CAUTION AND COURAGE
PART TWO
Only two days after Will and Billy reported for duty the USS
Brighton steamed out of the port of San Diego loaded with
heavy equipment and supplies for the troops in South
Vietnam. The two new seamen were given a crash course
on their duties in the engine room. There was not much to
learn: keep an eye on several gauges in the control room
that monitored the functions of the massive engine and
periodically lubricate various gears and bearings. If
something did go wrong, they were to immediately notify the
Crew Chief who would dispatch an experienced team to
correct the problem. The implication (not a promise) was
that they might be promoted out of the engine room and
would have less menial duty. Unless something went wrong,
there was little to do and most of the time was boring. The
twelve hour shifts were staggered. Will worked from six in
the morning to six at night. Billy worked noon to midnight.
Two other sailors had similar schedules so the engine room
was staffed with two people around the clock. Both Billy and
Will treasured the six hours a day they spent together. Both
craved the same thing: intimacy. But neither dared doing or
saying anything that might destroy a friendship and possibly
result in severe military punishment.
On the second day at sea, a sailor came into the engine
room asking, "Benson?"
"That's me," Will replied.
"Message from the Captain," the sailor said, handing Will a
piece of paper and walking out.
Will read what was on the paper: "Report to me in my office
at the end of your shift." His surprise and curiosity quickly
turned to apprehension. Had he said or done something that
would arouse suspicion over his friendship with Billy? He
frantically tried to remember something -- anything -- that
would be incriminating but drew a blank. Except for the
parting hug at the airport. Someone must have seen it and
reported it. Confusion, worry, and anxiety grew. By the time
Billy came on duty at noon, Will was at his wit's end, having
convinced himself that he would be confronted with an
unknown person's eyewitness account of his taboo behavior.
Billy, of course, noticed Will's agitated mood and
immediately and asked, "What's the problem? Can I help?"
Will had debated whether to say to Billy about the summons
to the Captain's office, vacillating between saying nothing
and telling him about the note. What he dared not say was
the real reason for his dread of why the Captain wanted to
see him. "I got a strange note this morning. From the
Captain! He wants me in his office as soon as I go off duty.
You've got to admit that's unusual. I have no idea what he
wants."
Billy thought for a moment and said, "The way I sees it, he's
just wonderin' why ya got assigned to the engine room.
Makes sense to me that he looks over the personnel files of
all new crew members. An' that would show y'all was way
ahead of the rest of us in boot camp. I got a hunch he wants
to put ya in a better job."
"Maybe so," Will agreed, wondering why he hadn't thought of
the possibility.
"For what's it's worth, Will, I'm of a mind that ya should go for
it. If'n he wants ya somewhere else, that is. I sure would
miss ya but it'd be best for y'all."
"Thanks, Billy. I let myself get all worked up in a lather and
you've calmed me down. Maybe you're right. But I can tell
you this for sure. "I'd miss being with my best buddy. IF,
that is, you're right and IF I accept a reassignment."
"Ya may have no choice, Will. If'n it's an order, ya gotta do
what he says."
"Damn! Now you've got me worrying again -- not about
seeing the Captain but being ordered to take another job."
"It'll work out, Will. We can still be buddies. Even if we don't
get to work together."
In the following six hours, Billy repeatedly tried to calm his
friend's nerves but with little more than minimal success.
Will was still troubled by the prospect of being accused of
homosexuality. And trying to explain away any evidence or
suspicion the Captain may have.
Will stopped at his bunk to freshen up before what he had
come to regard as his judgment day. If he was to be found
guilty of "unmanly" behavior, at least he would be
presentable as he was forced to accept the punishment.
At five past six he knocked on the Captain's open door and
said, "You wanted to see me, Sir?"
"Benson? Yes. Come in. Sit down."
Will's heart was racing. His stomach was churning. His
mind was jumbled. He hoped he wasn't sweating or shaking
as he took a seat.
"First of all, Benson, I want this to be informal ... off the
record. I'm going to be frank and I want you to talk freely.
For this meeting only, try to forget the bars on my shoulder.
Okay?"
The Captain's warm and cordial demeanor helped to calm
Will's nerves and he replied, "Yes, Sir."
"I make it a habit to review the records of all my new crew
members. I'd like to meet them personally and welcome
them to the Brighton but that's rarely possible. In your case,
however, I felt I had to meet you and talk to you. Your
performance reports from training are universally positive ...
academics, physical training, attitude ... on every measure
you're superior. I also noticed with considerable interest that
you were in the NROTC at Columbia and recommended for
nomination to OCS during basic training. Imagine my
curiosity ... and, may I say, disappointment ... when you
refused the opportunity. Why did you turn down what other
recruits would give their left nut for?"
