I
stood on the helo deck after dinner, watching first class boatswains mate,
Keegan, yell orders to his deck apes as they pulled supplies and ammunition
from the ammo ship. His pants fluttered in the wind of the two ships speeding
across the gulf. Diesel fuel permeated the salt air as the sun began its
descent into the west. We'd have to work fast to get the ammo below decks
before darkness blinded our ability to see. When the ammo ship finished
replenishing our supply of rounds for our Mk-42 cannon, the two ships
maneuvered closer together allowing the deck apes to safely release the tension
lines that kept the U.S.S. Trippe and the ammo ship a safe distance apart while
we transferred the ammo.
I
walked down to the main deck to take my place in line to reload the five-inch
gun's magazines. I stood behind Otis worrying that the three large wooden
boxes, filled with seventy pound bombs, would require a lot of effort to empty
before darkness came.
Turning
around to face me, Otis asked, “I wonder if I would be any safer on the ammo ship?”
“Not
really,” I said. “An American ammo ship would be a great target for a
Vietnamese MiG fighter.”
Standing in the line of sailors, we helped pass the bombs from one man to the next.
“Use
yer fuckin thighs, not yer backs when passing them fucking rounds,” Keegan
yelled. “Don't ya go dropping them or we'll all be blown to bloody hell.”
The
bombs snaked their way across the deck and down the ladder to the magazine
under our five-inch gun. It didn't take long for our arms to ache and our brows
to sweat.
“I
can't believe how heavy these rounds are,” I said to Otis.
Keegan
put his hand on his chin and asked, “Would I be havin two pussies in me line?
Quit yer damn belly aching. The sun's goin down and we ain't got much time.
Just get a move on.”
When
Keegan walked away, Otis said, “He's such a cock sucker.”
“It's
just a facade,” I said. “Watch how well he takes care of his deck apes. He just
wants us to be safe.”
When
we finished, I hurried to get to my battle station. I looked inside the repair
locker and took an inventory of the equipment, noting the location of the fire
hoses, wrenches and pry bars, the most likely tools we would need, if we were
to get hit.
As
the second hand inched its way around my watch, I thought about my earlier
mediation and what the Vietnamese woman meant when she said she had forgiven me
and that 1972 was only a thought away. I wondered if the war would end soon.
God, I hope so. Would I want to come back after the war? I would love to swim
in these waters. The Vietnamese women are beautiful with their fine features,
tanned skin and sing song voices. Would they want us to come back?
Our
Mk-42 cannon, two decks above me, fired at a target. My back muscles tensed, my
breathing sped up. After a few more shots, then silence. The second hand on my
orange Seiko watch resumed its slow march around the dial. My five hour battle
station watch ended at three in the morning. I had an hour before my sounding
and security watch. My arms were sore from transferring the ammo. I wanted to sleep.
But I knew that in forty minutes, the sailor who was currently standing watch
would attempt to wake me and that would only piss me off. I tromped over to the
beverage machine hoping that a Coke would help me stay awake. Sitting at a
table in the empty galley, I was grateful that I could drink a cold Coca Cola despite
the battle raging on. I loved the fizziness and taste of Coke. It was a liquid
candy bar that reminded me of cokes I used to buy at the liquor store on the
corner of Anaheim Street and Junipero Avenue back home in Long Beach. When I
was a paperboy, I used to put peanuts into the coke bottle and watch the
peanuts slide down as I drank it. On this night, I missed not having peanuts.
When I finished drinking my coke, I tossed the Coca Cola can into the waste
basket and went topside to get some fresh air.
The
effort that I had to exert to open the door surprised me. I lifted my foot over
the threshold and ducked my head through the doorway out into a blackness that
drowned every glimmer of light under its wave. Extending my hand and searching
for an obstruction, I took one step. Black, nothing. I put my hand out again
and took another step. Still black, nothing. Something wet grabbed my hand.
“SHIT! What the..” I jumped and every muscle squeezed the beejesus out of me.
“Ha!
You'rrre blind as a bloody bat, arren'tcha laddy. Hold on and trrry not to fall
on yerrr face.”
Who
was this guy? Where was he taking me? I did not recall anyone with an Irish
accent that flowed off his tongue like he'd been telling stories about banshees
all his life. It took me a while to realize that it was Keegan, the old salty
sailor, boatswain's mate first class. “Lighten yerrr step laddy, the deck is
slipperier than a wet dick sliding into a warrrm cunt.” He laughed, gurgling a
hint of whiskey on his breath.
“Look
over the side, Laddy. What da ya see?
“Is
that phosphorescence making the water glow as the ship cuts through?”
“Fuck
no. Tis sea fairrries that light yourr way acrross the ocean at night. I never
get tired of watching em. Never. Reminds me of fishing as a lad, with me old
man.”
“What
is that really, Keegan?” I queried.
“I
told ya. Tis sea fairies.” Keegan was in an unusually kind and friendly mood,
aided by the contents of his canteen, no doubt.
“There's
no such thing as sea fairies,” I said and immediately felt stupid for stating
the obvious. I hoped that he would tell me a sea story about how the sea
fairies came to be.
“If
you are going to be a bloody bastard and ruin me love of the sea, then bumble
and rrrumble yer way back inside.”
“Come
on, Keegan, I'm only trying to learn.”
“You young college types arre all the
same. No love of mysterry. Just the facts mam, Mr Joe Friday! Dinoflagellate.”
“Dino
what?”
“Look
it up in yourr fancy encyclopedia. Go. Leave me be with me sea fairies.”
I didn't leave. I laid down, hanging my head over the bow of the ship, mesmerized by Keegan's sea fairies surfing the waves as the ship cut through the liquid blackness.
“Keegan,
aren't you afraid that we might get blown up while we sail up and down the
coast?”
“Aye
laddy, I'd be crazy if I wasn't. But I ain't gonna let what I can't control
stop me from enjoying me sea fairies. Ya see, laddy, only the good lord knows
when he's gonna take the wind out of our bloody sails and bring us home. So tis
a fucking shame if ya waste yer time holding on to yer wee little dick for fear
that it'll get blown off. Enjoy whatever the good lord gives ya and to bloody
hell to what worries ya.”
“Keegan,
You're a sea faring philosopher,” I said. He would have been a good chief, were
it not for his drinking.
“Ain't
it time fer ye to get up, laddy? Would ye be having a watch coming up?”
“I
do. Thanks for telling me about the sea fairies.”
“Ye
better keep a sharp eye out tonight. Me sea fairies told me there's danger
afoot. Be off with ye now.”
