like a madman as he rammed the full length of his pole into his friend and began to pump in and out, up and down. "Yeah," Pas chanted, "fuck me, man. Fuck me hard," over and over again.
Morgan exploded into Pas' colon and collapsed onto his friend's prone body. It was several minutes before Morgan regained composure; but realizing Pas hadn't cum, he immediately took Pas' dick into his mouth and rapidly sucked him off, swallowing every drop of his tasty cum.
Still naked they each quaffed a couple of ounces of Scotch and each enjoyed the feel of the other's body against his own.
They enjoyed a dinner of Longusta Thermidor in the Nikkatsu's dining room. Then they returned to Morgan's room for repeat sessions of uninhibited sex followed by Scotch, occasionally interrupted by sleep, before Pas had to catch an early train for Yokosuka.
The week passed quickly. Pas visited Morgan during his off hours. Morgan went to Yokosuka once and lunched with Pas at the Officer's Club and they had an excellent dinner at one of the city's elegant officer whore houses, where they were joined for dinner by two lovely Japanese girls, but declined to stay the night. Morgan visited the sites in Tokyo, even heard a concert by one of Tokyo's three symphony orchestras. By the time he arrived at Hanneda for the return flight to Pusan he was rested, recreated, and his dick was happy for the first time since before he left the states.
Copyright 2011 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.
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