Will was extraordinarily relieved that the conversation was
not about homosexuality or even about his close friendship
with Billy. His anxiety level dropped to normal -- normal,
that is, for a freshly minted sailor talking to the Captain of the
ship. Before answering the Captain, Will said, "You
indicated that this meeting was to be informal. Does that
mean I can speak freely, Sir?"
"Please do."
"All I can say, Sir, is what I told Captain Williamson back at
Great Lakes. OCS would have been a great honor ... but it
would come with the expectation of extended service in the
Navy ... perhaps as a career. I was flattered and
appreciated the offer but it's not what I want to do with my
life. Do I want to serve my country in the Navy? Absolutely!
But I don't want to make a career out of it."
"I see," said the Captain. "There's just one more question I
have. Why ... with your outstanding talent ... were you
assigned to the engine room of a cargo ship? It seems the
Navy is not benefiting from what you can offer."
"I'm afraid I don't know, Sir. It may have been a clerical
error. Or some kind of SNAFU. Or it may have been..." Will
didn't complete his comment and regretted having begun it.
"Or what, Benson?"
"With respect, Sir, I'd rather not say. It's pure speculation."
"I've assured you that this meeting is off the record. Nothing
you say will leave this room. I just want to understand the
men under my command ... especially men who might have
leadership potential. You were about to say?"
"Well, Sir, I have no proof. I'm extrapolating from incidents
in my past. But I think it's plausible that my father arranged
the assignment as punishment for refusing OCS."
"And how in the name of all that's Holy could he do that?"
"With respect, Sir, I must decline to answer that question.
To do so would jeopardize the reputation of someone and
I'm unwilling to do that solely on the basis of personal
inference."
The Captain sat quietly for several moments, which made
Will nervous. Had he shown disrespect or disobedience in
refusing to answer? Was the Captain serious in saying that
the conversation was informal? Eventually, the Captain
spoke. "Your discretion is admirable, Benson ... just the sort
of thing a leader must have. Before you go, I want you to
know that I'll be keeping an eye on you. If the opportunity
arises, I'm going to give you an assignment more in keeping
with your abilities. I don't know what that might be at the
moment but I'm confident the time will come. Oh. One more
thing. I promised that this meeting was off the record. I'd
appreciate it if you didn't tell any of your shipmates about it
... except, perhaps, to say that I just wanted to meet a new
member of the crew. Will you do that for me?"
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
"Dismissed, sailor."
Will stood, saluted his Commanding Officer, did a smart
about-face, and left. Making his way back to his quarters, he
chided himself for worrying so much about being accused of
homosexuality and elevated his respect for Billy who
correctly identified the purpose of the meeting.
While Will was meeting with the Captain, Billy frequently
wondered what it was all about. He was not worried as Will
had been about the homosexuality issue since neither of
them had said or done anything to suggest improper
behavior since coming aboard the ship. At one point, he
decided he would wake his buddy when he got off duty at
midnight but discarded the idea. Instead, he would be sure
to be awake well before six the next morning to talk to Will
and to satisfy his curiosity.
Will, keeping his promise, said only, "The Captain wanted to
meet one of the new crew members. He's really a pretty
nice guy. I'm glad to be serving in his command."
"Why'd he pick you?" Billy probed. "Was it `cause o' yur
performance in trainin' like I thought?"
"Can't say," Will responded. "He told me that he tried to
meet new crew members when he has time." Will
complimented himself. It was not a lie ... it was a half-truth
but not a lie. And it seemed to satisfy Billy's curiosity.
"Gotta go get some breakfast now, good buddy. See you at
noon ... or, in Navy lingo, eight bells."
<><><><><>
At noon the following day, the Captain's voice came over the
PA system throughout the ship. "Attention all hands. This is
the Captain. We have been diverted to Guadalcanal to pick
up additional cargo for Vietnam. That means we'll be
crossing the equator at approximately 0800 hours tomorrow.
Shellbacks will inform all pollywogs of appropriate
preparations. That is all."
"I know what a pollywog is," Billy said. "Used to catch `em in
the crick back o' the barn. Used the little ones for fishin' bait.
But beats me why they has `em on a ship. And what in
tarnation is a shellback?"
"I have no idea," Will replied, just as perplexed as his buddy.
"I guess we'll find out sooner or later ... or at least be given
orders for whatever the `preparations' might be.
Billy thought for a while and then said, "Ya tol' me that yur
daddy and gran'pappy were in the Navy. What'd they tell ya
about crossin' the `quator?"
"Not a thing," Will said apologetically. "Either they never
crossed the equator or there's something secretive about it.
We'll just have to wait and see."
