Sunday, January 31, 2016

Smooth Seas Chapter 11

           Smooth Seas                  
Leaving Miami, the Skipjack was headed back north. Our captain kept a close eye on the boat's navigation this time. We moved back through that mystery zone. The boat had no other issue with our track or compass heading. The submarine did stop back in Bermuda, my new nickname was now "man killer" that got kind'a old quickly. I would stay on the military base in Bermuda because of cash flow issues. That night at the enlisted man's club, it was a little boring but just fine with me. The place was packed with other navy personnel and their were no cross dressers present.  The beer was cold and a lot less money. The submarine had a two day stop over. The guys picking up booze and smokes, and it was all tax free. The Skipjack crew was able to bring the bounty back on-board. The treasure was loaded into a torpedo tube, all eighty men had one and a half gallons a piece. The booze and other gifts filled number 3 tube, it was locked away. Once back at sea the captain, kept us all on our toes. He would threaten to shoot the load out to sea if reaction times did not improve on drills and such.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           On our return to Norfolk, it was now in the early spring. The boat came up at the same spot, we had submerged. The horn sounded, Surface! Surface! Surface! It was my eighteenth time bringing up the boat. The air rushing into the tanks. That big rumble under your feet. The boat's periscope raising and the submarine's up-angle to the surface. This was always exciting and an even number. I loved this shit... The paint crew was back on the top deck, painting out the yellow spots. I was starting to hate that Beatles song.  I had a four day pass that weekend coming up. I was ready for a road trip to New York. This time sharing the ride with other crew members in a Chevy sedan.  Long Island and Jones Beach was my destination. That was where my girl lived. I met her in upstate New York. She had invited me to her home at Easter vacation. I was excited about hooking up with her again. She was a little rich girl.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    My girlfriend, Darlene was a dream come true and made me happy. Her daddy had design the New Jersey Turnpike. I was totally out of my league but what the hell. I met her at West Point Academy, at the military dance. The Army cadets had invited the private girl's school a time honored tradition. The college was just down the way. My sister's husband was stationed at the Army base at West Point, Dennis was enlisted and worked as a mechanic at the auto pool. This sailor shows up driving my TR-3 sports car just before Christmas, the year before. I was visiting my sister and her new baby boy. All military members could attend these dances, so I did. The town of West Point had no nightlife so why not, besides I was a third wheel in my sister's small apartment. The Army guys didn't seemed to mind this lone sailor in their club. That said, I sure stood out. The soldier's all in their student uniform and me in my navy custom dress blues sporting a Miami tan.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         The dance was a little slow at first, but the punch bowl was spiked. My dance card was full but I had spotted this attractive damsel.  Darlene and I danced the night away. She was beautiful and very different from the other girls.  We were both tipsy as I took her back to her college. The two of us went back to the girl's dorm that night, totally against the rules. Darlene's room was on the third floor, it was crazy. I stayed with her till the next morning. The day being Sunday, the two of us spent the time motoring around in my car. The Catskill mountains were green and beautiful. I wrote her every week from Virginia after my return to the base.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             This vacation trip north a few months later would be a first. Her dad had been in the navy also. This trip was to her family estate on Long Island. The private road and grounds leading up to the house were beautiful. The mansion sat on the point looking out to sea. I had my own suite in the left wing. I was as nervous as a cat. I wore  black dress slacks, a white dress shirt. My yellow cashmere sweater came from an earlier trip to Scotland. Cocktails at seven and then dinner. She looked amazing and I just smiled. The grand piano sat on a raised floor off the living room. This area surrounded with three walls of glass all facing the Atlantic. Darlene sat at the key board playing a soft melody.  The old man entered the room. I felt uneasy with him, her dad was a naval officer in his day. They all tried to make me feel at home. Thank God, he couldn't read my thoughts. Darlene was a temptress hidden in an Angel's outfit. She kept whispering and touching my leg, right through dinner.  That weekend she drove me crazy under her father's roof. Darlene would sneak into my room at night, I felt a lot safer at sea.   I did survive this visit and return to the navy base that following Tuesday. The long drive home, she lived in my thoughts. I was smitten and lost to this little hell's angel. This long distant romance was difficult but Darlene was very special to me.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  The Skipjack still had issues and the decision was made to dry dock the boat and test the pressure hull welds and such. This floating huge dock would submerge, the boat entered it, a big door shut. The dry dock would rise and the water was pumped out. Our submarine sitting on blocks and out of the water. They had to sandblast the whole boat and applied a new finish no more yellow nightmare, that was good. The major work and x-rays of the hull were also done, any issues were resolved. I stood my fair share of fire watch as the welding was done.                                                                                                                                                                                                            The timing was right for me to take my first two week leave and go back to California. This sailor hadn't been home in over two years. Nineteen years old, I had changed a lot. The fifteen days in California proved to everyone that I had grownup a little. This time in Stockton was a blur and my memory is vague. Benito, Mac and Bean had some fun as I listened to their stories. The family loved having me home. Bean was just starting college. Mac had a young daughter and was working full time. We all had grown-up. I stayed at my mother's house and visited with my Dad and his new wife. Things didn't seemed to change much in town. I had this feeling of being on the outside, looking in. My old girlfriend, Shelley Beaver long since gone out of my life. I enjoyed the break but was glad to get back to my boat. I was still a kid in that world.                                                                                                                                                          
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              The party was over, I was starting my second tour as mess cook. That’s right! back with Waldo the crazy cook. The times, I spent working in the galley on the old diesel boat the Cubera, were missed. Remembering  peeling potatoes on the topside deck with my sea dad, Richard. Both of us sitting on a couple of wood crates. The two of us laughing and telling stories, just a fond memory. This now my third time at mess cooking just didn't seem fair, sure wasn't as much fun. The best thing was, I being senior mess cook was in control of assignments. The new guy, who was finally younger than me. His name was Sam, a seaman just eighteen years old. I think he was a sonar tech. The truth was everyone below a certain rank  got to stand this duty now and then.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    We took a shake down cruise to New London and spent some time there. The Skipjack had a VIP guest on-board for a special cruise out. Admiral Rickover, himself, that made us all very nervous, even the captain. Rickover was the "Father of the Nuclear Submarine Program,"and that was it, period. He put the boat to extreme trials and radical moves. Then he'd crawl around the power plant and engineering checking it out. This boat was one of his baby. He scared the shit out of all of us.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            The officer wardroom dinners were always handled by Chief Stewart, Pete. Who knew the Admiral personally. This old man was on the crew of the original Skipjack. A World War Two diesel boat that saw action.  This man was a living example of the perfect sub sailor. He ran the officers mess and special dinners. I liked him very much. This event involved live lobster and steak dinner with bake Alaskan for dessert. The whole boat ate the same menu. Large bags of live lobster were delivered in New London. The captain's table got a whole twenty five pound dressed lobster, as the table center piece. That said, the two crew mess cooks got to play with this big bug. It's claws the size of my hands. Sam and I pulled off the safety tape and watch it snap a ballpoint pen in half with the large claw. We were both kids that day. Pete said, I need the main course back! boys. Life was good, smooth seas for sure. We had set the mooring lines and were tied into a slip in New London. The Father of the Modern Navy departed after dinner. Everybody got to breathe normally again.

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