Several minutes later, a Lieutenant burst into the engine
room shouting, "Listen up, slimy pollywogs! You heard the
Captain. It's wog day! We'll cross the equator tomorrow,
That means you wogs will be initiated into the Kingdom of
Neptune and forever more be known as Trusty Shellbacks."
Billy and Will were stunned into silence not only by the
presence of an officer in the engine room but by the bizarre
things he was saying. They could only hope that things
became clearer as he continued. "Tonight at 1900 hours
you will report topside. You and other unworthy pollywogs
will assemble at the stern to await your summons by King
Neptune. Which of you will be on duty here at that time?"
"I will, Sir," replied Will.
"No you won't! What part of `report topside at 1900 hours'
don't you understand, Slimy Pollywog. A Shellback will
relieve you long enough for the ceremony."
The Lieutenant turned to leave but Will said, "Sir, can we ask
what this is all about?"
"No, you may not!" the officer barked with an expression of
anger etched on his face. "King Neptune will give you the
details at the ceremony."
Both Billy and Will obsessed for hours over the mystery of
what the ceremony would be.
A brawny sailor came into the engine room fifteen minutes
before the ceremony was scheduled to begin. Will asked,
"What's going on with this ceremony business?"
The sailor laughed and said, "You'll find out. All I can say is
that it's an ancient tradition. There was a time when new
sailors were brutally tormented. Several died from it. As late
as World War II, the initiation involved paddling, whipping,
and dunking. But I can't say what the Captain will allow. All
I can say is `good luck'."
His ominous comment instantly changed Will's curiosity to
anxiety.
<><><><><>
Ten minutes before eight, Will's curiosity was tinged with fear
because of the possibility of paddling, whipping, and dunking. A
crusty seaman entered the engine room and barked, "Get your
sorry ass up to the stern, pollywog!"
Will said nothing -- he'd learned it was not prudent to ask
questions -- but immediately made his way up to the stern of
the ship where he saw Billy and three other nervous pollywogs
surrounded by a phalanx of very grim seasoned seamen, one of
whom grabbed his arm and forcefully pulled him into the small
group of newbies awaiting some unknown fate. They waited for
what seemed a long time before hearing three claps of the
ship's bell. Two sailors grabbed Billy's arms and led him toward
the bow of the ship.
It seemed the entire crew, except for a few manning critical
duties, were gathered to watch whatever fate might befall the
worried Billy. Seated on a barrel in the middle of the circling
crowd was a man in a long, blue, satin robe. A rag mop was
tied to his chin simulating a white beard. Another was perched
on top of his head as though it was long, straggly hair cascading
down over his ears. A crude, paper crown sat slightly askew on
his head. The man held a long pole made to look like a trident
through creative use of cardboard. If Billy weren't so
apprehensive, he would have laughed at the comic sight. And
at the bare-chested man with an eye patch standing next to
King Neptune who commanded, "On your knees in the presence
of His Majesty!" Billy, confused and apprehensive, was not
quick enough to respond and two seamen forced him down,
smashing his knees painfully onto the deck.
"What have you brought before me?" King Neptune bellowed.
Billy recognized voice of the Captain.
"A slimy pollywog, Your Majesty," replied Davey Jones (a.k.a.
the First Officer). "He beseeches you to be permitted into your
kingdom."
"What is your name?" King Neptune demanded.
"Seaman Billy Ray Simpson, Sir."
"WRONG!" shouted the costumed Captain. "Administer the
punishment for uttering an untruth!"
One of the Shellbacks was standing behind Billy and poured a
bucket of seawater over the confused young man's head,
soaking his clothes and making him gag and sputter. (It was
not, as some believe, an early, crude form of water boarding but
it had a similar effect.)
"While in this court, you are not a seaman!" King Neptune
bellowed. "You're a lowly pollywog! Tell me your name again."
"Pollywog Billy Ray Simpson, Sir."
"Such impertinence! Administer the punishment for disrespect!"
Another pail of seawater was dumped over Billy's head.
"While in my presence, you will address me as Your Majesty.
Now tell me your name, slimy pollywog, and do it properly or
suffer much harsher punishment."
"Pollywog Billy Ray Simpson, Your Majesty."
"Well done ... at last. Take him away, Mr. Jones. We will
consider the worthiness of this pitiful soul to join our kingdom
and let you know on the morrow of our decision.
Billy was led, quite forcefully to the back of the crowd
surrounding the imaginary king.
The ritual was repeated for the remaining three pollywogs, each
receiving at least two drenchings for dishonesty and disrespect.
When the hazing was over, the pollywogs were ordered to clean
up and return to duty.
The next morning, the pollywogs and the crew members who
were not on essential duty assembled on deck. The Captain
appeared (in regulation uniform) and read a proclamation:
"Whereas by our Royal Consension, our trusty, well-beloved
pollywogs have this day entered Our Domain, we hereby declare to all
whom it may concern that it is our royal will and pleasure to confer
upon them the freedom of the seas. Should any of them fall overboard,
we do command that all sharks, dolphins, whales, mermaids and other
dwellers in the deep are to abstain from maltreating him. We further
direct all sailors, soldiers, airmen and others who have not crossed
into our royal domain to treat him with respect due. Given under our
hand at our courts on board the USS Brighton on the equator, latitude
zero. Furthermore, given that the fortuitous event occurred at the
International Date Line, longitude one hundred eighty, each of the new
subjects in our kingdom is accepted into the Order of the Dragon."
The Captain then distributed a certificate with the printed
proclamation to each of the former pollywogs, shook their
hands, and signaled the crew to shout "Hip, Hip, Hooray!"
<><><><><>
The Brighton arrived at Guadalcanal where the ship's crew
learned that the navigator on a C5 Galaxy cargo plane, then
new to the Air Force Fleet, suffered a medical emergency after
leaving Pearl Harbor. The plane landed at Henderson Airport
(formerly Henderson Field, a military base, during World War II).
Because of delays in flying in a replacement navigator, some of
the plane's cargo -- the medical supplies that were critically
needed -- was transferred to the Brighton. That work was done
by local contractors so most of the sailors had a day of
relaxation. The powerful engines were idle and the engine room
was quiet. But Will was not going to have any rest. The day
before arriving off the coast of Honiara, the country's capital,
Will was summoned to the Captain's office and given a special
assignment.
"I told you, Benson, that I might have a special assignment for
you. The time has come. This is a highly classified operation
so nothing I say now or you do later can be mentioned to
anyone. ANYONE! Understand?"
"Yes, Sir."
"A fighter pilot, Lieutenant Charles Swanson, was flying from
Pearl Harbor to Sydney, Australia about three weeks ago on a
classified mission. The last radio contact from him indicated he
was altering his course due to threatening weather. A local
fisherman reported a plane going down in flames near a small,
uninhabited island about forty miles northwest of where we will
drop anchor off the coast of Guadalcanal. He also claims to
have seen a parachute falling into the ocean moments later. Air
Traffic Control at the Guadalcanal airport confirms that an
unidentified aircraft disappeared from their radar at the same
time. The Air Force has made several flyovers without seeing
any evidence of a crash or a survivor. Because of Swanson's
classified mission, it's imperative to do a ground search of the
island in case he's still alive. I want you to take two men on the
launch to investigate. If you find him alive, bring him back to the
ship. Any questions so far?
"No, Sir."
"Now here's the tricky bit. For reasons I don't know, he may
resist. You'll carry side arms if you have to force him to return.
Use them only if absolutely necessary! Here's a map. I've
marked the island."
Will scanned the map and said, "It's a very small island, Sir. Are
we sure there no inhabitants who might have information? If so,
would they understand English?"
"No permanent residents. It may be visited by local fishermen
but that's unlikely. Do you have any suggestions for who you
want on your team?"
Will thought for a few moments before replying. He tried to
match the requirements of the assignment with what little he
knew of the personnel aboard the ship. Two individuals seemed
to best meet the criteria. He was sure of one and replied, "Billy
Simpson for one. He's a country boy and would be helpful in
navigating the terrain. He would have a keen eye for spotting
any signs of habitation. And Sean Wilcox. His size and
muscles can be intimidating if that's required." He was less sure
of the second individual because he didn't know him well. Sean
was tall and very muscular with a confident, almost arrogant
personality. Physically he could easily be fodder for a gay
man's fantasies but his inflated ego and overt hatred of
homosexuals would prevail over any attraction to his thoroughly
masculine body.
"Good choices, Benson. I'll assign them to your team but ask
you to brief them on the mission on your way to the island. One
more thing. It's essential that you be back on board the
Brighton no later than 24 hours after we drop anchor. That's
when we'll set sail for Nam. If you're not and mostly because
this mission is classified, I'll be forced to report you as AWOL.
Above all, Benson, remember that this conversation did not
happen. Nor can you discuss it with anyone beyond your team.
Emphasize that to Simpson and Wilcox. That'll be all."
"If I may, Sir, can I ask one question?"
"And that is?"
"Our departure is bound to be noticed. It will create a lot of
curiosity among the crew. Curiosity can breed false rumors.
May we say we were merely looking for a downed Airman?"
"Good thinking, Benson. That confirms my belief that you'll
make an outstanding leader in the Navy. The answer is yes.
You may use that as a cover ... IF ASKED ... but on no account
can you say anything more. Understood?"
Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
"Give me twenty minutes to talk to Simpson and Wilcox. They'll
no doubt ask you what it's all about. Tell them nothing until
you're in the launch and on your way. Dismissed."
The Captain's confidence in the green seaman was vindicated
by Will's questions, his choice for a team, and his apparent
willingness that bordered on eagerness to accept the
assignment. However, there was more to be proven. Unknown
to Will was that the Captain's story was only partially true. Two
parts were false. The missing pilot was not on a classified
mission nor was there any reason to believe he would resist
rescue. Deviously, the Captain was testing Will to see how he
would handle a secret and potentially dangerous assignment
with the added pressure of a strict deadline.
Neither Billy nor Sean Wilcox lost any time in seeking out Will to
ask what was so special about the "errand" they were being
sent on and why it was such a secret.
"What's goin' on? Billy asked. Sean's question was the same if
considerably more crude: "What the fuck is this horse shit
about?"
Complying with the Captain's order, Will could only answer, "I
can't say now. I can, however, give you some details once
we're on our way."
Billy, frustrated but willing to trust his best buddy, accepted the
ambiguous answer even though his curiosity was heightened by
it. Sean was displeased, probably angry that he didn't get a full
explanation, and resented being subordinate on the team to an
engine room lackey.
Well before dawn the next day, three sailors began to unsecure
the launch from its location near the stern. As Will expected,
they were challenged by the crew member on night watch. Will
was ready with an immediate reply. "Captain's orders. You can
verify that by contacting him. That is, if you want to interrupt his
busy schedule preparing for dropping anchor and arranging with
the Air Force pilot ashore for transferring the cargo."
"You're Benson?" the senior seaman asked.
"I am."
"All right then. Captain told me you had permission to leave the
ship. Don't know why but I'm guessing I don't need to know.
Fuckin' Navy! They give orders but never explanations!"
The disgruntled night watch expected the launch to head for the
National Patrol Boat Base on shore to coordinate the cargo
transfer but was surprised when it headed out toward the open
sea.
Will briefed his team on the details, including the false
information about the pilot's classified mission and his possible
objection to being rescued. "That don't make no sense," Billy
perceptively argued. "Why would a body not want to be
rescued? "'Specially from some itty-bitty island a thousand
miles from nowhere?"
"I don't know," Will answered. "The Captain didn't know either.
At least he said he didn't. All I do know is that we'll have to be
prepared and we'll have to get him back to the ship ... if we find
him alive."
The sun had risen when the launch neared the mysterious
island. They circled the island, scanning the shoreline for any sign or
even hint of wreckage or what they hoped to see: the stranded
pilot. They saw nothing but sandy beaches encircling a dense
forest. Will said, "Guess we'll have to go ashore and scout
around, guys."
Billy, however, shouted, "Wait! See that there big rock stickin'
up outta the water `bout ten yards from the shore? Don't it
seem diff'rent to y'all?"
"No," the other two replied in unison.
"Lookee there, guys. What's that hangin' on the right side?
Might be a bit o' trash but it might be somethin' else. Like part
o' the plane."
"Let's check it out," Will said as he told Sean to steer the launch
toward the suspicious object. "If it's nothing at least we can
start searching the island at that point."
Billy and Will stood near the bow searching the island's coast for
the best place to go ashore. Sean was in the wheel house
amidships and pointed the bow toward the small island. Billy
said, "Lookee, Will. What's that up ahead?"
Will looked where Billy was pointing and saw a dark round
shape with protruding spikes. A moment later, his suspicion
turned to panic and he shouted back to Sean, "HARD TO
PORT! NOW!"
A disastrous few seconds elapsed before the launch began to
swerve left. An explosion thundered in everyone's ears. The
stern of the launch was lifted out of the water and broke into
pieces. Everything not tied down, including the two able-bodied
seamen at the prow, was catapulted into the sea.
<><><><><>
Stunned but feeling lucky to have survived the explosion, Billy
immediately looked for his comrades. The blood in the
seawater around Will showed he was wounded. But he couldn't
see Sean who had been in the wheel house when the explosion
tore the boat apart. "Y'all okay, Will?" Billy shouted with
concern bordering on panic clearly evident in his voice.
"I don't know yet," Will replied. "Got a pain in my leg but I think I
can make it to shore. Where's Sean?"
"Dunno," Billy replied but moments later saw Sean come
sputtering up out of the water, "There he be. Y'all okay, Sean?
Will's hurt.
"I'm fine. Let's head for the shore," Sean shouted. "We'll swim
alongside you, Will, in case you need help. Okay?"
It was a fifty-yard swim but all three made it safely. Once
ashore, Sean asked, "What the hell happened?"
"We hit a mine," Will replied. "I don't know how it got there,
though."
After a few moments thinking, Billy said, "D'ya s'pose it was
from the big World War? Maybe a ship sank -- our'n or one o'
theirs -- carryin' a bunch o' mines. Sat there right on the
bottom `til it floated up. Somethin' rattled it loose maybe. Big
storm? Earthquake? An' after all these years, t'boot."
Will and Sean had to agree with the logic but had no time to
speculate further. "Lemme see yur leg," Billy said to Will.
Will pulled up the right leg of his pants to reveal an ugly gash on
the back of his calf muscle just above the ankle and said,
"Looks pretty bad, doesn't it." The wound was a small
laceration but still bleeding.
"Let's get ya outta the sun, Will. Can ya walk?"
Will said he could but he was wrong. His two companions had
to help him ten yards to the shade of a large tree.
Billy took off his shirt and wrapped it around the injured leg. "It
ain't stair-ile but it'll help. Wish we had some anty-septic." He
then scanned the small hill that sloped up and away from the
water's edge. "I'll go see if'n I can fetch somethin' better than a
wet shirt."
Will said to Sean, "If you swim back out to the launch, maybe
you can find a first aid kit."
Sean frowned and said, "What the fuck's the use? The launch
is sinking fast. By the time I got there it'll be gone. Besides,
even if I find it, it would be soaking wet and what good would
that do? We're stuck here. We're sure to die before anybody
finds us."
Astonished by Sean's fatalism, Will said, "Don't be so damn
quick to give up."
Twenty minutes later, Billy returned at a trot, carrying a handful
of fat, green, spikey leaves. "Don't know what this is," he said.
"Looks, tastes, `n' smells just the same as what my mama used
when I got all scraped up back in Miss'ippi. She called it `low
veerah'." [i.e., aloe vera, widely found in the tropics and used in
pharmaceutical preparations for its soothing and healing properties]
-- "But ya gotta be careful-like `cause some plants look almost
the same and can hurt ya. Didn't know they grows outside o'
Miss'ippi, though." He proceeded immediately to loosen the
makeshift dressing.
"Are you sure they won't make it worse? Will asked.
"Can't never be sure," Billy replied. "But it's the best chance we
got for fixin' you up."
"Wait," Will said. "I remember something from my NROTC
classes. I'm going to ask you to do something weird. We had a
lecture on survival and rescue. I wish I could remember all of it
but one thing stuck with me because it sounded so ridiculous. If
you're wounded and don't have any sterile water, alcohol, or
antiseptic, then you can flush out the wound with fresh urine.
Piss on it Billy!"
"WHAT!" Billy exclaimed. "I ain't gonna do that!"
"Trust me," Will said. "The instructor emphasized that fresh
urine is safe to use to rinse away any toxic bacteria and it may
even have healing properties. It isn't any more unusual than
putting leaves on an open sore."
Billy continued to resist, supported by Sean who claimed it
would only make matters worse. But Billy eventually yielded to
his best friend's pleading and flooded the wound with his urine.
He then crushed the leaves until a gel-like juice oozed out which
he carefully smeared on and around the laceration and
rewrapped the leg with the bloody shirt.
"I guess it's up to you guys to look for the downed pilot and
complete the mission."
"Fuck the mission!" Sean screamed. "We're stuck in the middle
of no-god-damn-where! Even if we find the pilot alive, what
fucking good would that do? We're all goners unless you think
we could swim forty fucking miles back to the ship!"
The contrast of Sean's arrogant attitude and behavior on the
ship with his surrender to dire circumstances they now faced
surprised and irritated both Will and Billy. "Settle down," Will
replied with as much authority as he could. "It's no good to
concede defeat. At least not yet. We'll have to come up with a
Plan B."
"If you say so," Sean said sarcastically.
Will, ignoring for the moment Sean's lack of conviction, said,
"The most critical need we have is fresh water. One of the
things survivors did was -- hear me out, now, and think about it
-- they drank their own urine. With no fresh water, it saved their
lives."
"You gotta be shittin' me!" Sean reacted with disgust.
"It's true," Will replied. When the choice is between death from
dehydration or something you might think is distasteful or even
disgusting, I think the choice is obvious."
"He's right, Sean," Billy said. "One o' my kinfolk tol' me how he
done it when his truck died on him in New Mexico. He was
walkin' back to the last town when he `membered what he learnt
in the Army: if' ya get stuck, yur hot and thirsty, drink yur piss.
Else, ya just might die. He done it and lived to be eighty four."
"I'm be damned if I do that!" Sean said defiantly.
Billy said. "First off, I think we oughta look `round a bit. We
need food and fresh water if we's stuck here for a spell. Water's
most important. A fella can go a long time without food but only
a few days without water. Sean and me can look around a bit.
Whilst we's doin' that, we can see if'n there's any sign o' the
pilot."
The pair returned an hour later to find Will asleep. Afraid his
boyfriend was unconscious from loss of blood, Billy rushed to
his side, shook his shoulder, and said, "Will, Will, y'all okay,
buddy?"
"I'm okay," Will mumbled groggily. "What did you find?"
"No water, no sign o' the pilot," Billy replied. "And no food less'n
we eat leaves `n' berries. And somehow shoot a bird ... oodles
of em flying round."
Sean and Billy left again to gather edibles and managed to
collect some nuts and berries. They also found some coconuts,
bananas, mangoes, and papayas -- not the same as the
cultivated varieties found in supermarkets but quite suitable for
eating. Billy had also gathered some leaves. Sean questioned
why his companion collected leaves but Billy reminded him, "Ya
eat lettuce and cabbage, don'tcha? In Miss'ippi, we eat all kind
o' greens. They's good for ya." Sean was mystified by the
process Billy used to test different leaves. He would crush a
leaf and put the juice on his lip. If there was no unpleasant
reaction five minutes later, he would put some on his tongue.
Five minutes after that he would swallow a tiny bit. Fifteen
minutes later, if he had no adverse reaction, he would
pronounce the leaves edible. "Poor folks sometimes ain't got no
money," he explained, "We know the rules for pickin' veg'tation
that's safe to eat."
When they returned, Will asked, "Still no sign of fresh water,
guys?"
"NO!" Sean said with a tone that mixed disappointment, fear,
and anger. We'll be dead in a few days without water if nobody
finds us."
"Not necessarily," Will said. "The lack of fresh water is not as
big a problem as we thought. The moisture in the fruit you
found could prevent or delay dehydration."
"So I don't have to drink my piss?" Sean asked.
"Not for a while, anyway," Will replied. "But you may have to if
you show any signs of dehydration. Right now, there's a more
immediate worry. I've been thinking about survival in the
wilderness. Sure, it's stressful. We're worried. But we can't
give up. You're sounding like you've made up your mind to die
here. If you believe that, it's more likely to happen. There are
several instances in history of people stranded but stayed alive
until they were rescued. A plane crash on a mountain summit.
A soldier behind enemy lines. Injured hikers who couldn't make
it back down the mountain. The most important thing to survival
is not to give up. There are three of us. That's an advantage
we can use. We've got to use our wits and the resources we
have. We can't let frustration and fear doom us. You played
football in high school, Sean. If you were down by 21 points at
halftime would you give up? NO! You'd keep playing your best.
Don't let frustration and anger turn into a depression that
damages your chance of winning."
<><><><><>
Will spent a fitful night. Billy spent a frightful night. Will had
developed a fever. Billy worried that his friend, the man he
loved, the man he wanted more than anything as a partner, as a
lover, would succumb to some unknown infection. He punished
himself by thinking the leaves he used to dress the wound might
be the cause of his best friend's suffering.
Well before dawn Billy returned from the water's edge with his
wet tee shirt to wipe for the umpteenth time his buddy's
forehead, hoping it would cool him down. He found Will in one
of his periodic intervals of sleep. Billy started, gently and
lovingly, to wipe his boyfriend's brow. Will began to mumble
incoherently. The few words that were distinct indicated a
resentment of his family and something about his fraternity
brothers in college. But the jumbled words became slightly
clearer and Billy strained to hear. The words were as surprising
as they were welcomed by the worried, guilt-ridden, and
frustrated former farm boy.
"Billy ... [mumble] ... love you ... [mumble] ... Billy ... [mumble] ...
want ... [mumble] ... make love to you ... [mumble] ... passionate
love ... [mumble] ... can't ... [mumble] ... damn Navy ... [mumble]
... hate gays ... [mumble] ... throw me out ... [mumble] ... throw
YOU out ... [mumble] ...would hurt ... [mumble] ... can't do that
... [mumble] ... love you too much." Will twitched and seemed to
fall back into a deep sleep.
Billy cried for the first time since he was a little boy. Tears of
happiness because there was no longer any doubt about what
he had only suspected. There had been signs but they were
never as clear as what he just heard. He finally knew for sure
that the man he loved also loved him. There were also tears of
deep sadness because the man he loved was suffering and
may not survive.
Just after dawn, Will awoke, feeling somewhat better. Billy,
after a torturous night of worrying about his friend capped by the
exhilaration of confirming that they loved each other, was
asleep.
Will asked, "What time is it, Sean?"
"It's 0900 hours ... for all the fucking good that'll tell you. The
Brighton is on its way to Nam. And we're stuck here. AWOL
too. We're goners!"
"No we're not! Don't give up, Sean. We still have a chance."
"Sure," Sean snarled. "As soon as pigs fly!"
<><><><><>
As night fell on their second day on the island, Sean and Billy
returned from a search of another section of the dense forest.
Billy had made a knapsack out of his tee shirt and it was filled
with berries, nuts, and leaves. Will was feeling much better
although hungry. He was able to sit up and even walk short
distances.
Sean fell into a deep sleep soon after dark but Will and Billy
talked quietly. Billy, having given it a lot of thought, said, "I'm
glad to have ya as a buddy, Will. Yur friendship means more
than ya know."
"Same here," Will replied without anticipating the direction the
conversation would take.
"We come from different backgrounds," Billy continued. "But we
have lots in common. We both wanted to join the Navy. We
both respect honesty `n' character in folks no nevermind what
their background is. We never had no girlfriend." Billy paused
to assess his buddy's reaction. It showed, as he expected, a bit
of discomfort over having no experience with girls. Proceeding
with his planned script, he said, "I `spect there's one more thing
we got in common that neither of us had the balls to admit. Am
I right?"
"What do you mean, Billy?"
"I'm sure ya done noticed the way I looked ya over in the
shower back in basic trainin'. And ya prob'ly guessed the
meanin' in some o' the stuff I said. `Member when I took ya to
the airport and we hugged? Remember ya pushed yur crotch
against mine?"
"Yeah," Will said tentatively, now suspecting the direction of the
conversation.
"I didn't complain none, did I? That means that ya prob'ly know
my interest in ya is ... well ... gobs more than bein' friends."
"Are you talking about sex?" Will asked, hoping for the answer
he wanted.
"Kinda. I'm gay but sex is just a part of what I'm talkin' about.
I'm really talkin' `bout love. I love ya, Will. You're exactly the
kind of guy I'd like to spend my life with. Okay, I said it! Told ya
my secret! I was scared shitless to tell ya before. But last night
changed ever'thin'."
Will was now confused. What happened that would change
things?
"Ya was mumblin' in yur sleep. I know ya was all hot with fever
and couldn't help it but what you said ... or the little parts I could
understand ... let me know we is alike."
An odd mixture of dread and curiosity invaded Will's mind.
What had he said?
Billy continued talking softly. "I love ya like a man loves a
woman. I know I can trust ya to keep my secret `cause yur that
kinda guy. What I want to know is: do y'all really feel the like ya
said ya did when ya was zapped out sick? Before ya answer,
let me say one more thing. If ya DON'T feel that way, if ya
AIN'T gay, or if ya think I'm not what ya want in a partner, I want
ya to be honest. I really do."
"You want honesty? I'll let you have it. Yeah, I'm gay. I fought
with myself since I was a teen. I thought I was sick or
something. Let me tell you something else. The sight of you in
the shower gave me the quivers. After I got to know you, I
respected you. You don't know how much. I had to keep
pinching myself to be sure I wasn't dreaming because we were
so different growing up. Would I like to be your partner?
Without a shadow of a doubt!"
The smile on both young men sparkled in the dim moonlight.
What had been taboo for so long -- the impossible hopes and
dreams that had haunted them, the frustration of wanting and
not having -- were consigned to the past. Their love for each
other was clear and except for being stranded on a deserted
island their future happiness was assured.
Billy was lying on his side next to Will. He propped himself up
on his elbow and starred lovingly into the face of his best friend
who would become his loving partner. "Sean's asleep," he
cooed.
"I know what you're thinking, Billy. Don't go there. Not now. If
Sean wakes up and sees us, it would be ugly. You already
know he's the biggest bigot imaginable and hates gays with a
passion. When we have the chance to show our love I want it to
be beautiful. With no worry about being caught."
"Aw shucks, Will. I know yur right but I also know I want ya so
bad."
"And I want you," Will whispered. "But we'll have to be careful
and wait."
Billy lay back down. Moments later he said, "One thing gnaws
at me, Will. I don't deserve ya. Ya don't need no farm boy
hangin' `round and stoppin' ya from makin' somethin' special
outta yur life."
"From now on, Billy, YOU are my life. If I have your love, that's
all that matters."
"Not all," Billy said. "Seems like gettin' off this island is what
matters right now."
To be continued
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
(1) You may wonder about finding edible vegetation and
doubt the uses of urine described in the story.
If so, check it out at http://www.wilderness-survival.net
(2) Iatia's inspiration and editing cannot be ignored.
Thanks, my friend.